In reference to his egotistic title page, Wesley waggishly continues—

“I have often observed, the only way, according to the modern taste,

for any author to procure commendation to his book, is vehemently to

commend it himself. For want of this deference to the public, several

excellent tracts, lately printed, but left to commend themselves by

their intrinsic worth, are utterly unknown or forgotten. Whereas, if

a writer of tolerable sense will but bestow a few violent encomiums

on his own work, especially if they are skilfully arranged in the

title page, it will pass through six editions in a trice; the world

being too complaisant to give the gentleman the lie, and taking it

for granted, he understands his own performance best. In compliance,

therefore, with the taste of the age, I add, that this little

dictionary is not only the shortest and the cheapest, but likewise, by

many degrees, the most correct which is extant at this day. Many are

the mistakes in all the other English dictionaries which I have yet

seen. Whereas, I can truly say, I know of none in this; and I conceive

the reader will believe me; for if I had, I should not have left it

there. Use then this help, till you find a better.”

This is hardly egotism, so much as satire; or, perhaps, both united.

Be that as it may, there can be no question, that Wesley’s little,

though pretentious, dictionary was calculated to be of great service

in assisting the poor, unlettered Methodists in understanding even the

hardest words in his “Christian Library.”

Wesley was a lover of plainness—plain food, plain clothing, plain

truth, and plain language. “What is it,” he wrote in 1764, “that

constitutes a good style? Perspicuity, purity, propriety, strength,

and easiness joined together. When any one of these is wanting, it

is not a good style. As for me, I never think of my style at all;

but just set down the words that come first. Only when I transcribe

anything for the press, then I think it my duty to see every phrase

be clear, pure, and proper. Conciseness, which is now, as it were,

natural to me, brings _quantum sufficit_ of strength. If, after all,

I observe any stiff expression, I throw it out, neck and shoulders.

Clearness, in particular, is necessary for you and me; because we are

to instruct people of the lowest understanding. We should constantly

use the most common, little, easy words (so they are pure and proper)

which our language affords. When I had been a member of the university

about ten years, I wrote and talked much as you do now. But when I

talked to plain people in the castle, or the town, I observed they

gaped and stared. This quickly obliged me to alter my style, and

adopt the language of those I spoke to. And yet there is a dignity in

this simplicity, which is not disagreeable to those of the highest

rank.”[208]

Holding such views, no wonder that Wesley compiled a dictionary to

explain “the hard words in the English writers.”

1754.

[Sidenote: 1754 Age 51]

Wesley began the year 1754, as an invalid, at the Hotwells, Bristol.

On the first Sunday of the year, he commenced writing his “Notes on

the New Testament,”—“a work,” says he, “which I should scarce ever

have attempted, had I not been so ill as not to be able to travel or

preach, and yet so well as to be able to read and write.” With the

exception of the time prescribed for his taking exercise on horseback,

two hours for meals, and one for private prayer, he spent sixteen hours

a day on this,—the greatest work which he had yet attempted. For a few

days, his brother assisted him in comparing the translation of the

evangelists with the original, and in reading Dr. Heylyn’s Lectures,

and Dr. Doddridge’s Expositor. In ten weeks, his _rough draft_ of the

translation, and the notes on the four gospels, was completed.

He now returned to London, and, retiring to the village of Paddington,

he spent nearly the whole of the next three months in writing, with the

exception of coming to town on Saturday evenings for the purpose of

taking part in Sunday services.

Thus half of the year 1754 was spent in needed retirement, and in

comparative silence. After an intermission of four months, Wesley

preached, for the first time, at Bristol, on March 26. On Easter

Sunday, he preached a sermon in West Street chapel, Seven Dials, which

was the means of the conversion of Alexander Mather, who then, for the

first time, saw and heard him, but afterwards became one of his chief

counsellors.[209] A month later, he preached to a densely crowded

congregation, in what had been Sadlers Wells theatre; and, with less or

more frequency, in other places in the metropolis until Whit Sunday,

when he once more took the evening service at the Foundery; but writes,

“I have not recovered my whole voice or strength; perhaps I never may;

but let me use what I have.”

In this way were spent his convalescent months of enforced retirement.

Wesley found it impossible to live a life of inactivity.

Whitefield was off to America, having embarked in the month of March.

Where Charles Wesley was employed we have no means of knowing. Of

Wesley himself a few glimpses will be obtained in the following

extracts from letters written during his seclusion.

Three days after his arrival at Bristol Hotwells, he wrote as follows

to his friend Blackwell.

“BRISTOL, _January 5, 1754_.

“DEAR SIR,—If I write to my best friends first, I must not delay

writing to you, who have been the greatest instruments, in God’s

hands, of my recovery thus far. The journey hither did not weary me at

all; but I now find the want of Lewisham air. We are (quite contrary

to my judgment, but our friends here would have it so) in a cold,

bleak place, and in a very cold house. If the Hotwell water make

amends for this, it is well. Nor have I any place to ride, but either

by the river side, or over the downs, where the wind is ready to carry

me away. However, one thing we know,—that whatsoever is, is best. My

wife joins me in tender love both to Mrs. Blackwell, Mrs. Dewall, and

yourself.”[210]

A fortnight after this, Whitefield addressed his old friend thus.

“LONDON, _January 19, 1754_.

“DEAR MR. WESLEY,—As my embarking for America seems to be very near

at hand, your question must necessarily be answered in the negative.

However, I thank you for your kind offer, and earnestly pray, that,

wherever you are called to labour, you may find the work of the Lord

prospering in your hands. I did not know, that there was any demur

between you and those with whom you have been for some time connected;

and I am sure, God is my witness, that I want to draw no man from

them. People, money, power, are not my objects. We have blessed

seasons here; the glory of the Lord fills our new Tabernacle. I hope

you find your present illness sanctified. That is a sign of special

love. Adieu, I am in great haste. But with greater love, I subscribe

myself, dear Mr. Wesley, yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[211]

For four years past, Henry Venn had been curate of St. Matthew’s

church, in Friday Street, London. Twelve years before, he had entered

St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he was reckoned one of the best

cricket players in the university. His last game was in 1747, in a

match between Surrey and All England, and was played a week before his

ordination. As soon as it was over, he announced his intention not to

play again. His friends asked him why. He answered, “Because I am to be

ordained on Sunday; and I will never have it said of me, ‘Well struck,

parson!’” He now began to read Law’s “Serious Call”; kept frequent

fasts; and abandoned his gay companions.[212] In 1754, he wrote the

following to Wesley.

“LONDON, _March 21, 1754_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have often experienced your words to be as thunder to my

drowsy soul, I presume, though a stranger, to become a petitioner,

begging you would send me a personal charge, to take heed to feed the

flock committed unto me. If you consider the various snares to which a

curate is exposed—either to palliate the doctrines of the gospel, or

to make treacherous allowances to the rich and great, or, at least,

to sit down satisfied with doing the least, more than the best, among

the idle shepherds,—you will not, I hope, condemn this letter, as

impertinently interrupting you in your noble employment, or think one

hour lost in complying with its request. It is the request of one, who

though he differs from you, and possibly ever may in some points, yet

must ever acknowledge the benefit and light he has received from your

works and preaching; and, therefore, is bound to thank the Lord of

the harvest, for sending a labourer among us, so much endued with the

spirit and power of Elias; and to pray for your long continuance among

us, to encourage me and my brethren, by your example, while you edify

us by your writings. I am, sir, your feeble brother in Christ,

“HENRY VENN.”[213]

One of Venn’s acquaintance, at Cambridge, was Mr. Samuel Furley. He it

was who recommended Venn to read Law’s “Serious Call,” which led to his

adopting a new mode of life. Furley was still at college, and was only

twenty-two years of age. Like Venn, he also wrote to Wesley for advice,

and received the following answer.

“BRISTOL, _March 30, 1754_.

“DEAR SIR,—I received your letter, and rejoiced to find, that you are

still determined to save yourself, by the grace of God, from this

perverse generation. But this cannot possibly be done at Cambridge

(I speak from long experience), unless you can make and keep one

resolution, to have no acquaintance but such as fear God. I know

it may be some time before you will find any that truly bear this

character. If so, it is best to be alone till you do, and to converse

only with your absent friends by letter. But if you are carried

away with the stream into frequent conversation with harmless, good

natured, honest triflers, they will soon steal away all your strength,

and stifle all the grace of God in your soul.

“With regard to your studies, I know no better method you could

pursue, than to take the printed rules of Kingswood school, and to

read all the authors therein mentioned, in the same order as they

occur there. The authors set down for those in the school, you would

probably read in about a twelvemonth; and those afterwards named, in

a year or two more: and it will not be lost labour. I suppose you to

rise not later than five; to allow an hour in the morning and another

in the evening for private exercises; an hour before dinner, and one

in the afternoon for walking; and to go to bed between nine and ten. I

commend you to Him who is able to carry you through all dangers, and

am, dear sir, your affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[214]

In the fourth week of the month of May, Wesley held his annual

conference. He writes: “The spirit of peace and love was in the midst

of us. Before we parted, we all willingly signed an agreement, not to

act independently of each other; so that the breach lately made has

only united us more closely together than ever.”

