_WESLEY’S ORDINATION, ETC._
[Sidenote: 1725 Age 22]
What was the state of things about the time of Wesley’s ordination?
Wesley entered the Charterhouse in the year Queen Anne died. George
I., Elector of Hanover, took her place. Endless intrigues in favour of
the Pretender sprung up; and Bolingbroke fled to him on the Continent,
and became his Secretary of State. Ormond gave magnificent fêtes at
Richmond, and gathered around him the most fiery of the Jacobites,
and the most intolerant of the high church party, till he also found
it expedient to follow Bolingbroke’s example, and secretly escape to
France. The clergy, in many instances, preached sermons and published
pamphlets in which the temper, orthodoxy, and religion of King George
were not painted in the brightest colours, and in which they hesitated
not to say that England would soon be eaten up by Hanoverian rats and
other foreign vermin. Rumours of invasion and of insurrection became
general, and, about a year after George’s coronation, the Chevalier
landed in Scotland, to take possession of what he called his kingdom.
The history of this adventure is too well known to be repeated here.
Suffice it to observe, that Parliament set a price on the Pretender’s
head, by offering a reward of £100,000 for his arrest. In Scotland,
King George’s troops were put to live in free quarters, in the houses
and upon the estates of Jacobites. In England, gaols were crowded with
nonjuring Protestants, high church divines, and Popish squires, monks,
and priests; while the Chevalier, like his poltroon father, fled from
danger, and left thousands of his hot-headed followers to pay a fearful
penalty for their rash adherence to him. Plotters, however, still
plotted; among the chief of whom was Bishop Atterbury, the friend and
patron of Wesley’s brother Samuel. The prelate was arrested, was tried
in the House of Lords, was deprived of his bishopric, was banished from
his country, entered the service of the Pretender, and became his
confidential agent.
These were times of terrible upheaving, and, surrounded by such
commotions, young Wesley quietly pursued his scholastic studies, first
in the Charterhouse, London, and afterwards in Christ Church College,
Oxford. In the year in which Wesley went to Oxford, the South Sea
bubble burst, and, by its gambling, knavish madness, the nation was
involved in the most disgraceful kind of bankruptcy. About the same
period, Parliament were discussing bills to authorize bishops and
county magistrates to summon Dissenting ministers to quarter sessions
to subscribe to a declaration of the Christian faith; and, upon their
refusal, to deprive them of the benefit of the Act of Toleration;
while, oddly enough, at the same time, Walpole, the prime minister,
was endeavouring to satisfy the squeamish demand to omit from the
“affirmation” of the Quakers the words,—“In the presence of Almighty
God”—a demand which Atterbury resisted to the uttermost, insisting that
such an indulgence was not due to “a set of people who were hardly
Christians.”
Wesley was ordained a deacon by Bishop Potter, the son of a Yorkshire
linen-draper; a man of great talent, and immense learning,—somewhat
haughty and morose, and yet highly esteemed by a great portion of his
contemporaries,—a high churchman, who maintained that episcopacy was
of Divine institution, and yet one who cherished a friendly feeling
towards the first Methodists, saying concerning them, “These gentlemen
are irregular; but they have done good; and I pray God to bless them.”
