“These new gospel preachers are close friends to the Church of Rome,

by harmonizing or agreeing with her in almost everything except the

doctrine of merit; they are no less kind to the cause of infidelity,

by making the Christian religion a light and airy phantom, which one

single breath of the most illiterate freethinker can easily demolish;

they cut up Christianity by the roots, by insinuating that a good

life is not necessary to justification; they are enemies, not only to

the Christian, but to every religion whatsoever, in which reason or

common sense hath any share, by labouring to subvert the whole system

of morality, and by erecting a proud and enthusiastic faith upon the

ruins of practical holiness and virtue.”

Poor Mr. Downes—fiery, furious, and false, but not foolish—died soon

after this; and his widow published, by subscription, in 1761, two

volumes of his sermons, to illustrate and confirm his anti-Methodistic

principles, the list of subscribers including the Archbishop of

Canterbury, several bishops, and, marvellously enough, two of Wesley’s

old friends at Manchester, the Rev. John Clayton, and Dr. Byrom. The

sermons are marked by the same bitterness as the pamphlet. Methodist

preachers are designated “canting zealots,” and Methodists themselves

are “crazy converts.” They are “dirty dabblers,” “conveying to the

world a foul torrent of falsehood and infamy, through the pure channel

of the holy Scriptures.” “From every pulpit, into which the new style

preachers can by any means thrust their heads, they bellow vile and

clamorous reflections.” “Methodism is the greatest tax upon ignorance

and superstition, that this kingdom perhaps ever knew.” Its preachers

“choose rather to talk than to work for their bread, to get their

living rather by their lungs than by their labour.” “They turn religion

into riot, prayer into strife, themselves into wolves, and the temple

of the Lord into a den of devils.”

But enough of the trenchant railings of the Rev. Mr. Downes,—a man

possessed of talents that ought to have been devoted to a better cause.

Let us see how Wesley dealt with him, in his letter, dated November 17,

1759. He correctly accuses him of uttering “many senseless, shameless

falsehoods,” but, as an excuse for him, adds: “I hope you know nothing

about the Methodists, no more than I do about the Cham of Tartary; that

you are ignorant of the whole affair, and are so bold, only because you

are blind. Bold enough! Throughout your whole tract, you speak _satis

pro imperio_,—as authoritatively as if you were, not an archbishop

only, but apostolic vicar also; as if you had the full papal power in

your hands, and fire and fagot at your beck! And blind enough; so that

you blunder on, through thick and thin, bespattering all that come in

your way, according to the old laudable maxim, ‘Throw dirt enough, and

some will stick.’” Wesley tells him that, if he can prove any one of

the charges he has advanced against him, he may call him not only a

wolfling or a wolf, but an otter, if he pleases. He then, in pungent,

pointed sentences, replies to his reviler’s accusations, and concludes

thus.

“If you fall upon people that meddle not with you, without either fear

or wit, you may possibly find, that they have a little more to say for

themselves than you were aware of. I ‘follow peace with all men’; but

if a man set upon me without either rhyme or reason, I think it my

duty to defend myself, so far as truth and justice permit. Yet still

I am (if a poor enthusiast may not be so bold as to style himself your

brother),

“Reverend sir, your servant for Christ’s sake,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[368]

Before proceeding to notice Wesley’s publications, in 1759, it may be

interjected that, in the month of November in this year, “faithful

Sam Francks,” as Charles Wesley calls him,[369] became Wesley’s book

steward,[370] an office which he continued to hold till 1773, when, in

a fit of despair, he hung himself, in the old Foundery; and, strange

to say, a fortnight afterwards, Matthews, the Foundery schoolmaster,

copied his mad example.[371]

1. “An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from November 2,

1751, to October 28, 1754.” 12mo, 90 pages.

2. “A short Exposition of the Ten Commandments. Extracted from Bishop

Hopkins.” 12mo, 96 pages.

3. “Advices with respect to Health. Extracted from a late Author.”

12mo, 218 pages.

The “late author” was Dr. Tissot. Wesley, in his preface pronounces

the opinion that Tissot’s work was “one of the most useful books of

the kind that had appeared in the present century. His descriptions of

diseases were admirable; his medicines few, simple, cheap, and safe.”

He deprecates, however, “his violent fondness for bleeding, his love

of glysters, his uncleanly ointment for the itch, and his vehement

recommendation of the Peruvian bark, as the only infallible remedy

either for mortifications or intermittent fevers.” In reference to the

bark, he says, that he himself “took some pounds of it when he was

young, for a common tertian ague,” but without any good effect, and

that he “was cured unawares by drinking largely of lemonade.”

Wesley appends to Tissot’s advices a number of his own prescriptions,

in the form of notes, some of which are curious enough, as that “a

poultice of boiled nettles” will cure the pleurisy, and the quinsy;

that erysipelas in the head or face will be remedied by applying “warm

treacle to the soles of the feet”; and that “electrifying cures all

sorts of sprains”; but, being on such subjects profoundly ignorant, we

forbear from further extracts.

4. “Thoughts on Christian Perfection.” 12mo, 30 pages. This, at

the time, was an important publication. The doctrine of Christian

perfection was obtaining great attention, and the sentiments of the

Methodists respecting it were not harmonious. At the conference of

1758, it had been earnestly considered; and again at the conference of

1759. Wesley saw that there was a danger of a diversity of opinions

insensibly stealing in among the Methodists and their preachers; and

hence the publication of his tract;—not to prove the doctrine, nor to

answer the objections against it; but simply to declare his own views

concerning it. He affirms that, on this subject, his thoughts are just

the same as he had entertained for above twenty years. His sentiments

had been controverted, and lampooned, but they were not altered. All

sorts of constructions had been put upon his doctrine, but very rarely

the right one. “What,” he asks, “is Christian perfection?” Answer—“The

loving God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. This implies

that no wrong temper remains in the soul; and that all the thoughts,

words, and actions are governed by pure love.”

The controversy, just at present, was chiefly on the point whether

a man, who had attained Christian perfection, was still liable to

ignorance and mistake, and needed Christ in His priestly office.

Wesley’s opinion was the affirmative of this; but some of his followers

were evidently disposed to hold the negative, and thereby to set

the doctrine of perfection far too high. Some talked about their

attainments too much; some thought it best not to talk at all: Wesley,

advised those who had obtained the blessing to speak of it to their

fellow Christians, but not to the unconverted; and he requested his

preachers to prevent such from being unjustly or unkindly treated

by their religious associates who were less advanced in grace. He

specifies the proofs whereby it may be known whether an entirely

sanctified man’s profession is correct. Taking pleasant in preference

to unpleasant, though equally wholesome, food; smelling a flower,

eating a bunch of grapes, marriage, attention to worldly business, were

all of them things perfectly compatible with Christian perfection.

The mentioning of such matters may seem somewhat frivolous; but,

in reality, it is not so. These were things seriously discussed by

earnest, if not well informed, Methodists in 1759; and these and

kindred questions agitated the Methodist societies for some years

afterwards.

Some were disposed to doubt the high profession of their sanctified

brethren, because they did nothing except what was done by “common

believers”; others because they felt “no power in their words and

prayers”; and others, because, notwithstanding their profession,

they failed to “come up to their idea of a perfect Christian.” These

were objections which Wesley had to meet. His task was delicate and

difficult; but he lays it down, that no one ought to believe that he is

fully sanctified, till he has “the testimony of the Spirit, witnessing

his entire sanctification, as clearly as his justification”; and that

all ought to wait for this great change, “not in careless indifference,

or indolent inactivity; but in vigorous, universal obedience, in

a zealous keeping of all the commandments, in watchfulness and

painfulness, in denying ourselves, and taking up our cross daily; as

well as in earnest prayer and fasting, and a close attendance on all

the ordinances of God.” He adds: “If any man dream of attaining it any

other way, yea, or of keeping it when it is attained, he deceiveth his

own soul. It is true, we receive it by simple faith; but God does not,

will not, give that faith, unless we seek it with all diligence, in the

way which He hath ordained.”[372]

From the above brief notices, the reader will form an idea of the

excitement created in the Methodist societies, in 1759, by the doctrine

of Christian perfection. The subject will have to be repeatedly

introduced in succeeding years.

1760.

[Sidenote: 1760 Age 57]

Wesley began the year 1760 at Norwich, by holding a service at four

o’clock in the morning. On January 7, he returned to London, and

preached in West Street chapel, now enlarged and thoroughly repaired.

Wesley was a philanthropist; hence the following letter, published in

_Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of February 22, 1760.

“WINDMILL HILL, _February 18, 1760_.

“SIR,—On Sunday, December 16 last, I received a £20 bank bill, from an

anonymous correspondent, who desired me to lay it out, in the manner

I judged best, for the use of poor prisoners. I immediately employed

some in whom I could confide, to inquire into the circumstances of

those confined in Whitechapel and New prison. I knew the former to

have very little allowance, even of bread, and the latter none at

all. Upon inquiry, they found one poor woman in Whitechapel prison,

very big with child, and destitute of all things. At the same time, I

casually heard of a poor man, who had been confined for nine months

in the Poultry Compter, while his wife and three children (whom he

before maintained by his labour) were almost perishing through want.

Not long after, another poor woman, who had been diligent in helping

others, was herself thrown into Whitechapel prison. The expense of

discharging these three, and giving them a few necessaries, amounted

to £10 10_s._ One pound and fourteen shillings I expended in stockings

and other clothing, which was given to those prisoners who were in the

most pressing want. The remainder, £7 16_s._ was laid out in bread,

which was warily distributed thrice a week. I am, therefore, assured

that the whole of this sum was laid out in real charity. And how much

more noble a satisfaction must result from this, to the generous

benefactor, than he could receive from an embroidered suit of clothes,

or a piece of plate, made in the newest fashion! Men of reason, judge!

“I am, sir, your humble servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

On the 3rd of March, Wesley left London, on a tour which occupied the

next six months.