The breach, here referred to, was the withdrawal from the itinerant

work of Samuel Larwood (whom Wesley buried two years afterwards),

Charles Skelton, John Whitford, and one or two others, who had become

dissatisfied with the itinerant plan, and with their position as mere

evangelists. Wesley hoped that the evil was ended; but it was spread

more widely than he imagined, as will be seen hereafter.

The appointments of the conference week will throw some light on the

state of Methodism in London, in 1754; and it may gratify the curious

reader to see a copy of the plan for the week beginning May 20, and

to learn how often, and in what places, public services were held.

The following is a literatim copy from Wesley’s manuscript, with the

exception of the figures for the appended notes.

┌───────┬─────────────┬────────────┬────────────┬────────────┐

│ │ THE F.^1 │ SP.^2 │ SN.^3 │ WAP.^4 │

├───────┼─────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┤

│^8M. M.│ Jo. Fen.^9 │ │ │ │

│ E.│ │ │Ja. Jo.^{13}│Ja. De.^{12}│

│ │ │ │ │ │

│ Tu. M.│Jo. Ed.^{15} │ │ │ │

│ E.│ C. W.^{16} │{Deptf. │ │ │

│ │ │{C. P.^{17} │ │ │

│ W. │ R. Sw.^{10} │ │ │ │

│ E.│ │C. Hr.^{14} │ │ │

│ Th. │ C. Hr.^{14} │ │ │ │

│ E.│Jos. Co.^{21}│ │Jo. Jo.^{11}│ │

│ Fr. │T. Mitc.^{22}│ │ │ │

│ E.│ │Jo. Jo.^{11}│ │ │

│ S. │ Jo. Jones │ │ │ │

│ E.│ │{Deftf. │J. W.^{24} │ │

│ │ │{T. Mi.^{23}│ │ │

│ Su. M.│ Jo. Jo.^{11}│ │T. Wa.^{25} │ │

│ E.│ C. W.^{16} │ │T. Mi.^{22} │W. Rob.^{19}│

└───────┴─────────────┴────────────┴────────────┴────────────┘

┌───────┬─────────────┬──────────────┬──────────────┐

│ │ WELLS.^5 │ CHAP.^6 │| WESTMR.^7 │

├───────┼─────────────┼──────────────┼──────────────┤

│^8M. M.│R. Swin.^{10}│Jo. Jon.^{11} │Ja. Deav.^{12}│

│ E.│C. Hor.^{14} │{Jo. Edw.^{15}│ │

│ │ │{Jo. Jon.^{11}│ │

│ Tu. M.│ │ │ │

│ E.│ │ │ │

│ │ │ │ │

│ W. │ │ C. W.^{16} │ │

│ E.│Jo. Ha.^{18} │ W. Rob.^{19} │ │

│ Th. │ │ │ {C. H. or │

│ E.│ │ │ {W. Ro.^{20} │

│ Fr. │ │ C. W.^{16} │ │

│ E.│ │ │ │

│ S. │ │ │ │

│ E.│ │ │ │

│ │ │ │ │

│ Su. M.│J. Row.^{26} │ │ │

│ E.│ │ │ │

└───────┴─────────────┴──────────────┴──────────────┘

NOTES:—^1 Foundery. ^2 Spitalfields. ^3 Snowsfields. ^4 Wapping.

^5 Sadler’s Wells. ^6 The chapel in West Street, Seven Dials. ^7

Westminster. ^8 Days of week. ^9 John Fenwick. ^{10} Robert Swindells.

^{11} Joseph or John Jones. ^{12} James Deaves. ^{13} Perhaps James

Jones. ^{14} Christopher Hopper. ^{15} John Edwards. ^{16} Charles

Wesley. ^{17} Deptford, Charles Perronet. ^{18} John Haime, or John

Haughton, or John Hampson. ^{19} William Roberts. ^{20} Christopher

Hopper, or William Roberts. ^{21} Joseph Cownley. ^{22} Thomas

Mitchel. ^{23} Deptford, Thomas Mitchel. ^{24} John Wesley. ^{25}

Thomas Walsh. ^{26} Jacob Rowell. (See _Methodist Magazine_, 1855, p.

224.)

We thus find seven preaching places in London, of which Sadler’s Wells

theatre was one; sixteen preachers were employed, and thirty-seven

sermons preached during the week the conference held its sittings.

The writer cannot refrain from giving another Methodist curiosity

belonging to 1754. In his nearly complete set of society tickets,

many are remarkable; but one, issued in the present year, is without

a fellow. The ticket was given, by John Hampson, senior, to Otiwell

Higginbotham, a man of considerable property, who lived at Marple, near

Stockport, and, evidently, was intended to serve, not for one quarter

merely, but for four. With the exception of a single line being

substituted for a plainly ornamented border, the following is a copy:—

┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐

│ _“To him that overcometh will I grant │

│ to sit down with Me on My throne, even │

│ as I also overcame, and am set down │

│ with My Father in His throne.”_ │

├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤

│ _March_ 25, 1754. _Otw^{ll.} Higginbottom. J. H._ │

├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤

│ _June_ 25. │

├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤

│ _September_ 29. │

├────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤

│ _December_ 25. │

└────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

On the 8th of July, Wesley, though still in enfeebled health, set

out, for the first time, to Norwich, accompanied by his brother, by

Charles Perronet, and by Robert Windsor. The whole city was in an

uproar respecting the infamous conduct of James Wheatley. The mayor

was employed in taking the affidavits of the women whom Wheatley had

endeavoured to corrupt. The people were so scandalized and exasperated,

that they were ready to rise, and tear the poor wretch to pieces.

For four days, the Wesley brothers remained, in retirement, at the

residence of Captain Gallatin, transcribing the “Notes on the New

Testament.” On the 14th, Charles ventured to preach in the open street,

and the congregation was “tolerably quiet, all things considered.” Five

days later, his brother returned to London—being so seriously unwell as

to necessitate his again taking the advice of Dr. Fothergill. Charles

continued at Norwich some weeks longer. His congregations became large;

and, on one occasion, he had three magistrates and nine clergymen

among his auditors. He received the sacrament from the hands of the

bishop; and took a lease for seven years, of a large old brewhouse, to

serve as a place for preaching. A little society of eighteen members

was instituted. Wheatley’s people were furious and abusive. The city

swarmed with papists, antinomians, and Socinians. The opposition

was fierce, and, in some instances, brutal; but Charles Wesley was

thoroughly aroused; became as courageous as ever; and preached with

amazing power, and with great success. Methodism was now fairly started

in the city of Norwich.

On his return to London, Wesley was ordered, by Dr. Fothergill, to

repair to the Hotwells, at Bristol, without delay. He did so; but such

was his restless activity, that, within three weeks, he started on a

preaching tour to Taunton, Tiverton, and other places. On September 5,

he held the quarterly meeting of the Cornish stewards at Launceston. At

Plymouth, he preached in the new chapel, recently erected, but which,

though three or four times the size of the old one, was not large

enough to contain the congregation. On September 10, he got back to

Bristol, “at least as well as when” he left it. In eight days, he had

preached eight times, besides travelling, visiting, and meeting his

societies.

He now spent three weeks more at Bristol, during which he opened the

first Methodist chapel at Trowbridge, a chapel built by Lawrence

Oliphant, who, while a soldier, had been converted under the preaching

of John Haime, in Flanders. Wesley writes: “September 17.—I rode

to Trowbridge, where one who found peace with God while he was a

soldier in Flanders, and has been much prospered in business since

his discharge, has built a preaching house at his own expense. He had

a great desire that I should be the first who preached in it; but,

before I had finished the hymn, it was so crowded, and consequently so

hot, that I was obliged to go out and stand at the door; there was a

multitude of hearers, rich and poor.”

About the time that Wesley preached at the opening of Trowbridge

chapel, Samuel Bowden, M.D., bespattered the Wiltshire Methodists by

the publication of a satirical poem, entitled “The Mechanic Inspired;

or, the Methodist’s Welcome to Frome,” dedicated to Lord Viscount

Dungarvan. A few of the first lines of this scurrilous production will

suffice as a specimen of all the rest:

“Ye vagabond Levites, who ramble about,

To gull with your priestcraft an ignorant rout,

Awhile your nonsensical canting suspend,

And now to my honester ballad attend.

The dupes of sly, Romish, itinerant liars,

The spawn of French Prophets, and mendicant friars;

Ye pious enthusiasts! who riot, and rob,

With holy grimace, and sanctified sob.”[215]

Such were some of the choice epithets heaped upon Wesley and his

helpers by this refined and accomplished son of Æsculapius.