To the day of his death, Wesley held Potter in high esteem, calling
him “a great and good man”; and, in a sermon written as late as the
year 1787, mentioning an advice which the bishop had given him half
a century before, and for which he had often thanked Almighty God,
namely, “That if he wished to be extensively useful, he must not spend
his time in contending for or against things of a disputable nature,
but in testifying against notorious vice, and in promoting real,
essential holiness.”[40]
It is a somewhat remarkable circumstance that, just about the time
of Wesley’s ordination, Voltaire was expelled from France, and fled
to England, where he published his celebrated “Henriade,” a work
which was patronized by George I., and which yielded a profit that
laid the foundation of the infidels future fortune. During a long
life, he and Wesley were contemporaneous, and, perhaps, of all
the men then living, none exercised so great an influence as the
restless philosopher and the unwearied minister of Christ. No men,
however, could be more dissimilar. Wesley, in person, was beautiful;
Voltaire was of a physiognomy so strange, and lighted up with fire so
half-hellish and half-heavenly, that it was hard to say whether it
was the face of a satyr or a man. Wesley’s heart was filled with a
world-wide benevolence; Voltaire, though of gigantic mind, scarcely had
a heart at all,—an incarnation of avaricious meanness, and a victim to
petty passions. Wesley was the friend of all and the enemy of none;
Voltaire was too selfish to love, and when forced to pay the scanty
and ill-tempered homage which he sometimes rendered, it was always
offered at the shrine of rank and wealth. Wesley had myriads who loved
him; Voltaire had numerous admirers, but probably not a friend. Both
were men of ceaseless labour, and almost unequalled authors; but while
the one filled the land with blessings, the other, by his sneering and
mendacious attacks against revealed religion, inflicted a greater curse
than has been inflicted by the writings of any other author either
before or since. The evangelist is now esteemed by all whose good
opinions are worth having; the philosopher is only remembered to be
branded with well-merited reproach and shame.
Wesley’s first sermon was preached at South Leigh, a small village
three miles from Witney. Forty-six years afterwards he preached in the
same place, when there was one man present who had been a member of his
first congregation.[41]
Another of his early sermons was delivered at Epworth, January 11,
1726, at the funeral of John Griffith, a hopeful young man, son of
one of the Epworth parishioners. The text was 2 Samuel xii. 23, and
the subject of the brief sermon was the folly of indulging grief,
except on account of sin. Funeral sermons, in the common acceptation
of the word, the young preacher denounces, for they had been so often
prostituted to a mere flattery of the dead that now they were no longer
capable of serving good purposes. “It is of no service to the dead,”
says he, “to celebrate his actions, since he has the applause of God
and His holy angels, and his own conscience. And it is of little use
to the living, since he who desires a pattern may find enough proposed
as such in the sacred writings.” For such reasons, Wesley, already
laconic, reduces all that he has to say of John Griffith into a single
sentence. “To his parents he was an affectionate, dutiful son; to his
acquaintance an ingenuous, cheerful, good-natured companion; and to me
a well-tried, sincere friend.”[42]
In a little more than two months after the delivery of this sermon,
Wesley was elected fellow of Lincoln College.[43] The election took
place March 17th, 1726. In this affair, his brother Samuel rendered
him considerable assistance; his mother, with a full heart, thanked
Almighty God for his “good success;”[44] and his father wrote him as
follows:—
“DEAR MR. FELLOW ELECT OF LINCOLN,—I have done more than I
could for you. On your waiting on Dr. Morley[45] with this,
he will pay you £12. You are inexpressibly obliged to that
generous man. The last £12 pinched me so hard, that I am forced
to beg time of your brother Sam till after harvest, to pay him
the £10 that you say he lent you. Nor shall I have as much as
that, perhaps not £5, to keep my family till after harvest; and
I do not expect that I shall be able to do anything for Charles
when he goes to the university. What will be my own fate God
only knows. _Sed passi graviora._ Wherever I am, my Jack is
fellow of Lincoln. I wrote to Dr. King, desiring leave for you
to come one, two, or three months into the country, where you
shall be gladly welcome. Keep your best friend fast; and, next
to him, Dr. Morley; and have a care of your other friends,
especially the younger. All at present from your loving father,
“SAMUEL WESLEY.”[46]
Writing to his brother Samuel, Wesley says:—
“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _April 4, 1726_.
“DEAR BROTHER,—My father very unexpectedly, a week ago, sent me
a bill on Dr. Morley for £12, which he had paid to the rector’s
use at Gainsborough; so that now all my debts are paid, and
the expenses of my treat defrayed; and I have still above £10
remaining. If I could have leave to stay in the country till
my college allowance commences, this money would abundantly
suffice me till then.
