His friend Whitefield, during the first five weeks of the year,

was more fortunate, and managed to preach about thirty sermons in

consecrated edifices in and about London. How long this permission

might have lasted, it is difficult to determine; but, at the beginning

of February, Whitefield, like a flaming seraph, set off to Bath and

Bristol. Perhaps his departure thither was hastened by a fracas which

occurred only three days before at St. Margaret’s, Westminster, where

he yielded to the pressure of the crowd, and preached, despite the

opposition of the minister and his church officers.[272] Be that as it

may, the news of the disturbance, published in the _Weekly Miscellany_,

got to the west of England before him; and, on his arrival, all the

churches were closed against him. In a few days, however, Mr. Penrose

granted him the pulpit of St. Werburgh’s; and Mr. Gibbs the pulpit of

St. Mary Redcliff. The chancellor of Bristol interfered, and threatened

that, if he continued to preach or expound in the diocese without

licence, he should first be suspended and then expelled. This was

the turning point. To muzzle Whitefield was impossible; and hence,

being shut out of the Bristol churches, away he went, on February 17,

and preached, in the open air, to two hundred colliers at Kingswood.

This was the boldest step that any of the Methodists had yet taken;

and perhaps none of them but the impulsive, large-hearted Whitefield

would have had sufficient courage to be the first in such a shocking

departure from Church rules and usages. The Rubicon was passed. A

clergyman had dared to be so irregular as to preach in the open air,

and God had sanctioned the irregularity by making it a blessing. At the

second Kingswood service, Whitefield says he had two thousand people to

hear him; and at the third, four thousand; while, at the fifth service,

the four thousand were increased to ten. These were marvellous crowds

to assemble out of doors in the bleak months of February and March. No

wonder that Whitefield’s soul took fire. He declares he never preached

with greater power than now. One day, he would take his stand on Hannam

Mount; another, on Rose Green; and another at the Fishponds. Then he

ran off to Cardiff, and preached in the town hall; and then to Bath,

and preached on the town common. Then we find him preaching to about

four thousand at Baptist Mills; and, on March 18, his congregation at

Rose Green was estimated at not less than twenty thousand, to whom he

preached nearly an hour and a half.[273] A gentleman lent him a large

bowling-green in the heart of Bristol, and here he preached to seven

or eight thousand people. In the village of Publow, several thousands

assembled to hear him; and, at Coal-pit Heath and other places, the

crowds were quite as great. All this transpired within six weeks, and,

at nearly all these strange and enormous gatherings, Whitefield made a

collection for his orphan house in Georgia. His soul expanded with his

marvellous success. He wished to try the same experiment elsewhere; and

hence he sent for Wesley to act as his Bristol and Kingswood successor.

Wesley arrived at Bristol on Saturday, March 31; and, the next day,

heard Whitefield at the Bowling-green, Rose Green, and Hannam Mount,

and was thus introduced to the vast congregations which Whitefield

bequeathed to his godly care. He was once again ungagged, and, during

the nine months from March to December, preached and expounded almost

without ceasing.

Whitefield, on leaving Wesley at Bristol, made his way to London,

preaching to assembled thousands at Gloucester and other places. The

churches in the metropolis were all closed against him; but Moorfields

and Kennington Common were still open; and here, to congregations

consisting of tens of thousands, he rapturously proclaimed the glad

tidings of salvation. In one instance, he computed his Kennington

congregation at fifty thousand, to whom he preached an hour and a

half. Eighty coaches were present, besides great numbers of people on

horseback. On another occasion, his collection for the orphan house in

Georgia amounted to upwards of £47, of which £16 were in half-pence.

At another time, the concourse in Moorfields numbered nearly sixty

thousand; and, at every service, he seems to have made collections for

Georgia, himself acting as one of the collectors. He then made a short

preaching excursion to Hertford, Northampton, and Bedford, where the

stairs of a windmill served him for a pulpit. On returning to town,

he received letters from Scotland, telling him that Ralph Erskine had

turned field preacher, and had had a congregation of fourteen thousand

people. In June, Wesley came to London to see him, and preached at

Blackheath to twelve or fourteen thousand people, “the Lord giving

him,” writes Whitefield, “ten thousand times more success than He has

given me.” An embargo unexpectedly laid on shipping detained him in

England a few weeks longer, during which he visited Hertfordshire,

Essex, Gloucestershire, and other places. In July, he joined his friend

Wesley in Bristol, and acknowledged that the congregations were much

more serious and affected than when he had left them three months

before. The Kingswood colliers, instead of cursing and swearing, now

made the woods ring with their hymns of praise. At length, in the month

of August, Whitefield set sail for America, where we must leave him

until his return to England, in March, 1741.

Charles Wesley passed most of the year 1739 in London and its

neighbourhood. His brother and his friends urged him to settle at

Oxford; but he refused, without further direction from God. He preached

in churches as long as he was permitted; and, when prohibited, followed

the example of Whitefield and his brother.

For a moment, we must retrace our steps. As already stated, Wesley

himself spent the first two months of 1739 in London. How was he

occupied? On New Year’s day, he was present at a remarkable lovefeast

in Fetter Lane, which continued until three o’clock in the morning,

and which consisted of himself, his brother, his clerical friends

Whitefield, Ingham, Hall, Kinchin, and Hutchings, and about sixty

Moravians. At the hour mentioned, the power of God came upon them

so mightily, that many cried out for exceeding joy, others fell

prostrate on the ground, and all joined in singing, “We praise Thee,

O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord.” But even this marvellous

manifestation of the majesty of God failed to remove Wesley’s doubts

and fears; for, three days afterwards, we find him writing the

bitterest things against himself, and concluding with the words,

“Though I have constantly used all the means of grace for twenty years,

I am not a Christian.”

The day after, January 5, seven of the despised Methodist clergymen

(probably the seven just mentioned), held a conference at Islington,

on several matters of great importance, and, after prayer and fasting,

determined what they were in doubt about, by casting lots. “We parted,”

says Whitefield, “with a full conviction that God was going to do great

things among us;”[274] a conviction which was soon verified.

On January 7, they held another lovefeast at Fetter Lane, and spent the

whole night in prayer and thanksgiving.[275]

January 25, Wesley baptized five adults at Islington, and makes a

strange distinction, which shows that his views of the scriptural

doctrine of salvation were still hazy and confused. He writes: “Of the

adults I have known baptized lately, only one was at that time born

again, in the full sense of the word; that is, found a thorough inward

change by the love of God filling her heart. Most of them were only

born again in a lower sense; that is, received the remission of their

sins.” Let the reader compare this with a passage in Wesley’s sermon on

“The Great Privilege of those that are Born of God,” and he will mark

the difference.

“It has been frequently supposed, that the being born of God

was all one with the being justified; that the new birth and

justification were only different expressions, denoting the

same thing: it being certain, on the one hand, that whoever is

justified is also born of God; and on the other, that whoever

is born of God is also justified; yea, that both these gifts

of God are given to every believer in one and the same moment.

In one point of time his sins are blotted out, and he is born

again of God. But though it be allowed, that justification and

the new birth are, in point of time, inseparable from each

other, yet are they easily distinguished, as being not the

same, but things of a widely different nature. Justification

implies only a relative, the new birth a real, change. God in

justifying us does something _for_ us; in begetting us again,

He does the work _in_ us. The one restores us to the favour,

the other to the image, of God. The one is the taking away the

guilt, the other the taking away the power, of sin; so that,

although they are joined together in point of time, yet they

are of wholly distinct natures.”

Nothing can be more scriptural, or more clearly expressed than this;

but comparison with the extract from his journal, above given, shows

that, even in 1739, Wesley was far from being “a scribe instructed unto

the kingdom of heaven.” He still had much both to learn and to unlearn;

but it was a happy fact, that he was docile and eager to be taught.

Four days after baptizing the adults at Islington, he sat up till near

one in the morning with Whitefield and two other clergymen, earnestly

listening to a midnight discussion concerning the doctrine of the new

birth.[276]

During the month of February, he had three separate interviews

with bishops of the Established Church. On the 6th, he went with

Whitefield to the Bishop of Gloucester, to solicit a subscription

for Georgia.[277] On the 21st, he and his brother Charles waited on

Potter, Archbishop of Canterbury, who showed them great affection;

spoke mildly of Whitefield; cautioned them to give no more umbrage

than necessary; to forbear exceptionable phrases; and to keep to the

doctrines of the Church. They told him they expected persecution; but

would abide by the Church till her articles and homilies were repealed.

From Potter, they proceeded direct to Gibson, Bishop of London, who

denied that he had condemned them, or even heard much about them.

Whitefield’s Journal, he said, was tainted with enthusiasm, though

Whitefield himself was a pious, well meaning youth. He warned them

against Antinomianism, and dismissed them kindly.[278]

On the day after their interview with the Bishop of Gloucester,

Whitefield, shut out of the London churches, set off on his tour

to Bristol. Three weeks later, Wesley wrote him an account of his

proceedings in London.

“_February 26, 1739._

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Our Lord’s hand is not shortened amongst us.

Yesterday I preached at St. Katherine’s, and at Islington,

where the church was almost as hot as some of the society rooms

used to be.[279] The fields, after service, were white with

people praising God. About three hundred were present at Mr.

S——’s; thence I went to Mr. Bray’s; thence to Fetter Lane;

and, at nine, to Mr. B——’s, where also we wanted room. To-day

I expound in the Minories at four; at Mrs. W——’s at six; and

in Gravel Lane, Bishopsgate, at eight. On Wednesday, at six, we

have a noble company of women, not adorned with gold or costly

apparel, but with a meek and quiet spirit. At the Savoy, on

Thursday evening, we have usually two or three hundred, most

of them, at least, thoroughly awakened. On Friday, Mr. A——’s

parlour is more than filled; as is Mr. P——’s room twice

over.”[280]

This extract will give the reader an idea of Wesley’s weekly labours

in London, up to the time that he set out for Bristol. Every day had

its day’s work. It was impossible for such a man to be idle: work was

essential to his happiness, and almost to his existence.

Already the people began to have faith in the power of his piety and

prayers. The parents of a lunatic besought his intercessions on behalf

of their afflicted son, who, for five years past, had been in the

habit of beating and tearing himself, putting his hands into the fire,

and thrusting pins into his flesh. Wesley and his friends yielded to

the request on February 17; and, from that time, the poor creature,

though not fully freed from his calamitous affliction, had more rest

than he had had for two years before. On the same day, a middle aged,

well dressed woman, at a society-meeting in Beech Lane, was seized as

with the agonies of death. For three years, her friends had accounted

her mad, and had bled and blistered her accordingly. Wesley prayed

with her, and, five days after, she was victoriously delivered, and

in a moment was filled with love and joy.[281] Within a fortnight, a

third instance, somewhat similar, took place at Oxford, whither Wesley

had gone for a brief visit. Hearing of a woman who was most violently

opposed to the Methodist revival, he went to her and argued with her.

This enraged her more and more. Wesley broke off the dispute, and began

to pray. In a few minutes, the woman fell into an extreme agony, both

of body and soul; and soon after cried out with the utmost earnestness,

“Now I know I am forgiven for Christ’s sake;” and, from that hour, set

her face as a flint to declare the faith which before she persecuted.

We have already seen that, at the beginning of the month of March,

Wesley made a tour to Oxford, and while there wrote to Whitefield the

long letter which has been already given. On his return to London, he

received a most urgent request from Whitefield to proceed to Bristol

without delay. Wesley hesitated; Charles objected; and the society at

Fetter Lane disputed; but, at length, the matter was decided by casting

lots. Wesley reached Bristol on March 31, and on April 2 Whitefield

left, summing up the results of his first six weeks of out-door

preaching thus: “Many sinners have been effectually converted, and all

the children of God have been exceedingly comforted. Several thousands

of little books have been dispersed among the people; about £200

collected for the orphan house; and many poor families relieved by the

bounty of my friend Mr. Seward. And what gives me the greater comfort

is the consideration that my dear and honoured friend Mr. Wesley is

left behind to confirm those that are awakened; so that I hope, when I

return from Georgia, to see many bold soldiers of Jesus Christ.”[282]

The next day he wrote to Wesley the following, which is now for the

first time given to the public:—

_“April 3, 1739._

“HONOURED SIR,—Yesterday I began to play the madman in

Gloucestershire, by preaching on a table in Thornbury Street.

To-day I have exhorted twice; and by-and-by shall begin a third

time; nothing like doing good by the way. Be pleased to go to

Kingswood, and forward the good work as much as possible. I

desire you would open any letters that come directed for me,

and send me a line to Gloucester. I wish you all the success

imaginable in your ministry; and I pray God that my Bristol

friends may grow in grace under it. Parting from them has

struck a little damp upon my joy; but God will quickly revisit,

“Honoured sir, your unworthy loving servant,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“The Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mr. Grevil’s,

“Wine Street, Bristol.”