At Towcester, he found one converted person; and at Birmingham, a

society of a little more than fifty. At Wednesbury, he preached in the

new chapel, whose congregation, either in number or seriousness, had

few superiors. In fact, the five o’clock morning congregation exceeded

that of the Foundery in London. Here, also, he found two females

professing to have received the blessing of entire sanctification, and

prayed, “May God increase the number a thousand fold!” At Burslem, “a

scattered town, inhabited almost entirely by potters,” he preached

thrice. Some of his congregation “seemed quite innocent of thought;

five or six laughed and talked nearly all the time; and one threw a

clod of earth, which struck his head, but which neither disturbed him

nor his congregation.” At Congleton, he preached from a scaffold, fixed

in the window of the chapel, to a crowd assembled in an adjoining

meadow. In making his way from Stockport to Leeds, his horse was

“embogged,” on the top of a high mountain; he was thrown into the

morass; and then had a walk which, “for steepness, and bogs, and big

stones intermixed,” was such as even he had not before encountered.

From Leeds, Wesley proceeded to Liverpool, where he had a lengthened

interview with John Newton. “His case,” says he, “is very peculiar.

Our Church requires that clergymen should be men of learning, and, to

this end, have a university education. But how many have a university

education, and yet no learning at all! Yet these men are ordained!

Meantime, one of eminent learning, as well as unblamable behaviour,

cannot be ordained, _because he was_ not at the university! What a mere

farce is this! Who would believe that any Christian bishop would stoop

to so poor an evasion!”

At this period, there existed between Newton and Wesley the sincerest

friendship. Hence the following letter, written a few months after.

“_September 9, 1760._

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—I have taken a double journey since I saw you,

to London and to Yorkshire. I had a very agreeable progress, found a

happy revival in several places, and made many valuable acquaintance,

particularly among the clergy. It gave me much pleasure to see the

same work promoted by very different instruments; all contentions

laid aside; and the only point of dispute, amidst some variety of

sentiments, seeming to be this, who should labour most to recommend

and to adorn the gospel.

“It was with some regret, I heard you were so near as at Parkgate,

without coming over to us at Liverpool. Had I known it in time, I

would gladly have met you there, but you were gone. Our next pleasure

will be to hear from yourself of your welfare. I inquired several

times after Mr. Charles Wesley, when in London, but he was in the

country, and out of the reach of a stranger’s importunity; though, had

he been in health, I believe the distance would not have secured him

from a visit. I should be glad to hear the Lord has restored him to

his former strength and usefulness.

“I hope, dear sir, you will still allow me a place in your friendship,

correspondence, and prayers; and believe me to be your obliged and

affectionate servant in our dear Lord,

“JOHN NEWTON.”[373]

On March 30, Wesley embarked for Ireland, and, on April 6, Easter

Sunday, introduced, at Dublin, the English custom of beginning

religious service at four o’clock in the morning. The Dublin society

was larger now than it had been for several years, consisting of more

than five hundred members.

After three weeks’ labour in Dublin, he started for the provinces. At

Terryhugan, he “spent a comfortable night in the prophet’s chamber,

nine feet long, seven broad, and six high, the ceiling, floor, and

walls all made of clay.” At Moira, his pulpit was a tombstone near the

church. At Lisburn, the people were “all ear.” Newtown had usually the

largest Methodist congregation in Ulster. At Belfast, he preached in

the market-place “to a people who cared for none of those things.”

On the 5th of May, he came to Carrickfergus. Some months before, John

Smith, one of Wesley’s itinerants, was preaching in an inland town, in

the north of Ireland, when he made a sudden pause, and then exclaimed,

“Ah! the French have just landed at Carrickfergus!” The mayor heard

this, and, sending for the preacher, reprimanded him for exciting

a needless alarm and disturbing the public tranquillity. Strangely

enough, however, Smith’s utterance was correct; and, in a few hours,

an express arrived with the intelligence, that Thurot had landed a

thousand soldiers, commanded by General Cavignac, and that they had

taken possession of the town.[374] Thurot had been tossed about by

storms, till he and all his men were almost famished, having only an

ounce of bread per man daily. Their object in landing was chiefly to

obtain provisions; but fighting followed; the garrison was conquered;

and articles of capitulation were signed. Five days afterwards, Thurot

set sail again, and was met by three English frigates. A battle ensued

(February 28), and three hundred of the enemy were killed and wounded,

Thurot himself being shot through the heart.[375]

General Cavignac was at Carrickfergus at the time of Wesley’s visit,

and was resident in the house of Mr. Cobham, who also invited Wesley to

be his guest. The following letter, to Mr. Blackwell, refers to these

events.

“CARRICKFERGUS, _May 7, 1760_.

“DEAR SIR,—I can now give you a clear and full account of the late

proceedings of the French here; as I now lodge at Mr. Cobham’s, under

the same roof with Monsieur Cavignac, the French lieutenant-general.

When the people here saw three large ships anchor near the town, they

took it for granted they were English; but, in an hour, the French

began landing their men. The first party came to the north gate.

Twelve soldiers, planted on the wall, fired on them as they advanced,

wounded the general, and killed several. But when they had fired four

rounds, having no more ammunition, they were obliged to retire. The

French then entered the town, keeping a steady fire up the street,

till they came near the castle. The English then fired hotly from the

gates and walls, and killed their second general, who had burst open

the gate, and gone in, sword in hand, with upwards of fourscore men.

Having no more cartridges, the English soldiers thought it best to

capitulate. They agreed to furnish, in six hours, a certain quantity

of provisions, on condition that the French should not plunder. But

they began immediately to serve themselves with meat and drink, and

took all that they could find, chiefly from the houses where the

inhabitants had run away. However, they neither hurt nor affronted

man, woman, or child, nor did any mischief for mischief’s sake; though

many of the inhabitants affronted them, cursed them to their face, and

even took up pokers and other things to strike them.

“I have had much conversation with Monsieur Cavignac, and have found

him not only a very sensible man, but thoroughly instructed even in

heart religion. After one general was killed, and the other wounded,

the command devolved on him. I asked him, if it was true that they had

a design to burn Carrick and Belfast. He cried out, ‘_Jesu, Maria!_ we

never had such a thought. To burn, to destroy, cannot enter into the

head or heart of a good man.’ One would think, the French king sent

these men on purpose to show what officers he has in his army. I hope

there are some such in the English army; but I never found them yet.

“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

Wesley further tells us, that his host, Mr. Cobham, was sent to

Belfast, to obtain the provisions for the French that had been

promised, and had to leave his wife with General Cavignac, as an

hostage for his return. During his absence, Thurot himself entered Mr.

Cobham’s house, and stated that he had neither ate nor slept for eight

and forty hours. The commodore was hospitably entertained; and, after

six hours of rest, he politely thanked his Irish hostess, and went

aboard his ship.

Wesley had lengthened conversations with Cavignac, not only on affairs

in general, but on religion. “He seemed,” says he, “to startle at

nothing; but said more than once, and with emotion, ‘Why, this is my

religion; there is no true religion besides it!’”

The following is an extract from another letter to Mr. Blackwell, and,

though written some days previous to the former one, refers to the same

subject.

“NEWRY, _April 26, 1760_.

“DEAR SIR,—Hitherto I have had an extremely prosperous journey; and

all the fields are white unto the harvest. But that the labourers are

few, is not the only hindrance to the gathering it in effectually. Of

these few, some are careless, some heavy and dull; scarce one of the

spirit of Thomas Walsh. The nearest to it is Mr. Morgan; but his body

too sinks under him, and probably will not last long.

“In a few days, I expect to be at Carrickfergus, and to hear from

those on whose word I can depend, a full account of that celebrated

campaign. I believe it will be of use to the whole kingdom. Probably,

the government will at last awake, and be a little better prepared

against the next encounter.

“I am, dear sir, your ever affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[376]

Leaving Carrickfergus, Wesley proceeded to Larn, where he had “a very

large, as well as serious congregation.” At Garvah, he preached in

the house of Mr. Burrows to a “well behaved audience of churchmen,

papists, presbyterians, and Cameronians.” At Ballymena, he had “a

large concourse of people.” At Coot Hill, he preached to “most of

the protestants in the town.” At Belturbet, there was neither papist

nor presbyterian in the place; but there were “abundance of sabbath

breakers, drunkards, and common swearers.” At Sligo, “the congregation

was a little disturbed, by two or three giddy officers.” At Newport,

“all the protestants of the town were present, and many of the papists,

notwithstanding the prohibition and bitter curses of their priests.” At

Castlebar, all the gentlemen of the surrounding country were assembled

to hear a trial about the plunder of a Swedish ship. “It was to be

heard,” says Wesley, “in the court house, where I preached; so they met

an hour sooner, and heard the sermon first.”

Having been to the extreme west of Ireland, Wesley was now returning to

the east, accompanied by William Ley and James Glasbrook, two of his

itinerants. On reaching Carrick upon Shannon, he had no sooner begun to

preach, than a magistrate came with a mob and a drum to silence him.

While the magistrate harangued the mob in the street, Wesley quietly

removed his congregation into the garden behind the house. William Ley

was standing at the door. The magistrate, armed with a halbert and a

sword, ran at him, and, striking him, broke his halbert upon William’s

wrist. The mobmaster pushed along the passage to the other door, but

found James Glasbrook holding it so firmly on the outer side, that

egress into the garden was impossible. Not to be foiled, the magistrate

and his minions ran round the house, climbed over the garden wall,

and, with a volley of oaths and curses, rushed up to Wesley, bawling,

“You shall not preach here to-day.” “Sir,” said Wesley, with the most

provoking calmness, “I don’t intend it; for I have preached already.”

The man now foamed more furiously than ever. He belaboured poor James

Glasbrook with the truncheon of his halbert till it snapped asunder;

and then took vengeance on Wesley’s hat, which, says Wesley, “he beat

and kicked most valiantly; but a gentleman rescued it out of his hands,

and we rode quietly out of the town.”

Wesley now made his way to Tyrrell’s Pass, where “a heap of fine,

gay people came on Sunday in their postchaises to the preaching.” At

Portarlington, he preached at five o’clock in the morning; and again

“at ten, for the sake of the gentry: but,” he adds, “even that was

too early, they could not rise so soon.” At Coolylough, he “found a

congregation gathered from twenty miles round; and held the quarterly

meeting of the stewards, a company of settled, sensible men. Nothing,”

says he, “is wanting in this kingdom but zealous, active preachers,

tenacious of order and exact discipline.” At Sligo, “a large,

commodious” preaching room had been procured since his previous visit,

and here he spent five days, preaching in the market, the barrack yard,

and other places.

