Gilbert proposed to John Fletcher, recently ordained, to return with
him; but Fletcher declined the proposal, on the ground that, in his own
estimation, he had neither “sufficient zeal, grace, nor talents” for
a missionary’s life in the West Indies; and, moreover, he wished “to
be certain that he was converted himself before he left his converted
brethren, to convert heathens.”[327] Failing in this, Mr. Gilbert
turned evangelist himself. He fitted up a room, placed a pulpit in it,
and was soon branded as a madman for preaching to his slaves. Meantime,
his brother Francis returned, and assisted him in his labours; a
society, at St. John’s, was formed; and Methodism, in the West Indian
islands, was fairly started. Nathaniel Gilbert died in 1774, eleven
years before the appointment of the first Methodist missionaries to
Antigua, leaving behind him a Methodist society of about sixty members.
“On what do you trust?” asked a friend. “On Christ crucified,” was the
quick response. “Have you peace with God?” He answered, “Unspeakable.”
“Have you no fear, no doubt?” “None,” replied the dying saint. “Can you
part with your wife and children?” “Yes. God will be their strength
and portion.” Thus died the first West Indian Methodist. His wife soon
followed him. His daughters, Alice and Mary, had victoriously preceded
him. His third daughter, Mrs. Yates, died an equally blessed death. His
son Nicholas, for years, was a faithful minister of Christ, and, in
his last moments, was a happy witness of the power, and blessedness of
gospel truth. And, finally, his brother Francis, his faithful fellow
labourer, returned to England, and became a member of the Methodist
class led by the immortal vicar of Madeley; the first class-paper
containing four names, and four only,—John Fletcher, Mary Fletcher,
Francis Gilbert, and George Perks; while, as late as the year 1864,
Fletcher’s clerical successor, in the Madeley vicarage, was, the great
grandson of Nathaniel Gilbert, and testified that he had reason to
believe that no child or grandchild of the first West Indian Methodist
had passed away without being prepared for the better world; and that
almost all of them had been even distinguished among Christians for
their earnest devotion to the Divine Redeemer. “Instead of thy fathers
shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth”
(Psalm xlv. 16).
On February 20, Wesley preached, to a crowded congregation, in the new
meeting-house at Maldon, where, amid much opposition, Methodism had
been introduced by Mrs. Denny, who died a few months after the place
was opened.[328]
Returning to London, he retired to Lewisham, to write his sermon
for the Bedford assizes. This was preached, in St. Paul’s church,
on Friday, the 10th of March, from the text, “We shall all stand
before the judgment seat of Christ,” and was published at the request
of William Cole, Esq., high sheriff of the county, and others. The
sermon is a remarkable production, full of bold thoughts, and fiery
eloquence. The judge, Sir Edward Clive, immediately after the service
was concluded, forwarded an invitation to Wesley to dine with him; but,
having to be at Epworth, a distance of a hundred and twenty miles, the
night following, he was obliged to send an excuse; and, at once, set
out, amid a piercing storm of wind, snow, sleet, and hail; and, by
almost continuous travelling, sometimes on a lame horse, and sometimes
in a post chaise, reached Epworth on Saturday night at ten, having, on
that day only, travelled ninety miles of execrable roads, in seventeen
hours; and yet, he tells us, that he, a man fifty-five years old, was
nearly as fresh at the end of his journey as he was at the beginning.
The next day, he attended the morning and afternoon services in his
father’s church; after which he took his stand in the market-place,
and, in the midst of wintry winds and wintry rain, preached to an
unflinching multitude, collected together from all the country round
about. The day following, March 13, he “preached in the shell of the
new meeting-house,” and then set out for York.
Wesley was now on one of the longest journeys that he ever took,
extending from the 6th of March to the 21st of October following. Let
us hastily endeavour to track his wide wanderings.
After, visiting York, Leeds, Manchester, and Bolton, he preached, on
Easter Sunday, at Liverpool, and never “saw the house so crowded,
especially with rich and genteel people, whom he did not spare.”
From Manchester to Liverpool, he was accompanied by Francis Okeley.
Okeley writes: “during our stay in Liverpool, which was ten days, Mr.
Wesley preached morning and evening, to crowded auditories, consisting
of all sorts. There is here a large, commodious room, built for the
use of the Methodists, but not quite finished.” He proceeds to tell
how they dined at the house “of one Mr. Newton,” little thinking,
that the same Mr. Newton would develop into the renowned John Newton,
curate of Olney.[329] One of the Liverpool Methodists, at this period,
was an old woman, who lived upon Wavertree Green, and was known by
the name of “Dame Cross.” To obtain a livelihood, she kept a school,
but was extremely poor. She was a staunch churchwoman; and had a high
veneration for gowns and cassocks, and for those who wore them; but was
withal a happy and devoted Christian. One day, John Newton called upon
her, and finding her surrounded by a flock of fowls, he asked, “Dame
Cross, are these fowls yours?” “Not one of them,” the octogenarian
answered, “they are all my neighbours’; but I save all my crumbs and
scraps for them; for I love to feed them, for the sake of Him who made
them.”[330]
On March 28, Wesley set sail for Dublin. When about eight miles from
Liverpool, a boat overtook them, bringing him letters from London. Some
of these earnestly pressed him to return to the metropolis, but, while
consulting his travelling companions, the wind changed, and the boat
left, and he had no choice but to proceed to Ireland. He arrived in
Dublin on March 31.
Here he spent nearly a month. He found, to his great annoyance, that
the five o’clock morning preaching had been discontinued; and that self
denial, among the Dublin Methodists, had been a thing almost utterly
unknown since Thomas Walsh had left the island. Rigorous discipline
was indispensable, for the Irish “people in general were so soft and
delicate, that the least slackness” was ruinous. He preached to an
unstable people on the character of Reuben. He held a covenant service;
and set apart a day for fasting and for prayer. He “met all the married
men and women of the society, and brought strange things to their ears
respecting the duties of husbands, and wives, and parents.”
Francis Okeley, Wesley’s present travelling companion, was fifteen
years his junior, and, like himself, had been educated in the
Charterhouse school, London. In 1739, he became B.A. of St. John’s
college, Cambridge; and was the intimate friend of the two Wesleys and
their associates. His intention had been to become a minister of the
Church of England; but, because the Moravians had ordained him deacon,
the bishop refused to ordain him priest; and, to the end of life,
he officiated in the Brethren’s congregations. He was now Moravian
minister at Bedford; but kept Wesley company during the whole of his
Irish tour, and even went with him to his conference, at Bristol, in
the month of August following.[331] To some extent, he was infected
with the Moravian lusciousness then so common; but he was also a man of
much learning, of great piety, and of a catholic and Christian spirit.
He was well versed in the old German divinity,—was an immense admirer
of William Law,—the translator of the life of Jacob Behmen, and the
visions of Hiel and Englebretet,—and a strong advocate of the doctrine
of universal restoration. He was a frequent and valued correspondent of
the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, and the author of other works besides the
above mentioned. He died, at Bedford, in 1794.[332]
On April 24, Wesley and Okeley left Dublin, on an excursion through
the Irish provinces. At Edinderry, Wesley preached, under the castle
wall, to a large congregation, which some of the quakers had used their
utmost influence to prevent assembling. At Portarlington, he “was much
concerned for his rich, gay hearers.” At Mountmellick, most of the
protestants of the town were present, and many papists also skirted
the congregation. Bitter contentions, however, had well-nigh torn
the society in pieces. At Tullamore, a large number of protestants,
many papists, and almost all the troopers in the town attended. At
Drumcree, he opened a new chapel, “built in the taste of the country;
the roof thatch, and the walls mud.” At Terryhugan, he found a room
built purposely for him and his itinerants, “three yards long, two and
a quarter broad, and six feet high; the walls, floor, and ceiling mud;
and the furniture a clean chaff bed;” but even in this mud-built hut,
he found it true,—
“Licet sub paupere tecto
Reges et regum vitâ præcurrere amicos.”
All the inhabitants of the village, with many others, were present at
the morning five o’clock preaching, including a poor woman, brought
to bed ten days before, and who walked seven miles, with her child
in her arms, to have it baptized by Wesley. At Newtown, he addressed
the largest congregation he had seen since he came to Ireland. At
Belfast, he preached in the market-house; and at Carrickfergus in the
courthouse. At Larn, his pulpit was a table, and his congregation
nearly all the inhabitants of the town, both rich and poor. At Lurgan,
he was taken to see the house which an eminent scholar had recently
erected for himself,—“part mud, part brick, part stone, and part
bones and wood; with four windows, but without glass in any; of two
storeys, but without a staircase; on the floor three rooms,—one three
square, the second with five sides, and the third with more.” “I give,”
says Wesley, “a particular description of this wonderful edifice, to
illustrate the truth—There is no folly too great even for a man of
sense, if he resolves to follow his own imagination.”
At Coot Hill, he had “a tolerably serious congregation in the open
street.” At Granard, he preached in the barrack yard. At Edgeworthtown,
his congregation was genteel; but at Longford, where he preached in the
yard of the great inn, “the rudest, surliest, wildest people” he had
seen in Ireland. At Newport, all the protestants of the town attended.
At Hollymount, the churchyard served him as a preaching place. At
Minulla, he found the papists unchanged,—retaining the same bitterness
and thirst for blood as ever, and as ready to cut the throats of
protestants as they were in the former century. He left the place at
four o’clock in the morning, riding a horse without either bridle or
saddle. At Ahaskra, four fifths of his congregation were papists. At
Athlone, a few eggs and stones were thrown. At Coolylough, he held
the quarterly meeting. At Limerick, he met Thomas Walsh, “alive, and
but just alive,” three of the best physicians attending him, and all
agreeing that, “by violent straining of his voice, added to frequent
colds, he had contracted a pulmonary consumption, which was now in the
last stage, and consequently beyond the reach of any human help.” Here
Wesley held his Irish conference, fourteen preachers being present.
At Clare, his congregation in the street consisted of “many poor
papists and rich protestants.” At Ennis, “nine in ten” of those who
came to hear him were papists. In an island near Limerick, he preached
to thousands seated on the grass, row above row. Here he overstrained
himself, and next morning began spitting blood, and, for a week, was
laid aside. Rest, however, and “a brimstone plaster, and a linctus of
roasted lemon and honey,” so far restored him, that, in a week, he
resumed his ministry at Cork, and interred James Massiot.
Here, and in the neighbourhood, he remained a month, making a short
excursion to Kinsale, where he had a large congregation of soldiers;
and to Bandon, where he preached in the shell of a new meeting-house,
the foundation of which had been laid only a fortnight previous. On
August 8, he set sail, and three days afterwards arrived in Bristol.