“I never knew a college besides ours, whereof the members
were so perfectly well satisfied with one another, and so
inoffensive to the other part of the university. All the
fellows I have yet seen are both well-natured and well-bred;
men admirably disposed as well to preserve peace and good
neighbourhood among themselves, as to preserve it wherever else
they have any acquaintance.
“I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[47]
The following, which was also addressed to his brother Samuel, is
amusing. Wesley was so poor that he could ill afford to employ a barber
to cut and dress his hair, even when his mother wished it, and when he
himself thought it might improve his personal appearance.
“My mother’s reason for my cutting off my hair is because she
fancies it prejudices my health. As to my looks, it would
doubtless mend my complexion to have it off, by letting me get
a little more colour, and perhaps it might contribute to my
making a more genteel appearance. But these, till ill health
is added to them, I cannot persuade myself to be sufficient
grounds for losing two or three pounds a year. I am ill enough
able to spare them.
“Mr. Sherman says there are garrets, somewhere in Peckwater, to
be let for fifty shillings a year; that there are some honest
fellows in college, who would be willing to chum in one of
them; and that, could my brother but find one of these garrets,
and get acquainted with one of these honest fellows, he might
possibly prevail upon him to join in taking it; and then if he
could but prevail upon some one else to give him £7 a year for
his own room, he would gain almost £6 a year clear, if his rent
were well paid. He appealed to me whether the proposal was not
exceedingly reasonable? But as I could not give him such an
answer as he desired, I did not choose to give him any at all.
“Leisure and I have taken leave of one another. I propose to be
busy as long as I live, if my health is so long indulged me. In
health and sickness I hope I shall ever continue with the same
sincerity,
“Your loving brother,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[48]
Charles Wesley had just removed from Westminster School to the
university, being elected to the same college as that in which his
brother had spent the last six years. John obtained leave of absence
from Lincoln College, and spent the summer at Epworth and Wroote with
his venerated parents. Here he usually read prayers and preached twice
every sabbath; pursued his studies with the greatest diligence; and
conversed with his father and mother on many of the chief topics of
practical religion, noting in his diary such of their rules and maxims
as appeared to him important.[49] While here, he wrote his paraphrase
on the 104th Psalm,—a production of genius fully showing that if Wesley
had cultivated his poetic talents he might easily have attained to
no inferior position among the bards of Britain. The following is an
extract:—
“Thou, brooding o’er the realms of night,
The’ unbottomed infinite abyss,
Bad’st the deep her rage surcease,
And saidst, _Let there be light!_
Ethereal light Thy call obeyed,
Glad she left her native shade,
Darkness turned his murmuring head,
Resigned the reins, and trembling fled.”[50]
“Make poetry your diversion,”[51] said Wesley’s mother, “but not your
business;” and because he acted on this advice his poetical pieces are
comparatively few. It is well known, however, that some of the noblest
hymns in the Wesleyan hymn-book were written by John Wesley’s pen. What
can exceed, in poetic grandeur, the three hymns beginning with the
line:—
“Father of all, whose powerful voice,” etc.
Or the two hymns commencing with:—
“O God, Thou bottomless abyss,” etc.
Or the hymn beginning:—
“O God, of good the’ unfathomed sea,” etc.
Or again:—
“O God the Son, in whom combine,” etc.
Or again:—
“Jesus, whose glory’s streaming rays,” etc.
“Now I have found the ground wherein,” etc.
“Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness,” etc.
“Thee will I love, my strength, my tower,” etc.
Or again, the two hymns commencing with:—
“Commit thou all thy griefs,” etc.
Or again:—
“Thou hidden love of God, whose height,” etc.
Let it be granted that these and others were translations; but still
it must be ceded that the words, if not the thoughts, are Wesley’s;
and that never, in uninspired language, is God adored and praised in
loftier or more sacred strains than in the singing of the hymns above
mentioned. Apart from his numerous hymn-books, Wesley, at different
times, published five volumes of poetry, and, to the day of his death,
read it with the richest relish.