On the day of Whitefield’s departure, at four in the afternoon, Wesley

ventured to follow his friend’s example, and for the first time in

England dared to preach in the open air. His text was appropriate and

striking, Isaiah lxi. 1, 2. The place was “a little eminence in a

ground adjoining to the city.” His feeling was deep. He says: “I could

scarce reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in

the fields; having been all my life, till very lately, so tenacious of

every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought

the saving of souls almost a sin if it had not been done in a church.”

Such were the prejudices and the feelings of the man who, for between

fifty and sixty years proved himself the greatest out-door preacher

that ever lived.

With the exception of a brief visit to London in June, September,

and November, and of a short tour into Wales and another to Exeter,

Wesley spent the whole of his time, from April to the end of 1739, in

Bristol and its immediate neighbourhood. Though there are considerable

gaps in Wesley’s journal, during which we lose sight of his texts

and sermons, it is not too much to say that he delivered at least

five hundred discourses and expositions in the nine months of which

we speak; and it is a noticeable fact that only eight of these were

delivered in churches,—six in the church at Clifton, one at Runwick,

and one at Exeter. His preaching plan was as follows:—an exposition to

one or other of the Bristol societies every night, and preaching every

Sunday morning, and every Monday and Saturday afternoon. At Kingswood,

including Hannam Mount, Rose Green, and Two Mile Hill, he preached

twice every sabbath, and also every alternate Tuesday and Friday. At

Baptist Mills, he preached every Friday; at Bath, once a fortnight, on

Tuesday; and at Pensford, once a fortnight, on Thursday.

Another point is worth noticing. His chief, almost his only aim, was

to explain to the people the plan of scriptural salvation; for, as

may easily be seen, almost all his texts have an immediate bearing on

this the greatest of all pulpit topics. Saved himself, his whole soul

was absorbed in a grand endeavour to expound the truth which, above

all other truths, is the means of saving sinners. “The points,” he

writes, “I chiefly insisted upon were four: first, that orthodoxy, or

right opinions, is, at best, but a very slender part of religion, if

it can be allowed to be any part at all; that neither does religion

consist in negatives, in bare harmlessness of any kind; nor merely in

externals, in doing good, or using the means of grace, in works of

piety, or of charity: that it is nothing short of, or different from,

the mind that was in Christ; the image of God stamped upon the heart;

inward righteousness, attended with the peace of God and joy in the

Holy Ghost. Secondly, that the only way to this religion is repentance

towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. Thirdly, that by

this faith, he that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth

the ungodly, is justified freely by His grace through the redemption

which is in Christ Jesus. And, lastly, that being justified by faith,

we taste of the heaven to which we are going; we are holy and happy;

we tread down sin and fear, and sit in heavenly places with Christ

Jesus.”[283]

He further tells us that the reasons which induced him to begin

preaching in the open air were—1. That he was forbidden, as by a

general consent, though not by any judicial sentence, to preach in any

church. 2. That the rooms in which he preached could not contain a

tenth part of the people that were earnest to hear. Hence, he adds, he

determined to do in England what he had often done in a warmer climate;

namely, when the house would not contain the congregation, to preach in

the open air; and never had he seen a more awful sight than when, on

Rose Green, or the top of Hannam Mount, some thousands of people were

calmly joined together in solemn waiting upon God. He had no desire or

design to preach in the open air till he was forbidden to preach in

churches. It was no matter of choice, neither of premeditation. Field

preaching was a sudden expedient, a thing submitted to rather than

chosen; and submitted to, because he thought preaching even thus better

than not preaching at all; first, in regard to his own soul, because a

dispensation of the gospel being committed to him, he did not dare not

to preach the gospel; and secondly, in regard to the souls of others,

whom he everywhere saw seeking death in the error of their life.[284]

Some of his friends urged him to settle in college, or to accept a cure

of souls: to whom he replied:—

“I have no business at college, having now no office and no

pupils; and it will be time enough to consider whether I

ought to accept a cure of souls when one is offered to me. On

scriptural grounds, I do not think it hard to justify what

I am doing. God, in Scripture, commands me, according to my

power, to instruct the ignorant, reform the wicked, confirm the

virtuous. Man forbids me to do this in another’s parish; that

is, in effect, not to do it at all, seeing I have now no parish

of my own, nor probably ever shall. Whom then shall I hear? God

or man? If it be just to obey man rather than God, judge ye. I

look upon all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that,

in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my

bounden duty to declare unto all that are willing to hear, the

glad tidings of salvation.”

Such was the position taken by Wesley and his friends. Their chief,

their only business was to save souls. For this they had a world-wide

commission. Nothing short of this could satisfy the yearnings of their

nature. Unlike the old Puritans and others, they had no attacks to make

on the despotic measures of the court and Church. “In their bosoms

there was no rankling grudge against authorities; there was no particle

of that venom which, wherever it lodges, infects and paralyses the

religious affections.”[285] Their sole quarrel was, not with church or

state authorities, but with sin and Satan; and their sole object was,

not to make proselytes, but to save sinners.

Their congregations, says James Hutton, “were composed of every

description of persons, who, without the slightest attempt at order,

assembled, crying ‘Hurrah!’ with one breath, and with the next

bellowing and bursting into tears on account of their sins; some

poking each other’s ribs, and others shouting ‘Hallelujah.’ It was a

jumble of extremes of good and evil; and so distracted alike were both

preachers and hearers, that it was enough to make one cry to God for

His interference. Here thieves, prostitutes, fools, people of every

class, several men of distinction, a few of the learned, merchants,

and numbers of poor people who had never entered a place of worship,

assembled in crowds and became godly.”[286]

Of course, persecution followed. “We continued,” says Wesley, “to

call sinners to repentance in London, Bristol, Bath, and a few other

places; but it was not without violent opposition, both from high and

low, learned and unlearned. Not only all manner of evil was spoken

of us, both in private and public, but the beasts of the people were

stirred up almost in all places to knock these mad dogs on the head at

once. And when complaint was made of their savage, brutal violence, no

magistrate would do us justice.”[287]

The following may be taken as specimens of the opposition met with in

1739. On one occasion, Wesley had obtained permission to preach in

Pensford church; but, just as he was setting out, he received a letter,

saying that the minister had been informed that he was mad, and that,

therefore, the permission was withdrawn. Not being allowed to occupy

the church, Wesley took his stand in the open air; but in the midst of

prayer, two men, hired for the purpose, began to sing ballads, which

obliged Wesley and his friends to begin to sing a psalm, so as to drown

one noise by another.

Another incident must be given. Bath, at that period, was perhaps the

most fashionable city in England; and the most renowned man in Bath

was Richard, commonly called “Beau,” Nash. This accomplished rake, now

sixty-five years old, was the son of a glass manufacturer in Wales, and

was expelled from Jesus College, Oxford, for his intrigues and wild

adventures. At the age of thirty, he was without a fortune, and without

talents for acquiring one; and hence, to the end of life, became a

gamester. The visit of Queen Anne to Bath, in 1703, had made the city

the favourite resort of people of distinction, and, ever after, the

amusements of the place were put under the direction of a master of

the ceremonies, this sovereignty of the city being decreed to Nash by

all ranks of residents and visitors. King of Bath, he had rules posted

in the pump-room, from which even royalty itself was not allowed to

deviate. He prescribed the dresses in which ladies and gentlemen were

to appear at balls, and imperatively fixed the number of dances to be

danced. He himself wore a monstrously large white hat, and usually

travelled in a post chaise, drawn by six grey horses, honoured with

outriders, footmen, French horns, and every other appendage of a

pretentious coxcomb. He lived by gambling, and scattered money with

as much indifference as he won it. The city of which he was the dandy

king was full of fashionable rogues. “Nothing,” says the _Weekly

Miscellany_ of that period, “nothing was to be seen in it but play and

the preparations for it. Persons of all characters, distinctions, and

denominations sat down to cards from morning till night, and from night

till morning; and those who disagreed in everything else agreed in

this.”

On visiting Bath, Wesley was told that Nash meant to interfere, and was

entreated not to attempt to preach. Wesley, however, was not the man

to yield to a swaggering rake. He had gone to preach, and preach he

would, and did; the threatenings of Nash having made his congregation

much larger than was expected. Besides the poor, he had many of the

rich and great. Soon after Wesley began his sermon, the “Beau,” in his

immense white hat, appeared, and asked by what authority he dared to

do what he was doing now. Wesley replied, “By the authority of Jesus

Christ, conveyed to me by him who is now Archbishop of Canterbury, when

he laid his hands upon me, and said, ‘Take thou authority to preach the

gospel.’” “But this,” said Nash, “is a conventicle, and contrary to

act of parliament.” “No,” answered Wesley, “conventicles are seditious

meetings; but here is no sedition: therefore, it is not contrary to act

of parliament.” “I say it is,” cried the man of Bath; “and, besides,

your preaching frightens people out of their wits.” “Sir,” said Wesley,

“did you ever hear me preach?” “No.” “How then can you judge of what

you never heard?” “I judge,” he answered, “by common report.” “Common

report,” replied Wesley, “is not enough. Give me leave to ask you, sir,

is not your name Nash?” “It is,” he said. “Sir,” retorted Wesley, “I

dare not judge of you by common report.” The master of ceremonies was

worsted, and, after a pause, simply asked what the people wanted; upon

which an old woman begged Wesley to allow her to answer him, and, amid

her taunts, the resplendent king of the pump-room sneaked away.

No wonder that the Methodists were opposed. Their preaching, their

doctrine, and their whole behaviour were novel. “Being convinced,”

writes Wesley, “of that important truth, which is the foundation of

all real religion, that ‘by grace we are saved through faith,’ we

immediately began declaring it to others. Indeed, we could hardly speak

of anything else, either in public or private. It shone upon our minds

with so strong a light, that it was our constant theme. It was our

daily subject, both in verse and prose; and we vehemently defended it

against all mankind. But, in doing this, we were assaulted and abused

on every side. We were everywhere represented as mad dogs, and treated

accordingly. We were stoned in the streets, and several times narrowly

escaped with our lives. In sermons, newspapers, and pamphlets of all

kinds, we were painted as unheard of monsters. But this moved us not;

we went on testifying salvation by faith both to small and great, and

not counting our lives dear unto ourselves, so we might finish our

course with joy.”[288]

Wesley here mentions the attacks made upon them by the press. The

following are specimens:—

The _Scots Magazine_, for 1739, remarks that “Whitefield and the two

Wesleys offend against the rules of the Christian church, by preaching

in opposition to the opinions and instructions of the bishops.” “The

Wesleys,” continues this Scottish censor, “are more guilty than

Whitefield, because they are men of more learning, better judgment,

and cooler heads. Let them go over to their proper companies, their

favourites, the Dissenters, and utter their extemporary effusions in a

conventicle; but not be suffered in our churches hypocritically to use

our forms, which they despise. Let them carry their spirit of delusion

among their brethren, the Quakers. Let them preach up their election

and reprobation doctrines among the Calvinists; and their solifidian

tenets among the Antinomians. Let not such bold movers of sedition, and

ringleaders of the rabble, to the disgrace of their order, be regularly

admitted into those pulpits which they have taken with multitude and

with tumult, or, as ignominiously, by stealth.”

The clergy also began to bestir themselves. On Trinity Sunday, a sermon

on regeneration was preached in the parish churches of Greenwich,

and of St. Peter the Poor, London, by the Rev. Ralph Skerret, D.D.,

chaplain to the Earl of Grantham. The sermon, in 8vo, thirty-six pages,

was published; but is scarcely worth noticing. The Methodists, however,

are spoken of as “restless deceivers of the people, who make it their

daily business to fill the heads of the ignorant and unwary with wild,

perplexive notions.”

Another sermon, preached before the university of Oxford, on August 5,

by the Rev. John Wilder, M.A., rector of St. Aldate’s, on “The Trial

of the Spirits,” brands the Methodists as “deceivers,” “babblers,”

“insolent pretenders,” “men of capricious humours, spiritual sleight,

and canting craftiness,” “novices in divinity,” casting “indecent,

false, and unchristian reflections on the clergy,” “newfangled

teachers, setting up their own fantastic conceits, in opposition to the

authority of God, and so bigoted to their wild opinions, and so puffed

up with pride and vanity at the success of their enthusiastic labours,

that they all appear fully disposed to maintain and defend their cause

by more than spiritual weapons, or to die martyrs for it.”