A couple of letters, written during this Irish tour, and addressed to
Mr. Blackwell, may be interesting.
“CASTLEBAR, _June 5, 1758_.
“DEAR SIR,—I have learned, by the grace of God, in every state to be
content. What a peace do we find in all circumstances, when we can
say, ‘Not as I will, but as Thou wilt!’
“I have now gone through the greatest part of this kingdom: Leinster,
Ulster, and the greater half of Connaught. Time only is wanting. If
my brother could take care of England, and give me but one year in
Ireland, I think every corner of this nation would receive the truth
as it is in Jesus. They want only to hear it; and they will hear me,
high and low, rich and poor. What a mystery of Providence is this!
In England, they may hear, but will not. In Ireland, they fain would
hear, but cannot. So in both, thousands perish for lack of knowledge.
“I hope you find public affairs changing for the better. In this
corner of the world, we know little about them; only we are told, that
the great, little king in Moravia is not swallowed up yet.
“Till near the middle of next month, I expect to be at Mr. Beauchamp’s
in Limerick. My best wishes attend you all.
“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
“BANDON, _July 12, 1758_.
“In a week or two, I shall be looking out for a ship. You people in
England are bad correspondents. Both Mr. Downing, Mr. Venn, and Mr.
Madan are a letter in my debt; and yet, I think they have not more
business than I have. How unequally are things distributed here! Some
want time, and some want work. But all will be set right hereafter.
There is no disorder on that shore. I remain, dear sir, yours most
affectionately,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[333]
The assembling of Wesley’s conference of preachers made his return to
England a necessity.
The conference was opened, at Bristol, on August 12, and continued its
sittings until August 16. Besides the two Wesleys, and Mr. Okeley,
there were thirty-four preachers present. Fourteen were proposed as
candidates for the itinerant work. Samuel Meggot was declined, until
he had had further trial; and also William Darney, until he ceased
“to rail, to print, and to sell wares without a licence.” Thomas
Briscoe, or Joseph Jones, was to be Wesley’s travelling companion
during the ensuing year; and Michael Fenwick was recommended to return
to business. It was agreed, that many of the preachers were wanting
in seriousness; and that, in future, they must be watchful in not
conforming to the world in their manner of conversation; and also, that
they must fast, as far as health permitted, every Friday. “You must,”
said Wesley, “do one of three things; either spend time in chit-chat,
or learn Latin or Hebrew, or spend all your time and strength in saving
souls. Which will you do?” The response was, “The last, by the grace of
God.” Kingswood school was again in difficulty, and the question was
discussed, “Shall we drop it?” Answer, “By no means, if a fit master
can be procured.” It was found that Wesley’s publications had not been
diligently recommended; and, to promote the sale of them, it was agreed
to allow one person in every circuit (if he desired it) ten per cent
commission upon all he sold. It was asked, if Nicholas Manners had
said, “I want no more grace for a year and a day.” The reply was, “Ask
himself. If he has, and will not be convinced of his fault, let him be
publicly disowned.” Another question of some importance was, “Ought
any tickets to be given to children?” Answer, “Not to the unawakened;
it makes them too cheap.” To preach most profitably in the morning, it
was recommended frequently to read and explain half a chapter in the
Bible; and sometimes to read and enlarge upon one of the tracts in the
“Christian Library.” Except once a year, none but members of the bands
were to be admitted into lovefeasts; and, in order to purge the bands,
and leave none in them but those living in the enjoyment of conscious
pardon, it was resolved, that each assistant, at the next quarterly
visitation, should take two or three sensible men with him (either
preachers, stewards, or leaders), and should closely examine every
person in the band societies, and expel all, even if it should be two
thirds of the entire number, who were not exercising the faith by which
a man is justified and finds peace with God. Such persons might be fit
for penitential classes, but were not for the private bands.
Besides discipline, the conference also discussed doctrine. When in
Dublin, four months before, Wesley had been drawn into a controversy by
Miss H——, on the doctrine of perfection. The lady complained, that some
of his preachers placed the doctrine “in a dreadful light; one of them
affirming, that a believer, till perfect, is under the curse of God,
and in a state of damnation”; and another saying, “If you die before
you have attained it, you will surely perish.” Wesley replied to this
in a long letter, dated Dublin, April 5, 1758, in which he repudiates
such sentiments.[334] He admits, that “young men” may have said these
things, but their doctrines were not his. To settle the matter, he
brought it before the Bristol conference as follows:—
_Question._—“Do you affirm, that perfection excludes all infirmities,
ignorance, and mistake?
_Answer._—“We continually affirm just the contrary.
_Q._—“Do you say, ‘Every one who is not saved from all sin is in a
state of damnation?’
_A._—“So far from it, that we will not say any one is in a state of
damnation, that fears God and really strives to please Him.
_Q._—“In what manner would you advise those who think they have
attained, to speak of their own experience?
_A._—“With great wariness, and with the deepest humility and self
abasement before God.
_Q._—“How should young preachers, especially, speak of perfection in
public?
_A._—“Not too minutely or circumstantially, but rather in general and
scriptural terms.
_Q._—“What does Christian perfection imply?
_A._—“The loving God with all the heart, so that every evil temper is
destroyed, and every thought, and word, and work springs from, and is
conducted to the end by the pure love of God and our neighbour.”
It is a curious fact, that, while Wesley and eight other preachers
were appointed to the London circuit, Charles Wesley had Bristol
wholly to himself; three preachers, however, having charge of the
adjoining country, under the technical denomination of the “Wiltshire”
circuit. This shows, that Charles had now substantially relinquished
the itinerant ministry, and had made Bristol his principal place of
residence. The circuits into which the United Kingdom was divided,
were, including London and Bristol, thirteen in number; one of these,
however, being “Wales,” with two itinerants, and another “Ireland,”
with ten. “Cornwall” had seven; “Staffordshire” two; “Cheshire” three;
“Leeds,” “Haworth,” and “York,” had eight; “Lincolnshire” three; and
“Newcastle” four.[335]
From the above condensed account of the proceedings of the conference
of 1758, it will be seen, that Wesley was exceedingly anxious, and, in
fact, resolved, at all hazards, to maintain the purity of his preachers
and societies. “Are our societies,” he asked, “in general as godly,
and as serious, as the old Puritans? Why should they not? What means
can we use to effect it?” Then follows the answer, to “enforce family
discipline,” and to “closely examine the state of every soul, not only
at stated times, but in every conversation.”[336] In accordance with
this was a laconic letter, which, at the beginning of the year, Wesley
wrote to Mr. Merryweather, of Yarm.
“LONDON, _January 16, 1758_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,—No person must be allowed to preach or exhort among
our people, whose life is not holy and unblamable; nor any who asserts
anything contrary to the gospel which we have received. And, if he
does not own his fault and amend it, he cannot be a leader any longer.
“I am your affectionate brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[337]
The day after the Bristol conference closed its sittings, Wesley
attended a performance of Handel’s “Messiah” in Bristol cathedral;
and, on August 21, set out on a tour in Wales, from which he returned
to Bristol on September 2. Here he spent a considerable time, with the
Rev. John Fletcher and other preachers, in discussing the doctrine of
Christian perfection, and wrote down the general propositions in which
they were all agreed.
On October 2, he started for London. At Bradford he met the stewards
of the Wiltshire and Somersetshire societies. At Warminster, he
preached in a good man’s yard, his congregation being numerous, and
consisting of “saints and sinners, rich and poor, churchmen, quakers,
and presbyterians.” “Some disturbance,” says he, “was expected, but
there was none. The whole assembly behaved well; and, instead of curses
or stones, we had many blessings as we rode through the town for
Salisbury.” Strangely enough, this was Wesley’s first and last visit
to the town of Warminster. Some time afterwards, however, a class was
formed; and, amid the bitterest persecutions, held on its way. Men
would often enter the preaching house, and remain, during the whole
service, covered with their slouching hats, cursing the preacher and
his friends, and even smoking vile tobacco. Sometimes they would
challenge the Methodists to fight; and, at others, sing profane songs
while the Methodists sang sacred ones. In one instance, they smashed
the seats, and windows, and pulpit of the meeting-house in Back Street;
threw John Spicer into a deep ditch; and so injured Caleb Daniel that
he died soon after.[338]
From Warminster, Wesley proceeded to Portsmouth, where he preached in
Whitefield’s Tabernacle. At Newport, in the Isle of Wight, he found
the town filled with soldiers, “the most abandoned wretches he ever
saw,” and used the corn-market as his preaching place. At Gosport,
he occupied the Tabernacle; at Fareham, “a wild multitude” was his
congregation; at Rye, he had “a crowded audience”; at Rolvenden, a
“serious congregation,” skirted with “a few drunkards”; at Northjam,
“the house was stowed as full as possible,” and many stood in the rain
outside; at Canterbury, he had a dangerous fall from his horse, but
found “the little society free from all divisions and offences.” On
October 21, after an absence of near eight months, he again reached
London.
Four days later, he set out for Norwich. At Colchester, he preached
on St. John’s Green, and found that, in three months, a society of
one hundred and twenty persons had been gathered. At Norwich, James
Wheatley called upon him, and offered him his Tabernacle. Here he spent
a week among “a settled and well united society.” In returning, he
visited, by request, the famous vicar of Everton.
John Berridge is too notable a man to be passed in silence. He was the
son of a wealthy farmer, and was now forty-two years of age. Having
taken degrees at the Cambridge university, he, in 1749, accepted the
curacy of Stapleford, which he served for the next six years. In 1755,
he removed to the vicarage of Everton, where he continued to reside
until his death. The epitaph on his tomb, excepting the date of his
death, was written by himself, and is as follows:—
“Here lie the earthly remains of John Berridge, late vicar of Everton,
and an itinerant servant of Jesus Christ: who loved his Master and His
work; and, after running His errands many years, was called up to wait
on Him above. Reader, art thou born again? No salvation without the
new birth! I was born in sin, February, 1716. Remained ignorant of my
fallen state till 1730. Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation
till 1754. Admitted to Everton vicarage, 1755. Fled to Jesus alone for
refuge, 1756. Fell asleep in Christ, January 22, 1793.”
This is a truthful outline of the history of this remarkable man. To
fill it up would require a volume. His preaching, up to the time of his
conversion, had been useless; since then, it had been full of power.