Preaching daily, and riding long journeys over the roughest roads,

and on all kinds of horses down to one “about the size of a jackass,”

Wesley came to Limerick on July 4, where he held a three days’

conference with ten of his Irish preachers. He then proceeded to the

settlements of the Palatines at Ballygarrane, Killeheen, and Court

Mattrass, three towns scarcely to be equalled; for there was “no

cursing or swearing, no sabbath breaking, no drunkenness, no alehouse,

in any of them.” At Clare, he preached in the new chapel; and at

Clonmel, near the barracks, “to a wild, staring people,” whom the

soldiers present kept quiet. At Bandon, he found a new meeting-house,

“very neat and lightsome.” At Kinsale, his congregation consisted of “a

multitude of soldiers, and not a few of the dull careless townsfolk.”

“Surely,” says he, “good might be done here, would our preachers always

preach in the Exchange, as they might without any molestation, instead

of a little, ugly, dirty garret.”

After a tour of thirteen weeks, Wesley got back to Dublin on the 20th

of July. He had preached scores of sermons, travelled many hundreds

of miles, been subjected to great hardships, and sometimes to serious

danger; but, in the midst of all, God was with him, and he was happy

and prosperous in his glorious work. In making up the numbers, he found

that there were, in Connaught, a little more than two hundred members;

in Ulster, about two hundred and fifty; in Leinster, a thousand; and in

Munster, about six hundred.

Wesley was now obliged to leave Ireland for the purpose of attending

the Bristol conference, which was to open on July 25. Five days only

were left to make the journey,—ample time as things are now, but not

so in the days of Wesley. Then there were no steamers crossing the

channel daily; and even sailing vessels then were remarkable for

nothing except their want of punctuality. Wesley had been advised, that

Captain Dansey would sail on the 19th or 20th; but, on arriving at

Dublin, he found he would not start, at the earliest, before the 25th,

on which day Wesley had arranged to begin his conference in Bristol. He

then inquired for a Chester ship, and found one was expected to sail

on the 22nd; but, in the morning of that day, the captain sent him

word he had to wait for General Montague. Such delays were trying; but

Wesley calmly writes: “So we have one day more to spend in Ireland. Let

us live this day as if it were our last.” At length, on July 24, he

and forty or fifty other passengers embarked for Chester, and, after a

two days’ voyage, during which there were two dead calms, and Wesley

preached two good sermons, they landed at Parkgate, thirty-six hours

after Wesley ought to have been in Bristol. For nothing was Wesley

more famed than for his strictness in fulfilling his appointments.

The passengers were landed at Parkgate, but, it being the time of low

water, Wesley’s horses could not be landed. To wait for high water and

his horses was out of question; hence, he bought one and hired another,

and set out for Bristol with the utmost speed. At Wolverhampton, his

new horses failed and were unable to proceed farther. Fresh ones were

hired, and the others left behind; but no sooner had Wesley and his

companion started on their newly acquired nags, than one fell lame,

and the other, which Wesley rode, tumbled, and gave its rider a most

serious shock. At length, with great difficulty, they got to Newport;

and there, abandoning their horses, they took a chaise, and reached

Bristol a little before midnight on July 28. He writes: “I spent the

two following days with the preachers, who had been waiting for me all

the week; and their love and unanimity were such as soon made me forget

all my labour.”

This is all we know concerning the conference of 1760. It began on July

29, and ended on July 30. Wesley had been six months from London and

his wife; and yet, on the very next day but one after his conference

concluded, he set out on another month’s tour to Cornwall. But here we

must make a pause, to insert some of Wesley’s letters.

We have seen that a year and a half previous to this, Wesley had become

acquainted with Berridge, a devoted Christian and an able and useful

minister; but an eccentric genius, and sometimes conceited and somewhat

obstinate. Wesley, in more respects than one, was a most _faithful_

friend. Hence the letter following.

“DUBLIN, _April 18, 1760_.

“DEAR SIR,—_Disce, docendus adhuc quo censet amiculus_; and take it

in good part, my mentioning some particulars which have been long on

my mind: and yet, I knew not how to speak them. I was afraid it might

look like taking too much upon me, or assuming some superiority over

you. But love casts out, or, at least, overrules that fear. So I will

speak simply, and leave you to judge.

“It seems to me, that, of all persons I ever knew, save one, you are

the _hardest to be convinced_. I have occasionally spoken to you on

many heads; some of a speculative, others of a practical nature; but

I do not know that you were ever convinced of one, whether of great

importance or small. I believe you retained your own opinion in every

one, and did not vary a hair’s breadth.

“I have likewise doubted whether you were not full as _hard to be

persuaded_, as to be convinced: whether your will do not adhere to

its first basis, right or wrong, as strongly as your understanding.

I mean with regard to any impression, which another may make upon

them. For, perhaps, you readily—too readily change of your own mere

motion; so that it is not easy to please you long, but exceeding easy

to offend you. I have frequently observed great _fickleness_ and great

_stubbornness_ meet in the same mind.

“Does not this imply the _thinking_ very _highly_ of _yourself_? Does

it not imply something of _self_ sufficiency? ‘You can stand alone;

you care for no man. You need no help from man.’ It was not so with

my brother and me, when we were first employed in this great work.

We were deeply conscious of our own insufficiency; and though, in

one sense, we trusted in God alone, yet we sought help from all His

children, and were glad to be taught by any man. And this, although

we were really alone in the work; for there were none that had gone

before us therein. There were none then in England, who had trod that

path, wherein God was leading us. Whereas _you_ have the advantage

which we had not; you tread in a beaten path. Others have gone

before you, and are going now in the same way, to the same point.

Yet it seems you _choose_ to stand alone; what was necessity with

_us_, is choice with _you_. You like to be unconnected with any,

thereby tacitly condemning all. But possibly you go farther yet.

Do not you explicitly condemn all your fellow labourers, blaming

one in one instance, one in another, so as to be thoroughly pleased

with the conduct of none? Does not this argue a very high degree of

censoriousness? Do you not censure even _peritos in sua arte_?

“Permit me to relate a little circumstance to illustrate this. After

we had been once singing a hymn at Everton, I was just going to say,

‘I wish Mr. Whitefield would not try to _mend_ my brother’s hymns.

He cannot do it. How vilely he has murdered that hymn! _weakening_

the sense, as well as _marring_ the poetry!’ But how was I afterwards

surprised to hear it was not Mr. Whitefield but Mr. Berridge! In very

deed, it is not easy to _mend_ his hymns, any more than to imitate

them.

“Has not this aptness to find fault frequently shown itself in

abundance of other instances? Sometimes with regard to Mr. Parker, or

Mr. Hicks; sometimes with regard to me. And this may be one reason why

you take one step which was scarce ever before taken in Christendom:

I mean the discouraging of the new converts from reading, at least,

from reading anything but the Bible. Nay, but get off the consequence

who can: if they ought to _read_ nothing but the Bible, they ought to

_hear_ nothing but the Bible; so away with sermons, whether spoken or

written! I can hardly imagine, that you discourage reading even our

little tracts out of jealousy, lest we should undermine you, or steal

away the affections of the people. I think you cannot easily suspect

this. I myself did not desire to come among them; but you desired me

to come. I should not have obtruded myself either upon them or you;

for I have really work enough; full as much as either my body or mind

is able to go through; and I have (blessed be God!) friends enough, I

mean as many as I have time to converse with; nevertheless, I never

repented of that I spent at Everton: I trust it was not spent in vain.

“I have not time to throw these thoughts into a smoother form. May

the God, whom you serve, give you to form a right judgment concerning

them, and give a blessing to the rough sincerity of, dear sir, your

affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[377]

Seven months elapsed before Wesley received an answer, which was as

follows.

“EVERTON, _November 22, 1760_.

“DEAR SIR,—I received your letter from Ireland, and purposely delayed

my answer till your return to England, that I might not write in a

spirit unbecoming the gospel. I wish all that love the Lord Jesus

Christ were perfectly agreed in their religious sentiments; but this,

I find, is a matter rather to be wished than expected. Perhaps a

little disagreement, in non-essentials, may be designed as one part of

our trial, for the exercise of our candour and patience.

“I discourage the reading of any books, except the Bible and the

Homilies, not because of the jealousy mentioned by you, but because I

find they, who read many books, usually neglect the Bible, and soon

become eager disputants, and in the end turn out predestinarians.

At least, this has so happened with me. If my sentiments do not yet

altogether harmonise with yours, they differ the least from yours of

any others. And as there is nothing catching or cankering in those

sentiments of yours which are contrary to mine, I am not only willing

but desirous you should preach at Everton, as often as you can favour

us with your company.

“Last week, I was at Bedford, and preached to your society; from whom

I heard you were returned from the west, and purposed to come amongst

us soon. Will you call at Everton, as you go to, or return from

Bedford? You will be welcome. My invitation is sincere and friendly:

accept of it. I send my love to your brother, and to all that labour

among you. May grace, mercy, and peace be multiplied on you, and your

affectionate servant,

“JOHN BERRIDGE.”[378]

Charles Wesley was an itinerant preacher no longer. He preached at

London and at Bristol, and wrote invaluable hymns; but the whole of the

rough work of the Methodist movement now devolved upon his brother.

This was not fair. Both were married; and, on that ground, both had

an equal claim to remain at home. One, however, was happy in his

married life; the other not. The following letter to Charles Wesley is

characteristic.

“COOLYLOUGH, _June 23, 1760_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Where you are I know not; and how you are, I know not;

but I hope the best. Neither you nor John Jones has ever sent me your

remarks upon that tract in the late volume of sermons. You are not

kind. Why will you not do all you can to make me wiser than I am?

Samuel Furley told me his objections at once: so we canvassed them

without loss of time. Do you know what is done, anything or nothing,

with regard to the small edition of the Notes?

“Mr. I’anson writes me a long account of the Sussex affair. It is of

more consequence than our people seem to apprehend. If we do not exert

ourselves, it must drive us to that bad dilemma, leave preaching, or

leave the Church. We have reason to thank God, it is not come to this

yet. Perhaps it never may.

“In this kingdom, nothing is wanting but a few more zealous and active

labourers. James Morgan, John Johnson, and two or three more do their

best: the rest spare themselves.

“I hope Sally and your little ones are well. Where and how is my wife?

I wrote to her on Saturday last. Adieu!

“Where must the conference be? at Leeds or Bristol? If we could but

chain or gag the blatant beast, there would be no difficulty.