On September 27, Wesley thought he “had strength enough to keep a

watchnight, which he had not done before for eleven months;” but,

at eleven o’clock, he almost lost his voice; and, the next evening,

at Weavers’ Hall, Bristol, it entirely failed. He now set out for

London, halting at Salisbury on the way. While here, he walked to Old

Sarum, “which,” says he, “in spite of common sense, without house or

inhabitants, still sends two members to the parliament.”

On October 4, he arrived in London, where he seems to have continued

during the remainder of the year. It was a year of great feebleness and

affliction; but Wesley, though an invalid, crowded into it as much work

as would have been done by any ordinary man in the best of health. What

were the works he published?

1. “An Extract of the Rev. John Wesley’s Journal, from November 25,

1746, to July 20, 1749.” 12mo, 139 pages.

2. “An Answer to all which the Rev. Dr. Gill has printed on the Final

Perseverance of the Saints.” 12mo, 12 pages.

This is a poem of thirty-seven stanzas of eight lines each, many of

which are scorchingly sarcastic. The tract is now extremely scarce,

and hence we give the following lengthened quotations. The devil,

addressing the elect, is made to say—

“God is unchangeable,

And therefore so are you,

And therefore they can never fail,

Who once His goodness knew.

In part perhaps you may,

You cannot wholly fall,

Cannot become a castaway,

Like non-elected Paul.

Though you continue not,

Yet God remains the same,

Out of His book he cannot blot

Your everlasting name.

* * * * *

God’s threatenings all are vain,

You fancy them sincere;

But spare yourself the needless pain,

And cast away your fear.

He speaks with this intent,

To frighten you from ill,

With sufferings which He only meant

The reprobate to feel.

He only cautions all

Who never came to God,

Not to depart from God, or fall

From grace, who never stood.

‘Gainst those that faithless prove,

He shuts His mercy’s door,

And whom He never once did love

Threatens to love no more.

For them He doth revoke

The grace they did not share,

And blot the names out of His book

That ne’er were written there.

* * * * *

Cast all your fears away,

My son, be of good cheer,

Nor mind what Paul and Peter say,

For you _must_ persevere.

And did they fright the child,

And tell it it might fall?

Might be of its reward beguiled,

And sin and forfeit all?

* * * * *

What naughty men be they,

To take the children’s bread,

Their carnal confidence to slay,

And force them to take heed!

Ah, poor misguided soul!

And did they make it weep?

Come, let me in my bosom lull

Thy sorrows all to sleep.

They shall not vex it so,

By bidding it take heed;

You need not as a bulrush go,

Still bowing down your head

Your griefs and fears reject,

My _other_ gospel own,

Only believe yourself Elect,

And all the work is done.”

The above will give the reader an idea of this rare and curious tract.

3. During the year 1754, Wesley also published eight additional volumes

of his “Christian Library,” from Vol. XXXIV. to Vol. XLI. inclusive,

and containing invaluable extracts from the works of Dr. Goodman,

Archbishop Leighton, Dr. Isaac Barrow, Dr. Samuel Annesley, Dr. Henry

More, Dr. Stephen Charnock, Dr. Edmund Calamy, Dr. Richard Lucas,

Bishop Reynolds, Richard Baxter, Madame Bourignon, and others.

1755.

[Sidenote: 1755 Age 52]

At the commencement of 1755, Wesley complied with the wish of his

old friend, the Rev. James Hervey, and began a revision of Hervey’s

greatest work, which, soon after, was published, in three octavo

volumes, with the title “Theron and Aspasio; or, a Series of Dialogues

and Letters upon the most important and interesting subjects.” Wesley’s

revision, however, was not to Hervey’s taste. The manuscript of the

first three dialogues (which make 129 printed pages) was sent, and

was returned “with a few inconsiderable corrections.” Hervey was not

satisfied with this, and told Wesley, that he was not acting the part

of a friend unless he took greater liberties in literary lopping.

On Wesley promising that he would, the manuscript was a second time

submitted for the purpose of being pruned. Wesley’s alterations were

now of a more important character; and Hervey was as much dissatisfied

with the excessive as he had been with the insufficient parings.

Wesley’s work was ended. He was not again consulted. He had revised

only 129 pages out of more than 1300; but even that was more than he

got thanks for doing.[216] Hence the following, which Hervey addressed

to Lady Frances Shirley, to whom the book was dedicated.

“WESTON, _January 9, 1755_.

“... Mr. John Wesley takes me very roundly to task, on the score of

predestination; at which I am much surprised. A reader, ten times less

penetrating than he is, may easily see that this doctrine (be it true

or false) makes no part of my scheme; never comes under consideration;

is purposely and carefully avoided. I cannot but fear, he has some

sinister design. Put the wolf’s skin on the sheep, and the flock will

shun him; the dogs will worry him. I do not charge such an artifice,

but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion. If I live to do

myself the honour of writing again to your ladyship, I hope you will

give me leave to relate the whole affair, as it stands between Mr.

Wesley and myself.”[217]

On the 1st of April, Wesley set out, from Bristol, on a three months’

journey to the north of England. Birmingham is described as “a barren,

dry, uncomfortable place. Most of the seed,” he writes, “which has been

sown for so many years, the ‘wild boars’ have rooted up; the fierce,

unclean, brutish, blasphemous antinomians have utterly destroyed it.

And the mystic foxes have taken true pains to spoil what remained, with

their new gospel.”

At Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, he formed a society of eighteen persons,

one of whom was “Miss Beresford,—a sweet, but short lived flower,” who,

two years afterwards, exchanged earth for heaven.

At Hayfield, Wesley was the guest of the Rev. William Baddiley,—a sort

of second Grimshaw,—a clergyman, who had formed a number of _irregular_

societies, and who had committed the audacious act of employing laymen

to assist him.[218] A few hours before Wesley’s arrival, Mr. Baddiley’s

favourite daughter died, and it was Wesley’s task to bury her, and to

preach to such a congregation as could scarcely have been expected

in the Peak of Derbyshire. In the course of his sermon, Wesley had

occasion to refer to the text in Ecclesiastes, stating that there is

“a time to dance,” and observed, “I know of no such time, except it

be a time analogous to that in which David danced before the ark.”

“Be careful,” he added, “that you don’t dance yourselves into hell.”

This gave great offence to some of his auditors, who had dancing

proclivities; and, as if to defy the itinerant parson, a dancing

master was immediately engaged, and a school opened for teaching Mr.

Baddiley’s parishioners the art of gracefully tripping, on light

fantastic toe, the downward path to the place of horrors with which

Wesley had dared to threaten them. The dancing was in an alehouse. The

alehousekeeper had an only child, whom the fiddling and the dancing

exceedingly distressed. The child cried, and said, “I’ll not stay here:

I’ll go home.” He ran into the fields, and, being asked by some one

whither he was going, answered, “Home.” At the next dancing party,

he was put for safety into a back kitchen, but escaped, and, when

discovered, was found dead in a neighbouring river.[219]

From Hayfield, Wesley proceeded to Manchester, where he wrote as

follows to his friend Blackwell.

“MANCHESTER, _April 9, 1755_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have another favour to beg of you,—to procure Mr.

Belchier’s leave for me to enclose my proof sheets to him. Mr.

Perronet sends them down to me in franks; then I correct and send them

back to him. The next week I am to spend at Liverpool; toward the end

of the week following, I hope to be at Haworth. God has blessed me

with a prosperous journey hither, though the roads and the weather

were rough.”[220]

There can be no question, that the above relates to the _proof sheets_

of his “Notes on the New Testament,”—sheets now in the possession of

Mr. Bate, of Sittingbourne, and which have been kindly lent to the

present writer.

On the 15th of April, Wesley paid his first visit to the town of

Liverpool, where he spent the next five days. “It is,” says he, “one

of the neatest, best built towns I have seen in England: I think it is

full twice as large as Chester; most of the streets are quite straight.

Two thirds of the town, we were informed, have been added within these

forty years. If it continue to increase, in the same proportion, in

forty years more, it will nearly equal Bristol. The people in general

are the most mild and courteous I ever saw in a seaport town; as,

indeed, appears by their friendly behaviour, not only to the Jews and

papists who live among them, but even to the Methodists. The preaching

house is a little larger than that at Newcastle.” He adds: “every

morning, as well as evening, abundance of people gladly attended the

preaching. Many of them, I learned, were dear lovers of controversy;

but I had better work—I pressed upon them all ‘repentance toward God,

and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.’”

Wesley’s description of a town, now, in point of size, the second

city in the kingdom, is not without interest. We have before us a map

of Liverpool, published in 1754, which represents the town as merely

skirting the Mersey; while Everton and other places, now engulfed in

the vast Liverpool population, are represented as somewhat distant

villages, surrounded with fields and woods. At that period, there were

only three churches—St. Nicholas’s, St. Peter’s, and St. George’s; and

two of these had been built within the last half century.