Three months before Wesley’s visit, his ministry had been blessed to
the Rev. Mr. Hicks, a clergyman at Wrestlingworth, about four miles
from Everton, who became his companion in his itinerant tours, and
was greatly useful. In learning, Berridge, it is said, was inferior
to very few of the most celebrated sons of science and literature
in the Cambridge university. From his entrance at Clare Hall to his
acceptance of the vicarage of Everton, a period of twenty-one years, he
regularly studied fifteen hours a day. His understanding was strong;
his wit almost without parallel. In stature, he was tall, but not
awkward; lusty, but not corpulent. His voice was deep, but not hoarse;
strong, but not noisy; his pronunciation distinct, but not broad. In
his countenance there was gravity, without grimace: his address was
solemn, but not sour; easy, but not careless; deliberate, but not
drawling; pointed, but not personal; affectionate, but not fawning. He
would often weep, but never whine. His sentences were short, but not
ambiguous; his ideas collected, but not crowded. His itinerant circuit
embraced the counties of Bedford, Cambridge, Essex, Hertford, and
Huntingdon. In this circuit, for more than twenty years, he preached,
upon an average, from ten to twelve sermons every week, and frequently
rode a hundred miles. In some places, from ten to fifteen thousand
persons composed his congregations. People came to hear him from a
distance of twenty miles, and were at Everton by seven o’clock in the
morning, at which early hour he preached. Four sermons on a Sunday were
his regular work. His usefulness was great. During the first year after
his conversion, he was visited by a thousand persons, under serious
impressions; and it was computed, that, during the same space of
time, about four thousand were awakened to a concern for the welfare
of their souls, under his own and the joint ministry of Mr. Hicks.
Magistrates, country squires, and others, furiously opposed him. The
_old devil_ was the only name by which he was distinguished among them
for above twenty years; but, in the midst of all, the brave hearted,
eccentric vicar steadily pursued his work. Houses and barns were rented
for preaching; lay preachers were employed and maintained; his church
income and the fortune inherited from his father were appropriated
to the support and extension of his work; and even his family plate
was converted into clothing for his itinerant preachers. For nearly
thirty years, he spent about three months annually in London, preaching
in Whitefield’s Tabernacle, in Tottenham Court chapel, and in other
places. At his funeral, six neighbouring clergymen attended to bear
his pall, while an immense concourse, from all parts of the country,
by their undissembled grief and falling tears, paid a just eulogium
to his character and worth. As he was never married, he left no widow
to deplore his death, nor children to perpetuate his memory; but he
long lived in the grateful remembrance of thousands, who had been
benefited by his ministry; and, by his “Christian World Unmasked” and
his “Sion’s Songs” (the only books he ever published), he is known to
myriads who never saw him.[339] He was a high Calvinist, but a devoted
Christian. _Requiescat in pace!_ Hundreds of racy anecdotes might be
told concerning him, and well-nigh thousands of his pungent and witty
sayings might be quoted; but it is time to return to Wesley.
Berridge had told the mayor of Bedford, that he wished an interview
with Wesley, as soon as possible; and accordingly, on November 9,
Wesley went to Everton. The two clerical itinerants started off to
Wrestlingworth, to visit Hicks, a third. The same night Wesley preached
in Mr. Hicks’s well filled church; lodged in the vicarage; and preached
in the church again next morning, of course having both Hicks and
Berridge as his hearers. In the midst of his sermon, a woman dropped
down as dead, “deeply sensible of her want of Christ.” The clerical
trio then rode to Everton, where Wesley preached in Berridge’s church
at six in the evening, and at five next morning; and where some were
struck just as the woman at Wrestlingworth. One was brought into the
vicarage, with whom the three clergymen spent a considerable time in
prayer.
This was Wesley’s first interview with Berridge. “For many years,” he
writes, “Mr. Berridge was seeking to be justified by his works; but,
a few months ago, he was throughly convinced, that ‘by grace’ we ‘are
saved through faith.’ Immediately, he began to proclaim aloud the
redemption that is in Jesus; and God confirmed His word exactly as He
did at Bristol, at the beginning, by working repentance and faith in
the hearers, and with the same violent outward symptoms.”
This is a remarkable fact. At the commencement of Wesley’s itinerant
ministry, _stricken cases_ were frequent and numerous; but, for the
last fifteen years, they had been of rare occurrence. In Wesley’s
experience, they had principally happened, not in churches, but in
barns, fields, and private meeting-rooms. Though the same puzzling
phenomena had been witnessed in the great revivals in America and in
Scotland, they had not been general in England, but had been chiefly
confined to Kingswood, Bristol, and Newcastle upon Tyne. At the time,
they created great commotion, but, for years, they had disappeared.
Now, however, in 1758, under the ministry of Berridge and of Hicks, and
even in parish churches, they again occurred. On one occasion, while
Berridge was preaching, several persons fainted, and many in agony
cried out. A little girl was thrown into violent contortions, and wept
aloud incessantly. The church was crowded, the windows filled within
and without, and also the pulpit steps up to the pulpit door. Three
fourths of the congregation were men. Thirty of them had come thirteen
miles, and, in order to be in time, had started at two o’clock in the
morning. Some shrieked, others roared, but the most general sound was a
loud breathing, like that of people half strangled. Numbers fell down
as dead; some sinking in silence, and some in the utmost agitation.
On another occasion, when Mr. Hicks was preaching at Wrestlingworth,
fifteen persons fell prostrate on the ground, a few, for hours, crying
out with the greatest violence, and the rest more silently struggling,
as in the pangs of death.
These were novel scenes to be witnessed in a church; but besides these,
occurring in sacred buildings, there were others in public roads, in
the vicar’s garden, in fields, and in private houses, where men, women,
and children were found prostrate on the ground; and great numbers
were filled with peace and joy, by believing in Christ Jesus. Faces,
which had been almost black with terror, now beamed with happiness.
“Jesus,” cried one, “has forgiven all my sins! I am in heaven! I am
in heaven! O how He loves me! And how I love Him!” Another, bathed in
perspiration, and with every muscle quivering, clapped his hands, and
with a smile exclaimed, “Jesus is mine! He is my Saviour!” Some burst
into strange, involuntary laughter; others roared, as if possessed by
demons; most were, at length, made happy. In one instance, two hundred
persons, chiefly men, were, at the same time, in Everton church, crying
aloud for mercy. The groans, lamentations, prayers, and roars, were
indescribable; as, also, were the shouts and the songs of praise after
the penitents found peace with God.
Wesley’s first visit to Mr. Berridge was on November 9. Within six
weeks, on December 18, he went again; and, while preaching in the
church at Everton, witnessed another scene like those that have been
described; for “many,” says he, “not able to contain themselves, cried
aloud for mercy.”
Wesley was now on his way to Norwich, where he spent the next six days,
and where, besides preaching, he completed the purchase of the chapel,
which had been built by the notorious James Wheatley.
On his return to London, he called at Colchester, and makes the
following important entry in his Journal: “1758, December 29—I found
the society had decreased since Laurence Coughlan went away; and, yet,
they had had full as good preachers. But that is not sufficient; by
repeated experiments, we learn that, though a man preach like an angel,
he will neither collect, nor preserve a society which is collected,
without visiting them from house to house.“
We have reached the end of the year 1758; but some other matters,
belonging to this period, must have attention.
It was in 1758, that Wesley formed an acquaintance, not only with
Berridge, but with another distinguished man. John Newton was the son
of a shipmaster, and was born in 1725. The chief part of his boyhood
and youth was spent at sea. His life, up to the age of five and
twenty, was a painfully chequered scene. Soon after the year 1750, he
obtained the post of tidewaiter at Liverpool; where, by dint of severe
application, he rapidly acquired a considerable knowledge of Greek and
Hebrew. He now made some unsuccessful attempts to become the pastor of
a Dissenting congregation. He then applied to the Archbishop of York
for episcopal ordination; but was refused, on the ground that he had
been preaching, without authority, among Dissenters. On his way to
Ireland, in the spring of the present year, Wesley paid him a visit,
during his ten days’ stay in Liverpool. Mr. Newton was now thirty-eight
years old; and, a few months later, wrote to Wesley as follows.
“LIVERPOOL, _August 29, 1758_.
“DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—I am informed of your arrival at Bristol,
which I much rejoice in, and desire to praise the Lord for. I hope
He has yet much service for you to do; and, till your work is done,
I know your life is secured. When it is fully accomplished, I think,
I can give my consent, that you should be released from hence, and
removed to that kingdom of love, and joy, and peace, where none of the
evils of mortality can find admittance.
“I wait your directions where to send you the paper you left with me,
and hope it will not be long, for it will give me double satisfaction
to hear of your welfare, _propria manu_. Mrs. Newton concurs with me
in tendering our sincerest respects, and requesting a remembrance in
your prayers, and a share in your correspondence. I am, with respect
and affection, reverend sir, your obliged friend and servant,
“JOHN NEWTON.”[340]
Six years after this, Mr. Newton, through the interest of Lord
Dartmouth, obtained ordination, and the curacy at Olney, where, from
1764 to 1779, lived in the closest friendship with the poet Cowper and
the Olney circle. He then removed to the rectory of St. Mary Woolnoth,
Lombard Street, London, where he continued until his death in 1807.
Like Berridge, he wrote his own epitaph, which was as follows:—
“John Newton, clerk: once an infidel and a libertine, a servant of
slaves in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the
faith he had long laboured to destroy, near sixteen years at Olney, in
Bucks, and twenty-eight years in this church.”[341]
In the same year, 1758, Wesley entered into correspondence with another
man of distinguished talent, who afterwards became the bitterest
opponent he ever had.
Augustus Montague Toplady was the son of a major in the army, and
was born at Farnham, in Surrey, in the year 1740. He received the
rudiments of his education at Westminster school; and thence went, with
his widowed mother, to Ireland, to pursue claims to an estate which
belonged to her in that island. Here, a little before he was sixteen
years of age, he heard James Morris, one of Wesley’s itinerants, preach
in a barn at Codymain, and was converted. Soon after, he entered
Trinity college, Dublin; and wrote to Wesley as follows.
“DUBLIN, _September 13, 1758_.
“REVEREND SIR,—I thank you for your satisfactory letter; particularly
for your kind caution against trifling company. I do not visit three
persons in the college, except one or two of the fellows. It is indeed
Sodom epitomized; for I do not believe there is one that fears God in
it.
“Your remarks on Mr. Hervey’s style are too just; and I think a writer
would be much to blame for imitating it; or indeed the style of any
other; for if he has abilities of his own, he ought to use them; if
he has not, he would be inexcusable for writing at all. I believe Mr.
Hervey’s mentioning the active, exclusive from the passive, obedience
of Christ, is rather a casual than intentional omission; but an author
cannot be too careful how he expresses himself on a point of so much
importance. I have long been convinced, that self righteousness and
antinomianism are equally pernicious; and that to insist on the
imputation of Christ’s righteousness, as alone requisite to salvation,
is only strewing the way to hell with flowers. I have myself known
some make shipwreck of faith, and love, and a good conscience, on this
specious quicksand.