“I am, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[379]

What Wesley calls “the Sussex affair” was probably[380] a trial

at the sessions held at Maidstone. On the 13th of March, fifteen

Methodists, including the family, met in the house of Thomas Osborne,

at Rolvenden, for religious worship. Information of this being given

to a neighbouring magistrate, he thought proper to put into execution

the law made in the reign of Charles II., to prevent and suppress

conventicles; and, accordingly, summoned what was called “the vagrant

itinerant Methodist preacher,” who exhorted in the meeting, to appear

before him; and then convicted him in the sum of £20. Besides this,

Thomas Osborne, the master of the house, was also fined £20; and

fourteen hearers five shillings each. All these penalties, amounting

to £43 10_s._, were paid to the magistrate on March 29. The parties,

however, appealed to the next quarter sessions, which were held on

April 15, Charles Whitworth, Esq., M.P. for Minehead, in the chair,

and a whole bevy of magistrates on the bench. These illustrious

worthies confirmed the convictions. Upon this the appellants applied

to the court of King’s Bench for writs of _certiorari_, to remove the

convictions and appeals to that court of justice, and to have the

judgment of the court thereupon. Accordingly, in Trinity term, 1760,

the writs were granted, and, on the 3rd of June, the case was argued.

After hearing counsel on both sides, the court quashed the convictions

of the magistrate and of the sessions, and so the matter ended.[381]

Another letter, though not by Wesley, but addressed to him, deserves

insertion here. The necessity for a Methodist training college for

young evangelists, and for provision for superannuated preachers and

preachers’ widows, was felt long before funds for such purposes were

raised.

“SNISBY, _July 12, 1760_.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—I would have done myself the pleasure to have

met you at your conference, but, having two churches to supply, and

none at that time to assist me, I must lay aside all thoughts of it.

“I need not tell you what Mr. Tizzard has been doing in these parts,

as he is with you to give you an account himself. But as his labours

are a good deal intermixed with mine, I take the liberty to offer my

advice concerning carrying on the work hereabouts. W. Kendrick is

expelled from his societies for his adulteries; his people are in

great confusion; and it is generally thought, that the sincere part

of them will renounce their errors, and come over to us. Some have

done so already; and others say, ‘We have been deceived: we have

been mumbling the shell, while those whom we have despised have been

eating the kernel.’ R. Gillespy, for the same crime, is expelled from

among the baptists. Through the offence occasioned by these two poor

wretches, the minds of many of the people are rendered sore; and some

are wavering. Excepting Markfield, and two or three other places, all

your societies here are in their infancy; and, because of all this,

I think it would not be amiss if Mr. Tizzard were continued another

quarter in this round, as he seems to be pretty well received in most

places. But if it be thought proper to remove him, I must advise

you to send a picked man,—a man of gifts, of grace, of prudence, of

seriousness, and of a tender, healing spirit; for such an one is

necessary for the people he will have to deal with.

“What say you to an hospital for poor superannuated Methodist

preachers, and for travelling preachers’ wives; together with a

college for a master and four fellows, and a certain number of

students, to be chosen from Kingswood school, or elsewhere? To build

and endow such a place would be a very great expense; yet, I am

persuaded, not too great for the Methodists to bear, if they had only

a willing mind. To make a beginning, I will promise to subscribe £20

down, as soon as such an undertaking shall be agreed upon. I will

not say how much more at present. How many have you in society that

can afford to give £1 apiece? How many that can and will give that

and more? How many, that are much more able than I, that will give

but half as much? If the ends proposed be thought worth obtaining,

consider at your conference what can be done in it. Make an estimate

of what you think can be raised. I apprehend such an undertaking

would free the preachers from many fears and cares, which must now

almost necessarily attend them. Under God, it would be a sure means of

perpetuating the work for ever, which you have begun, as there would

be from hence a constant supply of travelling preachers to spread

abroad the doctrine you have revived. It would ease the societies of

considerable expense hereafter; and would be the means of causing the

gospel to keep a footing in some of our churches for ever, beside

other good ends that might be mentioned. May the Lord be with you, and

direct you in your consultations, and prosper all your undertakings,

for His glory and the good of mankind!

“I am, dear sir, your unworthy brother in Christ,

“WALTER SELLON.”[382]

Such was the noble scheme of good Walter Sellon, more than seventy

years before the first Methodist theological institution was opened.

Wesley answered the letter on September 4; but unfortunately his answer

has not been found.

After the Bristol conference, Wesley set out, on September 1, for

Cornwall. At Launceston, he found “the small remains of a dead,

scattered society”; and was not surprised, as they “had scarce any

discipline, and only one sermon in a fortnight.” He found another such

society at Camelford; “but their deadness was owing to bitterness

against each other.” At Port Isaac, the society “diligently observed

all the rules, with or without a preacher. They constantly attended

the church and sacrament, and met together at the times appointed.”

Thirty out of the thirty-five members were walking in the light of

God’s countenance. At St. Agnes, he was “surprised and grieved to find,

that, out of ninety-eight members, all but three or four had forsaken

the Lord’s table.” At St. Ives, a rock served him as “a very convenient

pulpit; and nearly all the town, high and low, rich and poor, assembled

together.” At St. Just, “abundance of backsliders were present, ten of

whom he rejoined to the society, and also added new members.”

Some idea of Wesley’s labours may be formed from the fact that, during

his Cornish visit, besides visiting the societies and travelling, he

preached thirty times in eleven days. This is not an unfair specimen of

his ministerial labours, all over the United Kingdom.

On his return from Cornwall, he found the society at Plymouth reduced

from seventy members to thirty-four; and even these were as “dead as

stones.” He preached in the church of Maryweek, also at Collumpton,

Halberton, Tiverton, and other places, and got back to Bristol on

October 3.

During this interval, Wesley wrote as follows to his brother Charles,

who was out of health.

“PLYMOUTH, _September 28, 1760_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—I care not a rush for ordinary means; only that it

is our duty to try them. All our lives, and all God’s dealings with

us, have been extraordinary from the beginning. We have reason,

therefore, to expect, that what has been will be again. I have been

preternaturally restored more than ten times. I suppose you will thus

be restored for the journey; and that, by the journey, as a natural

means, your health will be re-established; provided you determine to

spend all the strength which God shall give you in this work.

“Cornwall has suffered miserably by my long absence, and the

unfaithfulness of the preachers. I left seventeen hundred in the

societies, and I find twelve hundred. If possible, you should see Mr.

Walker. He has been near a month at the Hot Wells. He is absolutely a

Scot in his opinions, but of an excellent spirit. My love to Sally.

Adieu.

“JOHN WESLEY.”[383]

Wesley spent a month at Bristol, and in its vicinity. He preached a

charity sermon in Newgate for the use of poor prisoners. He visited

again the French captives at Knowle; and, “in hope of provoking others

to jealousy, made another collection for them, and ordered the money to

be expended in linen and in waistcoats.” Three days were employed in

speaking “severally” to the members of the Bristol society, of whom he

writes: “As many of them increase in worldly goods, the great danger

I apprehend now is, their relapsing into the spirit of the world; and

then their religion is but a dream.” He also took another step of vast

importance. He requested the children of the members of society to

meet him. Eighty came. Half of these he divided into two classes, two

of boys, and two of girls; and appointed proper leaders to meet them

separate; he himself meeting them all together twice a week. Were not

these Methodism’s first _catechumen_ classes? We think so.

It was during Wesley’s present visit to the city of Bristol, that

George II. suddenly expired, in his palace at Kensington, in the

seventy-seventh year of his age, and the thirty-fourth of his reign.

Wesley writes, perhaps with more loyalty than discrimination: “October

25—King George was gathered to his fathers. When will England have a

better prince?” The following Friday was set apart by Wesley and the

Bristol society, “as a day of fasting, and prayer for the blessing of

God upon the nation, and, in particular, on his present majesty. They

met at five, at nine, at one, and at half past eight.”

On November 8, after an eight months’ absence, Wesley got back to

London, where, with the exception of a visit to Canterbury and Dover,

he continued during the remainder of the year. At the latter place,

he found “a serious, earnest people, and some of the best singers in

England.” He visited the sick in London, and met the penitents, “a

congregation which,” he says, “he wished always to meet himself.” He

preached, he prayed, and, as we shall see shortly, wrote letters to the

newspapers. The year, from first to last, was full of labour.

Before proceeding to less pleasant topics, the introduction of another

letter to Wesley from the pious John Newton may not be deemed an

intrusion. Newton had preached for the Dissenters, but was dissatisfied

with their ecclesiastical economy. He wished to become a clergyman, but

the bishop refused to ordain him. Wesley seems to have proposed to him

to join the ranks of the Methodist itinerant preachers. The following

is his answer.

“_November 14, 1760._

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,—How shall I thank you for the obliging notice

you take of me? I wonder you can find time, in the midst of so many

more important concerns, to encourage so poor a correspondent. In one

sense only, I think myself not altogether unworthy your friendship;

that is, I am not ungrateful. I honour and esteem you; I pray for your

success, and sincerely rejoice in it. I know no one to whom my heart

is more united in affection, nor to whom I owe more, as an instrument

of Divine grace.

“I am at some seasons impatient enough to be employed; but I am really

afraid of setting myself to work. It appears, by the event, that, in

the attempts I have already made, I have mistaken, either the place,

or the manner, in which I am to appear.

“I forgot to tell you in my last, that I had the honour to appear as

a Methodist preacher. I was at Haworth; Mr. Grimshaw was pressing,

and prevailed. I spoke, in his house, to about one hundred and

fifty persons; a difficult auditory in my circumstances, about half

Methodists, and half Baptists. I was afraid of displeasing both sides;

but my text, John 1. 29, led me to dwell upon a point in which we were

all agreed; and, before I had leisure to meddle with doctrines (as

they are called), the hour was expired. In short, it was a comfortable

opportunity.

“Methinks here again, you are ready to say, Why not go on in the same

way? what more encouragement can you ask, than to be assisted and

accepted? My answer is, I have not either strength of body or mind

sufficient for an itinerant preacher. My constitution has been broken

for some years. To ride an hour in the rain, or more than thirty

miles in a day, usually unfits me for everything. You must allow me

to pay some regard to flesh and blood, though I would not consult

them. Besides, I have a maintenance now in my hands,[384] the gift

of a kind Providence; and I do not see that I have a call to involve

myself, and a person who has entrusted all her concerns to me, in want

and difficulties. I have likewise an orphan sister, for whom it is my

duty to provide; consequently, it cannot be my duty to disable myself

from fulfilling what I owe to her. The weightiest difficulty remains;

too many of the preachers are very different from Mr. Grimshaw; and

who would wish to live in the fire? So, though I love the Methodists,

and vindicate them from unjust aspersions upon all occasions, and

suffer the reproach of the world for being one myself, yet, it seems

not practicable for me to join them farther than I do. For the

present, I must remain as I am, and endeavour to be as useful as I can

in private life.