The first Methodist preaching place in Liverpool was a small, dingy,

and inconvenient room in Cable Street. A society being formed, a piece

of ground was purchased for the erection of a chapel,—the same as

the site of the present Pitt Street chapel, and here was built the

meeting-house, which Wesley describes as being a little larger than

the Orphan House at Newcastle. The neighbourhood was unoccupied and

dirty. At the front of the chapel was a large pool of water, through

which the Methodists had to pass by the help of stepping stones.[221]

Nearly forty years after the time of Wesley’s first visit, the chapel

was flanked by a large brickfield; and Adam Clarke, who was then the

resident preacher, describes his house as being “neither in hell nor

purgatory, yet in a place of torment.” “But where is it?” asked his

friend. “You must go,” answered the warm-hearted Hibernian, “down Dale

Street, then along East Street, and when you are up to the middle in

clay and mud, call out lustily for Adam Clarke.”[222]

One of the first worshippers in the first Pitt Street chapel was a

diminutive tailor, whose Christian name was Timothy, and who had a

spouse as great corporeally as he was little. Timothy’s wife helped to

maintain his family by washing, but this was the only sense in which

she was a helpmeet to him. She hated the Methodists, and did her utmost

to make the life of poor Tim a scene of purgatorial misery. The little

tailor, however, continued faithful; and one night, when he had gone

to chapel, his persecuting queen engaged the services of a number of

ragged boys to assist her in driving a herd of pigs into the Pitt

Street meeting-house for the purpose of disturbing its congregation.

Again and again the pigs were got to the chapel door, but as often

they revolted, to the termagant’s great vexation. Finding her toil

fruitless, and seeing a seat, at the entrance of the chapel, vacant,

she seated herself, and, for the first time, listened to the ministry

of truth. She was convinced of sin, and went home in deep distress. On

poor Tim’s arrival, he was much surprised to see his wife in tears, and

asked the reason of such a phenomenon. She related what had happened;

Tim found it difficult to believe that the change was genuine; and yet

so it was, for, henceforth, she became a sincere penitent; she soon

found peace with God; and was as valiant a champion in the service of

her Saviour as she had ever been in that of Satan. For sixteen years,

she lived the life of a faithful Methodist, and then died happy in God,

and went triumphantly to heaven.[223]

From Liverpool, Wesley went to Bolton, Todmorden, Heptonstall, Haworth,

Keighley, Bradford, and Birstal, at which last mentioned place his

brother met him. The next few days were spent in reading together, “A

Gentleman’s Reasons for his Dissent from the Church of England,” the

author of which was a Dissenting minister at Exeter. Wesley writes:

“It is an elaborate and lively tract, and contains the strength of the

cause; but it did not yield us one proof, that it is lawful for us

(much less our duty) to separate from the Church. In how different a

spirit does this man write from honest Richard Baxter! The one dipping,

as it were, his pen in tears, the other in vinegar and gall. Surely one

page of that loving, serious Christian, weighs more than volumes of

this bitter, sarcastic jester.”

The reading of this treatise was a preparation for the chief business

of the ensuing conference, which began at Leeds, on the 6th of May.

Wesley says: “The point on which we desired all the preachers to speak

their minds at large was, ‘Whether we ought to separate from the

Church.’ Whatever was advanced, on one side or the other, was seriously

and calmly considered; and, on the third day, we were all fully agreed

in that general conclusion,—that, whether it was lawful or not, it was

no ways expedient.”

This was by far the largest conference that had yet been held, there

being not fewer than sixty-three preachers present, being seventeen

more than the entire number of itinerants then employed. Twelve are

designated “half itinerants,” namely, William Shent, William Roberts,

Jonathan Jones, Jonathan Maskew, James Rouquet, John Fisher, Matthew

Lowes, John Brown, Charles Perronet, Enoch Williams, John Haime, and

John Furz. Fifteen are named as “our chief local preachers,” namely,

John Jones, Thomas Maxfield, Thomas Westall, J. Haughton, Francis

Walker, Joseph Tucker, William Tucker, Thomas Colbeck, Titus Knight,

John Slocomb, James Morris, Eleazer Webster, Michael Calender, John

Bakewell, and Alexander Mather.

“At the close of the conference,” says Wesley, “I spoke thus:—It has

been affirmed, that none of our itinerant preachers are so much alive

as they were seven years ago. I fear many are not. But if so, they are

unfit for the work, which requires much life. Otherwise your labour

will be tiresome to yourself, and of little use to others. Tiresome,

because you will no longer serve Christ and the people willingly and

cheerfully. Of little use, because you will no longer serve them

diligently, doing it with your might. I have several reasons to fear

it is so with many of you; but let your own conscience be the judge.

Who of you is exemplarily alive to God, so as to carry fire with

him wherever he goes? Who of you is a pattern of self denial even

in little things? Who of you drinks water? Why not? Who rises at

four? Why not? Who fasts on Friday? Why not? Who has not four meals

a day? Who goes through his work willingly and diligently? never on

any account disappoints a congregation? Who has every part of the

plan at heart? always meets society, bands, leaders? Who visits in

Mr. Baxter’s method? Who preaches the old thundering doctrine, no

faith without light? Who constantly and zealously enforces practical

religion? relative duties? recommends books? Kingswood school? Who

is never idle? What assistant enforces uniformly every branch of the

Methodist plan on the preachers and people? visits all the societies

regularly? Do you see every preacher observe the rules? Do you

reprove, and, if need be, send me word of the defaulters? Do you send

me a regular account quarterly? Is your whole heart in the work? Do

not you give way to unconcern, indolence, and fear of man? Who will

join heart and hand, according to the twelve rules? particularly the

twelfth?”[224]

This was faithful dealing with a vengeance. Probably, it was not

unneeded; but none but a man of Wesley’s courage would have dared to

use it. Affairs, however, were becoming desperate, and a strong hand

was necessary to put them right. Some of the preachers had lost their

zeal, and others were wishful to become Dissenters. The year 1755 was

a crisis. It was an infinite mercy that Methodism was not dashed to

pieces.

The great question was the necessity or propriety of the Methodists

separating from the Established Church, and of the Methodist itinerant

preachers administering the Christian sacraments. For years, there had

been dissatisfaction and grumbling. The people, in many instances, had

been repelled from the sacramental table in the church, and had been

driven to the alternative, of either receiving the Lord’s supper in

Dissenting chapels (where such an irregularity might be permitted), or

of absolutely committing sin by neglecting one of the most important

ordinances of the Christian system. No wonder, that the Methodists

were uneasy, and dissatisfied. No wonder, that not a few of Wesley’s

preachers, embracing nearly all the most pious and gifted, sighed for

some arrangement to meet the emergency created by their own success.

Among these were the two Perronets—Edward and Charles—men of education,

talent, and piety. Another was Thomas Walsh, pronounced by Wesley the

best biblical scholar he ever knew. The leader of the dissentient band

was Joseph Cownley, whom Wesley considered one of the best preachers

in England. These were men of mark and influence among their less

cultured brethren. They were as capable of forming correct opinions as

the two Wesleys were. They had a right to be heard; and it was hardly

fair to denounce them because they thought that the Methodists were

entitled to the sacraments of the Christian church; and that they, as

divinely called preachers of Christ’s religion, might be _permitted_ to

administer ordinances which that religion solemnly enjoined. Cownley,

Walsh, and the Perronets were right; but the time was scarcely come for

this to be acknowledged. To a great extent, the Church of England was

corrupt; it was also persecuting and repelling. What was there in such

a church to make Methodists and Methodist preachers long for continued

union with it?

Charles Wesley was irritated and fidgety to a most extraordinary

extent. With all the bigotry of the high churchmanship of the present

day, he seemed to think, and speak, and act as though salvation, out

of the Church of England, was impossible. This may be forgiven, but it

cannot be commended. He was unquestionably sincere; but his action, in

this affair, was intolerant and absurd. His brother, with a mind far

more equable, would probably have acted very differently from what he

did, if he had been unfettered, and uninfluenced by his friends. But

Charles worried him, and others puzzled him; and the result, as we have

already seen, was the agreement come to, after a three days’ discussion

by the conference of 1755, that, whether it was _lawful_ or not, it was

not _expedient_ for the Methodists to separate from the Established

Church.

This was a matter of high importance; and, as it will, ever and anon,

present itself throughout the whole of Wesley’s subsequent career,

we shall be excused for giving further details respecting it at this

period of its history. The following are extracts from unpublished

letters written by Charles Wesley to the Rev. Walter Sellon, formerly a

Methodist preacher, and master of Kingswood school, but now an ordained

clergyman of the Church of England, and settled at Smithsby, near

Ashby-de-la-Zouch.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I have seen your honest, friendly letter to Charles

Perronet, for which I thank you, both in behalf of myself, and the

Church of England. You see through him and his fellows. Pride,—cursed

pride has perverted him and them; and, unless the Lord interpose,

will destroy the work of God, and scatter us all as sheep upon the

mountains. In your fidelity to my old honoured mother, you are a man

after my own heart. I always loved you, but never so much as now. How

unlike the spirit of poor Perronet and his associates! What a pity,

that such spirits should have any influence over my brother! They are

continually urging him to a separation; that is, to pull down all he

has built, to put a sword in our enemies’ hands, to destroy the work,

scatter the flock, disgrace himself, and go out—like the snuff of a

candle.