“My heart’s desire, and prayer is, that Christ would grant to keep me
close to Him, with meek, simple, steady love. I think, of late, the
studies I am unavoidably engaged in have done me some harm; I mean
have abated that fervency with which I used to approach the throne of
grace; and this, by insensible degrees. My chariot wheels have drove
heavily for a month past; but I have reason to hope I am recovering
my usual joy. I can attribute its declension to nothing else but
assiduous application to my college business; which prevents my
attending the preaching so often as I would. I depend on your candour
to excuse this trouble given you, by, reverend sir, your most dutiful,
humble servant,
“AUGUSTUS TOPLADY.”[342]
This was an admirable letter, to be written by a youth not yet
eighteen years of age. A year later, Toplady published a 12mo book of
his poetic pieces; and, in 1762, was ordained, and inducted into the
living of Blagdon in Somersetshire. In 1768, he obtained the vicarage
of Broadhembury, which he held until his decease in 1778. Three years
before he died, he removed to London, and became the preacher of the
French church, in Orange Street, Leicester Fields. His death was very
beautiful. “The sky,” said he, “is clear; there is no cloud: come,
Lord Jesus, come quickly!” Thus died Augustus Toplady, on the 11th of
August, aged thirty-seven. He was buried in a grave, which, by his own
request, was thirteen feet deep, beneath the gallery in Tottenham Court
chapel.
It is extremely difficult to form an estimate of Toplady’s life and
character. He was unquestionably a man of great talent, of extensive
knowledge, and of burning zeal. His discourses were extemporary;
his language eloquent; his voice melodious; his delivery and action
engaging, elegant, and easy.[343] His private diary breathes with the
richest piety; and yet, in the _Gospel Magazine_, of which he was the
chief editor, and in his controversial works, his abuse of Wesley
is rancorous to a degree which is almost without parallel, and is
expressed in terms far more nearly allied to the slang of Billingsgate
than to the language of a Christian and a gentleman.
Wesley, in 1758, was not without his troubles. Among other matters, the
leaders of the Leeds society began to exercise prerogatives to which he
had the strongest objection. Hence the following characteristic letter.
“LONDON, _December 9, 1758_.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,—From time to time, I have had more trouble with the
town of Leeds than with all the societies in Yorkshire. And I now
hear, that the leaders insist, that such and such persons be put out
of the society! I desire the leaders may know their places, and not
stretch themselves beyond their line. Pray let me judge who should be
put out of the Methodist society, and who should not. I desire Faith
and Ann Hardwick may not be put out of the society, unless some matter
appear against them; and, if any new matter does appear, let it be
laid before me. He shall have judgment without mercy who hath shown no
mercy.
“I am your affectionate brother,
“J. WESLEY.”[344]
Another annoyance was the publication of a sermon, preached against
the Methodists, by the Rev. Mr. Potter, at Reymerston, in Norfolk.
This was answered by Cornelius Cayley, jun., in an octavo pamphlet of
41 pages. In itself it was hardly worth Wesley’s notice; but, having
been preached and circulated in the neighbourhood of Norwich, where
Methodism had to encounter difficulties of no ordinary kind, Wesley
deemed it his duty to dissect it, which he did in a long “Letter to the
Reverend Mr. Potter,” 12mo, 11 pages.
During the year 1758, he also published “A short Account of the Life
and Death of Nathaniel Othen, who was shot in Dover Castle, October
26, 1757.” 12mo, 12 pages. This was the romantic history of a common
soldier, who was executed for deserting the army.
Another of his publications was, “A Letter to a Gentleman at Bristol,”
dated January 8, 1758: 12mo, 24 pages. Wesley says, that this was
written at the request of several of his friends, “in order to
guard them from seeking salvation by works on one hand, and from
antinomianism on the other.”[345]
Another work of Wesley’s, published in 1758, was entitled, “Reasons
against a Separation from the Church of England.” 12mo, 22 pages. This
was an abstract from a larger work, which Wesley wrote, but never
published, and which remains in manuscript to the present day. Wesley
meant it for publication; but the Rev. Samuel Walker, of Truro, to
whose friendly inspection it was submitted, advised that it should
not be printed. The fact is, in this treatise against separation
from the Church, Wesley conceded points, which Walker thought might
be used as reasons _for_ a separation rather than _against_ it. The
objections of Dissenters to some parts of the liturgy and canons, to
the spiritual courts, and to the character of too many of the clergy,
were acknowledged to be just; but Wesley argued, that these objections
did not form a sufficient ground for separation. Walker was afraid
that, if the premises were admitted, Wesley’s readers might draw a
conclusion opposite to what Wesley did; and hence the treatise was
withdrawn;[346] with the exception that, in 1758, Wesley published an
extract from it, with the title already given. The reasons are twelve
in number. 1. Because, it would be a contradiction to the solemn and
repeated statements of his brother and himself. 2. Because, it would
give huge occasion of offence. 3. Because, it would prejudice many good
Christians against being benefited by Wesley’s preaching. 4. Because,
it would hinder multitudes of the unconverted from hearing him at
all. 5. Because, it would cause many hundreds, if not some thousands,
to leave the Methodist societies. 6. Because, it would produce
inconceivable strife and contention. 7. Because, it would engage him
in a thousand controversies, both in public and private, and so divert
him from useful labours. 8. Because, to form the plan of a new church
would require more time, care, thought, and wisdom than any of them
possessed. 9. Because, barely entertaining a distant thought of it
had already produced evil fruits. 10. Because, though the experiment
of separation had been frequently tried by others, the success had
never answered the expectation. 11. Because, melancholy instances of
failure might now be witnessed. 12. Because, to separate would be to
act in direct contradiction to the very end for which, he believed, the
Methodists had been raised up by Providence.
Such were Wesley’s reasons. He allows, that the _lawfulness_ of the
Methodists to separate from the Church of England is a point which may
fairly be debated; but he has no doubt, that for them to separate is
not _expedient_. He replies to the objections that, till they separate,
they cannot be a compact, united body; and that it is mere cowardice,
fear of persecution, that makes them desire to remain in union. He
asserts, that the Methodists are not a party, but living witnesses,
raised up by God, for the benefit of all. He suggests, that it should
be a sacred rule with all the preachers, to evince “no contempt,
no bitterness to the clergy,” and also, “to frequent no Dissenting
meeting”; for, if the preachers did this, the people would imitate
their example; and this, in point of fact, would be separation. Many
of the Dissenting ministers were “new-light men, denying the Lord that
bought them, and overturning His gospel from the very foundations”; or
they were predestinarians, whose doctrines were not wholesome food,
but deadly poison. The singing at Dissenting meetings was slow, and
drawling; and the prayers were objectionable in tone, language, and
length. He concludes, by expressing a wish, that all the Methodist
preachers, except those who have scruples concerning it, would attend
the services of the Church as often as they conveniently could; and
that they would prepare themselves to answer the arguments usually
employed in favour of separation.
To this notable pamphlet, Charles Wesley appended seven “Hymns for the
Use of the Methodist Preachers;” and says: “I subscribe to the twelve
reasons of my brother with all my heart. I am quite clear, that it is
neither expedient, nor _lawful_, for _me_ to separate. I never had the
least inclination or temptation so to do. My affection for the Church
is as strong as ever. Would to God, that all the Methodist preachers
were, in this respect, likeminded with—CHARLES WESLEY.”
In the year 1758, Wesley issued a remarkable 12mo volume of 246 pages,
entitled “A Preservative against unsettled Notions in Religion.” In
his Journal he says: “I designed it for the use of all those who are
under my care, but chiefly of the young preachers.” In his brief
preface he observes: “My design, in publishing the following tracts,
is not to reclaim, but to preserve: not to convince those who are
already perverted, but to prevent the perversion of others. I do
not, therefore, enter deep into the controversy even with deists,
Socinians, Arians, or papists: much less with those who are not so
dangerously mistaken, mystics, quakers, anabaptists, presbyterians,
predestinarians, or antinomians. I only recite, under each head, a few
plain arguments, which, by the grace of God, may farther confirm those
who already know the truth as it is in Jesus.”
The first piece in the volume is “An extract of A Short and Easy
Method with the Deists,” by the celebrated Charles Leslie. The second,
“A treatise concerning the Godhead of Jesus Christ, translated from
the French.” The third, Wesley’s own production, is entitled, “The
Advantage of the members of the Church of England over those of the
Church of Rome.” The fourth is, “An extract of a letter to the Rev.
Mr. Law, occasioned by some of his late writings:” the letter here,
in part, republished, was the one which Wesley addressed to Law in
1756. The fifth piece is “A letter to a Person lately joined with the
People called Quakers,” which Wesley first wrote in 1748. The sixth
is “A treatise on Baptism,”—a treatise really written by his father,
though published as his own in 1756. The seventh is “A letter to the
Rev. Mr. Towgood, of Exeter; occasioned by his ‘Dissent from the Church
of England fully justified,’”—the object of Wesley’s letter being “to
show that a dissent from the Church of England is not the genuine
and just consequence of the allegiance which is due to Christ as the
only lawgiver in the church.” The eighth, entitled “Serious Thoughts
concerning Godfathers and Godmothers,” was first published in 1752.
The ninth, “The Scripture Doctrine of Predestination, Election, and
Reprobation,” was extracted from a late author, and published, in the
first instance, by Wesley in 1741. The tenth, “An extract from A Short
View of the Difference between the Moravian Brethren, and the Rev. Mr.
John and Charles Wesley:” the eleventh, “An extract from A Dialogue
between an Antinomian and his Friend”: both issued in 1745. The
twelfth, “A letter to the Rev. Mr. Hervey,” written in 1756, and which
Hervey said was “palpably weak,” and dealt “only in positive assertions
and positive denials.”[347] The last, his “Reasons against a Separation
from the Church of England.”
This was an important work, comprising, as it did, in a single volume,
the opinions of Wesley on all the subjects which, at that time, excited
the attention of the Methodists.
Two more publications, belonging to the year 1758, remain to be noticed.
1. “The Great Assize; a sermon preached at the assizes, in St. Paul’s
church, Bedford, on March 10, 1758.” 8vo, 36 pages.
2. Two separate letters to the Rev. Dr. Free,[348] an everlasting
pamphleteer, of the most scurrilous genus. Free was a native of Oxford,
and was now forty-seven years of age, and vicar of East Coker, in the
county of Somerset; also Thursday lecturer of St. Mary-Hill, London,
and lecturer at Newington, Surrey. He lived long enough to be senior
doctor of the Oxford university, and died in distress and poverty
in 1791.[349] His publications against the Methodists were: 1. “A
Display of the Bad Principles of the Methodists,” 1758. 2. “Rules for
the Discovery of False Prophets; or, the dangerous impositions of the
people called Methodists, detected at the bar of Scripture and reason.