On the 14th of October, the Rev. Charles Wheatley, M.A., vicar of

Furneux Pelham, Herts, preached in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, a

sermon against the “new enthusiasts,” on “St. John’s test of knowing

Christ, and being born of Him.” The sermon, with notes, was published,

in 8vo, thirty-one pages, but was not calculated to augment the fame of

the honest and zealous churchman, who had already given to the public

two important ritualistic works, entitled, “A Rational Illustration

of the Book of Common Prayer,” and “An Historical Vindication of the

Fifty-fifth Canon.” Mr. Wheatley is less abusive than Mr. Wilder;

but yet he thinks it right to describe the Methodists as “rapturous

enthusiasts, preaching up unaccountable sensations, violent emotions,

and sudden changes;” and likewise “assuming to themselves, upon

all occasions, the peculiar language of the Holy Ghost; equalling

themselves to prophets and apostles; boasting of immediate

inspirations; and laying a blasphemous claim to greater miracles than

were ever wrought even by Christ Himself.”

Another opponent, in 1739, was Henry Stebbing, a doctor of divinity, a

royal chaplain, and preacher to the Honourable Society of Gray’s Inn.

This gentleman published “A Caution against Religious Delusion,” in

the shape of “a sermon on the New Birth: occasioned by the pretensions

of the Methodists.” In this comparatively temperate production, the

Methodists are charged with “vain and confident boastings, and with

rash uncharitable censures;” with “gathering tumultuous assemblies to

the disturbance of the public peace, and with setting at nought all

authority and rule;” with “intruding into other men’s labours, and with

encouraging abstinence, prayer, and other religious exercises, to the

neglect of the duties of our station.” It is admitted that, when there

are “so many combinations for vice,” “religious societies for praying,

reading (if not expounding) the Scriptures, and singing psalms may be

of use for the encouragement of virtue;” but the danger is lest the

laymen, who were heads or leaders of these societies, should “grow

opinionated of themselves and fond of their own gifts, and should run

into wild fancies until the pale of the Church is too strait for them.”

Before the end of the year 1739, Stebbing’s sermon reached a sixth

edition.

Another antagonist, more violent than Stebbing, was Joseph Trapp, D.D.,

who published, in 1739, a pamphlet of sixty-nine pages, entitled, “The

Nature, Folly, Sin, and Danger of being Righteous over-much; with

a particular view to the Doctrines and Practices of certain Modern

Enthusiasts. Being the substance of four discourses lately preached in

the parish churches of Christ Church and St. Lawrence Jewry, London;

and St. Martin’s in the Fields, Westminster. By Joseph Trapp, D.D.”

In this notable production, it is stated that, “for laymen to officiate

in reading prayers to any assembly, except their own families,

is an encroachment upon the office of those who are ordained to

holy functions; and for them to expound or interpret Scripture is

neither laudable nor justifiable, but tends to the confirmation,

not the removal, of ignorance.” For “a raw novice, though in holy

orders” (like Whitefield), “to take upon him, at his first setting

out, to be a teacher, not only of all the laity, in all parts of

the kingdom, but of the teachers themselves, the learned clergy,

many of them learned before he was born, is an outrage upon common

decency and common sense; the height of presumption, confidence, and

self-sufficiency; so ridiculous as to create the greatest laughter,

were it not so deplorable and detestable as to create the greatest

grief and abhorrence; especially when vast multitudes are so sottish

and wicked as, in a tumultuous manner, to run madding after him.” Trapp

insinuates that the Methodists “teach such absurd doctrines, and second

them with such absurd practices, as to give countenance to the lewd

and debauched, the irreligious and profane. In their own imagination,

their errors are the height of wisdom, and their vices the most perfect

virtues. They think themselves the greatest saints, when, in truth,

they are under strong delusion, in the bond of iniquity, and in the

gall of bitterness. They have set the nearest and dearest relations

at variance; disturbed the quiet of families; and thrown whole

neighbourhoods and parishes into confusion. They were half-dissenters

_in_ the Church, and more dangerous _to_ the Church, than those who

were total dissenters _from_ it.” “Methodism was nothing but a revival

of the old fanaticism of the last century; when all manner of madness

was practised, and all manner of villainy committed in the name of

Christ.” Its disciples, “like Solomon’s madman, cast firebrands,

arrows, and death; and send to hell (only because they are not of

their own frantic persuasion) millions of Christians much better than

themselves.”

The author proceeds:—“For a clergyman of the Church of England to pray

and preach in the fields, in the country, or in the streets of the

city, is perfectly new, a fresh honour to the blessed age in which

we have the happiness to live. I am ashamed to speak upon a subject,

which is a reproach not only to our Church and country, but to human

nature itself. Can it promote the Christian religion to turn it into

riot, tumult, and confusion? to make it ridiculous and contemptible,

and expose it to the scorn and scoffs of infidels and atheists? To

the prevalence of immorality and profaneness, infidelity and atheism,

is now added the pest of enthusiasm. Our prospect is very sad and

melancholy. Go not after these impostors and seducers; but shun them as

you would the plague.”

Such are fair specimens of the four fiery sermons preached by Dr.

Trapp. Hypocrites, enthusiasts, novelists, ignes fatui, and glaring

meteors are the best names which this reverend divine could find for

the poor, peaceable, and persecuted Methodists.[289]

Another clerical adversary was “Tristam Land, M.A., late Fellow of

Clare Hall, in Cambridge, Curate of St. James, Garlickhith; and

Lecturer of the united parishes of St. Anthony and St. John Baptist.”

His sixpenny pamphlet of thirty pages was entitled, “A Letter to

the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, with a Letter addressed to the Religious

Societies.” Whitefield is attacked for teaching the doctrine, that

many are baptized without being born again; whereas Tristam Land

insists that, according to the teachings of the Church of England,

“all infants, at the time they are baptized, are sanctified with the

Holy Ghost; and that, though they may afterwards depart from the

grace given, and fall into sin, they are not to be commanded to be

baptized or born again a second time; for to be born more than once,

in a spiritual sense, is just as impossible as to be born twice in a

natural. All that can be done in this matter is to use the several

means of grace; or, in one word, as the Scripture expresses it, they

must be renewed again by repentance.”

This reverend gentleman then proceeds to describe the Methodists as

“young quacks in divinity, running about the city, and taking great

pains to distract the common people, and to break the peace and unity

of the Church. They are like vain persons, who think themselves

handsome, and are apt to despise others; for looking upon themselves

as exquisite pictures of holiness and as patterns of piety, they

represent us (the clergy) as dumb dogs, profane, and carnally minded.

They talk much of the pangs of the new birth, their inward feelings,

experiences, and spiritual miracles; but their faith is an ill grounded

assurance, their hope an unwarrantable presumption, and their charity a

censoriousness and a contempt of their brethren of different sentiments

to themselves.”

Good old Dr. Byrom, in a letter dated February 8, 1739, says, “The book

against Mr. Whitefield by Mr. Land is thought a weak piece.”[290] No

wonder.

Besides these, there was published “An Expostulatory Letter to the Rev.

Mr. Whitefield;” also an octavo pamphlet of forty pages, entitled,

“Observations and Remarks on Mr. Seagrave’s conduct and writings,

in which his answer to the Rev. Dr. Trapp’s four sermons is more

particularly considered.” In this latter production, it is asserted

that Whitefield sinks the house of God into a playhouse, and turns

religion to a farce; that prostitutes swarm at his meetings, and there

make merchandise as at a country fair; that his congregations are

such as crowd to a Smithfield show; and that Whitefield himself is an

enthusiast, a blasphemer, and a wavering, wandering preacher of no

establishment, but nearly attached to the Dissenting communion, and

blending his sermons with a spice both of the Papist and Mahommedan.

In a “Faithful Narrative” of Whitefield’s life and character, it is

stated that numberless lies and false reports have been raised in

London to vilify his character, and to stigmatise his followers; and

he was now branded as a mercenary knave. It was also reported that, in

Georgia, he had been imprisoned and personally chastised for making the

people mad with enthusiasm.

An “Expostulatory Letter” to Whitefield, “and the rest of his brethren,

the Methodists of the Church of England,” octavo, forty pages, and

signed “E. B.,” charges them with departing from the rubric in

_sprinkling children_ at baptism, thus prostituting a holy ordinance,

and substituting an insignificant, unavailing thing, neither worthy

of God, nor beneficial to men. It also urges them to be _dipped_

themselves, and thus become exemplars to others.

Besides all these, an attack was made by a young man of

eight-and-twenty, curate of All Saints’, Bristol, the Rev. Josiah

Tucker, afterwards a doctor of divinity, and Dean of Gloucester. In

a Letter, dated June 14, 1739, he accuses Whitefield of propagating

“blasphemous and enthusiastic notions, which struck at the root of all

religion, and made it the jest of those who sat in the seat of the

scornful.” Wesley replied to this, and concludes by advising Tucker

not to meddle with controversy, for his talents were not equal to its

management. It would only entangle and bewilder him more and more.

Besides, there was no pleasure in answering a man whose head was not

adapted to the right directing of disputes.[291]

The next onslaught was more authoritative and serious. On August 1,

1739, Edmund Gibson, Bishop of London, published his “Pastoral Letter,”

of fifty-five pages, “to the People of his Diocese; especially those

of the two great cities of London and Westminster: by way of Caution

against Lukewarmness on one hand, and Enthusiasm on the other.”

Two-thirds of this prelatical pamphlet are on enthusiasm, and are

levelled against the Methodists. Numerous extracts are given from

Whitefield’s Journal, to show—1. That these enthusiasts claim to

have _extraordinary communications_ with God, and more than ordinary

assurances of a special _presence_ with them. 2. That they have a

special and immediate _mission_ from God. 3. That they think and act

under the immediate guidance of a _Divine inspiration_. 4. That they

speak of their preaching and expounding, and the effects of them, as

the sole work of a _Divine power_. 5. That they boast of sudden and

surprising effects as wrought by the _Holy Ghost_ in consequence of

their preaching. 6. That they claim the spirit of _prophecy_. 7. That

they speak of themselves in the language, and under the character,

of _apostles_ of Christ, and even of _Christ_ Himself. 8. That

they profess to plant and propagate a _new gospel_, as unknown to

the generality of ministers and people, in a Christian country. 9.

That they endeavour to justify their own _extraordinary_ methods of

teaching, by casting unworthy reflections upon the parochial clergy,

as deficient in the discharge of their duty, and not instructing their

people in the true doctrines of Christianity.

Thirteen days after the “Pastoral Letter” was published, Whitefield

wrote an answer to it, and, in a firm but quiet and respectful way,

replied to all the bishop’s allegations. He concludes by charging

Gibson with propagating a new gospel, because he asserts, that “good

works are a _necessary condition_ of our being justified in the sight

of God.” He maintains that _faith_ is the only necessary condition, and

that _good works_ are the necessary fruit and consequence. “This,” he

writes, “is the doctrine of Jesus Christ; this is the doctrine of the

Church of England; and it is, because the generality of the clergy of

the Church of England do not preach this doctrine, that I am resolved,

God being my helper, to continue instant in season and out of season,

to declare it unto all men, let the consequences, as to my own private

person, be what they will.”

If the bishop really believed his accusations to be true, his pastoral

is a model of meek writing. On the other hand, Whitefield’s answer is

one of the smartest productions of his pen; its pith and point somewhat

reminding us of the terseness which characterized his friend Wesley.

While Whitefield was skirmishing with the Bishop of London, Wesley

was having a brush with the Bishop of Bristol. First they discussed

the subject of faith as the only necessary condition of a sinner’s

justification before God. Then his lordship charged the Methodists

with “a horrid thing, a very horrid thing,” namely, “pretending

to extraordinary revelations and gifts of the Holy Ghost.” The

conversation concluded thus:—

_Bishop._ “I hear you administer the sacrament in your societies.”

_Wesley._ “My lord, I never did yet; and I believe I never shall.”

_Bishop._ “I hear too, that many people fall into fits in your

societies, and that you pray over them.”

_Wesley._ “I do so, my lord, when any show, by strong cries and tears,

that their soul is in deep anguish; and our prayer is often heard.”

_Bishop._ “Very extraordinary indeed! Well, sir, since you ask my

advice, I will give it freely. You have no business here; you are not

commissioned to preach in this diocese. Therefore, I advise you to go

hence.”

_Wesley._ “My lord, my business on earth is, to do what good I can.

Wherever, therefore, I think I can do most good, there must I stay,

so long as I think so. At present, I think I can do most good here;

therefore, here I stay. Being ordained a priest, by the commission

I then received, I am a priest of the church universal; and being

ordained as fellow of a college, I was not limited to any particular

cure, but have an indeterminate commission to preach the word of God

in any part of the Church of England. I conceive not, therefore, that

in preaching here by this commission I break any human law. When I am

convinced I do, then it will be time to ask, shall I obey God or man?