“May I not desire it of you, as a debt you owe the Methodists and me,

and the Church, as well as him, to write him a full, close, plain

transcript of your heart on the occasion? Charles Perronet, you know,

has taken upon him to administer the sacrament, for a month together

to the preachers, and twice to some of the people. Walsh and three

others have followed his vile example.[225] The consequence you see

with your own eyes. O that my brother did so too! Our worthy friend

[Lady Huntingdon?] at Clifton could not but believe, my brother had

_laid on hands_, or they would not have dared to act thus. You have

her thoughts in mine. Write to my lady, that you may have her mind

from herself. You must make one of our conference in Leeds, which will

be in May. I give you timely notice. Pray for us. I stand alone, as

the preachers imagine. Nevertheless the Lord stands by me. Fain would

they thrust me out, that they may carry all before them. The Lord

bless and keep you!

“C. WESLEY.”[226]

“LONDON, _December 14, 1754_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER AND FRIEND,—Write again and spare not. My brother

took no notice to me of your letter. Since the Melchisedechians

have been taken in, I have been excluded his cabinet council. They

know me too well to trust him with me. He is come so far as to

believe a separation quite lawful, only not yet expedient. They are

indefatigable in urging him to go so far, that he may not be able

to retreat. He may _lay on hands_, say they, without separating. I

charge you, keep it to yourself, that I stand in doubt of him; which

I tell you, that you may pray for him the more earnestly, and write

to him the more plainly. Our conference is in May. You must be there,

if alive. The Methodist preachers must quickly divide to the right or

left, the church or meeting. God be praised for this, that Satan is

dragged out to do his worst, while we are yet living to look him in

the face. I know none fitter for training up the young men in learning

than yourself or J. Jones. We must, among us, get the sound preachers

qualified for orders.

“You are a poor writer of shorthand. Perhaps I may teach you better

when we meet.

“My partner salutes you in increasing love. Many thousands, besides

her, shall prosper, because they love our Jerusalem. Farewell in

Christ!

“C. WESLEY.”[227]

“LONDON, _February 4, 1755_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—There is no danger of my countenancing them, but

rather of my opposing them too fiercely. ‘Tis pity a good cause

should suffer by a warm advocate. If God gives me meekness, I shall,

at the conference, speak and not spare. Till then, it is best the

matter should sleep, or we should make the delinquents desperate,

and their associates, among the preachers, hypocrites. My brother

purposely holds his peace, that he may come to the bottom of them.

Your letters, and some others wrote with the same honesty, have had

due effect upon him; and made him forget he was ever inclined to their

party. He has spoken as strongly of late, in behalf of the Church of

England, as I could wish, and everywhere declares he never intends to

leave her. This has made the Melchisedechians draw in their horns,

and drop their design. _Sed non ego credulus illis._ We _must_ know

the heart of every preacher, and give them their choice of church or

meeting. The wound can no longer be healed slightly. Those who are

disposed to separate had best do it while we are yet alive. Write

to my brother again, and urge it upon his conscience, whether he is

not bound to prevent a separation both before and after his death.

Whether, in order to do this, he should not take the utmost pains to

settle the preachers, discharging those who are irreclaimable, and

never receiving another without this previous condition, ‘that he

will never leave the Church.’ He is writing an excellent treatise on

the question, whether it is expedient to separate from the Church of

England, which he talks of printing. Be very mild and loving in your

next, lest he should still say, ‘The separatists show a better spirit

than their opposers.’ You may _honestly suppose_ him now of our mind.

I will answer for your admission to the conference at Leeds in the

beginning of May. My brother says, his book will be out next summer.

I will allow him till next winter. Is not Nicholas Norton under the

influence of Charles Perronet? Keep copies of yours to my brother.

J. Jones will thank you for a title. I suppose you know, W. Prior

is ordained, without learning, interest, or ought but Providence to

recommend him. The Lord of the harvest is thrusting out labourers in

divers places. Mr. Romaine, Venn, Dodd, Jones, and others here are

much blessed. Pray for them as well as us. The Lord be your strength.

Farewell in Christ!

“C. WESLEY.”[228]

These letters are not worthy of the man who wrote them. The scruples

of men like Cownley, Walsh, and the two Perronets deserved respect,

instead of being denounced as “pride,—cursed pride.” “The men,” says

Mr. Jackson, “were not children, either in years, understanding, or

piety. They were rebuked, but not convinced; and were left to utter

their complaints in all directions. To treat them in this manner was

only to restrain the evil for a time. It was not removed.”

As already stated, Charles Wesley met his brother at Birstal previous

to the opening of the conference. While there, he wrote to his wife as

follows.

“My time is chiefly spent with my brother in reading the Dissenter’s

book. He found and showed me many flaws in his arguments against the

Church, which he interweaves and answers in his excellent treatise

on that question. Mr. Grimshaw, whom the separatists claimed for

their own, designed coming to the conference, only to take his leave

of us, if we did of the Church. All the preachers in the north are

unanimous for it. Satan has done his worst, and confirmed us in our

calling.”[229]

Early in the morning of the day after the debate in conference was

ended, Charles Wesley took his departure, without even informing

his brother of his intention; and, on his way to London, composed a

poetical “epistle to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley,” which he read, to a

“crowded audience,” at the Foundery, and printed in a 12mo tract of 16

pages, four thousand copies being immediately put into circulation. He

speaks of his brother as his “first and last, unalienable friend”; and

denounces in withering language the unfaithful clergy,

“Who not for souls, but their own bodies care,

And leave to underlings the task of prayer.”

After describing the true members of the Church of England, he

proceeds:—

“Yet, while I warmly for her faith contend,

Shall I her blots and blemishes defend?

Inventions _added_ in a fatal hour,

Human appendages of pomp and power

Whatever shines in outward grandeur great,

I give it up—_a creature of the State_!

Nor would I e’er disgrace the Church’s cause,

By penal edicts, and compulsive laws.

Let others for the shape and colour fight,

Of garments short or long, or black or white;

Or, fairly matched, in furious battle join

For and against the sponsors and the sign;

Copes, hoods, and surplices _the Church_ miscall,

And fiercely run their heads against the wall;

Far different care is mine; o’er earth to see

Diffused her true essential piety.”

He then refers to the great revival of religion within the Church, and

adds:—

“For her, whom her apostate sons despise,

I offer up my life in sacrifice,

My life in cherishing a parent spend,

Fond of my charge, and faithful to the end.

Thrust out as from her pale, I gladly roam,

Banished myself, to bring her wanderers home.

Yet well content, so I my love may show,

My friendly love, to be esteemed her foe,

Foe to her order, governors, and rules:

The song of drunkards, and the sport of fools;

Or, what my soul doth as hell fire reject,

A pope—_a count_—and leader of a sect.“

The battle was not ended. A month subsequent to the Leeds conference,

the following letter was addressed to Wesley, by his clerical friend,

the Rev. Mr. Baddiley.

“HAYFIELD, _June 7, 1755_.

“DEAR SIR,—I would speak with regard to the case debated in your

last conference at Leeds. Some of your lay itinerant preachers had

a desire, as such, to administer the sacraments of baptism and the

Lord’s supper. Now might it not be justly said unto them, ‘_Seemeth

it but a small thing unto you, that God hath separated you from among

the congregation, to bring you near to Himself, that ye thus seek the

priesthood also? Alas! alas! ye take too much upon you, ye sons of

Levi._’

“What can the event be, but settling in such places as seem most

commodious to them, and then settling upon their lees? Has not this

been the general bane of scriptural Christianity? Has it not eaten out

the life of religion, and caused the power of godliness to dwindle

in Dissenters of every denomination? For who—who can bear ease and

fulness of bread?

“Be not, dear sir, estranged in your affection, nor straitened in

your bowels of love to the mother that bare you, and still continues,

notwithstanding small irregularities in you, to dandle you on her

knees. O! labour, watch, and pray, with all your might, that no such

breach be made. Wherefore should the pickthank heathen have cause

to say, ‘Where is now their God?’ I query much, if, upon dissenting

from the Established Church, the divisions and subdivisions of the

Methodists among themselves would not exceed those of the anabaptists

in Germany.”[230]

Before leaving the subject, a few more letters must be added. The

following were addressed by Wesley to his brother.

“LONDON, _June 20, 1755_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Did not you understand, that they all promised, by

Thomas Walsh, not to administer, even among themselves? I think that

a huge point given up; perhaps more than they could give up with a

clear conscience. They showed an excellent spirit. When I (not to say

you) spoke once and again—spoke _satis pro imperio_, when I reflected

on their answers, I admired their spirit, and was ashamed of my own.

The practical conclusion was, ‘Not to separate from the Church.’