A sermon preached before the university at St. Mary’s, in Oxford, on
Whit Sunday, 1758.” 3. His “Edition of the Rev. Mr. Wesley’s Penny
Letter.” 4. His “Edition of Mr. Wesley’s Second Letter.” 5. His “Speech
to the London Clergy, at Sion College.” All these were published during
the years 1758 and 1759. The following are spicy specimens of the style
adopted by this clerical reviler. There is, says he, “in Mr. Wesley’s
second letter, such a strange mixture of sanctity and prevarication,
such praying, sneering, canting, and recanting, expunging and forging,
that I no longer feel bound to give him a civil answer.” Again: “Wesley
raves, and rants, and domineers, and scolds.” He is, in the estimation
of this Oxford doctor, a perfect “weathercock.” He has “the itch of
fame and popularity; and the romantic project of being the founder of a
sect has prompted him to go a _madding_ himself wherever he could find
people likeminded.” For their benefit, he has “extracted near fourteen
volumes, all quintessences, from the fanaticism of the Germans, the
English, and other nations.” He “prints and distributes gratis his
lying, and blasphemous, and delusive pamphlets, to the remotest corners
of the land.” Free informs his readers, that the name of Methodists was
first given to Wesley and his friends, at Oxford, because they affected
to be so “uncommonly methodical, as to keep a diary of the most trivial
actions of their lives,—such as, how many dishes of tea they drank, and
how many slices of bread and butter they eat, how many country dances
they called for at their dancing club, and how many pounds of a leg of
mutton they might devour after practising a fast.”
No wonder that we find the following entries in Wesley’s Journal for
1758. “May 2.—I wrote a short answer to Dr. Free’s weak, bitter,
scurrilous invective against the people called Methodists. But I doubt
whether I shall meddle with him any more: he is too dirty a writer for
me to touch.” Again: “August 24.—I wrote a second letter to Dr. Free,
the warmest opponent I have had for many years. I leave him now to
laugh, and scold, and witticise, and call names, just as he pleases;
for I have done.”
1759.
[Sidenote: 1759 Age 56]
Wesley begun the year 1759 at Bristol. On January 10, he left for
London, where he continued the next six weeks. At this period, the
nation was in great excitement, arising from the threatened invasion of
the French; and the 16th of February was appointed to be observed as a
public fast. On that day, Wesley preached, at five in the morning, at
Wandsworth; at nine and at three, in the church at Spitalfields; and at
half-past eight, in the Foundery. At the last mentioned service, Lady
Huntingdon was present.
Her ladyship, feeling the peril of the country, instituted a series of
prayer-meeting in her own mansion, which were conducted by Whitefield,
by the two Wesleys, and by Messrs. Venn, Romaine, Madan, Jones,
Fletcher, Downing, and Maxfield; and at which, among others, there
were present the Earl and Countess of Dartmouth, the Earl and Countess
of Chesterfield, Sir Charles and Lady Hotham, Mrs. Carteret, Mrs.
Cavendish, and other persons of distinction.[350] This, to Wesley, was
a new kind of congregation; but he writes: “O what are the greatest
men to the great God? As the small dust of the balance.” Charles
Wesley says of the service, which was principally conducted by his
brother: “All the ministers prayed in turn. It was a most blessed time
of refreshment. My brother preached, and won all our hearts. I never
liked him better, and was never more united to him, since his unhappy
marriage.”[351]
On the 1st of March, Wesley set out for Norwich, taking Everton and
Colchester on his way. He wrote to Lady Huntingdon as follows.
“The agreeable hour, which I spent with your ladyship, the last
week, recalled to my mind the former times, and gave me much matter
of thankfulness to the Giver of every good gift. I have found great
satisfaction in conversing with those instruments whom God has lately
raised up. But still, there is I know not what in them whom we have
known from the beginning, and who have borne the burden and heat
of the day, which we do not find in those who have risen up since,
though they are of upright heart. Perhaps too, those who have but
lately come into the harvest are led to think and speak more largely
of justification, and the other first principles of the doctrine of
Christ. And it may be proper for _them_ so to do. Yet _we_ find a
thirst after something farther. We want to sink deeper and rise higher
in the knowledge of God our Saviour. We want all helps for walking
closely with Him whom we have received, that we may the more speedily
come to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.
“Mr. Berridge seems to be one of the most simple, as well as most
sensible, men of all whom it pleased God to employ in reviving
primitive Christianity. They come now twelve or fourteen miles to
hear him. His word is with power: he speaks as plain and home as John
Nelson, but with all the propriety of Mr. Romaine, and the tenderness
of Mr. Hervey.
“At Colchester, likewise, the word of God has free course—only no
house will contain the congregation. On Sunday, I was obliged to
preach on St. John’s Green; the people stood on a smooth sloping
ground, sheltered by the walls of an old castle, and behaved as men
who felt that God was there.
“I am persuaded your ladyship still remembers, in your prayers, your
willing servant, for Christ’s sake,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[352]
Such was Wesley’s critique upon the converted clergymen with whom he
had been recently associated. One of them, a young man, died three
years after this, and deserves a passing notice.
The Rev. Thomas Jones, A.M., of St. Saviour’s, Southwark, was now
in the thirtieth year of his age. Eight years before, he had been
converted, and had begun to preach, with great eloquence and power,
the truth which he himself had been brought to experience. His health
was feeble; but his ministry was mighty. His zeal was greater than his
strength, and frequently provoked the opposition of his enemies. He
began to read prayers and to expound the Scriptures, in the chapel of
an almshouse in his parish; but the chapel was closed against him. He
set up a weekly lecture in his church; but, before long, the use of
the pulpit, for that purpose, was denied to him. He carried religious
tracts and books to all his parishioners; and catechized children once
a week, in his own private residence. In his thirty-third year, a fever
seized him; and, after seven days’ illness, he died triumphantly on
the 6th of June, 1762, leaving a young widow to bewail her loss. As a
preacher, he was too earnest to be polished, and was far more wishful,
that his hearers should be benefited by the demonstration of the
Spirit and of power, than that they should be merely pleased with the
excellency of speech or wisdom. He writes: “I seldom begin to compose
my sermons till Saturday in the afternoon, and often not till late in
the evening. I have such a variety of business on my hands, that I can
never find time to smooth my language, nor to embellish my discourses
with pretty conceits, but am obliged to send them abroad into the world
_in puris naturalibus_.”[353]
The following is an extract from a letter, written to Wesley, by this
young clergyman, three weeks after the holding of the intercession
meetings in the house of the Countess of Huntingdon.
“CASTLE STREET, SOUTHWARK, _March 21, 1759_.
“DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,—I wish I knew how to express the sense I
have of your kind and obliging notice of me. I can hardly expect
a greater blessing, as to this world, than the offer you make me
of your acquaintance. I hope the same gracious Father of all, who
has induced you to make the proposal, will also enable you to give
me such instructions as my youth and inexperience need. Let me beg
all friendly admonition, all brotherly, yea fatherly, freedoms from
you. I crave your fervent prayers, that I may be daily more humble,
_unaffectedly humble_, dead to the world and self, and alive unto our
dear redeeming God.
“I am, with many thanks, and great respect, dear and honoured sir,
your affectionate and obliged brother in Christ Jesus,
“THOMAS JONES.”[354]
On the 6th of March, Wesley came to Norwich, where he continued until
April 2. Norwich had become a Methodist station of great importance.
Already, Wesley had converted an old foundery into a meeting-house,
and now he occupied James Wheatley’s chapel. Wheatley’s society, once
consisting of hundreds of members, had mouldered into nothing. Of the
fifteen or sixteen hundred persons who had been _paying_ seatholders,
not one was left; but every one that pleased went into the seats
without any questions asked. “Everything,” says Wesley, “was to be
wrought out of the ore, or rather out of the cinders.”
Difficulties never discouraged, but rather made Wesley daring. He
preached morning and evening in the Foundery; and, in less than a
week, gathered a society of one hundred; and, in less than a month,
by one means and another—by the recovery of Wheatley’s lost sheep,
and by fresh conversions—that society was increased to nearly six
hundred persons; and Wesley believed that, if he could have remained a
fortnight longer, it would have become a thousand.[355] He instituted
classes, and did his best to discipline the members. At society
meetings, he required every one to show his ticket on entering. He
insisted, that the men and women should sit apart, a regulation that
appeared novel, if not harsh, among those who had been the loving
lambs of James Wheatley’s flock. He also found that, from the first,
it had been a custom, in Wheatley’s chapel, to have the galleries
full of spectators while the Lord’s supper was administered. This
he judged to be highly improper; and, therefore, ordered that none
should be admitted, but those who desired to communicate. The only
concession which he made to existing prejudices was this. He writes:
“as a considerable part of them were Dissenters, I desired every one
to use what posture he judged best. Had I required them to kneel,
probably half would have sat: now all but one kneeled down.” Such was
the beginning of Wesley’s society at Norwich. It will often require
notice in succeeding pages. Wesley wrote as follows to his friend, Mr.
Ebenezer Blackwell.
“NORWICH, _March 12, 1759_.
“DEAR SIR,—I know not, if, in all my life, I have had so critical a
work on my hands, as that wherein I am now engaged. I am endeavouring
to gather up those who were once gathered together, and afterwards
scattered, by James Wheatley. I have reunited about seventy of them,
and hope this evening to make up a hundred. But many of them have
wonderful spirits; having been always accustomed to teach their
teachers; so that how they will bear any kind of discipline, I cannot
tell.
“At Colchester, the case is far otherwise. About a hundred and sixty
simple, upright people are there united together, who are as little
children, minding nothing but the salvation of their souls; only, they
are greatly distressed for a larger house. I desired them to look out
for a piece of ground. It is true, they are poor enough; but, if it be
God’s work, He will provide the means.
“I remain, dear sir, your very affectionate servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[356]
Colchester was evidently a favourite place; but it is only fair to add,
that many of the hundred and sixty Methodists were either expelled, or
seceding, Dissenters. Some of them had never had the rite of baptism
administered; and it is a fact worth noticing, that, during this very
visit, Wesley baptized seven of them, all adults, and two of them by
dipping.
Having spent a month at Norwich, Wesley, on April 2, set out on his
long journey to the north.