But if I should be convinced in the meanwhile that I could advance the

glory of God and the salvation of souls, in any other place more than

in Bristol, in that hour, by God’s help, I will go hence; which till

then I may not do.”[292]

About the same time, a pamphlet of ninety-six pages was published,

entitled, “The Life of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, by an Impartial

Hand.” Impartiality is pretended, but hostility is seen. The object

of the Life is evidently to make the subject of it a mark for the

shafts of ridicule. Accounts are given of the fracas in St. Margaret’s

church, Westminster, on Sunday, February 4. There is also “a method of

confession drawn up for the use of the women Methodists,” professedly

taken from the original in Whitefield’s or Wesley’s own handwriting,

and with which, it is alleged, the Deists are delighted. Among other

questions, to be asked, as often as occasion required, were the

following: “Are you in love? Whom do you love just now, better than

any other person in the world? Is not the person an idol? Does any

court you? How do you like him? How do you feel yourself when he comes,

when he stays, and when he goes away?” A full account is, likewise,

furnished of Joseph Periam, a young clerk to an attorney, who had been

converted, partly by reading Whitefield’s sermons on the new birth, and

whom his friends had put into a madhouse—(1) Because he fasted for near

a fortnight. (2) Because he prayed so as to be heard several storeys

high. (3) Because he had sold his clothes and given the money to the

poor. The Methodists are further charged with attempting to take away

the liberty of the press; Wesley is accused of placing his converts,

when delivered from their violent agitations and distortions, on an

eminence, for others to behold them; and Whitefield is charged with

saying, that he could produce two cobblers in Bristol, that knew more

of true Christianity than all the clergy in the city put together. His

Journals are designated rhapsodies and repetitions of spiritual pride,

vanity and nonsense; he is accused of wilful and notorious falsehood,

and of taking pleasure in being abusive and scurrilous.

All this breathes fury; but the following taken from the _Weekly

Miscellany_ of July 21, 1739, surpasses it. The Methodist preacher

stands on an eminence with admiring and subscribing crowds about

him. He is young, which is good; looks innocent, which is better; and

has no human learning, which is best of all. He spreads his hands and

opens his lips as wide as possible. He talks of a sensible new birth;

good women around him come to his assistance; he dilates himself;

cries out; the hill swells into a mountain; and _parturiunt montes,

nascitur ridiculus mus_. Then there is a chorus of ten thousand sighs

and groans, deepened with the blowing of bassoons and horns. The

Methodists are mad enthusiasts who teach, for dictates of the Holy

Spirit, seditions, heresies, and contempt of the ordinances of God

and man. They are buffoons in religion, and mountebanks in theology;

creatures who disclaim sense and are below argument; visionary antics

in gowns and cassocks; so buffeted by the devil as to be qualified to

be confessors to the whole island; composing sermons as fast as they

can write, and speaking faster than they think; and forming societies

of females, who are to confess their love affairs one to another, and

to take care that there shall be a supply of new Methodists for future

generations.

In the same year, appeared a pamphlet, of twenty-eight pages, entitled

“The Methodists; an Humorous, Burlesque Poem, addressed to the Rev. Mr.

Whitefield and his followers.” The frontispiece represents the great

preacher addressing an immense crowd on Kennington Common, while, on

the outskirts of the congregation, are coaches of all descriptions, and

a gibbet on which three condemned felons are hanging. Describing the

Methodists, the poem says:—

“By rule they eat, by rule they drink,

Do all things else by rule, but think—

Accuse their priests of loose behaviour,

To get more in the laymen’s favour;

Method alone must guide ‘em all,

Whence Methodists themselves they call.”

After this, the devil is represented as making a tour from Rome to

Oxford, in the course of which he stole the bigoted madness of a Turk,

and the wit of a modern atheist, both of which he drenched, dull and

deep, in a literary Dutchman’s brain, and then, making them his own,

and pulling off his horns, and shoeing his cloven foot, dressing

himself in a student’s gown, and using for the nonce a distorted

face, and, because of the piety of its nasal tones, a Noncon parson’s

nose, he introduced himself to the Oxford Methodists, and gave them

instructions how to act, so as to effect their purposes,—instructions

too lascivious to be reprinted. As a _very mild_ specimen of this

foul-mouthed poem, we give another description of the Methodists:—

“All men of thought with laughter view,

Or pity, the mistaken crew;

Who, mad with Scripture, void of sense,

And thoughtless, novelists commence;

Swerve from the rules of mother Church,

And leave her basely in the lurch:

To holy _Holt_ they all repair,

There join in _folly_ and in prayer;

Next round the _gaols_ they hovering fly,

To plague the wretches ere they die;

And while the children lisp their praise,

‘Bless ‘em!’ each good old woman says.”

At the risk of exhausting the reader’s patience, we must notice another

anti-Methodist pamphleteer, who, in 1739, did his little best to

strangle the new-born system at its birth. This was a certain “James

Bate, M.A., Rector of St. Paul’s, Deptford; and formerly Chaplain to

His Excellency Horatio Walpole, Esq.”

First of all, the redoubtable author gave to the world a pamphlet

of thirty-eight pages, bearing the title, “Methodism Displayed; or

Remarks upon Mr. Whitefield’s Answer to the Bishop of London’s Pastoral

Letter.” In this production, Whitefield is charged with causing numbers

of poor tradesmen to leave their families to starve, only to ramble

after himself; in dividing the word of God, he violently divides

text from context, and makes arrant nonsense of both; he shuffles

and prevaricates; treats the bishop with saucy sneers; is guilty of

flat falsehoods, disingenuous quirks, and mean evasions; perfidiously

tramples upon the canons of the Church; and flies in the face of his

diocesan with unparalleled pride and impudence.

Not having exhausted all his wrath, the same reverend gentleman,

at the end of the year, issued another manifesto, of sixty-six

pages, entitled, “Quakero-Methodism; or a Confutation of the First

Principles of the Quakers and Methodists.” This was a dear shilling’s

worth, written in reply to a letter on Bate’s former pamphlet “by

T. S——y, Esq.” Bate asserts that the whole performance of the

“Quakero-Methodist” (as T. S——y is called) may be ranked under the

two heads of scurrility and sophistry; but as God, at whose altar he

serves, has forbid him to return railing for railing, he will give

no answer to the scurrility whatever. He then, notwithstanding this,

proceeds to accuse his adversary of having “troubled the public with

a load of stupidity, folly, and nonsense.” He alleges against him

“insipid sneers, like the grins of an idiot;” he tells him that “the

shortest cut for him to avoid writing nonsense is to lay down his pen;”

that his “whole stock of knowledge has been laid in at some expounding

house that was under the influence of the spirit of presumption,

ignorance, pride, and arrogance;” and that “his arguments have never

more than two gentle faults, false premises and a false conclusion.”

He says, Whitefield “chews” the charges of the Bishop of London, “just

as an ass mumbles a thistle, without either the courage to swallow it,

or the sense to lay it down;” and concludes by assuring his opponent

that he could have “goaded him with the sharpest, bitterest, and

severest sarcasms, and have scourged his spiritual pride with wholesome

severity;” but in mercy he has refrained from using such “a whip of

scorpions.”

The magazines and newspapers of the period were filled with similar

abuse of the poor Methodists. The writer has examined most of them,

and has been struck with two facts:—(1) of those admitting letters and

articles against the Methodists, the fairest and most moderate was the

_Gentleman’s Magazine_; and (2) the bitterest and most violent was the

professedly religious _Weekly Miscellany_, a weekly folio sheet of four

pages. The following is a mild specimen from the latter, and refers not

only to the movements of Wesley and Whitefield in the south of England,

but of Ingham in the north. After accusing Whitefield of “behaviour

disgraceful to the Christian religion and to the ministerial office,”

the journalist proceeds to say that—

“The clergy had all refused him their pulpits, and the lord mayor

the halls and markets of the city.” He was “a conceited boaster and

heterodox intruder; whose next performance was to be accompanied with

a chorus of ten thousand sighs and groans, deepened with bassoons. In

the approaching winter, the town would be entertained with harlequin

turned Methodist, by way of reprisals, since the Methodist had turned

harlequin. In Yorkshire, by the preaching of the Methodists, the spirit

of enthusiasm had so prevailed, that almost every man who could hammer

out a chapter in the Bible had turned an expounder of the Scripture,

to the great decay of industry, and the almost ruin of the woollen

manufacture, which seemed threatened with destruction for want of

hands to work it.” “Methodism has laid aside play-books and poems,

for Scripture phrases and hymns of its own composing. Its disciples

were never easy but when they were in a church, or expounding the

Bible, which they could do offhand, from Genesis to Revelation, with

great ease and power. They had given away their finery to tattered

beggars, resolving to wear the coarsest attire and to live upon the

most ordinary diet. They hired barns, where they met at six in the

evening; expounded, prayed, and sang psalms till towards ten; and then

had a lovefeast to communicate their experiences, especially as to love

affairs.” “Several fine ladies, who used to wear French silks, French

hoops of four yards wide, bob-wigs, and white satin smock petticoats,

were turned Methodists, and now wore stuff gowns, common night-mobs,

and plain bays for _Jennys_.”

Numbers of similar extracts might be given from the newspapers and

periodicals of 1739; but the reader has had enough of scurrilous and

lying hodge-podge to satisfy the cravings of the greatest gossip.

Such were the premonitory mutterings of the storm in which the

Methodist movement was cradled. Mobs threatened; newspapers, magazines,

and other periodicals fulminated their malicious squibs; prelates,

priests, and doctors of divinity became militant pamphleteers; but,

in the midst of all, Wesley and his friends calmly proceeded in their

glorious calling. Some even, who were animated with a friendly feeling

towards them, looked upon their course of conduct with alarm. Good Dr.

Doddridge, in a letter dated May 24, 1739, writes:—

“I think the Methodists sincere; I hope some may be reformed,

instructed, and made serious by their means. I saw Mr.

Whitefield preaching on Kennington Common last week to an

attentive multitude, and heard much of him at Bath; but,

supposing him sincere and in good earnest, I still fancy that

he is but a _weak_ man—much too positive, says rash things,

and is bold and enthusiastic. I am most heartily glad to hear

that any _real_ good is done anywhere to the souls of men; but

whether these Methodists are in a right way—whether they are

warrantable in all their conduct,—whether _poor_ people should

be urged, through different persons successively, to pray from

four in the morning till eleven at night, is not clear to me;

and I am less satisfied with the high pretences they make to

the Divine influence. I think what Mr. Whitefield says and

does comes but little short of an assumption of inspiration or

infallibility.”[293]

Another friend, Mr. T. Hervey, writing in the same month to Samuel

Wesley, at Tiverton, says, that he is anxious “to stop the spread

and prevalence of several very strange and pestilent opinions;” and

expresses the hope that this may be done effectually by the elder

brother of Wesley, whom he designates “the dear, but deluded man.” He

then proceeds to state that—

“These pestilent opinions are—1. That the method of education,

the distinction, order, degrees, and even robes and habits

of the university are all anti-Christian. 2. That nothing is

taught in it but learning which opposes the power of God. 3.

That whoso is born of God is also taught of God, not in any

limited sense, but so as to render the use of all natural means

of no effect. 4. That all human learning, however said to be

sanctified of God, entirely disqualifies a man from preaching

the true gospel of Jesus Christ. 5. That none have a right to

preach, but such as are immediately called to it by the Holy

Ghost. 6. That an established ministry is a mere invention of

man. 7. That the Church of England and all its authority are

founded on and supported by a lie; and that all who receive a

power of preaching from it are in a state of slavery.”[294]

This was a kind and well meant letter, but it was pregnant with

mistakes. Still it tends to show the enormous difficulties encountered

by the Methodists at the commencement of their history. Sometimes they

met a friend, though not often; and it is a pleasing duty to introduce

godly Joseph Williams, of Kidderminster, as one who sympathised with

their indefatigable endeavours to save the souls of their fellow men.

Under the date of September 17, 1739, he writes concerning the two

Wesleys, Whitefield, and Ingham:—

“The common people flock to hear them, and, in most places, hear them

gladly. They commonly preach once or twice every day; and expound

the Scriptures in the evening to religious societies, who have their

society rooms for that purpose.” He then proceeds to give an account

of his hearing Charles Wesley preach at Bristol. Standing on a table,

in a field, the preacher, with eyes and hands lifted up to heaven,

prayed with uncommon fervour and fluency. “He then preached about an

hour in such a manner as I scarce ever heard any man preach. Though

I have heard many a finer sermon, yet I think I never heard any man

discover such evident signs of vehement desire” [to benefit his

hearers]. “With unusual fervour, he acquitted himself as an ambassador

for Christ; and although he used no notes, nor had anything in his hand

but a Bible, yet he delivered his thoughts in a rich, copious variety

of expression, and with so much propriety, that I could not observe

anything incoherent through the whole performance, which he concluded

with singing, prayer, and the usual benediction.