“Have there been any more prosecutions upon the Conventicle Act? I

have been informed, that a bill is in embryo to restrain the clergy to

their own parishes.

“Pray for me, dear sir. Mrs. Newton sends her love, and will rejoice

to see you. Will you permit me to subscribe myself, your unworthy but

affectionate and obliged brother in the gospel hope,

“JOHN NEWTON.”[385]

The year 1760 was full of varied, anxious, and painful interest.

One matter must be mentioned, though Wesley himself was not concerned

in it, except as he deeply sympathised with the noble and afflicted

family. Earl Ferrars, cousin of Lady Huntingdon, and brother of

the Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley, at the commencement of the year,

deliberately shot Mr. Johnson, his steward, who had been a servant in

the family for thirty years. Horace Walpole’s version of the matter

is, that Earl Ferrars’ wife was the fortuneless sister of Sir William

Meredith; and that the earl maintained, that she trepanned him into

marriage while he was in a state of drunkenness. Before his marriage,

Mrs. Clifford was his mistress, by whom he had several children; and,

from the first, his wife was hated. He always carried pistols to bed

with him, and often threatened to kill her before morning. By an act

of parliament, she obtained a divorce, and an allowance out of his

estates; one of the receivers for that purpose being his steward, Mr.

Johnson. Finding that Johnson had paid Lady Ferrars £50 without his

knowledge, the earl resolved to murder him, and shot him accordingly.

He was arrested, and lodged in the Tower of London. The trial, in

Westminster Hall, in the month of April, lasted for three days, the

sentence being, that the earl be hanged, and his body delivered to

Surgeons’ Hall, to be dissected and anatomized. Charles Wesley attended

the trial, and tells us “most of the royal family, the peeresses, the

chief gentry of the kingdom, and the foreign ambassadors were present.”

A plea of lunacy was set up. Walter Shirley and Dr. Munro were the best

witnesses; but their testimony failed to prove his madness. One hundred

and six of the peers of England, including Lord Talbot, his friend, and

Lord Westmoreland, his father-in-law, pronounced the prisoner guilty,

and his doom was fixed. The execution took place on the 5th of May; the

unhappy culprit having spent the night previous in playing at piquet

with the warders of the prison. He rode to Tyburn in his own landau

and six, wearing his wedding clothes, and chewing pigtail tobacco; his

mistress throwing a letter into his carriage, telling him that the

crowd was so enormous she was unable to meet him at a certain place as

she had promised. A mourning coach and six, with some of his lordship’s

friends, and a hearse and six, to carry his corpse to Surgeons’ Hall,

followed in a procession, which took two hours and three quarters in

making its way through the streets of London, from the Tower to the

place of execution. After hanging an hour and five minutes, the body

was dissected; and then the mangled remains of the highborn murderer

were delivered to his friends, and interred in Leicestershire. On the

table in his room, just before he went to execution, he wrote:

“In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,

Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,

And undismayed expect eternity.”[386]

Such was the end of this godless noble, the near relative of some of

the best Christians then living. Their distress was indescribable. His

broken hearted brother (Walter Shirley), his cousin (Lady Huntingdon),

and others, all endeavoured to effect his conversion, but without

success. Prayer was made for him in the closet, in the family, and in

public congregations; special meetings of intercession were held in his

behalf; Charles Wesley evinced the tenderest concern for the wretched

culprit; and the Methodists in London generally followed his example;

a day of fasting and prayer was kept at the Foundery: but all to no

effect.

Three weeks after the execution, the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Shirley wrote to

Wesley as follows.

“_May 27, 1760._

“REVEREND AND VERY DEAR BROTHER,—I bear in mind, with all

thankfulness, the tender love and charitable prayers, with which God

was pleased to inspire your heart, and the hearts of His dear children

in Ireland, for my unhappy brother, myself, and our afflicted family.

I have reason to bless God for the humbling lessons He has taught me,

through these His awful visitations. O sir, is there much danger now,

that I should pride myself upon my family? I doubt not, but that your

labours in Ireland have been amply paid in their success. Earnest

desires draw me towards you, but I am detained here, very much against

my will, by a trust reposed in me by my late brother, to see his

debts discharged, and other matters properly settled, that no further

dishonour may be reflected on his memory. I would to God, I may meet

you in Connaught, and give you a poor but hearty welcome at Loughrea;

but fear that I cannot possibly be there before you leave. Let me

entreat you, however, to pay a visit to my poor flock, for whom I am

sorely grieved in my absence from them; and can only be comforted in

the sweet hope, that you will not neglect them in your travels. You

are heartily welcome to my church, if you please to make use of it;

and I hope you will be truly welcome to the ears and hearts of all the

people.

“Your most unworthy, yet ever affectionate brother in the Lord,

“WALTER SHIRLEY.”[387]

Another unpleasantness, belonging to the year 1760, was a most foul and

dastardly attack on Whitefield, and, through him, upon the Methodists

in general.

At this period, Samuel Foote, the inimitable zany, was at his zenith.

He was born of highly respectable parents, at Truro, about the year

1720, and was educated at Worcester college, Oxford. He entered himself

of the Temple, with a view of being called to the bar; but, instead

of studying law, plunged into all the gaieties and dissipation of

fashionable life; losing at the gaming table what his extravagance

in living was not sufficient to consume. He married in 1741; but his

conduct, as a husband, was far from affectionate; and, soon after his

marriage, he was arrested for debt, and sent to gaol. Having squandered

his fortune, he turned to the stage as a means of support, and made his

theatrical _debut_, in the Haymarket, at the age of twenty-four. His

success was great, but his prodigality was greater. In 1766, a fall

from his horse rendered it necessary to amputate his leg. He died in

1777, and was buried by torchlight in Westminster Abbey. His character,

as delineated by his biographers, presents scarcely one amiable or

respectable feature; and, indeed, considered apart from his peculiar

and almost unequalled abilities for mimicking the foibles and faults of

others, he was in all respects contemptible.

Such was the man who attacked Whitefield and Methodism in 1760. For

ninety years, the execrable comedies, acted in English theatres, had

been the bane and the reproach of the English nation. Comic poets

had been the unwearied ministers of vice, and had done its work so

thoroughly, that there was hardly a single virtue which had not been

sacrificed at its polluted shrine. Innocence had been the sport of

abandoned villainy, and religion made the jest of the licentious. In

1760, Samuel Foote crowned the whole, by “The Minor; a Comedy acted

in the Haymarket theatre:” 8vo, 91 pages. Its professed object was

to expose the absurdity, and to detect the hypocrisy, of Methodism;

the author holding the idea, that ridicule was the only way of

redressing an evil which was beyond the reach of law, and which

reason was not able to correct. On the principle, that a man cannot

touch pitch without defiling his fingers, we refrain from giving

even the barest outline of Foote’s disgraceful comedy. Thousands

applauded the inimitable actor, and laughed at Mrs. Cole and Dr.

Squintum; all of them forgetting, that religion is too sacred to

become the butt of theatrical buffoonery and of public mockery. The

indignation of religious people was aroused; letters were written to

newspapers; articles were published in magazines; and a whole swarm

of pamphlets were given to the excited public; the most able of

which were two by “A Minister of the Church of Christ,” one of them

being entitled—“Christian and Critical Remarks on ‘The Minor’; in

which the blasphemy, falsehood, and scurrility of that piece, are

properly considered, answered, and exposed:” 8vo, 41 pages. Foote

himself replied to this, in his own bantering and obscene style,

telling the author that, from the title he assumes, “it is impossible

to determine whether he is an authorised pastor, or a peruke maker;

a real clergyman, or a corncutter.” He also published, but durst not

act, another comedy, entitled “The Methodist; being a continuation and

completion of the plan of ‘The Minor.’” The buffoon tells his readers,

that Whitefield’s “countenance is not only inexpressive, but ludicrous;

his dialect is not only provincial, but barbarous; his deportment not

only awkward, but savage.” His mother, during her pregnancy, “dreamt

that she was brought to bed of a tinder box, which, from a collision of

the flint and steel, made by the midwife, conveyed sparks to Gloucester

cathedral, and soon reduced it to ashes.” Whitefield himself, in his

boyhood, “was dull, stupid, and heavy, totally incapable of attending

to the business of his mother’s public house, though he had the credit

of inventing the practice of soaping the tops of the pewter pots to

diminish the quantity of liquor, and to increase and sustain the froth.”

This is too mild to be given as a fair _specimen_ of Foote’s disgusting

ribaldry; but it is almost fouler than we like to print. Suffice it to

remark further, that, though “The Minor” was performed before crowded

London audiences for several months, such was the outcry raised against

its profanity, that in November, 1760, Foote himself introduced several

alterations, which he thought were less objectionable than the original

terms and sentences.

But enough of the profligate Samuel Foote, who (according to the

testimony of a person who knew the particulars of the case) was seized

at Dover, with his mortal illness, while mimicking religious characters

in general, and the Methodists in particular,[388] and almost

immediately expired.

Other attacks were made upon Methodism, in 1760, though none so vulgar

as Foote’s. One of these was “A Friendly and Compassionate Address to

all serious and well disposed Methodists; in which their principal

Errors concerning the doctrine of the new birth, their election, and

the security of their salvation, and their notion of the community

of Christian men’s goods, are largely displayed and represented. By

Alexander Jephson, A.B., rector of the parish of Craike, in the county

of Durham.” 8vo, 80 pages. Mr. Jephson tells the Methodists, that

they have “fallen into fatal and dangerous errors, which may be of

pernicious consequence to them both in this life and the next.” He

affirms that, “when any persons are duly baptized into the Church,

there is no doubt but that all their sins are immediately forgiven, and

a new principle of piety and virtue is directly instilled into their

minds by the grace of God’s Holy Spirit.” He exhorts the Methodists

not to forsake the pastors of the Church of England, by giving up

themselves “to the direction of guides who have nothing to recommend

them, but vain and idle pretences to inspiration, and intimate

conversations with God, and such immediate and powerful effects of

their preaching as have caused, in some of their hearers, the most

dreadful shriekings and groanings, convulsions and agitations.”