At Boston, in Lincolnshire, he found a small society, and a more
unawakened and rude congregation than he had seen for years. From
Boston, he “rode over the fens, fifteen miles broad, and near thirty
miles long,” to Coningsby, where he had “a numerous congregation, of
a far different spirit.” At Horncastle, he was roughly saluted by a
mob. At Grimsby, he preached in the old churchyard; at Epworth, in
the new chapel, and in the market-place; and at Selby, in a garden.
At York, he opened the new unfinished chapel in Peasholm Green, and
visited two prisoners in the castle, “the most commodious prison
in Europe.” At Tadcaster, he had a well behaved congregation in a
garden. At Stainland, he preached in a handsome chapel, “near the top
of a mountain,” his friend Grimshaw reading prayers. At Manchester,
“wretched magistrates, by refusing to suppress, had encouraged the
rioters, and had long occasioned tumults: but some were now of a better
spirit.” At Maxfield, “abundance of people ran together, but wild
as colts untamed. Before he had done, all but four or five lubberly
men seemed almost persuaded to be Christians.” At Stockport, where
Methodist meetings were held in a thatched shed belonging to William
Williamson, Wesley preached on Pettycar Green, the shed being far too
small to contain his congregation. The society was small, and could
send only half a sovereign as its quarterage to the Manchester circuit
meeting; but, soon afterwards, Matthew Mayer and other persons of
respectability were converted; and old Hillgate chapel was erected, the
pulpit of which James Chadwick carried upon his shoulders, a distance
of nine miles, from a place near Altrincham. This humble edifice,
without gallery and without pews, was opened by Grimshaw of Haworth;
and Methodism in Stockport was permanently founded.[357]
From Stockport, Wesley proceeded to Northwich, Chester, and Mold in
Wales. At Liverpool, the congregations were exceeding large; but many
of the people “seemed to be like wild asses’ colts.” He made his way to
Wigan, Bolton, Lancaster, Whitehaven, Cockermouth, Wigton, Dumfries,
and Glasgow. At the last mentioned place, he found the little society,
which he had formed, two years ago, all split to pieces. He tried to
reorganise the members, and left about forty, who agreed to meet Mr.
Gillies weekly. “If this be done,” says Wesley, “I shall try to see
Glasgow again: if not, I can employ my time better.”
Leaving Glasgow, he went to Edinburgh, Musselburgh, and Dunbar. At
Berwick, he preached to “a drowsy congregation” in the town hall;
at Alnwick, in the court house, to a congregation “having the power
as well as the form of godliness.” On reaching Newcastle, June 5,
he wrote: “Certainly, if I did not believe there was another world,
I should spend all my summers here; as I know no place in Great
Britain comparable to it for pleasantness. But I seek another country,
and, therefore, am content to be a wanderer upon earth.” Concerning
Gateshead, he says: “In earnestness, the colliers of Gateshead utterly
shame the colliers of Kingswood; scarce thirty of whom think it worth
while to hear the word of God on a weekday, not even when I preach: and
here the house will scarce contain the weekday congregation of a local
preacher.”
It was during this northern visit, that Wesley opened the first
Methodist chapel in Sunderland. He writes: “Saturday, June 9—“I rode
to Sunderland, and preached in the shell of their house. The people
are hungry for the word, and receive it with all gladness.” Hitherto,
the Sunderland Methodists had worshipped in a small room at the top
of Swine Alley; and then in a house in Ettrick’s Garth, where, for
the first time, they had space enough to set up a lilliputian pulpit,
which, with the benches of the place, was threatened to be sold by
auction for an arrear of rent, amounting to about £3, and was only
saved by the prompt interference of Charles Askell, one of the first
leaders, who advanced the sum out of his own pocket, though, by doing
so, he deprived himself of the means of setting up housekeeping with
Ann Lightfoot, whom he was about to marry, and who, with her mother,
resided in a small cottage (Wesley’s home in Sunderland), in Playhouse
Lane, maintaining themselves by sewing and by knitting.[358]
Wesley spent a month at Newcastle and in the immediate neighbourhood.
At Chester-le-street, he “preached in Mr. Tinker’s yard, to a crowded
audience,” says _Lloyd’s Evening Post_; “and after that made an oration
at the meeting-house.” At Morpeth, he had a congregation of “officers,
gentlemen, and common people, in the market-place, such as was never
seen there before.” At North and at South Shields, the lions were
become lambs. At Swalwell, he preached in a Dissenters’ chapel, with
him a thing of rare occurrence. He held the quarterly meeting of the
stewards, and found that there were in the Newcastle circuit about
eighteen hundred members. In Newcastle itself, he not only preached in
the Orphan House, but frequently out of doors, where his congregations
were twice as large as the Orphan House could hold. He writes: “What
marvel the devil does not love field preaching! Neither do I. I love a
commodious room, a soft cushion, and a handsome pulpit. But where is
my zeal, if I do not trample all these under foot, in order to save
one more soul!” It was on one of these occasions, when preaching on
the Exchange steps, that some of his congregation began to pelt him
with mud and rotten eggs; but, at length, a fishwoman, big, burly, and
drunken, and the terror of the neighbourhood in which she lived, ran
up the steps, and threw one of her arms round Wesley’s neck, and shook
the fist of the other in the face of Wesley’s cowardly assailants, and
cried, “If ony yen o’ ye lift up another hand to touch ma canny man,
ayl floor ye direckly.” The fishwife’s menace was quite enough, and
Wesley was allowed to conclude in peace.[359]
On the 2nd of July, Wesley left Newcastle for London. On his way, he
preached at Hartlepool, all the inhabitants of the town being present,
either in the street or the adjoining houses, though “a queer, dirty,
clumsy man, a country wit, took a great deal of pains to disturb
the congregation.” At Stockton, in the midst of his service in the
market-place, the press-gang came and seized his travelling companions,
Joseph Jones and William Alwood, but afterwards released them, the mob,
however, having, in the meanwhile, broken the lieutenant’s head and
so stoned both him and his men, that, to save themselves from further
injury, they ignominiously decamped. At Hutton-Rudby, he found that
they had just built a preaching house. At Stokesley, he preached on
the green; at Guisborough, in a meadow; at Robinhood’s Bay, on the
quay; and at Scarborough, in the street. Thence, he went to York,
Pocklington, and Hull. He writes: “I had a fine congregation at Hull.
For once, the rich have the gospel preached.” On his way back to York,
he preached in Mr. Hilton’s yard, at Beverley. At Tadcaster, distant
thunder did not lessen the number of his congregation. At Otley, he
preached to an immense multitude at the foot of a high mountain.
At Guiseley, he was entertained at Mr. Marshal’s, “the Capua of
Yorkshire.” At Keighley, he found “a loving, earnest, well established
people.” He then proceeded to Colne, Heptonstall, and Haworth. At the
last mentioned place, Mr. Milner read prayers, and Wesley preached,
standing on a scaffold close to the church, and the congregation
standing in the churchyard. After the service, “the communicants alone
filled the church.” At a place near Huddersfield, he preached to “the
wildest congregation he had seen in Yorkshire;” at Halifax, “the
preaching house was like an oven”; at Bradford, he preached, not in
the house, but at its door, “as it could not contain one half of the
congregation”; at Morley, “a flame had suddenly broken out, where it
was least of all expected, and was spreading wider and wider”; and at
Birstal, the congregation nearly filled a field. At Sheffield, he was
“desired to visit Mr. Dodge, curate of the new church, and found him on
the brink of eternity, rejoicing in God his Saviour.” At Rotherham, he
conversed with eleven persons who believed themselves to be entirely
sanctified. At Gainsborough, he preached to “a rude, wild multitude,
in Sir Nevil Hickman’s great hall,” and was thanked by Sir Nevil for
his sermon. At North Scarle, he had a great multitude to hear him; but,
though he “spoke as plainly as he could, on the first principles of
religion, many seemed to understand him no more than if he was talking
Greek.”
On Sunday, August 5, he reached Everton, “faint and weary”; attended
the morning and afternoon services in Mr. Berridge’s church, where
several “cried out aloud, not from sorrow or fear, but love and joy.”
At night, he preached in Mr. Hicks’s church, at Wrestlingworth, and
“two or three fell to the ground, and were extremely convulsed; while
one or two were filled with strong consolation.” He “talked with Ann
Thorn, and two others, who had been several times in trances”; and
Berridge took him to Alice Miller, a girl fifteen years of age, whom he
found “sitting on a stool, and leaning against a wall, with her eyes
open and fixed upward.” He made a motion as if about to strike her,
but her eyes remained unmoved. Tears stole down her cheeks; her face
was stamped with reverence and love; her lips were open, but not a
word was uttered. In about half an hour, her countenance changed into
the form of fear, pity, and distress; she burst into a flood of tears,
and cried, “They will all be damned!” In five minutes, her smiles
returned; this was followed by an exhibition of distress, when she
again exclaimed, “They will go to hell! Cry aloud! Spare not!” After
remaining in this state for some hours, “her senses returned.” Wesley
asked, “Where have you been?” She answered, “With my Saviour.” “Why
did you cry?” “Not for myself, but for the world; for I saw they were
on the brink of hell.” This is a strange story, which Wesley leaves,
as he leaves many more, without comment. On August 7, he got back to
London.
Before proceeding farther, the following extract from a letter, which
Berridge wrote to Wesley three weeks before his visit, will not be out
of place, and will furnish the reader with “an idea of the wonderful
work and scenes witnessed at Everton, and in the surrounding country.”
“_July 16, 1759._
“DEAR SIR,—Mr. Hicks and myself have been preaching in the fields for
this month past, and the power of the Lord is wonderfully present with
the word. Near twenty towns have received the gospel in a greater or
less degree; and we continually receive fresh invitations, whenever
we go out. The word is everywhere like a hammer, breaking the rock
in pieces. People fall down, cry out most bitterly, and struggle so
vehemently, that five or six men can scarce hold them. It is wonderful
to see how the fear of the Lord falls even upon unawakened sinners.
When we enter a new village, the people stare, and laugh, and rail
abundantly; but when we have preached night and morning, and they have
heard the outcries of wounded sinners, they seem as much alarmed as
if the French were at their doors. As soon as three or four receive
convictions in a village, they are desired to meet together two or
three nights in a week, which they readily comply with. At first,
they only sing; afterwards they join reading and prayer to singing;
and the presence of the Lord is greatly with them. Let me mention
two instances. At Orwell, ten people were broken down in one night,
only by hearing a few people sing hymns. At Grandchester, a mile from
Cambridge, seventeen people were seized with strong convictions last
week, only by hearing hymns sung. When societies get a little strength
and courage, they begin to read and pray, and then the Lord magnifies
His love as well as power amongst them by releasing souls out of
bondage.