“Afterward, I waited on him at Mr. Norman’s. He received me in a very

friendly manner. Before he would take any refreshment, he, with a

few friends that waited on him, sung a hymn, and then prayed for a

blessing, as at set meals. After tea, we sung another hymn; and then

I went with them to the religious society, and found the place so

thronged, that it was with great difficulty we reached the centre of

it. We found them singing a hymn; he then prayed; and proceeded to

expound the twelfth chapter of the gospel of St. John, in a sweet,

savoury, spiritual manner. This was followed by singing another hymn;

and he then prayed over a great number of bills presented by the

society, about twenty of which respected spiritual cases. Never did

I hear such praying. Never did I see or hear such evident marks of

fervency in the service of God. At the close of every petition, a

serious Amen, like a gentle, rushing sound of waters, ran through the

whole audience. Such evident marks of a lively fervent devotion, I was

never witness to before. If there be such a thing as heavenly music

upon earth, I heard it there. I do not remember my heart to have been

so elevated in Divine love and praise, as it was there and then, for

many years past, if ever. Notwithstanding some errors, which, as mere

men, they may be liable to, I cannot but believe that God is with them

of a truth, and hath raised them up in this day of general defection

from gospel purity, simplicity, and zeal, for signal service and

usefulness in His church.”[295]

In a letter to Charles Wesley, written in the month of September, 1739,

Williams adds: “I heartily wish you God speed. I bless you in the name

of the Lord. Fear not what men can do unto you. With Him your judgment

is, and your reward with your God.”[296]

Such a testimony from a man so devout, enlightened, and justly famed as

Joseph Williams, the Kidderminster carpet weaver, is quite as weighty

as any testimony of an opposite character from either Bishop Gibson, or

any priest or prelate then watching on the walls of Zion.

We must now return to Wesley at Bristol. Every night he expounded to

societies. These were small gatherings of religious people, which

had continued meeting for godly purposes for about the last fifty

years;[297] for it is important to remember that the “Religious

Societies” formed in the days of Dr. Horneck, previous to the

abdication of King James, and again revived in the reign of Queen Mary,

were not confined to London and Westminster, but existed in different

towns throughout the kingdom. We find them in Oxford, Nottingham,

Gloucester, Bristol, Newcastle, Dublin, Kilkenny, and other places; and

all acting substantially according to the same rules and regulations.

They met to pray, sing psalms, and read the Scriptures together; and to

reprove, exhort, and edify one another by religious conference. They

also carried out designs of charity, such as supporting lectures and

daily prayers in churches, releasing imprisoned debtors, and relieving

the poor and sending their children to school. In 1737, Whitefield

preached “a sermon before the “Religious Societies” at one of their

general quarterly meetings in Bow church, London, from the text,

Ecclesiastes iv. 9–12, in which he strongly advocated the practice of

Christians meeting together for religious fellowship. “As coals,” says

he, “if placed asunder, soon go out, but if heaped together, enliven

each other, and afford a lasting heat;” so it is with Christians.

Such were the “Religious Societies” which existed for more than

half-a-century before the formation of the “United Societies” of the

people called Methodists; and in whose rooms and meetings, in London,

Bristol, and elsewhere, Whitefield and the Wesley brothers, for a few

years, were accustomed to read and explain the Scriptures almost every

night. On arriving in Bristol, Wesley found such societies as these

assembling in Castle Street, in Gloucester Lane, in Weavers’ Hall, in

Nicholas Street, in the Back Lane, and in Baldwin Street, and at once

began expounding to them the Epistle to the Romans, and other portions

of the New Testament; and it is a remarkable fact that, with one or two

exceptions, all the scenes about to be mentioned took place in these

society meetings, or in private dwellings. We furnish them as we find

them.

April 17. At Baldwin Street, we called upon God to confirm His

word. Immediately, one that stood by cried out aloud, with

the utmost vehemence, even as in the agonies of death. But we

continued in prayer, till a new song was put into her mouth,

a thanksgiving unto our God. Soon after, two other persons

were seized with strong pain, and constrained to roar for the

disquietude of their heart. But it was not long before they

likewise burst forth into praise to God their Saviour. The

last who called upon God, as out of the belly of hell, was

a stranger in Bristol; and, in a short space, he also was

overwhelmed with joy and love, knowing that God had healed his

backslidings.

April 21. At Weavers’ Hall, a young man was suddenly seized

with a violent trembling all over, and, in a few minutes, sunk

to the ground. But we ceased not calling upon God, till He

raised him up full of peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.

April 24. At Baldwin Street, a young man, after a sharp though

short agony, both of body and mind, found his soul filled with

peace, knowing in whom he had believed.

April 26. At Newgate, I was led to pray that God would bear

witness to His word. Immediately one, and another, and another

sunk to the earth; they dropped on every side as thunderstruck.

One of them cried aloud. We besought God in her behalf, and

He turned her heaviness into joy. A second being in the same

agony, we called upon God for her also; and He spoke peace unto

her soul. In the evening, one was so wounded by the sword of

the Spirit, that you would have imagined she could not live a

moment. But immediately His abundant kindness was shown, and

she loudly sang of His righteousness.

April 27. All Newgate rang with the cries of those whom the

word of God cut to the heart; two of whom were in a moment

filled with joy, to the astonishment of those that beheld them.

April 30. While I was preaching at Newgate, a woman broke out

into strong cries and tears. Great drops of sweat ran down her

face, and all her bones shook; but both her body and soul were

healed in a moment.

May 1. At Baldwin Street, my voice could scarce be heard amidst

the groanings of some, and the cries of others calling aloud

to Him that is mighty to save; and ten persons then began to

say in faith, “My Lord and my God!” A Quaker, who stood by, was

very angry, and was biting his lips, and knitting his brows,

when he dropped down as thunderstruck. The agony he was in

was even terrible to behold. We prayed for him, and he soon

lifted up his head with joy, and joined us in thanksgiving. A

bystander, John Haydon, a weaver, a man of regular life and

conversation, one that constantly attended the public prayers

and sacrament, and was zealous for the Church, and against

Dissenters, laboured to convince the people that all this was

a delusion of the devil; but next day, while reading a sermon

on “Salvation by Faith,” he suddenly changed colour, fell off

his chair, and began screaming, and beating himself against

the ground. The neighbours were alarmed, and flocked together.

When I came in, I found him on the floor, the room being full

of people, and two or three holding him as well as they could.

He immediately fixed his eyes on me, and said, “Ay, this is

he I said deceived the people. But God has overtaken me. I

said it was a delusion of the devil; but this is no delusion.”

Then he roared aloud, “O thou devil! thou cursed devil! yea,

thou legion of devils! thou canst not stay in me. Christ will

cast thee out. I know His work is begun. Tear me in pieces, if

thou wilt; but thou canst not hurt me.” He then beat himself

against the ground; his breast heaving, as if in the pangs of

death, and great drops of sweat trickling down his face. We all

betook ourselves to prayer. His pangs ceased, and both his body

and soul were set at liberty. With a clear, strong voice, he

cried, “This is the Lord’s doing; and it is marvellous in our

eyes. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, from this time forth

for evermore.” I called again an hour after. We found his body

weak as that of an infant, and his voice lost; but his soul was

in peace, full of love, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of

God.[298] The women of our society met at seven, and, during

prayer, one of them fell into a violent agony; but soon after

began to cry out, with confidence, “My Lord and my God.”

May 12. In the evening, three persons, almost at once, sunk

down as dead, having all their sins set in array before them;

but, in a short time, they were raised up, and knew that the

Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world, had taken

away their sins.

May 16. While I was declaring at Baptist Mills, “He was wounded

for our transgressions,” a middle aged man began violently

beating his breast. During our prayer, God put a new song into

his mouth.

May 19. At Weavers’ Hall, a woman first, and then a boy, was

overwhelmed with sin, and sorrow, and fear. But we cried to

God, and their souls were delivered.

May 20. In the evening God spoke to three whose souls were all

storm and tempest, and immediately there was a great calm.

May 21. Although the people had seen signs and wonders, yet

many would not believe. They could not, indeed, deny the facts;

but they could explain them away. Some said, “These were

purely natural effects; the people fainted away only because

of the heat and closeness of the rooms.” Others were “sure it

was all a cheat; they might help it if they would. Else why

were these things only in their private societies?” To-day,

our Lord answered for Himself; for, while I was preaching,

He began to make bare His arm, not in a close room, neither

in private, but in the open air, and before more than two

thousand witnesses. One, and another, and another were struck

to the earth; exceedingly trembling at the presence of His

power. Others cried, with a loud and bitter cry, “What must

we do to be saved?” And, in less than an hour, seven persons,

wholly unknown to me till that time, were rejoicing, and

singing, and, with all their might, giving thanks to the God

of their salvation. In the evening, at Nicholas Street, I was

interrupted, almost as soon as I had begun to speak, by the

cries of one who strongly groaned for pardon and peace. Others

dropped down as dead. Thomas Maxfield began to roar out, and

beat himself against the ground, so that six men could scarcely

hold him. Except John Haydon, I never saw one so torn of the

evil one. Many others began to cry out to the Saviour of all,

insomuch that all the house, and, indeed, all the street for

some space, was in an uproar. But we continued in prayer, and

the greater part found rest to their souls. I think twenty-nine

in all had their heaviness turned into joy this day.

June 15. At Wapping (London), many of those that heard began to

call upon God with strong cries and tears. Some sunk down, and

there remained no strength in them; others exceedingly trembled

and quaked; some were torn with a kind of convulsive motion in

every part of their bodies; and that so violently, that often

four or five persons could not hold one of them. I have seen

many hysterical and many epileptic fits; but none of them were

like these, in many respects. One woman was greatly offended,

being sure they might help it if they would; but she also

dropped down in as violent an agony as the rest. Twenty-six of

those who had been thus affected were filled with peace and joy.

June 16. At Fetter Lane, some fell prostrate on the ground;

others burst out into loud praise and thanksgiving; and many

openly testified, there had been no such day as this since

January the first preceding.

June 22. In the society (Bristol) one before me dropped down

as dead, and presently a second, and a third. Five others sunk

down in half an hour, most of whom were in violent agonies.

In their trouble, we called upon the Lord, and He gave us an

answer of peace. All, except one, went away rejoicing and

praising God.

June 23. This evening another was seized with strong pangs; but

in a short time her soul was delivered.

June 24. In the evening, a girl and four or five other persons

were deeply convinced of sin; and, with sighs and groans,

called upon God for deliverance.

June 25. About ten in the morning J——e C——r, as she was

sitting at her work, was suddenly seized with grievous terrors

of mind, attended with strong trembling; but, at the society

in the evening, God turned her heaviness into joy. Five or six

others were also cut to the heart this day; and, soon after,

found Him whose hands made whole.

June 26. Three persons terribly felt the wrath of God abiding

on them at the society this evening. But, upon prayer being

made on their behalf, He was pleased soon to lift up the light

of His countenance upon them.

June 30. At Weavers’ Hall, seven or eight persons were

constrained to roar aloud; but they were all relieved upon

prayer, and sang praises unto our God, and unto the Lamb that

liveth for ever and ever.

July 1. A young woman sunk down at Rose Green in a violent

agony both of body and mind: as did five or six persons, in

the evening, at the new room, at whose cries many were greatly

offended. The same offence was given in the morning by one at

Weavers’ Hall; and by eight or nine others at Gloucester Lane

in the evening.

Here we pause. On June 25, Whitefield wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“HONOURED SIR,—I cannot think it right in you to give so

much encouragement to those convulsions which people have

been thrown into, under your ministry. Was I to do so, how

many would cry out every night? I think it is tempting God

to require such signs. That there is something of God in it,

I doubt not. But the devil, I believe, interposes. I think

it will encourage the French Prophets, take people from the

written word, and make them depend on visions, convulsions,

etc., more than on the promises and precepts of the

gospel.”[299]

Twelve days after, Whitefield was in Bristol, and Wesley wrote as

follows:—

“July 7. I had an opportunity to talk with Mr. Whitefield of

those outward signs which had so often accompanied the work

of God. I found his objections were chiefly grounded on

gross misrepresentations of matters of fact. But next day he

had an opportunity of informing himself better; for, in the

application of his sermon, four persons sunk down close to him,

almost in the same moment. One of them lay without either sense

or motion. A second trembled exceedingly. The third had strong

convulsions all over his body, but made no noise, unless by

groans. The fourth, equally convulsed, called upon God, with

strong cries and tears. From this time, I trust, we shall all

suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth

Him.”