Wesley returned to Oxford on the 21st of September, 1726, and resumed
his studies. His literary character was now established at the
university. All parties acknowledged him to be a man of talents and
of learning; while his skill in logic was known to be remarkable. The
result was, though he was only in the twenty-third year of his age, and
had not yet taken a master’s degree, he was, within two months after
his return from Epworth, on November 7th, elected Greek lecturer and
moderator of the classes.
At the commencement of the year 1727, Wesley, in a letter,[52] tells
his mother that he had drawn up for himself a scheme of studies, and
had “perfectly come over to her opinion, that there are many truths it
is not worth while to know. If we had a dozen centuries of life allowed
us, we might, perhaps, be pardoned for spending a little time upon such
curious trifles; but, with the small pittance of life we have, it would
be great ill husbandry to spend a considerable part of it in what makes
neither a quick nor a sure return.” Wesley adds, that, about the time
of his ordination, he had, while watching with a college friend a young
lady’s funeral, attempted to make his friend a Christian. From that
time this youth was exceedingly serious; and a fortnight ago had died
of consumption. Wesley was with him three days before his decease, and
on the Sunday following, in accordance with his friend’s desire while
living, he did him the last good office that he could by preaching his
funeral sermon. Here was _Wesley’s first convert_.
Another friend must be introduced, not so serious as the sight of a
funeral has a tendency to make us, but a sprightly young collegian,
more vivacious than religious, who, in 1729, became one of the first
four Methodists that met together to read the Greek Testament,[53] and
whose portrait occupies a place in the large and beautiful engraving
of “The Rev. John Wesley and his Friends at Oxford.” The following
letter is valuable only as it tends to show that Wesley, and some of
his college friends, were not yet so intensely religious as they became
soon after.
“STANTON, _February 2, 1727_.
“With familiarity I write, Dear Jack.—On Friday night last I
received your kind accusation. You generously passed by, or
pardoned, all insipid or impertinent expressions; but I am
condemned for brevity before I could put forth my defence.
My plea is, I writ yours, as likewise one to Harry Yardley,
of equal importance, in the space of three hours. My letter
was really longer than yours by Scripture proof; for you writ
scarce much out of your abundance of thoughts; whereas I writ
all that I thought of, and thought of all I could write. I
have not the presumption to compare my expressions or style
with yours, because there I am excelled beyond all degrees of
comparison.
‘For when you write, smooth elocution flows;
But when Bob scrawls, rough ignorance he shows.’
I am just going down to a dinner of calves’ head and bacon,
with some of the best green cabbages in the town. I wish I
could send you a plate of our entertainment while it is hot. We
have just tapped a barrel of admirable cider.
“2 o’clock. I am come up again with a belly-full, _sufficit_.
Your most deserving, queer character,—your worthy personal
accomplishments,—your noble endowments of mind,—your little and
handsome person,—and your obliging and desirable conversation,
have been the pleasing subject of our discourse for some
pleasant hours. You have often been in the thoughts of M. B.,
which I have curiously observed, when with her alone, by inward
smiles and sighs and abrupt expressions concerning _you_. Shall
this suffice? I caught her this morning in an humble and devout
posture on her knees. I am called to read a _Spectator_ to my
sister Capoon. I long for the time when you are to supply
my father’s absence. Keep your counsel, and burn this when
perused. You shall have my reasons in my next. I must conclude,
and subscribe myself, your most affectionate friend, and
_brother_ I wish I might write,
“ROBERT KIRKHAM.”[54]
The above somewhat frothy epistle indicates an important fact, that
Wesley was in love with Miss Betty, Kirkham’s sister, or, at all
events, that Kirkham wished to have him for a brother. Nothing more is
known of this incipient courtship, except that in a letter to Wesley,
dated five days after Kirkham’s, and written by Martha Wesley, it is
said, “When I knew that you were just returned from Worcestershire,
where I suppose you saw your _Varanese_, I then ceased to wonder at
your silence, for the sight of such a woman, ‘so known, so loved,’
might well make you forget me. I really have myself a vast respect for
her, as I must necessarily have for one that is so dear to you.” Wesley
soon became far too much immersed in more serious things to have time
to think of wooing. He writes:—
“Removing to another (Lincoln) college, I began to see more and more
the value of time. I applied myself closer to study. I watched more
carefully against actual sins. I advised others to be religious,
according to that scheme of religion by which I modelled my own life.