Did we not all agree in this? Surely either you or I must have been

asleep, or we could not differ so widely in a matter of fact! Here is

Charles Perronet raving ‘because his friends have given up all’; and

Charles Wesley, ‘because they have given up nothing’; and I, in the

midst, staring and wondering both at one and the other. I do not want

to do anything more, unless I could bring them over to my opinion;

and I am not in haste for that. Joseph Cownley says, ‘For such and

such reasons, I dare not hear a drunkard preach, or read prayers’; I

answer, I dare—but I cannot answer his reasons. Adieu!

“JOHN WESLEY.”[231]

“LONDON, _June 28, 1755_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Go to Ireland, if you think so, and save Ireland.

Wherever I have been in England, the societies are far more firmly and

rationally attached to the Church than ever they were before. I have

no fear about this matter. I only fear the preachers’ or the people’s

leaving, not the Church, but the love of God, and inward or outward

holiness. To this I press them forward continually. I dare not, in

conscience, spend my time and strength on externals. If, as my lady

says, all outward establishments are Babel, so is this establishment.

Let it stand for me. I neither set it up nor pull it down. But let you

and I build up the city of God. I have often desired our preachers

to bury a corpse at Wapping; I mean, to give an exhortation closed

with prayer. I do not know, that this is any branch of the sacerdotal

office. Thomas Walsh (I will declare it on the housetop) has given

me all the satisfaction I desire, and all that an honest man could

give. I love, admire, and honour him; and wish we had six preachers

in all England of his spirit. But enough of this. Let us draw the saw

no longer, but use all our talents to promote the mind that was in

Christ. We have not one preacher, who either proposed, or desires,

or designs (that I know) to separate from the Church at all. Their

principles, in this single point of ordination, I do not approve; but

I pray for more and more of their spirit (in general) and practice.

Driving me may make me fluctuate; though I do not yet. ‘When the

preachers in Ireland set up for themselves, must you not disown them?’

I answer, ‘When.’ Adieu.

“JOHN WESLEY.”[232]

At this period the Rev. Samuel Walker was a zealous and useful

clergyman in Cornwall. Born in Exeter, he had become a graduate of

Exeter College, Oxford, and, for fourteen years, had been a minister of

the Church of England. His labours had been greatly blessed at Truro.

At least, eight hundred persons had repaired to him with the gaoler’s

question, “What must I do to be saved?” Within the last twelve months,

he had formed his converts into societies, and had drawn up rules for

their regulation. He was a deeply devoted man, and finished a laborious

and useful life within six years after the time of which we are now

writing. He was one of the friends of Wesley, who wrote to him as

follows.

“BRISTOL, _September 24, 1755_.

“REVEREND DEAR SIR,—You greatly oblige me by speaking your thoughts so

freely. All that you say concerning the inexpediency of a separation

from the Church, I readily allow; as, likewise, that the first and

main question must be, is it _lawful_ to separate? Accordingly,

this was debated first, and that at large, in seven or eight long

conversations. And it was then only, when we could not agree

concerning this, that we proceeded to weigh the _expediency_ of it.”

Wesley then proceeds to state the reasons assigned by his preachers,

why they ought to separate from the Established Church, namely:—1.

Though the liturgy is, in general, possessed of rare excellence, “it

is both absurd and sinful, to declare such an assent and consent, to

any merely human composition,” as is required to it. 2. Though they did

not “object to the use of forms,” they durst “not confine themselves

to them.” 3. Because they considered the decretals of the Church as

“the very dregs of popery,” and “many of the canons as grossly wicked

as absurd. The spirit which they breathe is throughout popish and

antichristian. Nothing can be more diabolical than the _ipso facto_

excommunications so often denounced therein. While the whole method

of executing these canons, in our spiritual courts, is too bad to be

tolerated, not in a Christian, but in a Mahommedan or pagan nation.”

4. Because they feared that many of the Church of England ministers

neither _lived_ the gospel, _taught_ it, nor _knew_ it; and because

they doubted “whether it was lawful to attend the ministrations of

those whom God had not sent to minister.” 5. Because the doctrines

preached by these clergymen were “not only wrong, but fundamentally

so, and subversive of the whole gospel.”

Having stated these as the reasons assigned for separation, Wesley

proceeds.

“I will freely acknowledge that I cannot answer these arguments to my

own satisfaction; so that my conclusion, which I cannot yet give up,

‘that it is lawful to continue in the Church,’ stands almost without

any premises that are able to bear its weight.

“My difficulty is very much increased by one of your observations. I

know the original doctrines of the Church are sound; and I know her

worship is, in the main, pure and scriptural; but, if ‘the essence

of the Church of England, considered as such, consists in her orders

and laws; (many of which I, myself can say nothing for) ‘and not in

her worship and doctrines,’ those who separate from her have a far

stronger plea than I was ever sensible of.

“At present, I apprehend those, and those only, to separate from the

Church, who either renounce her fundamental doctrines, or refuse to

join in her public worship. As yet, we have done neither; nor have

we taken one step further than we were convinced was our bounden

duty. It is from a full conviction of this, that we have—(1) preached

abroad; (2) prayed extempore; (3) formed societies; and (4) permitted

preachers who were not episcopally ordained. And were we pushed on

this side, were there no alternative allowed, we should judge it our

bounden duty, rather wholly to separate from the Church, than to give

up any one of these points. Therefore, if we cannot stop a separation

without stopping lay preachers, the case is clear: we cannot stop it

at all.

“‘But if we permit them, should we not do more? Should we not appoint

them? Since the bare permission puts the matter out of our hands,

and deprives us of all our influence?’ In great measure it does;

therefore, to appoint them is far more expedient, if it be lawful. But

is it lawful for presbyters, circumstanced as we are, to appoint other

ministers? This is the very point wherein we desire advice, being

afraid of leaning to our own understanding.

“It is undoubtedly needful, as you observe, to come to some

resolution on this point, and the sooner the better. I, therefore,

rejoice to hear that you think, ‘this matter may be better, and

more inoffensively ordered; and that a method may be found, which,

conducted with prudence and patience, will reduce the constitution of

Methodism to due order, and render the Methodists, under God, more

instrumental to the ends of practical religion.’ This, sir, is the

very thing I want. I must, therefore, beg your sentiments on this

head; and that as particularly as your other engagements will allow. I

remain, reverend dear sir,

“Your obliged and affectionate brother and servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[233]

All must admit, that this is a most important letter. It proves three

momentous facts. 1. That the conference of 1755 could not come to

an agreement as to the _lawfulness_ of separating from the Church

of England; and that the only point settled was as to the present

_expediency_ of such a separation. 2. That the arguments used, in

favour of a separation, were arguments which Wesley was not able to

answer to his own satisfaction. And, 3. That rather than give up open

air preaching, extemporaneous prayer, forming societies, and permitting

men not episcopally ordained to preach, Wesley would wholly separate

himself from the Established Church.

Wesley’s position was peculiar. Of all the Methodist clergymen then

existing, he was the only one who evinced a willingness to look the

difficulties of the situation fairly in the face. His brother was

furious. Grimshaw threatened to leave the Methodists if the Methodists

left the Church. Baddiley unworthily taunted the lay preachers with

aspiring after priestly honours. Walker evidently held strong opinions

against the contemplated movement. And Whitefield wrote to Lady

Huntingdon as follows.

“NEWCASTLE, _September 24, 1755_.

“Oh, how hath my pleasure been alloyed at Leeds! I rejoiced there with

trembling; for, unknown to me, they had almost finished a large house

in order to form a separate congregation. If this scheme succeeds, an

awful separation, I fear, will take place among the societies. I have

written to Mr. Wesley, and have done all I could to prevent it. Oh

this self love, this self will! It is the devil of devils.”[234]

Another clergyman, who was consulted in this emergency, was the Rev.

Thomas Adam, rector of Wintringham, near Malton, in Yorkshire, two

years older than Wesley, born and educated in Leeds, a graduate of

Christ’s College, Cambridge, who obtained the Wintringham living at the

age of twenty-three, and retained it for about sixty years, until his

death in 1784. Mr. Adam wrote to Wesley as follows.

“WINTRINGHAM, _October 10, 1755_.

“REVEREND SIR,—As you are pleased to desire my opinion on ‘a formal

separation of the Methodists from the Church of England,’ I shall make

no apology for giving it to you in as explicit a manner as I can.

“As you are not satisfied, in your conscience, of the lawfulness of a

separation in form, but, on the contrary, have advanced many reasons

against it, methinks your way is plain before you. If any considerable

number of the Methodists should persist in carrying their design of

separation into execution, you and others, your present scruples

subsisting, will be obliged in conscience to disavow, and declare

openly against it. Your present embarrassments are very great, and

should be a warning to all how they venture upon a revolt from the

authority and standing rules of the church to which they belong. I

fear, sir, that your saying, you do not appoint, but only approve

of the lay preachers, from a persuasion of their call and fitness,

savours of disingenuity. Where is the difference? Under whose sanction

do they act? Would they think their call a sufficient warrant for

commencing preachers without your approbation, tacit or express?