This was an important crisis. Without expressing any opinion respecting

these “signs,” as Wesley calls them, we cannot but admire Wesley’s

wish and hope that God may be allowed to work His own work in His own

way. Of all men living, Wesley was one of the least likely to desire

novelties like these; but he was wise enough, and reverent enough,

not to interpose when God was working, and to say, that, unless the

work was done after a certain fashion, he should object to its being

done at all. Some, in modern times, have been in danger of doing this.

Sinners have been undeniably converted; but because they have not been

converted at the times, or in the places, or by the instrumentalities

which men have chosen to commend, they have objected to such

conversions, and tacitly desired not to have them multiplied. This was

not Wesley’s way. He was one of the greatest sticklers for church order

and religious decorum; but he was not the man to protest, that, unless

God’s work was carried on in accordance with his own predilections, he

should object to it altogether. His words are golden ones, and worth

remembering by all his followers:—“_From this time, I trust, we shall

all suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth Him._”

Whitefield’s objections were silenced. He came, he saw, and he was

conquered. He writes, under date of July 7:—

“I had a useful conference about many things with my honoured

friend Mr. John Wesley. I found that Bristol had great reason

to bless God for his ministry. The congregations I observed

to be much more serious and affected than when I left them;

and their loud and repeated Amens, which they put up to every

petition, as well as the exemplariness of their conversation

in common life, plainly show that they have not received the

grace of God in vain. Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face

of the sky; but how is it that ye cannot discern the signs of

these times? That good, great good, is done is evident. What

is it but little less than blasphemy against the Holy Ghost

to impute this great work to delusion, and to the power of the

devil?”[300]

We resume Wesley’s notices of what he designates the “signs” of the

work of God.

July 23. On several evenings this week many were deeply

convinced; but none were delivered from that painful

conviction. I fear we have grieved the Spirit of the jealous

God, by questioning His work; and that, therefore, He is

withdrawn from us for a season. But He will return and

abundantly pardon.

July 30. Two more were in strong pain, both their souls and

bodies being well-nigh torn asunder. But, though we cried unto

God, there was no answer. One of them cried aloud, though not

articulately, for twelve or fourteen hours; when her soul was

set at liberty. She was a servant, and her master forbid her

returning to his service, saying, he would have none in his

house who had received the Holy Ghost.

August 5. Six persons at the new room were deeply convinced of

sin; three of whom were a little comforted by prayer.

August 11. In the evening two were seized with strong pangs, as

were four the next evening, and the same number at Gloucester

Lane on Monday; one of whom was greatly comforted.

August 14. Three at the new room this evening were cut to the

heart; but their wound was not as yet healed.

A fortnight after this, Charles Wesley came to Bristol, and John

removed to London. The work still progressed at Bristol. In one

instance, a woman screamed for mercy, so as to drown Charles’s voice.

On another occasion, he “heard on all sides the sighing of them that

were in captivity.” “The Lord added to the church daily.”

In London, numbers had been converted under the ministry of Charles

Wesley, Whitefield, and others; but there is no evidence to show that

there had been any “convulsions” like those at Bristol. It is also a

curious fact, that, though Wesley’s preaching on Kennington Common, in

Moorfields, and in other places in the metropolis, was crowned with

great success, there were hardly any instances of paralysing paroxysms

analogous to those already mentioned. When he returned to Bristol, in

October, we find a renewal of such cases.

October 11. A woman showed the agony of her soul by crying

aloud to God for help. She continued in great torment all

night; but, while we were praying for her in the morning, God

delivered her out of her distress.

October 12. I was under some concern, with regard to one or two

persons, who were tormented in an unaccountable manner; and

seemed to be indeed lunatic, as well as sore vexed.

October 23. I was pressed to visit a young woman at Kingswood.

I found her on the bed, two or three persons holding her.

Anguish, horror, and despair, above all description, appeared

in her pale face. The thousand distortions of her whole body

showed how the dogs of hell were gnawing at her heart. The

shrieks intermixed were scarce to be endured. She screamed

out, “I am damned, damned; lost for ever! Six days ago you

might have helped me. But it is past. I am the devil’s now,

I have given myself to him: his I am, him I must serve, with

him I must go to hell; I will be his, I will serve him, I will

go with him to hell; I cannot be saved, I will not be saved.

I must, I will, I will be damned!” She then begun praying to

the devil. We began,—“Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!” She

immediately sank down as asleep; but, as soon as we left off,

broke out again, with inexpressible vehemence: “Stony hearts,

break! I am a warning to you. Break, break, poor stony hearts!

I am damned, that you may be saved. You need not be damned,

though I must.” She then fixed her eyes on the corner of the

ceiling, and said, “There he is. Come, good devil, come. You

said you would dash my brains out: come, do it quickly. I am

yours, I will be yours.” We interrupted her by calling again

upon God; on which she sunk down as before: and another young

woman began to roar out as loud as she had done. My brother now

came in, it being about nine o’clock. We continued in prayer

till past eleven; when God, in a moment, spoke peace into the

soul, first of the first tormented, and then of the other. And

they both joined in singing praise to Him who had “stilled the

enemy and the avenger.”

October 25. I was sent for to one in Bristol, who was taken ill

the evening before. She lay on the ground furiously gnashing

her teeth, and after awhile roared aloud. It was not easy for

three or four persons to hold her, especially when the name

of Jesus was named. We prayed; the violence of her symptoms

ceased, though without a complete deliverance. In the evening,

I was sent for to her again. She began screaming before I

came into the room; then broke out into a horrid laughter,

mixed with blasphemy. One, who apprehended a preternatural

agent to be concerned in this, asking, “How didst thou dare

to enter into a Christian?” was answered, “She is not a

Christian—she is mine.” This was followed by fresh trembling,

cursing, and blaspheming. My brother coming in, she cried out,

“Preacher! Field preacher! I don’t love field preaching.” This

was repeated two hours together, with spitting, and all the

expressions of strong aversion. We left her at twelve, and

called again at noon next day. And now it was, that God showed

He heareth prayer. All her pangs ceased in a moment: she was

filled with peace, and knew that the son of wickedness was

departed from her.

October 27. I was sent for to Kingswood again, to one of those

who had been so ill before. A violent rain began just as I set

out. Just at that time, the woman (then three miles off) cried

out, “Yonder comes Wesley, galloping as fast as he can.” When

I was come, she burst into a horrid laughter, and said, “No

power, no power; no faith, no faith. She is mine; her soul is

mine. I have her, and will not let her go.” We begged of God

to increase our faith. Meanwhile, her pangs increased more

and more; so that one would have imagined, by the violence of

the throes, her body must have been shattered to pieces. One,

who was clearly convinced this was no natural disorder, said,

“I think Satan is let loose. I fear he will not stop here,”

and added, “I command thee in the name of the Lord Jesus, to

tell if thou hast commission to torment any other soul.” It

was immediately answered, “I have. L——y C——r and S——h J——s.”

We betook ourselves to prayer again; and ceased not, till she

began, with a clear voice, and composed, cheerful look, to

sing, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”

The reader must be told that L——y C——r and S——h J——s lived at some

distance, and, at the time, were in perfect health. The day after, they

were affected in the same way as the poor creature just delivered.

Wesley writes:—

October 28. I called at Mrs. J——s’, in Kingswood. L——y C——r

and S——h J——s were there. It was scarce a quarter of an hour

before the former fell into a strange agony; and, presently

after, the latter. The violent convulsions all over their

bodies were such as words cannot describe. Their cries and

groans were too horrid to be borne; till one of them, in a tone

not to be expressed, said, “Where is your faith now? Come, go

to prayers. I will pray with you.” We took the advice, and

poured out our souls before God, till L——y C——r’s agonies so

increased, that it seemed she was in the pangs of death. But,

in a moment, God spoke; and both her body and soul were healed.

We continued in prayer till past midnight, when S——h J——s’

voice was also changed, and she began to call upon God. This

she did for the greatest part of the night. In the morning, we

renewed our prayers, while she was crying continually, “I burn!

I burn! O what shall I do? I have a fire within me. I cannot

bear it. Lord Jesus! help! Amen, Lord Jesus!”

A few other cases occurred in 1739; and, notably, one on November

30, when seven persons were grievously tormented, and Wesley and his

friends continued in prayer from the time of evening service till nine

o’clock next morning, that is, for about fifteen hours, a case almost

unparalelled in the history of the church of Christ.

These are strange and mysterious facts; and, what adds to the

strangeness, is that, excepting the cases in London, on June 15,

16, and September 17, 18, all of them occurred in Bristol and its

immediate neighbourhood. During the space of time which these extracts

cover, Wesley preached at Bath, Kennington Common, Moorfields,

Blackheath, Gloucester, Bradford, Wells, Oxford, and in several towns

in Wales, and other places; but scenes like those above described were

never witnessed except in Bristol. It is also a curious circumstance,

that, though the preaching of Charles Wesley and of Whitefield was

quite as faithful as the preaching of Wesley himself, and was far more

impassioned, yet no such “signs” seem to have been attendant on their

ministry as were attendant on his. Similar effects sometimes followed

the preaching of Cennick, during Wesley’s absence in London, but these

occurred also either at Kingswood or in Bristol. Writing to Wesley

under date of September 12, 1739, he says:—

“On Monday night, I was preaching at the school on the

forgiveness of sins, when numbers cried out with a loud and

bitter cry. Indeed, it seemed that the devil and the powers of

darkness were come among us. My mouth was stopped. The cries

were terrifying. It was pitch dark; it rained much; and the

wind blew vehemently. Large flashes of lightning and loud claps

of thunder mingled with the screams and exclamations of the

people. The hurry and confusion cannot be expressed. The whole

place seemed to resemble the habitation of apostate spirits;

many raving up and down, and crying, ‘The devil will have me; I

am his servant! I am damned! My sins can never be pardoned! I

am gone, gone for ever!’ A young man was in such horrors, that

seven or eight persons could scarce hold him. He roared like a

dragon: ‘Ten thousand devils, millions, millions of devils are

about me!’ This continued three hours, and what a power reigned

amongst us! Some cried out with a hollow voice, ‘Mr. Cennick!

Bring Mr. Cennick!’ I came to all that desired me. They then

spurned me with all their strength, grinding their teeth, and

expressing all the fury that heart can conceive. Their eyes

were staring and their faces swollen, and several have since

told me, that when I drew near, they felt fresh rage, and

longed to tear me in pieces. I never saw the like, nor even the

shadow of it before. Yet I was not in the least afraid, as I

knew God was on our side.”[301]

Such are the facts; nothing has been distorted, and nothing kept back.

They were occasionally repeated after the year 1739, but not often. A

few cases subsequently occurred in Bristol, and also in London, and in

Newcastle; but nearly all related in Wesley’s Journals are contained in

the extracts already given.

What shall be said concerning them? For a hundred and thirty years,

they have been sneered at by Wesley’s enemies, and have also puzzled

Wesley’s friends. No such results attended Whitefield’s ministry, and

Whitefield himself regarded them with suspicion and dislike. Charles

Wesley, at Newcastle, in 1743, did his utmost to discourage them. He

writes:—

“Many, no doubt, were, at our first preaching, struck down,

both soul and body, into the depth of distress. Their _outward

affections_ were easy to be imitated. Many counterfeits I

have already detected. The first night I preached here, half

my words were lost through their outcries. Last night, before

I began, I gave public notice that whosoever cried, so as to

drown my voice, should be carried to the farthest corner of

the room. But my porters had no employment the whole night;

yet the Lord was with us, mightily convincing of sin and of

righteousness. I am more and more convinced, the fits were a

device of Satan to stop the course of the gospel.”[302]

Samuel Wesley was in great doubt respecting them, and, in a letter

dated September 3, 1739, asks:—“Did these agitations ever begin during

the use of any collects of the Church? or during the preaching of any

sermon that had before been preached within consecrated walls without

effect? or during the inculcating any other doctrine besides that of

your new birth?”[303]

The Rev. Ralph Erskine wrote to Wesley thus: “Some of the instances

you give seem to be exemplified, in the outward manner, by the cases

of Paul and the gaoler, as also Peter’s hearers (Acts ii.). The last

instance you give of some struggling as in the agonies of death, is to

me somewhat more inexplicable, if it do not resemble the child of whom

it is said, that ‘when he was yet a coming, the devil threw him down

and tore him.’ I make no question, Satan, so far as he gets power, may

exert himself on such occasions, partly to mar and hinder the beginning

of the good work, in the persons that are touched with the sharp arrows

of conviction; and partly also to prevent the success of the gospel

on others. However, the merciful issue of these conflicts, in the

conversion of the persons thus affected, is the main thing.”