But meeting now with Mr. Law’s ‘Christian Perfection’ and ‘Serious
Call,’ although I was much offended at many parts of both, yet they
convinced me more than ever of the exceeding height and breadth and
depth of the law of God. The light flowed in so mightily upon my
soul, that everything appeared in a new view. I cried to God for
help, resolved, as I had never done before, not to prolong the time
of obeying Him. And by my continued endeavour to keep His whole law,
inward and outward, to the utmost of my power, I was persuaded that
I should be accepted of Him, and that I was even then in a state of
salvation.”[55]
William Law will have to be noticed hereafter. Suffice it to remark
now, that, after obtaining a fellowship at Emanuel College, Cambridge,
and officiating as a curate in the metropolis, he refused to take the
oaths prescribed by parliament on the accession of George I., lost
his fellowship, left the pulpit, and became tutor to Edward Gibbon,
father of the renowned historian. He was now resident at Putney, and
is described as rather above the middle size, stout but not corpulent,
with broad shoulders, grey eyes, round visage, well-proportioned
features, an open countenance, and rather inclined to be merry than
mournful. His “Christian Perfection” was first published in 1726,
just before Wesley read it; and, in strong, clear, racy language,
maintains that Christianity requires a change of nature, a renunciation
of the world and worldly tempers, self-denial and mortification, in
short, a life perfectly devoted to the service of God. Clergymen are
reminded that it is far more important to visit the poor and sick,
and to be wholly occupied in the cure of souls, than in studying the
old grammarians. Vain books and stage entertainments are denounced in
the strongest terms; and a close imitation of the life and example
of Christ Jesus is enforced with the utmost earnestness. The work
throughout is one of the most intensely religious books in the English
language; and had it shown the way of attaining holiness as clearly
as it enforces the practice of it, it would in all respects have
been unequalled. The “Serious Call” is a kindred book, and written
in the same earnest and pungent style. “It is,” wrote Wesley, within
eighteen months of his decease,—“It is a treatise which will hardly be
excelled, if it be equalled, in the English tongue, either for beauty
of expression, or for justness and depth of thought.”[56]
The effect produced upon Wesley,[57] by reading these two invaluable
books, was immense. “I was convinced,” says he “more than ever of
the impossibility of being half a Christian, and determined to
be all devoted to God, to give Him all my soul, my body, and my
substance.”[58]
Wesley’s intentions were as sincere and pure as grace could make them;
but his ideas of Christian truth were confused, misty, erroneous. He
was spending several hours every day in reading the Scripture in the
original tongues; and yet he tells us that it was not until years
after this that he became convinced of the great truths, which, above
all other truths, gave rise to the societies of the people called
Methodists. These truths he himself has specified in the following
terms:—“The justification, whereof our articles and homilies speak,
means present forgiveness, pardon of sins, and consequently acceptance
with God. I believe the condition of this is faith; I mean, not
only that without faith we cannot be justified, but also that, as
soon as any one has true faith, in that moment he is justified.
Good works follow this faith, but cannot go before it; much less
can sanctification, which implies a continued course of good works,
springing from holiness of heart.
“Repentance must go before faith, and fruits meet for it, if there be
opportunity. By repentance, I mean conviction of sin, producing real
desires and sincere resolutions of amendment; and by ‘fruits meet for
repentance,’ I mean forgiving our brother, ceasing from evil and doing
good, using the ordinances of God, and in general obeying Him according
to the measure of grace which we have received. But these I cannot as
yet term good works; because they do not spring from faith and the love
of God.
“By salvation I mean, not barely deliverance from hell, or going to
heaven, but a present deliverance from sin, a restoration of the
soul to its primitive health, its original purity; a recovery of the
Divine nature; the renewal of our souls after the image of God, in
righteousness and true holiness, in justice, mercy, and truth. This
implies all holy and heavenly tempers, and by consequence, all holiness
of conversation.