And what is their preaching upon this call, but a manifest breach

upon the order of the Church, and an inlet to confusion? Upon the

whole, therefore, I submit to your serious consideration, whether the

separation is not wide enough already, particularly in the instance of

unordained persons preaching, and gathering societies to themselves

wherever they can; and whether all the Methodists might not serve the

interests of Christ better, by returning to a closer union with the

Church, and repairing the breach they have made, than by making it

still wider, and separating, what they think, the gospel leaven from

the lump?”[235]

The following is Wesley’s answer.

“LONDON, _October 31, 1755_.

“REVEREND SIR,—You have much obliged me by your clear and friendly

answer; with the main of which I fully agree: for I am still in my

former sentiment—‘We will not _go out_; if we are _thrust out_,

well.’ And of the same judgment are, I believe, nineteen in twenty

of our preachers, and an equal majority of the people. We are fully

convinced, that, to separate from an established church is never

lawful but when it is absolutely necessary; and we do not see any

such necessity yet. Therefore, we have, at present, no thoughts of

separation.

“With regard to the steps we have hitherto taken, we have used all

the caution which was possible. We have done nothing rashly, nothing

without deep and long consideration, and much prayer. Nor have we

taken one deliberate step, of which we, as yet, see reason to repent.

It is true, in some things, we vary from the rules of the Church; but

no further than we apprehend is our bounden duty. It is from a full

conviction of this, that we preach abroad, use extemporary prayer,

form those who appear to be awakened into societies, and permit

laymen, whom we believe God has called, to preach.

“I say _permit_, because we ourselves have hitherto viewed it in

no other light. This we are clearly satisfied we _may_ do; that we

_may do more_, we are not satisfied. It is not clear to us, that

presbyters, so circumstanced as we are, may _appoint_ or _ordain_

others; but it is, that we may _direct_, as well as _suffer_ them to

do, what we conceive they are _moved to by the Holy Ghost_. It is

true, that, in _ordinary_ cases, both an _inward_ and an _outward_

call are requisite. But we apprehend there is something far from

_ordinary_ in the present case; and, upon the calmest view of things,

we think, they, who are only called of God, and not of man, have

_more_ right to preach than they who are only called of man, and not

of God. Now that many of the clergy, though called of man, are not

called of God to preach His gospel is undeniable: 1. Because they

themselves utterly disclaim, nay, and ridicule the inward call. 2.

Because they do not know what the gospel is: of consequence, they _do

not_ and _cannot_ preach it.

“This, at present, is my chief embarrassment. That I have not gone too

far yet, I know; but whether I have gone far enough, I am extremely

doubtful. I see those running whom God hath not sent; destroying their

own souls, and those that hear them. Unless I warn, in all ways I can,

these perishing souls of their danger, am I clear of the blood of

these men? Soul damning clergymen lay me under more difficulties than

soul saving laymen!

“Those among ourselves, who have been in doubt, whether they ought so

to beware of these false prophets, as not to hear them at all, are

not men of a ‘forward, uncharitable zeal;’ but of a calm, loving,

temperate spirit. They are perfectly easy as to their own call to

preach; but they are sometimes afraid, that the countenancing these

blind guides is a dead weight even on those clergymen who are really

called of God. ‘Why else,’ say they, ‘does not God bless their

labours?’ We know several regular clergymen who preach the genuine

gospel, but to no effect at all. There is one exception in England:

Mr. Walker, of Truro. We do not know one more, who has converted one

soul in his own parish. If it be said, ‘Has not Mr. Grimshaw and Mr.

Baddiley?’ No, not one, till they were _irregular_: till both the one

and the other formed _irregular_ societies, and took in laymen to

assist them. Can there be a stronger proof that God is pleased with

_irregular_, even more than with _regular_ preaching?”[236]

No apology is needed for the insertion of these long extracts. In these

days,—when the reunion, amalgamation, or absorption of the Methodists

with the Church of England, is exciting so much attention, they deserve

to be read with more than ordinary interest. A recurrence to the

subject will often be necessary; but, for the present, we must leave

it, and track the footsteps of Wesley during the remainder of the year

1755.

The conference at Leeds being concluded, he left that town, on the 12th

of May, for Newcastle, where he found some of the Methodists had left

the Church already, and others were on the point of doing so, and all,

“as they supposed, on his authority!” Three weeks were spent in the

Newcastle circuit. He then set out for London, and, at the end of the

first day’s journey, reached Osmotherley.[237]

Here he made strict inquiry concerning an event of recent occurrence,

and which at the time excited great attention. Osmotherley lies nestled

nearly at the foot of a long mountain range, known by the name of Black

Hambleton. A few weeks before, a part of the mountain consisting of

a vast ridge of rock, called Whiston Cliff, was split asunder, amid

a sound as of rolling thunder. On March 25, there was a loud noise

issuing from the mountain, but nothing more. Next day, a huge piece of

the rocky precipice, fifteen yards thick, ten high, and above twenty

broad, was torn from the mountain side and thrown into the valley. The

ground shook, and immense stones, of several tons weight, rose like

giants out of the ground below, and rolled to and fro with marvellous

velocity. On the three succeeding days, the ground continued trembling;

in many places the earth clave asunder; and huge rocks turned upside

down and moved in all directions. Patches of ground, as much as fifty

yards in diameter, were lifted bodily, and, burdened with rocks and

even trees, were removed to a considerable distance, without the least

fissure being created by the transit. In a space of about forty acres,

the earth was cleft in a thousand places, while the cliff, from which

the rest was torn, was white as snow, and, glittering in the sunlight,

was visible at a distance of many miles.

Wesley, at all times keenly alive to the supernatural, took the deepest

interest in this phenomenon. At Osmotherley, he met with eye and ear

witnesses of this strange occurrence. He went with one of them, Edward

Abbot, a weaver, to the spot, and “walked, crept and climbed, round

and over great part of the ruins.” He wrote a description of what he

saw, which was published in the _London Magazine_, the _Gentleman’s

Magazine_, the _Public Advertiser_, and other periodicals. He

endeavoured to account for the phenomenon, and came to the conclusion,

that it was not produced by any “merely natural cause,—fire, water, or

air, but by God Himself,” who arose to shake terribly the earth; and

who purposely chose such a place, where there was so great a concourse

of nobility and gentry every year.[238] This excited the ire of an

anonymous contributor to the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, who declared that

he had “caused an inquiry to be made into the fact, at no small trouble

and expense; and found the whole to be a falsehood, without the least

degree of truth for its foundation.” A more audacious lie than this, it

is difficult to imagine; and yet it was published. A few months later,

Wesley wrote as follows to the editor of that periodical.

“BRISTOL, _March 8, 1756_.

“MR. URBAN,—I have met with many persons in my life, who did not

abound with modesty; but I never yet met with one who had less of

it than your anonymous correspondent. The whole account of Whiston

Cliff, inserted in one of your magazines, I aver to be punctually

true, having been an eye witness of every particular of it. And if F.

D. will set his name, and aver the contrary, I will make him ashamed,

unless shame and he have shook hands, and parted.

“Yours, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

The editor adds, that, if his anonymous correspondent does not make

good his assertion, he is treated in Wesley’s letter with less severity

than he deserves. This evoked a communication from a man who afterwards

rose to fame in the literary world. John Langhorne, who, besides

numerous other works, became the well known translator of Plutarch’s

Lives, was now in his twentieth year, and a private tutor in the

neighbourhood of Thirsk. Having read the impudent mendacity of F. D.,

he wrote to _Mr. Urban_, stating that he himself had visited the scene

of this strange upheaving, and fully confirmed Wesley’s statement. Thus

terminated this earthquake episode in Wesley’s history.

From Whiston Cliff, Wesley went to Thirsk, and then to York, the

society at the latter place being, number for number, the richest he

had in England. “I hope,” says he, “that York will not prove, as Cork

has done, the Capua of our preachers.” He reached London on the 16th of

June, and wrote:—

“From a deep sense of the amazing work which God has of late years

wrought in England, I preached, in the evening, on those words (Psalm

cxlvii. 20), ‘He hath not dealt so with any nation;’ no, not even

with Scotland or New England. In both these, God has indeed made bare

His arm; yet not in so astonishing a manner as among us. This must

appear to all who impartially consider—(1) The numbers of persons on

whom God has wrought. (2) The swiftness of His work in many, both

convinced and truly converted in a few days. (3) The depth of it in

most of these, changing the heart, as well as the whole conversation.

(4) The clearness of it, enabling them boldly to say, ‘Thou hast loved

me, Thou hast given Thyself for me.’ (5) The continuance of it. God

has wrought in Scotland and New England, at several times, for some

weeks or months together; but, among us, He has wrought for near

eighteen years together, without any observable intermission. Above

all, let it be remarked, that a considerable number of the clergy were

engaged in that great work in Scotland; and, in New England, above a

hundred, perhaps as eminent as any in the whole province, not only for

piety, but also for abilities, both natural and acquired; whereas, in

England, there were only two or three inconsiderable clergymen, with

a few young, raw, unlettered men; and those opposed by well-nigh all

the clergy, as well as laity, in the nation. He that remarks this

must needs own, both that this is a work of God, and that He hath not

wrought so in any other nation.”