Erskine proceeds to state, that they have something, in Scotland,

analogous to what had occurred in Bristol. Sometimes a whole

congregation, in a flood of tears, would cry out at once, so as to

drown the voice of the minister.[304]

The Rev. William Hales, D.D., in his “Methodism Inspected,” accounts

for these paroxysms on “natural grounds; the sympathetic nature of

all violent emotions being well known to those who have studied the

physical and moral constitution of man.”

Southey writes:—

“A powerful doctrine, preached with passionate sincerity,

produced a powerful effect upon weak minds, ardent feelings,

and disordered fancies. There are passions which are as

infectious as the plague, and fear itself is not more so than

fanaticism. When once these bodily affections were declared to

be the throes of the new birth, a free licence was proclaimed

for every kind of extravagance; and when the preacher

encouraged them to throw off all restraint, and abandon

themselves before the congregation to these mixed sensations of

mind and body, the consequences were what might be anticipated.”

Southey forgets that “powerful doctrine” was preached, with as

much “passionate sincerity,” by Whitefield and by Charles Wesley,

as by Wesley himself; but without the same effects. Besides, it is

untrue that Wesley ever “encouraged” the affected people “to abandon

themselves to these mixed sensations of mind and body.”

The Rev. R. Watson writes:—

“That cases of real enthusiasm occurred at this and subsequent

periods, is indeed allowed. There are always nervous, dreamy,

and excitable people to be found; and the emotion produced

among these would often be communicated by natural sympathy.

No one could be blamed for this, unless he had encouraged the

excitement for its own sake, or taught the people to regard

it as a sign of grace, which most assuredly Mr. Wesley never

did. Nor is it correct to represent these effects, genuine

and fictitious together, as peculiar to Methodism. Great and

rapid results were produced in the first ages of Christianity,

but not without ‘outcries,’ and strong corporeal as well as

mental emotions. Like effects often accompanied the preaching

of eminent men at the Reformation; and many of the Puritan

and Nonconformist ministers had similar successes in our own

country. In Scotland, and also among the grave Presbyterians of

New England, previous to the rise of Methodism, the ministry of

faithful men had been attended by very similar circumstances;

and, on a smaller scale, the same results have followed

the ministry of modern missionaries of different religious

societies in various parts of the world. It may be laid down as

a principle established by fact, that whenever a zealous and

faithful ministry is raised up, after a long, spiritual dearth,

the early effects of that ministry are not only powerful, but

often attended with extraordinary circumstances; nor are such

extraordinary circumstances necessarily extravagancies because

they are not common. It is neither irrational nor unscriptural

to suppose, that times of great national darkness and depravity

should require a strong remedy; and that the attention of the

people should be roused by circumstances which could not fail

to be noticed by the most unthinking. We do not attach primary

importance to secondary circumstances; but they are not to be

wholly disregarded. The Lord was not in the wind, nor in the

earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small voice; yet

that still small voice might not have been heard, except by

minds roused from their inattention by the shaking of the earth

and the sounding of the storm.”

Isaac Taylor writes:—

“These disorders resembled, in some of their features, the

demoniacal possessions mentioned in the gospel history. The

bodily agitations were perhaps as extreme in the one class

of instances as in the other; nevertheless, there is no real

analogy between the two. The demoniacs were _found_ in this

state by Christ where He went preaching; they did not _become

such_ while listening to Him. Besides, in no one instance

recorded in the Gospels or Acts, did demoniacal possession, or

any bodily agitations resembling it, come on as the initial

stage of conversion. How then are we to dispose of such cases?

Perhaps not at all to our satisfaction, except so far as this,

that they serve to render so much the more unambiguous the

distinction between themselves and those genuine affections

which the apostolic writers describe and exemplify.”

What says Wesley himself? With due deference to the great names

quoted, we respect his testimony more than theirs: first, because he

was, in sobriety of feeling, in depth of learning, and in clearness

of judgment, at least their equal; and secondly, because his opinion

was pronounced after being an eye-witness, whilst theirs is founded

entirely upon the representations of others, and their own ideas of how

things ought to be.

1. The cases were real, not pretended, and often ended in genuine

conversion. “You deny,” writes Wesley at the time, “You deny that

God does now work these effects; at least, that He works them in

this manner. I affirm both; because I have heard these things with

my own ears, and have seen them with my own eyes. I have seen very

many persons changed, in a moment, from the spirit of fear, horror,

despair, to the spirit of love, joy, and peace; and from sinful desire,

till then reigning over them, to the pure desire of doing the will of

God. I know several persons, in whom this great change was wrought in

a dream, or during a strong representation to the eye of their mind,

of Christ either on the cross, or in glory. This is the fact; let any

judge of it as they please.”[305]

2. Why were these things permitted? Wesley says: “Perhaps it might be

because of the hardness of our hearts, unready to receive anything

unless we see it with our eyes and hear it with our ears, that God, in

tender condescension to our weakness, suffered so many outward signs of

the very time when He wrought this inward change to be continually seen

and heard among us. But although they saw ‘signs and wonders’ (for so I

must term them), yet many would not believe. They could not indeed deny

the facts; but they could explain them away.”[306]

3. How were these extraordinary circumstances brought about? Wesley

again shall answer. Five years after—when he had heard all that

his enemies had to say—when such convulsive agitations no longer

happened—and when he had had sufficient time to test the genuineness

of these remarkable Bristol and Kingswood conversions, and to form a

calm judgment upon the whole, he wrote as follows:—“The _extraordinary_

circumstances that attended the conviction or repentance of the

people may be easily accounted for, either on principles of reason

or Scripture. First, on principles of reason. For how easy is it

to suppose, that a strong, lively, and sudden apprehension of the

heinousness of sin, the wrath of God and the bitter pains of eternal

death, should affect the body as well as the soul, during the present

laws of vital union;—should interrupt or disturb the ordinary

circulations, and put nature out of its course? Yea, we may question,

whether, while this union subsists, it be possible for the mind to

be affected, in so violent a degree, without some or other of those

bodily symptoms following. Secondly, it is likewise easy to account

for these things on principles of Scripture. For when we take a view

of them in this light, we are to add to the consideration of natural

causes the agency of those spirits who still excel in strength, and,

as far as they have leave from God, will not fail to torment whom they

cannot destroy; _to tear_ those that _are coming_ to Christ. It is also

remarkable that there is plain Scripture precedent of every symptom

which has lately appeared.”[307]

We have nothing more to add. Perhaps the reader will think that more

has been said than the thing deserved. We demur to that opinion. The

phenomena recorded are among the most remarkable in church history;

they are curious and mysterious; they have given rise to endless

critiques, both friendly and otherwise, and, for such reasons, merit

the space we have devoted to them. Dr. Hales’ doctrine of “the

sympathetic nature of all violent emotions,” though true, is not

sufficient to account for many of the instances related. Southey’s

opinion is flippant, and is based upon false assumptions. Watson’s is

of great importance, and, as contained at greater length in his Life of

Wesley, is the most elaborate discussion of the subject that has yet

been written. Isaac Taylor’s, to some extent, coincides with Wesley’s;

which, upon the whole, is the clearest, fullest, and the best.

Other events, belonging to the year 1739, must now be noticed.

Kingswood, so often mentioned, was formerly a royal chase, containing

between three and four thousand acres; but, previous to the rise of

Methodism, it had been gradually appropriated by the several lords

whose estates encircled it. The deer had disappeared, and the greater

part of the wood also; coal mines had been discovered, and it was now

inhabited by a race of people, as lawless as the foresters, their

forefathers, but far more brutal; and differing as much from the

people of the surrounding country in dialect as in appearance. They

had no place of worship; for Kingswood then belonged to the parish of

St. Philip, and was, at least, three miles distant from the parish

church.[308] The people were famous for neither fearing God nor

regarding man; and so ignorant of sacred things that they seemed but

one remove from the beasts that perish. They were utterly without

desire of instruction, as well as without the means of it. The place

resounded with cursing and blasphemy. It was filled with clamour

and bitterness, wrath and envyings, idle diversions, drunkenness,

and uncleanness;[309] a hell upon earth. Only fifteen weeks before

Whitefield’s first visit, the colliers had risen with clubs and

firearms, and gone from pit to pit threatening the lives of all the

workmen who would not join them in defeating the ends of justice, in

reference to a riot that had occurred a short time previously. At White

Hill, four mines were filled up; and carts, reels, and ropes belonging

to others were cut and burned. The soldiers were called out, and the

swarthy rioters ran away.[310]

Kingswood was Whitefield’s first field-pulpit, for here, on February

17, 1739, he began his glorious career of out-door preaching. Within

six weeks after this, the day before Wesley came to Bristol, Whitefield

dined with the colliers, who contributed upwards of £20 towards the

erection of a school. Four days after this, the miners prepared him

another hospitable entertainment, after which he laid the foundation

stone, knelt upon it, and offered prayer, to which the colliers said,

“Amen.”[311]

On the same day, Whitefield took his departure from Bristol, leaving

Wesley as his successor; and, with the exception of a visit of a week’s

duration in the month of July following, he was not at Kingswood

again during the next two years. Whitefield began the school at

Kingswood: the colliers gave upwards of £20; Whitefield collected

£40 in subscriptions; and, on two subsequent occasions, he made

collections for the same purpose, once when he preached his farewell

sermon at Bristol, on July 13, before embarking for America; and once

in Moorfields, when the sum of £24 9_s._ was contributed.[312] This

was all. The rest devolved on Wesley. He alone was responsible for the

payment of the debts incurred; and, for many months, wherever he went,

he begged subscriptions for the colliers’ school. The school itself

consisted of one large room, with four smaller ones for the teacher’s

residence, and was not completed till the spring of 1740.[313] The

object was to teach the children of the poor, first religion, and

then to read, write, and cast accounts; but Wesley also expected to

have “scholars of all ages, some of them grey-headed,” who were to

be taught, separate from the children, “either early in the morning,

or late at night,” so that their work might not be hindered by their

education.[314]

Within six weeks after Whitefield laid the first stone of Kingswood

school, Wesley took possession of a piece of ground in the Horse

Fair, Bristol, and began to build a room large enough to contain the

societies of Nicholas Street and Baldwin Street. This was done without

the least apprehension or design of his being personally engaged,

either in the expense of the work, or in the direction of it; he having

appointed eleven trustees, by whom he supposed the burdens would be

borne. He soon found that he had made a great mistake. In a short time,

a debt was contracted of more than £150, whereas the subscriptions

of the trustees and of the two societies were not a quarter of that

amount. This debt devolved upon him. He had no money, nor any human

prospect or probability of procuring any; but he knew “the earth is the

Lord’s, and the fulness thereof,” and he dared to trust Him. Besides

this, Whitefield and other friends in London most strongly objected to

the building being the property of trustees, on the ground that Wesley

would be under their control; and, unless his preaching pleased them,

they might eject him from the house he himself had built. Whitefield

declared that, unless the trustship was destroyed, neither he nor his

friends would contribute anything towards the expenses. Wesley yielded;

the trustees were summoned; all agreed to the alteration; the deed was

cancelled; and Wesley became the sole proprietor.

This, though insignificant at the time, was a matter of great

importance; for, in this manner, nearly all the chapels, erected in the

early part of his career, were vested in himself,—a thing involving

serious responsibility, which, however, was honourably fulfilled; for

trusts were afterwards created; and, by his “Deed of Declaration,” all

his interests in his chapels were transferred to his Legal Conference.

Thus we find Wesley, with no income whatever, except the small

amount arising out of his Oxford fellowship, involved in what, to

a poor man, were two serious undertakings. But even this was not

all the burden that he took upon himself. He spent the beginning of

November in London; and whilst there, two gentlemen, then unknown to

him, came again and again, urging him to preach in a place called

the Foundery, near Moorfields. With much reluctance he consented.

He writes:—“Sunday, November 11, I preached at eight to five or six

thousand, on the spirit of bondage and the spirit of adoption; and, at

five in the evening, to seven or eight thousand, in the place which

had been the king’s foundery for cannon.”[315] He was then pressed to

take the place into his own hands. He did so. The purchase-money was

£115; but the place being “a vast, uncouth heap of ruins,” a large

sum additional to this had to be expended in needful repairs, in

building two galleries for men and women hearers respectively, and in

enlarging a room for the society to almost thrice its present size.

To meet this large expenditure, Ball, Watkins, and other friends lent

him the purchase-money; and offered to pay subscriptions, some four,

some six, and some ten shillings a year towards the liquidation of

the debt. In three years, these subscriptions amounted to about £480,

leaving however a balance of nearly £300, for which Wesley was still

responsible.[316] From this it would seem that the entire cost of the

old Foundery was about £800.