“Faith is the sole condition of this salvation. Without faith we cannot
thus be saved; for we cannot rightly serve God unless we love Him. And
we cannot love Him unless we know Him; neither can we know Him unless
by faith.
“Faith, in general, is a Divine, supernatural evidence, or conviction
of things not seen; that is, of things past, future, or spiritual.
Justifying faith implies, not only a Divine evidence, or conviction,
that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself; but a sure
trust and confidence that Christ died for my sins; that He loved me and
gave Himself for me. And the moment a penitent sinner believes this,
God pardons and absolves him.
“And as soon as his pardon or justification is witnessed to him by the
Holy Ghost, he is saved. He loves God and all mankind. He has the mind
that was in Christ, and power to walk as He also walked. From that time
(unless he makes shipwreck of the faith) salvation gradually increases
in his soul.
“The Author of faith and salvation is God alone. He is the sole Giver
of every good gift, and the sole Author of every good work. There is
no more of power than of merit in man; but as all merit is in the Son
of God, in what He has done and suffered for us, so all power is in
the Spirit of God. And therefore every man, in order to believe unto
salvation, must receive the Holy Ghost. This is essentially necessary
to every Christian, in order to have faith, peace, joy, and love. Whoever
has these fruits of the Spirit cannot but know and feel that God has
wrought them in his heart.”
The reader has here, in Wesley’s own words, a summary of all the
doctrines which technically may be termed the doctrines of the _first
Methodists_. It was the preaching of these doctrines, and of these
only, that created Methodism in 1739. And, to be faithful to the
principles of their founder, the Methodists of this, and of every age
succeeding, _must_, MUST make these the _chief_ doctrines of their
ministry. Wesley preached other truths besides these: but these were
the truths which distinguished him from his fellows; which gave birth
to the system that bears his name; and which he always made _prominent_
in his sermons and in his books, to the end of life. Methodism will
sink and deservedly become extinct, when it ceases to proclaim, as its
_greatest_ dogmas, the above summary of Methodistic doctrines, drawn up
by Wesley himself in 1744.
This summary is introduced here because, notwithstanding his deep
religious feeling, his pure intentions, and his strict morality, the
doctrines it embraces were doctrines of which Wesley remained strangely
ignorant for nearly thirteen years after his ordination, in 1725. He
writes: “It was many years after I was ordained deacon, before I was
convinced of the great truths above recited. During all that time, I
was utterly ignorant of the nature and condition of justification.
Sometimes I confounded it with sanctification (particularly when I
was in Georgia); at other times I had some confused notion about the
forgiveness of sins; but then I took it for granted the time of this
must be either the hour of death, or the day of judgment. I was equally
ignorant of the nature of saving faith; apprehending it to mean no more
than a ‘firm assent to all the propositions contained in the Old and
New Testaments.’”[59]
Such, at this period, were Wesley’s views of Christian truth,
principally derived from his mother, from Thomas à Kempis, Jeremy
Taylor, and William Law. Some have charged him with embracing the
mystic divinity, but, except so far as the mystic writers denied the
doctrine of justification by faith, the charge is unfounded. In reply
to this accusation, Wesley writes: “It is true that, for a while, I
admired the _mystic writers_. But I dropped them, even before I went to
Georgia; long before I knew or suspected anything as to justification
by faith. Therefore all that follows of my ‘making my system of
divinity more commodious for general use,’ having no foundation,
falls to the ground at once. I never was ‘in the way of mysticism’ at
all.”[60]
Wesley took his degree of Master of Arts, on February 14, 1727. In his
disputation for this he acquired considerable reputation; delivering
three lectures on the occasion, one “De Anima Brutorum;” a second, “De
Julio Cæsare;” and a third, “De Amore Dei.” These early orations seem
to be entirely lost.