Immediately after his return to London, Wesley entered into an

important correspondence, which lasted for the next nine months, and

which, in 1760, was published in an octavo pamphlet of 52 pages, with

the title, “Original Letters between the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, and

Mr. Richard Tompson, respecting the Doctrine of Assurance, as held by

the former: Wherein that Tenet is fully examined. With some Strictures

on Christian Perfection.” Richard Tompson was no ordinary man. He makes

no pretension to any knowledge of the learned languages; but he was

unquestionably well acquainted with his own. Without the advantages of

early education, he had, by great assiduity in reading, mastered the

science of divinity, and was a respectable proficient in the study of

literature in general. He was evidently a man of powerful mind, and

there is the greatest fairness in his reasoning. Wesley wrote: “Of all

the disputants I have known, you are the most likely to convince me of

any mistakes I may be in; because you have found out the great secret

of speaking the truth in love.” This was praise which Tompson well

merited. From first to last, there is nothing in his letters but what

is consonant with the highest respect and sincerest love. And yet, he

pins his opponent with consummate skill, states his objections in the

clearest light, and deduces his conclusions with a power which Wesley

found it difficult to resist. In former years, he had been a Methodist;

at present he was not. Still, he was a man of enlightened and earnest

piety, and of a sober and exemplary life. All his letters, except the

last, were anonymous; not because he was doubtful of his tenets, or

ashamed of the doctrines he was endeavouring to defend, but because he

not unreasonably apprehended, that, if his name was given, his letters

might not be read, nor receive the attention which, he knew their

intrinsic worth deserved. When he divulged his name, Wesley, like a

Christian gentleman, instead of being annoyed at being betrayed into a

correspondence with one of whom he had spoken in his Journal somewhat

disparagingly, addressed him with brotherly affection, and concluded

this remarkable and able correspondence thus: “Your reasons for

concealing your name were good: we cannot too carefully guard against

prejudice. You have no need of any excuse at all. For you have done

no wrong, but rather a pleasure, to your affectionate brother, JOHN

WESLEY.”

Wesley’s letters are published in his collected works; but, of course,

unaccompanied by Tompson’s; and, without the latter, no one can form a

correct opinion concerning this courteous and loving contest. Our own

honest conviction is, that Tompson is the master. It is true that, in

the main matter of dispute, the difference between the two was more

imaginary than real,—more in words than fact; but we feel bound to say,

that, in _managing_ the argument, Wesley, either for want of time or

want of something else, is worsted.

The subject of Christian perfection is summarily dismissed. Tompson

quotes texts of Scripture, and appeals to history, and concludes with

an argument which has been elaborated in modern days: “Suppose that two

persons, _absolutely free from the corruption of human nature_, should

marry and have children, it is very evident, that they could convey no

corruption of nature to their offspring, nor they to theirs, even to

the remotest generations: and, therefore, this _new species_ of mankind

would stand in no need of a Saviour; that is, in no need of Christ’s

righteousness to justify them; in no need of His Spirit to enable them

to do their duty, they being possessed of that rectitude of nature

which will enable them to act entirely for themselves.”

This is quoted, not for its soundness, but, merely to show how feebly

one of the ablest logicians of his age confronted it. The following

is the whole of Wesley’s answer: “As to Christian perfection, I

believe two, who were made perfect in love, never did, or will, marry

together.” This was not argument, but assumption; and Tompson was not

slow to avail himself of his advantage. In his next communication he

asks, “Why is the marriage state proper for those only who are tainted

with sin and corruption?” He reminds his opponent, that two persons,

Adam and Eve, absolutely free from sin, have been married, and that by

the express command of God Himself. Besides, he asks, “Suppose that two

persons, already married, should attain to such a state,—the very same

consequences would inevitably follow; and, I suppose, you will hardly

venture to affirm, that God will never make any married couple (capable

of having children) perfect. If you did, I should ask you first, what

ground you had for such an arbitrary hypothesis? and secondly, how you

came to marry yourself, when you judged it would be an infallible means

of keeping either yourself, or your wife, from that state which is of

all others the most desirable?” Wesley, like a prudent man, attempted

no reply to this; and so the matter ended.

It will thus be seen, that the doctrine of Christian perfection was

not fairly and fully discussed by the two friendly antagonists. Their

main subject of dispute was this: “that no person is a true believer

in Christ, but he who either certainly knows, or has known, by the

immediate revelation of the Holy Ghost, that his sins are forgiven.”

Tompson argues, that the definition of faith given by the Church of

England,—“a sure trust or confidence in God that my sins are forgiven,”

applies not to that faith “which is the immediate proximate cause of

justification,” but to that faith which follows after justification.

Wesley’s reply to this, in brief, was: “I agree with you, that

justifying faith cannot be a conviction that I am justified; but still,

I believe that it _implies_ such a conviction.” Further correspondence

followed, and Wesley’s opinion, just given, was modified to this

extent: “I believe there are some instances of a man who has not a

_clear assurance_ that his sins are forgiven, being in a state of

justification.” This, in substance, was all that Tompson contended for;

and so terminated one of the most friendly controversies in Wesley’s

history. No man was more open to conviction than Wesley was; no man was

more sincerely in search of truth; no man met a reasonable opponent in

a more loving spirit. “If,” said he, in his first reply to Tompson,

“if you have observed anything in any of the tracts I have published,

which you think is not agreeable to Scripture or reason, you will

oblige me by pointing out, and by communicating to me any remarks you

have occasionally made. I seek two things in this world—truth and love;

whoever assists me in this search is a friend indeed.”

While on the subject of controversy, it may be added, that during the

year 1755 a furious attack was made upon the Methodists, in an octavo

pamphlet of 37 pages, entitled, “An Apology for the Clergy; with a view

to expose the groundless assertions of a late Commentator on the 107th

Psalm; and to undeceive the admirers of certain popular declaimers, by

showing the dangerous consequences of their manner of preaching.” In

this precious _morceau_, the Wesleys and their fellow Methodists are

spoken of as “giving vent to the rankest enthusiasm,”—as captivating

the people “with unintelligible jargon,” and “importing contraband

doctrines into pulpits” which they had no right to enter. These were

hard words, but hardly worth answering.

Another kindred publication was issued, with the title, “A Dissertation

on Enthusiasm, showing the danger of its late increase. By Thomas

Green, M.A., vicar of Wymeswould, Leicestershire.” 8vo, 219 pages.

In this, the Methodists were likened, not only to papists, but to

Mahommedans, and fanatics of all descriptions. It was too late for

scurrilous publications like these to obtain, or to deserve an answer.

Like their authors, they soon sank into well merited oblivion.

On the 30th of June, Wesley set out for Norwich, where he spent the

next four days, and spoke personally to each member of the society.

On returning to London, at the request of “a friendly gentlewoman,”

he became a witness to her will, wherein she bequeathed part of her

estates to charitable uses; and part, during his natural life, to her

dog Toby. “I suppose,” says he, “her legacy to Toby may stand good;

but that to the poor is null and void, by the statute of mortmain!”

He dined with one who, for many years, was one of the most celebrated

beauties in Europe; but who, suffering from a painful and nauseous

disease, was now literally rotting. He called upon an old friend, after

a separation of sixteen years, found him a beggar, forsaken by all his

old acquaintance, and offered him all the assistance in his power. He

held the first Methodist covenant service, at the French church in

Spitalfields, above eighteen hundred persons standing up in testimony

of their assent to the tenor of the covenant, still in use among the

Methodist societies.

On the 18th of August, he started for Cornwall. On the way, he preached

to “sleepy congregations” at Reading and at Salisbury. At Shaftesbury,

he found a more lively people. In Cornwall, his congregations were

large and attentive. Even at Helstone, all were quiet, except two

drunken men, one of whom soon walked away, and the other fell asleep

on his horse’s neck. At Breage, the lions were now changed into lambs,

though their wretched minister had told them, from the pulpit, a few

years before, that John Wesley was expelled from the Oxford university

for being the father of a bastard child; and that all the Methodists,

at their private meetings, put out the lights. In the interval, this

mendacious priest had grown thoughtful and melancholy, and had hanged

himself. At St. Ives, Wesley visited a young attorney, who had attended

the Methodist preaching, but who now sung, and swore, and screamed,

and cursed, as if possessed by legion; now, however, after prayer,

he sunk down into a state of quietude. At St. Just, Wesley preached

on the foundation stone of the new Methodist meeting-house; and, at

Launceston, in a gentleman’s dining room, capable of containing a

congregation of some hundreds.

Having spent three weeks in Cornwall, he returned to Bristol to finish

his “Notes on the New Testament.” During this Cornish tour, he was

accompanied by Michael Fenwick, whom he pronounces to be “an excellent

groom, _valet de chambre_, nurse, and, upon occasion, a tolerable

preacher.”[239] He wrote to his friend Blackwell as follows.

“REDRUTH, _August 31, 1755_.