This was the first Methodist meeting-house of which the metropolis

could boast, and a brief description of it may not be out of place.

It stood in the locality called “Windmill Hill,” now known by the name

of Windmill Street, a street that runs parallel with City Road, and

abuts on the north-west corner of Finsbury Square. The building was

placed on the east side of the street, some sixteen or eighteen yards

from Providence Row; and measured about forty yards in front, from

north to south, and about thirty-three yards in depth, from east to

west. There were two front doors, one leading to the chapel, and the

other to the preacher’s house, school, and bandroom. A bell was hung

in a plain belfry, and was rung every morning at five o’clock for

early service, and every evening at nine for family worship; as well

as at sundry other times. The chapel, which would accommodate some

fifteen hundred people, was without pews; but, on the ground floor,

immediately before the pulpit, were about a dozen seats with back

rails, appropriated to female worshippers. Under the front gallery were

the free seats for women; and, under the side galleries, the free seats

for men. The front gallery was used exclusively by females, and the

side galleries by males. “From the beginning,” says Wesley, “the men

and women sat apart, as they always did in the primitive church; and

none were suffered to call any place their own, but the first comers

sat down first. They had no pews; and all the benches for rich and poor

were of the same construction.”[317]

The bandroom was behind the chapel, on the ground floor, some eighty

feet long and twenty feet wide, and accommodated about three hundred

persons. Here the classes met; here, in winter, the five o’clock

morning service was conducted; and here were held, at two o’clock, on

Wednesdays and Fridays, weekly meetings for prayer and intercession.

The north end of the room was used for a school, and was fitted up

with desks; and at the south end was “The Book Room” for the sale of

Wesley’s publications.

Over the bandroom were apartments for Wesley, in which his mother

died;[318] and, at the end of the chapel was a dwelling house for his

domestics and assistant preachers; while attached to the whole was a

small building used as a coach-house and stable.[319]

Why was the building called the Foundery? Because, for a number of

years, it was used by the government in casting cannon. When Wesley

bought it, the edifice had been a ruin for about twenty years. In

1716, whilst recasting the injured guns taken from the French in the

successful campaigns of Marlborough, a terrible explosion blew off the

roof, shook the building, killed several of the workmen, burnt others,

and broke the limbs of not a few. This led to an abandonment of the

place, and the removal of the royal foundery to Woolwich.[320] The next

occupants were Wesley and the Methodists; and the echoes of prayer and

praise succeeded the clang of anvils and the roar of furnaces of fire.

When first opened, it was described by Silas Told as “a ruinous

place, with an old pantile covering,” the structure to a great extent

consisting of “decayed timbers,” and the pulpit being made of “a few

rough boards.”[321] It may be interesting, to the curious reader, to

add, that a few years ago, the old Foundery bell, used in calling the

people to the five o’clock preaching, was still in existence, and was

attached to the school at Friar’s Mount, London; that, at the present

moment, the old Foundery pulpit is preserved at Richmond, and is

used by the Richmond students every week; and that the old Foundery

chandelier is now in use in the chapel at Bowes, in Yorkshire.

This was really the cradle of London Methodism. Here Wesley began

to preach at the end of 1739. The character of the services held in

this rotten, pantile covered building may be learnt from Wesley’s

Works. Wesley began the service with a short prayer, then sung a hymn

and preached (usually about half an hour), then sung a few verses

of another hymn, and concluded with a prayer. His constant theme

was, salvation by faith, preceded by repentance, and followed by

holiness.[322] The place was rough and the people poor; but the service

simple, scriptural, beautiful. No wonder, that such a priest, shut out

of the elaborately wrought pulpits of the Established Church, and now

cooped up within a pulpit made of “_rough_ deal boards,” should be

powerful, popular, and triumphant.

Passing from pulpits to preachers, we must venture here to correct

an error, which, from the first, seems to have been current in the

Methodist community. All Methodist historians have assumed that Thomas

Maxfield was Methodism’s first lay preacher; that is, the first who was

allowed to expound the Scriptures without being formally ordained to

that holy service. This is a mistake. Thomas Maxfield was not converted

until the 21st of May, 1739; and yet, a month after this, we find John

Cennick, the converted land surveyor, employed with Wesley’s sanction,

in preaching to the Kingswood colliers.

Methodism’s first lay preacher deserves a passing notice. He has never

yet had justice done him, and we regret that limited space prevents

justice being rendered even here.

John Cennick was the son of Quakers, and, from infancy, was taught to

pray every night and morning. At thirteen years of age, he went nine

times, from Reading to London, to be apprenticed to a trade, but all

to no purpose, except that he was taken on trial by a carpenter, who

refused to retain his services when the time was come for his being

bound. In 1735, John was convinced of sin, while walking in Cheapside,

and, at once, left off song singing, card playing, and attending

theatres. Sometimes he wished to go into a popish monastery, to spend

his life in devout retirement. At other times, he longed to live in

a cave, sleeping on fallen leaves, and feeding on forest fruits. He

fasted long and often, and prayed nine times every day. He was afraid

of seeing ghosts, and terribly apprehensive lest he should meet the

devil. Fancying dry bread too great an indulgence for so great a

sinner as himself, he began to feed on potatoes, acorns, crabs, and

grass; and often wished he could live upon roots and herbs. At length,

on September 6, 1737, he found peace with God, and went on his way

rejoicing. Like Howel Harris, he, at once, commenced preaching; and

also began to write hymns, a number of which Charles Wesley, in July,

1739, corrected for the press.

We have already seen that, in March, 1739, Wesley and Cennick met at

Reading. Shortly after that, Whitefield proposed that Cennick should

become the master of the school in Kingswood, whose first stone was

laid in the month of May; and, on the 11th of June, off he set on

foot, from Reading to Bristol, sleeping all night in an old stable on

his way. On arriving there, he found that Wesley had gone to London;

but was invited to go to Kingswood to hear a young man (query, Thomas

Maxfield?) read a sermon to the colliers. The place for meeting was

under a sycamore tree, near the intended school. Four or five hundred

colliers were assembled, but the young reader had not arrived. Cennick

was requested to take his place; he reluctantly complied, preached

a sermon, and says, “The Lord bore witness with my words, insomuch

that many believed in that hour.” Cennick preached again on the day

following, and on the succeeding sabbath twice.

Meanwhile Howel Harris came; and, on the ensuing Tuesday, Wesley. How

did Wesley receive the two lay preachers? Harris went to Wesley’s

lodgings. They fell upon their knees; and Harris writes, “He was

greatly enlarged in prayer for me, and for all Wales.” Full of holy

feeling, the Welsh evangelist crossed the channel, and found wider

doors of usefulness than ever. Cennick too was not restrained. He tells

us, that many of the people desired Wesley to forbid him; but, so far

from doing so, he encouraged him; and, thus encouraged, he preached

constantly in Kingswood and the neighbouring villages for the next

eighteen months, and sometimes supplied Wesley’s place in Bristol, when

he was absent, preaching in other towns.[323]

Honour to whom honour is due. We repudiate the wish to take from

Maxfield a particle of fame, which of right belongs to him; but there

cannot be a doubt that John Cennick was one of Wesley’s lay preachers

before Maxfield was. Neither is there aught contradictory to this in

Wesley’s writings. It is true, that Wesley, after mentioning that the

first society was formed at the end of 1739, goes on to say: “After a

time, a young man, Thomas Maxfield, came and desired to help me as a

son in the gospel;”[324] but this is not opposed to the fact, that John

Cennick had already helped him at Kingswood, Bristol, and other places.

Myles thinks that it is probable, that Maxfield, Richards, and Westall

were all employed by Wesley in the beginning of the year 1740.[325]

Perhaps so; but we have already seen that Cennick was preaching, with

the approbation and encouragement of Wesley, as early as the month of

June, 1739.[326]

This is not the place to pursue the footsteps of Methodism’s first lay

preacher. Suffice it to remark, though his career was comparatively

short, in zealous and successful labour it is difficult to equal it.

Cennick had his weaknesses; but, in deadness to the world, communion

with God, Christian courage, and cheerful patience, he had few

superiors. Despite his Calvinism and his differences with Wesley, we

admire and love the man. He died in 1755.

Here then was another momentous step taken by the arch-Methodist.

Wesley had been bred within a strict ecclesiastical enclosure. He was

firm in his attachment to the principles and practices of the English

Church, and was far from being indifferent to the prerogatives of its

priests; but he was far too wise and reverent a man to say that the

salvation of the human family would be too dearly purchased if promoted

by a departure from church usages. Christianity, though conserved by

church order, does not exist for the sake of it. As a student of church

history, Wesley must have known that, again and again, unless order

had given way to a higher necessity, the gospel, instead of holding on

its way in its brightness and in its purity, would, long ere now, in

the hands of idolizers of ancient rules, have been extinguished in the

very path where it ought to have shed an unceasing flame. In no man was

there a greater combination of docility and courage; and hence, when

Wesley met with men like Cennick, full of fervent consciousness of the

reality, power, and blessedness of Christ’s religion; and employing a

style, terse from intensity of feeling, and copious from the fulness of

their theme,—no wonder that, instead of forbidding, he encouraged them

to preach the glorious truths, which they not merely understood, but

felt.

This was a startling innovation; and, doubtless, horrified the

stereotyped ministries and priesthoods existing round about; but the

fields were white to the harvest, and the labourers were few; and

Wesley could not, durst not, forbid an increase to the staff, because

the added workers had not been trained in colleges, and came not in all

the priestly paraphernalia of surplices and hoods, gowns and bands. No

doubt he would have preferred the employment of clerics like himself;

but, in the absence of such, he was driven to adopt the measure which

we think the salvation of his system, and, in some respects, its glory.

“I knew your brother well,” said Robinson, the Archbishop of Armagh,

when he met Charles Wesley at the Hotwells, Bristol: “I knew your

brother well; I could never credit all I heard respecting him and you;

but one thing in your conduct I could never account for, your employing

laymen.” “My Lord,” said Charles, “the fault is yours and your

brethren’s.” “How so?” asked the primate. “Because you hold your peace,

and the stones cry out.” “But I am told,” his grace continued, “that

they are unlearned men.” “Some are,” said the sprightly poet, “and so

the dumb ass rebukes the prophet.” His lordship said no more.[327]

The following letter of Whitefield has not been previously printed so

fully as at present. As it was written at the time when Cennick began

preaching, it may appropriately be inserted here. Its references to

other matters are also deeply interesting.

“LONDON, _June 25, 1739_.

“HONOURED SIR,—I suspend my judgment of Brother Watkins’ and

Cennick’s behaviour till I am better acquainted with the

circumstances of their proceeding. I think there is a great

difference between them and Howel Harris. He has offered

himself thrice for holy orders; him therefore and our friends

at Cambridge I shall encourage: others I cannot countenance in

acting in so public a manner. The consequences of beginning to

teach too soon will be exceeding bad—Brother Ingham is of my

opinion.

“I hear, honoured sir, you are about to print a sermon on

predestination. It shocks me to think of it; what will be the

consequences but controversy? If people ask me my opinion,

what shall I do? I have a critical part to act, God enable me

to behave aright! Silence on both sides will be best. It is

noised abroad already, that there is a division between you and

me. Oh, my heart within me is grieved!

“Providence to-morrow calls me to Gloucester. If you will be

pleased to come next week to London, I think, God willing, to

stay a few days at Bristol. Your brother Charles goes to Oxon.

I believe we shall be excommunicated soon. May the Lord enable

us to stand fast in the faith; and stir up your heart to watch

over the soul of, honoured sir,

“Your dutiful son and servant,

GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mrs. Grevil’s,

a Grocer in Wine Street, Bristol.”

We must proceed to another matter. Wesley writes:—

“In the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten persons came

to me in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin,

and earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired, I would

spend some time with them in prayer, and advise them how to

flee from the wrath to come. That we might have more time for

this great work, I appointed a day when they might all come

together, which, from thenceforward, they did every Thursday,

in the evening. To these, and as many more as desired to join

with them, (for the number increased daily,) I gave those

advices, from time to time, which I judged most needful for

them; and we always concluded our meeting with prayer suited

to their several necessities. This was the rise of the United

Society, first in London, and then in other places.”[328]

In another place, he writes:—

“The first evening about twelve persons came; the next week,

thirty or forty. When they were increased to about a hundred,

I took down their names and places of abode, intending, as

often as it was convenient, to call upon them at their houses.

Thus, without any previous plan, began the Methodist Society in

England,—a company of people associating together to help each

other to work out their own salvation.”[329]

No doubt the whole of this is strictly true; but there are other facts

to be remembered.