Another step taken by Wesley, about the same period, was to rid himself
of unprofitable friends. He writes: “When it pleased God to give me
a settled resolution to be not a _nominal_, but a _real_ Christian
(being then about twenty-two years of age), my acquaintance were as
ignorant of God as myself. But there was this difference: I knew my
own ignorance; they did not know theirs. I faintly endeavoured to
help them, but in vain. Meantime, I found, by sad experience, that
even their _harmless_ conversation, so called, damped all my good
resolutions. I saw no possible way of getting rid of them, unless it
should please God to remove me to another college. He did so, in a
manner utterly contrary to all human probability. I was elected fellow
of a college where I knew not one person. I foresaw abundance of people
would come to see me, either out of friendship, civility, or curiosity;
and that I should have offers of acquaintance new and old: but I had
now fixed my plan. I resolved to have no acquaintance by chance, but by
choice; and to choose such only as would help me on my way to heaven.
In consequence of this, I narrowly observed the temper and behaviour of
all that visited me. I saw no reason to think that the greater part of
these truly loved or feared God: therefore, when any of them came to
see me, I behaved as courteously as I could; but to the question, ‘When
will you come to see me?’ I returned no answer. When they had come a
few times, and found I still declined returning the visit, I saw them
no more. And, I bless God, this has been my invariable rule for about
three-score years. I knew many reflections would follow; but that did
not move me, as I knew full well it was my calling to go through evil
report and good report.”[61]
Thus did Wesley free himself from trifling companions. About the same
time, some one proposed to him a well endowed school in Yorkshire, and
suggested, as an inducement for him to accept it, that it was situated
“in a little vale, so pent up between two hills” that it was scarcely
accessible; a place where he could “expect little company from without,
and within none at all.”[62] This school was either never offered, or,
if it was, the offer was declined.
Wesley now laid down a plan of study, and closely followed it. Mondays
and Tuesdays he devoted to the Greek and Roman classics, historians and
poets; Wednesdays, to logic and ethics; Thursdays to Hebrew and Arabic;
Fridays to metaphysics and natural philosophy; Saturdays to oratory and
poetry, chiefly composing; and Sundays, to divinity. In intermediate
hours, he perfected himself in the French language, which he had
begun to learn two or three years before; sometimes amused himself
with experiments in optics; and in mathematics studied Euclid, Keil,
and Sir Isaac Newton. First, he read an author regularly through, and
then transcribed into a commonplace book such passages as he thought
important or beautiful. In this way he greatly increased his stock of
knowledge and inured himself to hard working.
His father was now sixty-five years of age, and was already palsied;
his mother also was in exceedingly ill health; and hence, in August,
1727, he removed to Lincolnshire, for the purpose of officiating as his
father’s curate at Epworth and at Wroote; and here, with the exception
of about three months, he remained until November, 1729.
The details of this period of two years and a quarter in Wesley’s
history are few. His life at Epworth and Wroote was doubtless the
ordinary every-day sort of life of an earnest country parish clergyman.
Fortunately, one of his sermons, preached during the time that he was
his father’s curate, has been preserved, and is important as showing
how, from the very commencement of his ministry, he rigidly adhered to
the principle of preaching the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth. The text is 2 Corinthians ii. 17, and the subject of the
sermon is that of “corrupting the word of God.” Among corrupters he
notices:—1. Those who introduce “into it human mixtures, and blend with
the oracles of God impure dreams, fit only for the mouth of the devil.”
2. Those who mix it “with false interpretations.” 3. Those who do not
add to it but take from it, “washing their hands of stubborn texts,
that will not bend to their purposes, or that too plainly touch upon
the reigning vices of the places where they live.” Those who do not
corrupt the word of God “preach it genuine and unmixed,” unimpaired and
in all its fulness. “They speak with plainness and boldness, and are
not concerned to palliate their doctrine to reconcile it to the tastes
of men. They will not, they dare not, soften a threatening so as to
prejudice its strength; neither represent sin in such mild colours as
to impair its native blackness.”[63]
Here we have Wesley, in the twenty-fifth year of his age, displaying
the same conscientious fidelity and unflinching boldness, which so
strikingly characterized the whole of his future ministry.