Methodist itinerants are described as “an enthusiastical set of

preachers, who are wandering up and down, through the whole nation, to

destroy and unsettle all the reasonable notions of religion, and to

throw men into the utmost distraction and confusion.” These are fair

cullings from Mr. Jephson’s “_friendly_ and compassionate address.”

Wesley says concerning it: “the tract is more considerable for its

bulk, than for its matter, being little more than a dull repetition of

what was published some years ago in ‘The Enthusiasm of the Methodists

and Papists Compared.’”[389]

Another hostile publication was, “A Genuine Letter from a Methodist

Preacher, in the country, to Laurence Sterne, M.A., prebendary of York.

1760.” 8vo, 22 pages. The letter pretends to rebuke Sterne for writing

“Tristram Shandy,” and says the prebend has “studied plays more than

the word of God, and takes his text generally from the writings of

Shakspeare” rather than from the writings of the apostles. Altogether,

it was a meaningless and profane performance, whose only object seems

to have been to create a laugh.

Another publication, belonging to the same year, was, “A Vindication of

the Seventeenth Article of the Church of England, from the Aspersions

cast on it in a Sermon lately published by Mr. John Wesley. By John

Oulton.” 8vo, 55 pages. This was intended to be a refutation of

Wesley’s sermon on free grace, preached from Romans viii. 32, and

deserves no further notice.

Another was entitled, “The Principles and Practices of the Methodists

considered, in some Letters to the Leaders of that Sect.” 8vo, 78

pages. The writer, who signed himself “Academicus,” was a man of

mark, the Rev. John Green, D.D.,[390] born at Beverley about 1706; a

sizar in St. John’s college, Cambridge; then an usher in a school at

Lichfield; then domestic chaplain of the Duke of Somerset; then rector

of Borough Green; then regius professor of divinity, and one of his

majesty’s chaplains; then, in 1756, dean of Lincoln; and, in 1764,

bishop of Lincoln; a liberal prelate,—the only one who voted for the

bill for the relief of protestant Dissenters; and who died suddenly, at

Bath, in 1779. The pamphlet of Dr. Green is addressed to Mr. Berridge,

of Everton. The author speaks of Berridge’s “graceless fraternity”;

and warns him against being “led away by the vain presumption of

extraordinary illuminations,” and against “contracting one of the

most dangerous and deceitful of all religious maladies, the tumour

of spiritual pride.” He tells him, that “he makes lofty pretensions,

and assumes confident airs to amuse the vulgar.” He speaks of “the

mysteries of Methodism, its conceits and inadvertencies, its foibles

and failings, being cruelly exposed to the laughter of the incredulous,

and the scoff of the profane.” He says, “elocution from a stool, or

vociferation from a hillock, will act with much more effect, upon

the multitude, than any kind of sober instruction given from that

old fashioned eminence, the pulpit”; and describes, as the result

of “Methodistical oratory, a number of groaners, sighers, tumblers,

and convulsionists, breaking out into a dreadful concert of screams,

howlings, and lamentations.” In succession, Whitefield, Wesley, Hervey,

Zinzendorf, and others come under the writer’s lash. The “fraternity”

are charged with “dealing in all the little tricks of calumny and

misrepresentation”; with endeavouring “to raise their own reputation

by attempts to undermine that of others”; with “playing the droll, and

enlivening their popular harangues with occasional diversions, and

strokes of humour”; and with having “recourse to obscure and mystical

language, which none but the elect can understand.”

Dr. Green was not content with this priestly onslaught. Immediately

after, he published a second pamphlet of seventy-four pages, with

the same title, but addressed, in this instance, to Whitefield, who

is, not too politely, reminded of his “blue apron and snuffers at

the Bell inn, in Gloucester”; and is told, that his “pretensions are

weakly supported, though set off with so much pomp of expression,—like

some aqueous plants, which spread a broad and stately leaf on the

surface of the water, while the fibre, on which they depend for their

support, is slenderer than a thread.” His Journal is called, “that

curious repository of religious anecdotes,—that profound repertory of

private reflections, exhibiting a medley of seeming pride and affected

lowliness, of immoderate conceit and excessive humility.” These must

serve as samples. Dr. Green, bishop of Lincoln, was an able man, and

a vigorous writer; but he might have employed his learning and his

talents to better purpose than in bantering the poor Methodists. On

receiving his pamphlet, Wesley wrote: “in many things, I wholly agree

with him; but there is a bitterness in him, which I should not have

expected in a gentleman and a scholar.”[391]

Another unfriendly pamphlet, issued in 1760, was entitled, “A

Fragment of the true Religion. Being the substance of two Letters

from a Methodist Preacher in Cambridgeshire, to a Clergyman in

Nottinghamshire.” 8vo, 25 pages. The “Methodist Preacher” was Berridge

of Everton, and the first letter was one in which Berridge gave an

account of his conversion and subsequent course of action; and was

intended, by its writer, to be strictly private and confidential. The

clergyman, however, to whom it was addressed, dishonourably allowed

copies to be taken and circulated; and, moreover, commenced railing

against the man who had written to him as a friend. Upon this, Berridge

wrote to him a second letter, remonstrating with him on account of his

treacherous behaviour; and, this also being copied and circulated,

both the letters were surreptitiously published, with a scurrilous

introduction, dated, “Grantham, February 2, 1760,” and signed “Faith

Workless.”

In his second letter, Berridge, with righteous indignation, remarks:

“You charge me with being a Moravian. Credulous mortal! Why do you

not charge me with being a murderer? You have just as much reason to

call me one as the other. If you had lived in this neighbourhood, you

would have known that I am utterly detested and continually reviled

by the Moravians. And no wonder; for I warn all my hearers against

them, both in public and private. Nay, I have been to Bedford, where

there is a nest of them, to bear a preaching testimony against their

corrupt principles and practices. However, since you are determined to

call me a Moravian, and Mr. Wheeler is pleased to call me a madman, I

think myself obliged to come down into the country, as soon as I can,

to convince my friends, and your neighbours, that I am neither the one

nor the other. I shall go round the neighbourhood, and preach twice

a day. If your brethren will allow me the use of their pulpits, they

shall have my thanks: if they will not, the fields are open, and I

shall take a mountain for my pulpit, and the heavens for my sounding

board. My blessed Master has set me the example; and, I trust, I shall

neither be ashamed nor afraid to tread in His steps.”

Brave old Berridge! and yet, in the introduction to this very pamphlet,

the Everton vicar is represented as “traveling round the country,

attended by several idle sluts, who will neither mend his clothes

nor wash his linen,” the result being that he had “preached many a

discourse when he was sadly out at the elbows, and when his shirts were

almost as black as the chimney.”

Another infamous production of the year 1760 must be noticed,—an octavo

pamphlet of forty-eight pages, with the title, “The Crooked Disciple’s

Remarks upon the Blind Guide’s Method of Preaching for some years;

being a collection of the principal words, sayings, phraseology,

rhapsodies, hyperboles, parables, and miscellaneous incongruities of

the sacred and profane, commonly, repeatedly, and peculiarly made

use of by the Reverend Dr. Squintum, delivered by him _viva voce,

ex cathedra_, at Tottenham Court, Moorfields, etc. A work never

before attempted; taken verbatim from a constant attendance. By the

learned Mr. John Harman, Regulator of Enthusiasts.” John Harman was a

whimsical watchmaker, who was at the pains of taking down a number of

Whitefield’s peculiarities, in shorthand.[392] The pamphlet which bears

his name is one of the basest, coarsest, and most profane, published

in the early days of Methodism. It professes to give a prayer and a

sermon by Whitefield, with Whitefield’s action and intonation, and

the people’s responses; and finishes with a postscript, informing the

reader, that Whitefield’s “hummers, sighers, and weepers are hireling

hypocrites, at two shillings and sixpence per week, and are the

approbatives to his doctrine.”

Besides the above pamphlets, all published in England, there was

another, larger than any yet mentioned, which was published in Ireland,

in 1760, with the title, “Montanus Redivivus; or Montanism Revived,

in the Principles and Discipline of the Methodists (commonly called

Swaddlers): Being the substance of a sermon upon 1 John iv. 1, preached

in the parish church of Hollymount, in the Diocese of Tuam, in the year

1756. To which are added several letters, which passed between the Rev.

John Wesley and the Author. Also an Appendix. By the Rev. Mr. James

Clark, a Presbyter of the Diocese of Tuam.” 8vo, 100 pages.

In this Irish effusion, the Methodists are described as “a set of

enthusiastic pharisees in practice, but perfect latitudinarians in

principle; quite indifferent as to any form of church government,

whether presbyterian, independent, or episcopal, and looking upon the

latter in no other light than that of some human law or constitution,

subject to be changed at pleasure.” In accordance with this, they

had “acted in a barefaced defiance to the authority and jurisdiction

of the bishops; and, without their consent, had formed societies or

conventicles, under certain rules of discipline and government, of

their own invention, appointing leaders, directors, and superintendents

over them. They had set up a new ministry of their own, contrary to

the ministry of the Church, committing the preaching of the word of

reconciliation, and the exercise of the power of the keys, to mere

laymen and mechanics; and, though they occasionally came to church and

sacrament, yet they plainly enough insinuated to the world, that they

only waited for a seasonable opportunity, and more able heads, to form

a new church, and make a total separation.” Mr. Clark proceeds to show,

that, in their principles, practices, and pretences, the Methodists are

the counterpart of the Montanists, “enthusiastic sectaries who make the

way to heaven much more narrow and difficult than either Jesus Christ

or His apostles have made it; and requiring such degrees of perfection

as are not in the power of human nature, in its present state of

infirmity, to attain to; the natural consequence of which is, that such

as find themselves unable to arrive at such perfection grow desperate,

and give themselves over to all manner of licentiousness; and such

as, through a heated and enthusiastic imagination, fancy that they

either actually do or can attain to such perfection, are filled with

all manner of spiritual pride, blasphemy, and arrogance.” Mr. Clark’s

readers are exhorted “never to give ear to the vain and fantastical

flights of crazy pated enthusiasts, schismatical, unauthorised, illegal

lay preachers, whose discourses are stuffed with praises and panegyrics

of their own righteousness and holiness.”