“Of late, there has been a wonderful outpouring of the spirit of love
among believers; insomuch, that they have fainted under it, fallen
down, and lain upon the ground, as dead, for some hours; their bodies
being so weakened by these transports of joy, that they have not been
able to endure hard labour for days afterwards.
“I would not have you publish the account of A. T. It might only
prejudice people against the Lord’s work in this place. I find our
friends in town begin to be in great pain about the work. They are
very slow of heart to believe what they do not see with their own
eyes. Give my love to Mr. Grimshaw, and John Nelson; and believe me
your affectionate servant for Christ’s sake,
“JOHN BERRIDGE.”[360]
The work and its accompaniments at Everton created anxiety in London.
No wonder. Twenty years previously, the same sort of scenes had been
witnessed at Bristol, Kingswood, and Newcastle. Thoughtful and even
religious people disliked them; but what then? Were they altogether
fanatical, the work of the devil, and intended to injure the work of
God? Many thought so; but Wesley did not. After narrating what he saw
at Everton, he writes: “I have generally observed more or less of these
outward symptoms to attend the beginning of a general work of God; so
it was in New England, Scotland, Holland, Ireland, and many parts of
England; but, after a time, they gradually decrease, and the work goes
on more quietly and silently. Those whom it pleases God to employ in
His work ought to be quite passive in this respect; they should choose
nothing, but leave entirely to Him all the circumstances of His own
work.”
On the 8th of August, the day after his arrival in London, Wesley
opened the annual conference of his preachers, which lasted the next
three days. Almost the whole time was spent “in examining whether the
spirit and lives of the preachers were suitable to their profession.”
The conference throughout was marked with great unanimity and love.
Three weeks were spent in London and its neighbourhood; and then Wesley
set out for Norwich, taking Everton on his way. He again preached in
the church of his friend Berridge. He writes: “I went to the church
unusually heavy, and hardly expecting to do any good. I preached on
these words in the second lesson, ‘We know that we are of God.’ One
sunk down, and another, and another. Some cried aloud in agony of
prayer. I would willingly have spent some time in prayer with them; but
my voice failed, so that I was obliged to conclude the service, leaving
many in the church, crying and praying, but unable either to walk or
stand.”
Arriving at Norwich, Wesley found that, in taking Wheatley’s chapel and
congregation, he had not taken an unmixed comfort. He says: “August
30—I preached to a large, rude, noisy congregation. I took knowledge
what manner of teachers they had been accustomed to, and determined to
mend them or end them. Accordingly, the next evening, after sermon, I
reminded them of two things: the one, that it was not decent to begin
talking aloud as soon as service was ended, and hurrying to and fro,
as in a bear garden; the other, that it was a bad custom to gather into
knots just after sermon, and turn a place of worship into a coffee
house. I, therefore, desired that none would talk under that roof, but
go quietly and silently away. And on Sunday, September 2, I had the
pleasure to observe, that all went as quietly away, as if they had been
accustomed to it for many years.”
So far, so good. Having mended the bad manners of the Norwich
congregation, his next effort was to mend the society. He found, that
there were about five hundred members; but a hundred and fifty of those
did not even pretend to meet in class at all; and the rest were very
far from being what they ought to be. “I told them,” says he, “in plain
terms, that they were the most ignorant, self conceited, self willed,
fickle, untractable, disorderly, disjointed society, that I knew in the
three kingdoms. And God applied it to their hearts; so that many were
profited; but I do not find that one was offended.” Such was Wesley’s
method of mending or ending James Wheatley’s “lambs” at Norwich.
Having spent eleven days at Norwich, Wesley returned to London,
preaching at Colchester on his way, where, for the first time, since he
was six years old, he had a sleepless night. “But,” he writes, “it is
all one: God is able to give strength, either with sleep or without it.
I rose at my usual time, and preached at five, without any faintness or
drowsiness.”
At the commencement of his ministry, Wesley and his Oxford friends
seemed ostracised. All the clergy shunned them, and not a few railed
against, and censured them. Now it began to be otherwise: Venn,
Romaine, Madan, Jones, Walker, Milner, Grimshaw, Berridge, Hicks,
and others were zealously and successfully preaching their grand old
doctrine of justification by faith _only_; and every year added to the
number of their clerical adherents. During his northern journey, in
1759, Wesley formed a friendship with two who deserve a notice.
One of them was the Rev. Thomas Goodday, of Sunderland, in whose
church, at Monkwearmouth, Wesley preached more than once in after
years. The following extract from one of Mr. Goodday’s letters to
Wesley will afford a glimpse of his religious character.[361]
“MONKWEARMOUTH, _July 13, 1759_.
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—Your kind letter reached me at a critical
hour; and another favour, of the same nature, would be as refreshing
to my soul as the dew of heaven to the parched glebe. Your seasonable
hints are judicious and pertinent, and I shall endeavour to make them
the rule of my future conduct. Your harmless, inoffensive, and good
natured men are a very dangerous set of creatures; and such were
most of my former associates. I have had enough to do also with the
_prudent_ children of this generation. They are perpetually pestering
my ears with the _rational scheme_, and would fain persuade me, that
it can in no way conduce to the glory of God, nor my own interest,
to deviate, in the least, from the old beaten track I have been so
long accustomed to, both in thinking, preaching, and praying. They
are often whispering, ‘The world will call you a fool.’ O when will
it once be, that, in the cause of God, I can set my face as a flint
against those two busy demons, false shame, and the fear of man? I
would be a Christian; but I know I am a fool, a babe, a mere novice in
the faith; and yet, if another should tell me so, I have so much of
the old tinder left in me, as to take fire immediately. Whenever my
wife and myself put up our petitions to the God of all mercy, it is
our bounden duty never to leave out this,—that He would be pleased to
preserve the life of Mr. John Wesley long, as a blessing to the nation.
“I am, dear sir, your sincere and affectionate brother,
“THOMAS GOODDAY.”[362]
Another clergyman, between whom and Wesley a friendship sprung up, was
the Rev. Richard Conyers, LL.D., at this time thirty-four years of
age, and vicar of Helmsley, where he diligently devoted himself to the
work of improving the morals of his extensive parish. He instituted
female schools, and began himself to instruct young men in arithmetic
and the lower branches of the mathematics. He habituated the people to
an attendance upon Divine service, in which they had been exceedingly
remiss; and, for this purpose, introduced singing, which he encouraged
by personal example. He adopted the practice of catechizing children
and young people in the church; and, though his parish was ten miles
wide, he left no part of it neglected, but regularly visited the most
indigent and illiterate. He assembled, at his own house, companies of
young men for prayer and religious improvement; and yet, all the while,
he was not converted, and was in the greatest danger of becoming a
Socinian. All men praised him, but he was not happy. To obtain peace
of conscience, he fasted more frequently than had been his wont, and
sometimes, at the altar in his church, signed, with his own blood,
solemn covenants to devote himself to the service of his Maker, and
to render himself acceptable to heaven by his sanctity. Still he was
unhappy; but, at length, by reading the Scriptures, he was led to see
the gospel plan of salvation, and, on Christmas day, 1758, trusted in
Christ, and found peace. “I went up stairs and down again,” said he,
“backwards and forwards in my room, clapping my hands for joy, and
crying, ‘I have found Him; I have found Him, whom my soul loveth’;
and, for a little time, whether in the body or out of it, I could
hardly tell.” On the ensuing sabbath, Mr. Conyers publicly related his
conversion in his parish church; and, at once, began to preach, “By
grace are ye saved, through faith, not of works, lest any man should
boast.” His preaching was now attended with marvellous success. The
converts in the hamlets, in his widely extended parish, he formed into
classes, men by themselves, women by themselves; and these into married
and unmarried classes. At appointed times, he met them for spiritual
communion; and, every day, at eleven o’clock, preached in some part
of his parish. He erected a room, adjoining the parsonage, which was
open every morning and evening for all who thought proper to attend his
domestic worship; and the greater part of his personal and parochial
income was devoted to the relief of poverty.
Such was good Dr. Conyers. Six months after his conversion, he wrote to
Wesley as follows.
“HELMSLEY, _July 9, 1759_.
“REVEREND SIR,—I received your obliging letter yesterday, and
sincerely thank you for your affectionate prayers to God for me.
He has been pleased, I believe, to make you a noble instrument of
promoting His glory; and great, I doubt not, will be your reward in
heaven. May He still enable you to spread through all your societies
the gospel of the blessed Jesus! May they all, like their great
Master, be meek and lowly, humble, inoffensive; laying aside all warm
disputations, which gender strife; all railings, bitterness, and false
accusations! O sir, these rank weeds grow very fast, even in religious
hearts. Let us watch and be sober. The fruits of God’s blessed Spirit
will grow apace in a heart thus guarded by watchfulness and prayer.
Humility and love, peace and joy, will be its constant visitants; it
will be preserved from the power of sin, from the author of sin, from
the consequences of sin; and will be carried on, under the protection
of an almighty arm, step by step, through all difficulties and
dangers, into the possession of an eternal life.
“I am, dear sir, your affectionate friend and fellow servant,
“RICHARD CONYERS.”[363]
A third clergyman, with whom Wesley commenced a correspondence in
1759, must be mentioned. The Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley was a first
cousin of the Countess of Huntingdon, in whose London mansion he became
acquainted with the Methodistic leaders of the day. He was converted
by the ministry of Venn, and held a Church living in Ireland. He was
now thirty-three years old; his preaching was richly evangelical; and
to convert sinners was the one object of his life. Cope, bishop of
Clonfert, warned him to “lay aside his exceptionable doctrines,” and
threatened to “proceed in the most effectual manner to suppress them.”
“Menaces, my lord,” said Shirley, “between gentlemen, are illiberal;
but when they cannot be put into execution, they are contemptible.”
The Archbishop of Tuam knew how to respect him, and, more than once,
treated the charges brought against him with well merited contempt.
On one occasion, the curate of Loughrea came with an air of great
importance, and with a certainty of ruining the intractable Methodist.
“Oh, your grace,” exclaimed this weak headed curate, “I have such a
circumstance to communicate to you, one that will astonish you!”
“Indeed,” replied the archbishop, “what can it be?” “Why, my lord,”
rejoined the curate with a solemn air, “Mr. Shirley wears white
stockings.”[364] “Very anti-clerical, and very dreadful,” responded the
waggish prelate: “does Mr. Shirley wear them over his boots?” “No, your
grace.” “Well, sir,” added the archbishop, “the first time you find him
with his stockings over his boots, pray inform me, and I shall deal
with him accordingly.”[365]
The following is an extract from Shirley’s letter to Wesley in 1759.
“LOUGHREA, _August 21, 1759_.