In July, 1728, Wesley repaired to Oxford, where, on Sunday, September
22, he was ordained priest by Dr. Potter, who had ordained him deacon
in 1725. Nine days afterwards, he returned to his curacy at Wroote,
where, as already stated, he continued preaching and fulfilling other
ministerial duties until November 22, 1729.
What were the results of Wesley’s preaching? Wesley himself shall tell
us. He writes: “I preached much, but saw no fruit of my labour. Indeed,
it could not be that I should; for I neither laid the foundation of
repentance, nor of believing the gospel; taking it for granted that
all to whom I preached were believers, and that many of them needed
no repentance.”[64] Let Christian ministers be admonished. Is it not
a fact—a general, if not universal fact—that where these doctrines
are not preached all other preaching is almost, if not altogether,
useless? Christ’s ministry throughout was in perfect accordance with
its commencement, when following John the Baptist, as His high herald,
He cried, “Repent ye, and believe the gospel.” This kind of preaching
is always useful. Would to God we had more of it at the present day!
Wroote was a wretched place. Wesley says it was “surrounded with
bogs;”[65] and, according to Samuel, his brother, the parsonage was
roofed with thatch and made lively by the mingled music of “kittens
and whelps,” “pigs and porkets,” “bellowing kine and bleating lambs,
quacking ducks and fluttering hens.” Describing his father’s presence
there, he writes:—
“Methinks I see you striving all
Who first shall answer to his call,
Or lusty Nan or feeble Moll,
Sage Pat, or sober Hetty;
To rub his cassock’s draggled tail,
Or reach his hat from off the nail,
Or seek the key to draw his ale,
When damsel haps to steal it;
To burn his pipe, or mend his clothes,
Or nicely darn his russet hose,
For comfort of his aged toes,
So fine they cannot feel it.”[66]
The church was a small brick building, and the population, even as
late as 1821, was under three hundred. The people were, says Mehetabel
Wesley, “unpolished wights,” as “dull as asses,” and with heads “as
impervious as stones.”
Such were Wesley’s parish and parishioners—not exactly the place where
a poetical genius and classic scholar was likely to luxuriate; and
yet there is no reason to entertain a doubt that Wesley was happy in
his new sphere of labour. He loved retirement, and here he had it. It
is not improbable that, for many a long year, Wroote would have been
his residence, had not the rector of Lincoln College wished to have
him back to Oxford. This gentleman had rendered such service to the
Wesley family that the venerable father used to say, “I can refuse him
nothing.”[67] Accordingly, the following letter, by Dr. Morley, was
irresistible.
“_October 21, 1729._
“At a meeting of the society, just before I left college, to
consider the proper method to preserve discipline and good
government, it was, in the opinion of all present, judged
necessary that the junior fellows, who should be chosen
moderators, shall in person attend the duties of their office,
if they do not prevail with some of the fellows to officiate
for them. We all thought it would be a great hardship on Mr.
Fenton to call him from a perpetual curacy; yet this we must
have done, had not Mr. Hutchins been so kind to him and us as
to engage to supply his place in the hall for the present year.
Mr. Robinson would as willingly supply yours, but the serving
of two cures, about fourteen miles from Oxford, makes it, he
says, impossible to discharge the duty constantly. We hope
it may be as much for your advantage to reside at college as
where you are, if you take pupils, or can get a curacy in the
neighbourhood of Oxon. Your father may certainly have another
curate, though not so much to his satisfaction; yet we are
persuaded that this will not move him to hinder your return to
college, since the interests of the college and obligation to
statute require it.”
And so, because Fenton had a perpetual curacy, too good to be given
up; and because Robinson, in his two parishes, had as much work as he
could do, Wesley was forcibly removed from Wroote, and brought back
to Oxford to fulfil his functions as a fellow. No time was lost. He
returned to Oxford on November 22, 1729, and here continued until he
embarked for Georgia on the 14th of October, 1735.