Wesley had recently published his sermon, entitled “Catholic Spirit,”

in which he stated, that he once zealously maintained the opinion,

that every one born in England ought to be a member of the Church

of England, and, consequently, to worship God in the manner which

that Church prescribes. This opinion he could maintain no longer.

He believed his own mode of worship to be “truly primitive and

apostolical”; but acknowledges that his “belief is no rule for

another.” He believed the episcopal form of church government to

be scriptural and apostolical; but, he adds, “if you think the

presbyterian or independent is better, think so still, and act

accordingly.” Wesley sent this celebrated sermon to Mr. Clark, and

this led to the correspondence between Clark and Wesley, published in

“Montanus Redivivus.”[393] Mr. Clark, in his first letter, informs

Wesley that, when he preached his sermon on 1 John iv. 1, Mr. Langston,

said to be one of Wesley’s lay preachers, was present; and, taking

offence, wrote him an epistle, in which “the Spirit forgot to direct

him to write common sense, orthography, or English”; and that he

suspects Langston’s representations to Wesley had induced the latter

to send him the sermon on “Catholic Spirit,” as “a genteel and tacit

reproof, for making any inquiry into the religion and principles of the

Methodists.” He states that Langston had publicly declared “himself

to be as righteous and as free from sin as Jesus Christ; and that it

was impossible for him to sin, because the Spirit of God dwelt bodily

in him.” Mr. Clark further states, that he has read Wesley’s sermon,

and asserts that Wesley’s “propositions and observations have no more

foundation in the text, than in the first chapter of Genesis.” It is

right to add, that Langston was not one of Wesley’s preachers, and that

Wesley thought the man an enthusiast.

Another publication, belonging to the year 1760, must have a passing

notice,—“Scriptural Remedies for Healing the unhappy Divisions in the

Church of England, particularly of those People called the Methodists.

By Edward Goldney, sen., gent., widower.” 8vo, 64 pages. The intention

of the eccentric author was good; but that is the highest, indeed, the

only, praise we can render him. He finds fault with the clergy, who

only visit those of their parishioners who “give them a jugg of good

smooth ale, or a mugg of strong October, a bottle of wine, or a bowl

of punch”; and then, in his own way and style, argues that, if the

clergy would only become what they ought to be, “both high and low,

rich and poor would soon be cured of itching ears. Then cobblers and

shoemakers, tinkers and braziers, blacksmiths and farriers, tailors and

staymakers, barbers and periwig makers, carpenters and joiners, masons

and bricklayers, bakers and butchers, farmers and cowkeepers, maltsters

and brewers, combers and weavers, plumbers and glaziers, turners and

cabinet makers, hedgers and ditchers, threshers and thatchers, colliers

and carriers, carmen and scavengers, coopers and basket makers, would

have no hearers.” With this enumeration of the trades and calling of

the Methodist itinerants, we make our _congé_ to hairbrained Edward

Goldney.

These were the principal anti-Methodistic pamphlets published in

1760; but, besides these, there was scrimmaging in newspapers and

magazines, which deserves attention. An anonymous writer, in the

_London Magazine_, attacked the Methodists, as “a restless, turbulent

people, remarkable for nothing, but their abusive language and

uncharitable sentiments”; and described Methodism as “a spurious

mixture of enthusiasm and blasphemy, popery and quakerism”; and the

teaching of its preachers as “gross, personal abuse; vague, incoherent

reasoning; and loose, empty declamation.”[394] A writer, who signed

his letter “Hermas,” replied to this stale balderdash; and rejoinder

after rejoinder followed. Grave objection was raised to the name

of Methodist, as a misnomer, because the Methodists were utterly

without _method_.[395] A classleader was described as “an illiterate

hog, a feeder of swine, presiding at the holy rites of confession,

as spiritual pastor and father confessor.” “Old as I am,” wrote the

nameless soothsayer, “I make not the least doubt but, with these

eyes, I shall see, that this imaginary candle of the Lord, which the

Methodists have set up, will soon dwindle into a snuff, and expire

in a stink.”[396] In a base inuendo, he insinuated that some of the

mysterious meetings of the Methodists were “in dark rooms, with naked

figures, typical fires, and rattling chains.”[397]

In the same periodical,[398] Stephen Church proposed to Wesley twenty

queries, in which he coarsely assailed him as “the first protestant

pope; a cunning quaker in disguise, acting the second edition of Friend

Barclay, and privately betraying the Church, as Judas did his Master,

with a kiss.” Another correspondent, signing his letter “R.,” remarked:

“the present troublers of our Israel are that heterogeneous mass, the

Methodists; who, whatever they may pretend, are avowed enemies to the

doctrine and discipline of our Church, and have faithfully copied the

worst men in the worst times. If such men’s enthusiastical notions be

the true doctrine of Jesus Christ, better it would be to be a Jew, a

Turk, an infidel, than to be a Christian; for it is much better not to

believe in Jesus Christ, than to believe such doctrines to be His, as

are against common reason and common sense, and are repugnant to the

first principles of truth and equity.”[399]

In _Lloyd’s Evening Post_ the same paper war was waged. “Philodemus”

wished for “a court of judicature, to detect the cunning cant and

hypocrisy of all pretenders to sanctity and devotion;” and depicted

the Methodists in colours not the brightest. Wesley replied to him as

follows.

“_November 17, 1760._

“SIR,—In your last paper, we had a letter, from a very angry

gentleman, who _personates_ a clergyman, but is, I presume, a retainer

to the theatre. He is very warm against the people vulgarly termed

Methodists, ‘ridiculous impostors,’ ‘religious buffoons,’ as he

styles them; ‘saint errants’ (a pretty and quaint phrase), full of

‘inconsiderateness, madness, melancholy, enthusiasm’; teaching ‘a

knotty and unintelligible system of religion,’ yea ‘a contradictory or

self contradicting,’ nay ‘a mere illusion,’ a ‘destructive scheme, and

of pernicious consequence.’

“Methinks the gentleman has a little mistaken his character: he seems

to have exchanged the sock for the buskin. But, be this as it may,

general charges prove nothing; let us come to particulars. Here they

are.”

Wesley then proceeds to answer the remarks of “Philodemus” concerning

“the grace of assurance, good works,” etc., and continues:

“This is the sum of your correspondent’s charge, not one article of

which can be proved. But whether it can or no, ‘we have made them,’

says he, ‘a theatrical scoff, and the common jest and scorn of every

chorister in the street.’ It may be so; but whether you have done well

herein, may still admit of a question. However, you cannot but wish,

‘we had some formal court of judicature erected to take cognisance of

such matters.’ Nay, _cur optas quod habes_? Why do you wish for what

you have already? The court is erected; the holy, devout playhouse

is become the _house of mercy_; and does take cognisance ‘of all

pretenders to sanctity, and happily furnishes us with a discerning

spirit to distinguish between right and wrong.’ But I do not stand to

their sentence; I appeal to Scripture and reason; and, by these alone,

consent to be judged.

“I am, sir, your humble servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[400]

“Philodemus” pretended to answer Wesley’s letter, under another alias,

“Somebody;” but was obliged to have recourse to blustering abuse,

telling Wesley that “every serious protestant despises the enthusiastic

madness of Methodism, and rejects him and his followers as members

of that community”; and then politely adding, that “arguing with

Methodists is like pounding fools in a mortar.”

In the next issue of _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, November 24, Wesley

referred to this and other attacks as follows.

“_November 22, 1760._

“SIR,—Just as I had finished the letter published in your last

Friday’s paper, four tracts came into my hands: one written, or

procured to be written, by Mrs. Downes;[401] one by a clergyman in the

county of Durham;[402] the third by a gentleman of Cambridge;[403]

and the fourth by a member (I suppose, dignitary) of the Church of

Rome.[404] How gladly would I leave all these to themselves, and let

them say just what they please! as my day is far spent, and my taste

for controversy is utterly lost and gone. But this would not be doing

justice to the world, who might take silence for a proof of guilt. I

shall therefore say a word concerning each.”

After doing this, he concludes thus:

“Is it possible any protestants, nay, protestant clergyman, should buy

these tracts to give away? Is then the introducing popery the only way

to overthrow Methodism? If they know this, and choose popery as the

smaller evil of the two, they are consistent with themselves. But if

they do not intend this, I wish them to consider more seriously what

they do.

“I am, sir, your humble servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

The correspondence between Wesley and “Philodemus,” who changed his

signature every time he wrote a new letter, was continued until

Christmas. The anonymous slanderer accused Wesley of plundering the

poor; and, in proof, referred to the meeting-houses he had built.

Wesley replied:

“Don’t you know, sir, those houses are none of mine? I made them over

to trustees long ago. I have food to eat, and raiment to put on; and I

_will have no more_, till I turn Turk or pagan.

“I am, sir, in very good humour, your well wisher,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[405]

Wesley suspected “Philodemus” to be a friend of Foote’s; or, at all

events, a patron of the theatre; but this the fighter in ambush

positively denied, and said he was a constant attender at church, had

read the Bible in four different languages, and was personally known to

some of the best theologians in the nation. The man, however, lost his

temper. His letters evinced considerable ability; but Wesley’s answers

stung him to the quick. He was wounded, and could not avoid wincing. In

his last lucubration, published December 10, he observed: “I shall not

give myself the trouble to write to you any more, as it is only wasting

paper to cavil with shuffling controvertists;” and then he finished

by proposing to hold a personal discussion with Wesley, at which “a

dignified clergyman of the Church of England should preside, and be the

umpire of the debate.” On December 24, Wesley replied as follows.

“_For the Editor of ‘Lloyd’s Evening Post.’_

“To Mr. T. H., _alias_ E. L., etc., etc.

“What my good friend again? only a little disguised with a new name,

and a few scraps of Latin? I hoped, indeed, you had been pretty well

satisfied before; but, since you desire to hear a little further

from me, I will add a few words, and endeavour to set our little

controversy in a still clearer light.

“Last month you publicly attacked the people called Methodists,

without either fear or wit. I considered each charge, and, I conceive,

refuted it, to the satisfaction of all indifferent persons. You

renewed the attack, not by _proving_ anything, but by _affirming_

the same things over and over. I replied, and, without taking notice

of the dull, low scurrility, either of the first or second letter,

confined myself to the merits of the case, and cleared away the dirt

you had thrown.