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—Your obliging and truly Christian letter
was welcome to my soul, ten thousand, thousand times; and brought
a satisfaction, which could only be exceeded by the pleasure of a
personal conversation with you. I am not without hope, that, when you
shall think fit to visit those blessed seminaries of vital religion
in this kingdom, of your own planting, you will take an opportunity
of honouring this place, and more particularly my house, with the
presence of one, whose labours in the gospel of my dear Master are
so eminent. I highly honour and love Mr. Berridge, and Mr. Grimshaw.
May God bless them with increasing success! And may He endue me with
the same noble courage! What will you say, dear sir? Will you not
give up every favourable opinion of so unworthy a minister as I am,
when I inform you, that, though there are many under my charge, who
confess they have been awakened, yet I dare not boast of any confirmed
converts, through my preaching and ministry. I am now about to leave
them for two or three months; being in a very bad state of health, and
advised to go to Bath. Let me entreat your earnest prayers.
“I am your affectionate brother,
“WALTER SHIRLEY.”[366]
We must now come back to Wesley. On his return to London from Norwich,
on September 14, he gave orders for the immediate repairing of West
Street chapel, the main timbers of which were actually rotten. He rode
to Canterbury, where his congregation included “two hundred soldiers,
and a whole row of officers.” At Dover, he found a new chapel just
finished, and opened it.
Returning to London, he preached, on September 23, to a vast
congregation in Moorfields, and wrote: “Who can say the time for field
preaching is over, while—(1) greater numbers than ever attend; (2) the
converting, as well as convincing, power of God is eminently present
with them?”
He then set out for Bristol. At Basingstoke, he preached “to a people
slow of heart and dull of understanding.” He opened a new chapel at
Whitchurch; and pronounced another at Salisbury “the most complete
in England.” Here large numbers of the Hampshire militia attended
preaching; but, he says, “it was as music to a horse; such brutish
behaviour have I seldom seen.” At Bristol, he employed his leisure
time in finishing the fourth volume of his sermons, “probably,” says
he, “the last which I shall publish.” He walked to Knowle, a mile from
Bristol, to see the French prisoners, eleven hundred of whom were lying
on beds of straw, covered with thin rags, and in danger of dying. He
went back, and the same night preached on, “Thou shalt not oppress a
stranger; for ye know the heart of a stranger, seeing ye were strangers
in the land of Egypt”; he made a collection of £24; and, out of this,
bought some dozens of stockings, shirts, waistcoats, and breeches for
the poor captives. Wesley was not content with this; but wrote the
following letter, which was published in _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of
October 26.
“BRISTOL, _October 20, 1759_.
“SIR,—Since I came to Bristol, I heard many terrible accounts
concerning the French prisoners at Knowle: as, ‘That they were so
wedged together, that they had no room to breathe; that the stench
of the rooms where they lodged was intolerable; that their food was
only fit for dogs; that their meat was carrion, their bread rotten and
unwholesome; and that, in consequence of this inhuman treatment, they
died in shoals.’
“Desiring to know the truth, I went to Knowle, and was showed all the
apartments there. But how was I disappointed? 1. I found they had
large and convenient space to walk in, if they chose it, all the day.
2. There was no stench in any apartment I was in, either below or
above. They were all sweeter and cleaner than any prison I have seen
either in England or elsewhere. 3. Being permitted to go into the
larder, I observed the meat hanging up, two large quarters of beef. It
was fresh and fat, and I verily think as good as ever I desire to eat.
4. A large quantity of bread lay on one side. A gentleman took up and
cut one of the loaves. It was made of good flour, was well baked, and
perfectly well tasted. 5. Going thence to the hospital, I found that,
even in this sickly season, there are not thirty persons dangerously
ill, out of twelve or thirteen hundred. 6. This hospital was sweeter
and cleaner throughout, than any hospital I ever saw in London. I
think it my duty to declare these things, for clearing the innocent,
and the honour of the English nation.
“Yet one thing I observed with concern. A great part of these poor
men are almost naked: and winter is now coming upon them in a cold
prison, and a colder climate than most of them have been accustomed
to. But will not the humanity and generosity of the gentlemen of
Bristol prevent or relieve this distress? Did they not make a noble
precedent during the late war? And surely they are not weary of well
doing. Tuesday night, we did a little according to our power; but I
shall rejoice, if this be forgotten through the abundance administered
by their liberality, in a manner which they judge most proper. Will it
not be, both for the honour of the city and country, for the credit
of our religion, and for the glory of God, who knows how to return it
sevenfold into their bosom?
“I am your humble servant,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
Wesley’s effort was not without results: “Presently after, the
corporation of Bristol sent a large quantity of mattresses and
blankets; and it was not long before contributions were set on foot in
London, and in various parts of the kingdom,” for the selfsame object
as that for which Wesley preached his impromptu sermon, and wrote his
letter.
On October 26, he returned to London, where he remained until November
22, when he again set out for Everton, at which place he had to
officiate for Berridge, who had gone to preach before the university at
Cambridge.
On his way, Wesley stopped at Bedford, and writes: “We had a pretty
large congregation; but the stench from the swine under the room was
scarce supportable. Was ever a preaching place over a hogstye before?
Surely they love the gospel, who come to hear it in such a place.” This
garret to a pigstye was an upper room, used for spinning, in a yard
leading from the High Street. The room was bad enough, the stye was
worse, and Alderman Parker’s nephew was worst of all; for the young
fellow always took care to arrange that the feeding of the pigs and
the din consequent thereon, should be contemporaneous with his uncle’s
preaching. At length, however, the spinning room and the swinish
residence underneath were taken down; a small chapel was erected on
the site; and an adjoining workhouse was converted into the home of
itinerant Methodist preachers.[367]
At Everton, Wesley observed a remarkable difference, in the manner
of the work, since his previous visit. “None now were in trances,
none cried out, none fell down or were convulsed; only some trembled
exceedingly, a low murmur was heard, and many were refreshed.”
He continues: “the danger _was_, to regard such extraordinary
circumstances too much, as if they were essential to the inward work.
Perhaps the danger _is_, to regard them too little; to condemn them
altogether; to imagine they had nothing of God in them, and were
an hindrance to His work. Whereas the truth is: (1) God suddenly
and strongly convinced many, that they were lost sinners; the
natural consequences whereof were sudden outcries and strong bodily
convulsions. (2) To strengthen and encourage them that believed, and
to make His work more apparent, He favoured several of them with
Divine dreams, others with trances and visions. (3) In some of these
instances, after a time, nature mixed with grace. (4) Satan likewise
mimicked this work of God, in order to discredit the whole work; and
yet, it is not wise to give up this part, any more than to give up
the whole. At first, it was, doubtless, wholly from God. It is partly
so at this day; and He will enable us to discern how far, in every
case, the work is pure, and where it mixes or degenerates. The shadow
is no disparagement of the substance, nor the counterfeit of the real
diamond.”
Wesley returned to London on November 28; and on December 9, “for the
first time, held a lovefeast for the whole society.” Hitherto, none had
been admitted to Methodist lovefeasts except the members of the bands,
that is, persons who were _justified_; now the members of the classes,
that is, persons who were _penitent_, were allowed to join in the same
privilege of Christian fellowship, and to evince brotherly affection by
taking together “a little plain cake and water.”
December 12, he spent part of the afternoon in the British Museum,
recently instituted. On the 14th, he was at, what he calls, “a
Christian wedding, two or three relatives and five clergymen” forming
the company. On the 19th, he read over a chancery bill, in a suit to
recover £10, which filled a hundred and ten sheets of paper. He desired
the plaintiff and defendant to meet him, and settled the matter by
arbitration. On the 23rd, he opened the new chapel at Colchester, which
he describes as “twelve square,” and as “the best building, of the
size, for the voice, that he knew in England.” The end of the year he
spent at Norwich, where he found the society “fewer in number, but of a
teachable spirit, willing to be advised, and even reproved.”
We have tracked the steps of Wesley during the year 1759. Before
closing the chapter, two or three other matters must be noticed.
One was a savage onslaught, made upon Methodism, by the Rev. John
Downes, rector of St. Michael, Wood Street, and lecturer of St.
Mary-le-bow, London. This was a large pamphlet entitled, “Methodism
Examined: being the substance of four discourses from Acts xx. 28-30.”
The reader must be troubled with a few selections from this malignant
_morceau_, especially as Wesley condescended to notice it.
The founders of Methodism, in 1734, were “two bold, though beardless
divines, so young, that they might rather be called wolflings than
wolves, novices in divinity, and lifted up with spiritual pride. They
were ambitious of being accounted ministers of greater eminence and
authority than either bishops or archbishops; missionaries immediately
delegated by heaven, to correct the clergy in the true nature of
Christianity, and to caution the laity not to venture their souls in
any such unhallowed hands as refused to be initiated into all the
mysteries of Methodism. Their Journals were ostentatious trash, filled
with jargon, that passed for inspiration. Their followers seem to
look upon every place upon which they tread, as holy ground; they are
comforted and refreshed with their very shadows passing over them; and
they follow in crowds, wherever it is noised about, that they are to
vociferate.”
“The Methodists deny the necessity of good works; they make their
boast, that they are the only persons who know the truth as it is in
Jesus Christ, and that all others are unenlightened, and uninformed,
interpreting the Scriptures according to the letter which killeth, but
ignorant of the Spirit which giveth life. They endeavour to support
their weak and wild notions by the abuse and perversion of Scripture,
and talk as proudly as the Donatists of their being the only true
preachers of gospel truth. They insult the Established Church, despise
dominions, speak evil of dignities, and trample all rule and authority
beneath their feet. Their doctrines or notions coincide with many of
the oldest and rankest heresies, that ever defiled the purity and
disturbed the peace of the Christian church; particularly those of
the Simonians, the Gnostics, the Valentinians, the Donatists, the
predestinarians, the Montanists, and the antinomians. They treat
Christianity as a wild, enthusiastical scheme, which will bear no
examination; they will have it, that we may be saved by faith in
Christ, without any other requisite on our part; they consider man as
a mere machine, unable to do anything towards his own salvation; they
represent faith as a supernatural principle, altogether precluding
the judgment and understanding, and discerned by internal signs and
operations; and they build all their notions upon Scripture authority,
putting sacred texts to the torture, and racking them till they speak
to their purpose. The whole strength of their cause lies in the
perversion of the Scriptures, and the abuse of the clergy. By the
most peevish and spiteful invectives, the most rude and rancorous
revilings, the most invidious calumnies, they strive to poison the
minds of the people against their true and rightful pastors.”
Such are extracts from what Mr. Downes designates “the full portrait of
that frightful monster called Methodism.” The following is a sort of
summing up.