“You now heap together ten paragraphs more, most of which require very

little answer.”

After answering nine of them, Wesley continues:

“In the last, you give me a fair challenge to a ‘personal dispute.’

Not so: you have fallen upon me in public; and to the public I appeal.

Let all men, not any single umpire, judge, whether I have not fully

refuted your charge, and cleared the people called Methodists from

the foul aspersions, which, without why or wherefore, you had thrown

upon them. Let all of my countrymen judge, which of us have spoken the

words of truth and soberness, and which has treated the other with a

temper suitable to the gospel.

“If the general voice of mankind gives it against you, I hope you will

be henceforth less flippant with your pen. I assure you, as little as

you think of it, the Methodists are not such fools as you suppose. But

their desire is to live peaceably with all men; and none desires this

more than

“JOHN WESLEY.”[406]

Mob persecution was bad enough; but persecution like this was worse. No

wonder that Wesley felt, that his “taste for controversy was utterly

lost and gone.” His one object was to preach Christ and to save souls;

but, despite himself, large portions of his time were most vexatiously

occupied in defending himself and his societies from the malignant

and unscrupulous attacks of his enemies. He was a match for the most

trenchant of his foes; but preaching, not fighting, was the work to

which he wished to devote his talents, his energies, and his life.

Besides this annoyance from the public press, Wesley had great anxiety

from his own societies. The question of separation from the Established

Church was still, among the Methodists, the great topic of the time.

The agitation existed not in England only; but had spread to Ireland

also. At Athlone, for instance, some of the Methodists went to church

and sacrament; but others absolutely refused to go, because the

minister was not a child of God, nor a preacher of sound doctrine.

The Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley wrote to Wesley, in great alarm,

concerning this, and, in conclusion, said: “I have hitherto learnt to

consider the Methodists, not as any sect, but as the purer part of

the Church of England; but, if any of them grow so wantonly fond of

division as to form a schism, I foresee they will lose much of the

gospel meekness, humility, and love; and a party zeal will take place,

instead of a zeal according to knowledge.”[407]

In London, the same subject created great excitement. A week after

Wesley left the metropolis for his tour to the north and to Ireland,

Thomas Maxfield wrote to him as follows: “The affair of leaving the

Church has hurt the minds of many, on both sides. I hope it will be

fully settled at conference. I endeavour, as far as I can safely, to be

on neither side.”[408]

The preachers at Norwich—Paul Greenwood, Thomas Mitchell, and John

Murlin, without Wesley’s permission, or consulting any of their

coadjutors, began to administer the sacrament to the somewhat mongrel

society in that city. Charles Wesley was enraged, and, early in March,

wrote to his brother thus.

“DEAR BROTHER,—We are come to the Rubicon. Shall we pass, or shall

we not? In the fear of God, and in the name of Jesus Christ, let us

ask, ‘Lord, what wouldest _Thou_ have us to do?’ The case stands thus.

Three preachers, whom we thought we could have depended upon, have

taken upon them to administer the sacrament, without any ordination,

and without acquainting us, or even yourself, of it beforehand.

Why may not all the preachers do the same, if each is judge of his

own right to do it? And every one _is_ left to act as he pleases,

if we take no notice of them that have so despised their brethren.

That the rest will soon follow their example I believe; because

(1) They think they may do it with impunity. (2) Because, a large

majority imagine they have a right, as preachers, to administer the

sacraments. So long ago as the conference at Leeds, I took down their

names. (3) Because, they have betrayed an impatience to separate.

The preachers in Cornwall, and others, wondered it had not been

mentioned at our last conference. Jacob Rowell’s honesty I commend.

Christopher Hopper, Joseph Cownley, John Hampson, and several more,

are ripe for a separation. Even Mr. Crisp says, he would give the

sacrament if you bade him. The young preachers, you know, are raw,

unprincipled men, and entirely at the mercy of the old. You could

persuade them to anything; and not you only, but Charles Perronet

could do the same, or any of the preachers that have left us, or any

of the three at Norwich. Upon the whole, I am fully persuaded, almost

all our preachers are corrupted already. More and more will give the

sacrament, and set up for themselves, even before we die; and all,

except the few that get orders, will turn Dissenters before or after

our death. You must wink very hard not to see all this. You have

connived at it too, too long. But I now call upon you to consider with

me what is to be done; first, to prevent a separation; secondly, to

save the few uncorrupted preachers; thirdly, to make the best of those

that are corrupted.”[409]

Charles Wesley’s terms were far too strong. To say that “almost all

the preachers were _corrupted_,” because they wished to separate from a

_corrupted_ church, and because they were desirous that their societies

and congregations generally should have the same advantages which the

Methodists in London and Bristol had,—namely, the Lord’s supper in

their own chapels, and Divine service there on the forenoon of the

sabbath day,—was to employ language either unmeaning, or unauthorised;

either extravagantly foolish, or something worse. Charles Wesley’s

temper was warm; his spirit was impetuous; and, had it not been for

John’s more calm and sober action, his impulsiveness would, more than

once, have shaken Methodism to its centre, if not absolutely have

shivered it into a thousand atoms. No wonder, that while he speaks of

the influence of his brother, and even of Charles Perronet, he makes

no mention of his own. The truth is, by his extreme churchism, his

influence among the preachers was almost _nil_; and, to the day of his

death, he never recovered the position in which he stood when Methodism

was first begun.

The action taken by the itinerant triumvirate at Norwich thoroughly

alarmed him. On the 6th of March, he wrote to Nicholas Gilbert, one of

the oldest preachers, saying:—

“You have heard of Paul Greenwood, John Murlin, and Thomas Mitchell’s

presuming to give the sacrament at Norwich. They never acquainted

their fellow labourers, no, not even my brother, of their design. They

did it without any ordination, either by bishops or elders; upon the

sole authority of a sixpenny licence: nay, all had not that. Do you

think they acted right? If the other preachers follow their example,

not only separation, but general confusion, must follow. My soul

abhors the thought of separating from the Church of England. You and

all the preachers know, if my brother should ever leave it, I should

leave him, or rather he me. You would rather waive your right, if you

had it (which I absolutely deny), of ordaining yourselves priests,

than occasion so great an evil. You must become at last either Church

ministers or Dissenting. Such as addict themselves thereto, God will

make a way for their regular ordination in the Church. With these I

desire to live and die. If you are of the number, I look upon you as

my brother, my son, and owe you all I can do for you, as to soul,

body, and estate. Now consider, and speak your mind. Will you take me

for your father, brother, friend? or will you not?”[410]

What was this but an attempt to divide the Methodist itinerants, and to

place himself at the head of one party, while his brother was left as

the leader of the other?

A day later, he wrote to the same effect to John Johnson, an itinerant

of five years’ standing, and added:—

“Things are come to a crisis. Every preacher must consider now what

will become of him. My brother and I have almost finished our course.

After our departure, you _must_ become either Dissenting or Church

ministers. To which have _you_ addicted yourself? If to the meeting,

let us part friends. If your conscience suffers you to accept of

orders in the Church of England, I nothing doubt your admission. If

you love the Church, you are nearer and dearer to me than all my

natural relations. All I can do for you, as to soul, body, and estate,

I ought and will do, the Lord being my helper.”[411]

Three weeks after, he wrote as follows to John Nelson.

“LONDON, _March 27, 1760_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I think you are no weathercock. What think you then

of licensing yourself as a protestant Dissenter, and baptizing and

administering the Lord’s supper, and all the while calling yourself a

Church of England man? Is this honest? consistent? just? Yet this is

the practice of several of our sons in the gospel, even of some whom

I most loved, and most depended on. My brother suffers them. Will not

all the rest follow their example? and will not general separation

ensue? John, I love thee from my heart; yet rather than see thee a

Dissenting minister, I wish to see thee smiling in thy coffin.”[412]

He had already written to Christopher Hopper, and Christopher had

answered him. The following was a rejoinder.

“LONDON, _March 27, 1760_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—You justly observe, it is not my way to hear one

side only. You have not been suffered to speak; your complaints

have been slighted; your reasons not attended to; your old worn out

brethren left, to the parish. What must be your end? This question

ought to be asked, considered, urged, insisted on, till it be answered

to your full satisfaction.

“Here is a poor Methodist preacher, who has given up his business

for the sake of preaching the gospel. Perhaps he has got a wife, and

children, and nothing to keep them. By labouring like a horse, and

travelling like a postboy, for ten or a dozen years, his strength is

exhausted; yet he is able, and quite willing, to do what he can still.

But how shall he get bread for his family? That Mr. Superintendent

will look to.

“Well; be it so. But what will become of this old, faithful preacher,

when my brother and I are dead. ‘He must turn Dissenting or Church

minister.’ I grant it; there is no medium.

“‘But will you,’ you ask us, ‘now use all your interest to get him

ordained?’ I answer for myself, yes; and will begin to-morrow; or

never blame him for turning Dissenter. If any of you prefer the

service of the Dissenters, I would let you depart in peace. If your

heart is as my heart, and you dare venture in the same bottom, then am

I your faithful servant for the residue of my days, and bound to do

all I can for you, as to soul, body, and estate.”[413]

On the same day, he wrote the following to Grimshaw, of Haworth.

“LONDON, _March 27, 1760_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Our preaching houses are mostly licensed, and so

are proper meeting-houses. Our preachers are mostly licensed, and so

are Dissenting ministers. They took out their licences as protestant

Dissenters. Three of our steadiest preachers give the sacrament

at Norwich, with no other ordination or authority than a sixpenny

licence. My brother approves of it. All the rest will most probably

follow their example. What then must be the consequence? Not only

separation, but general confusion, and the destruction of the work, so

far as it depends upon the Methodists.

“My brother persuades himself, that none of the other preachers will

do like those at Norwich; that they may all license themselves, and

give the sacraments, yet continue true members of the Church of

England; that no confusion or inconvenience will follow from these

things; that we should let them do as they please till conference:

where, I suppose, it must be put to the vote, whether they have not a

right to administer the sacraments; and they themselves shall be the

judges.

“I cannot get leave of my conscience, to do nothing in the meantime

towards guarding our children against the approaching evil. They shall

not be trepanned into a meeting-house, if I can hinder it. Every man

ought to choose for himself. I am convinced things are come to a

crisis. We must now resolve either to separate from the Church, or to

continue in it the rest of our days.”[414]