A few months before his death, Waterland preached two sermons, first

at Twickenham, and next at Windsor, on regeneration, which, without

mentioning the Methodists, were undeniably meant to serve as an

antidote to the doctrines they preached. These he published in the

form of an octavo pamphlet of fifty-six pages, accompanied by a mass

of notes in Latin, Greek, and English, from all sorts of authors. The

title of the pamphlet is, “Regeneration Stated and Explained, according

to Scripture and Antiquity, in a Discourse on Titus iii. 4, 5, 6;”

and its subject may be inferred from the following definition:—“The

new birth, in the general, means a spiritual change, wrought upon

any person by the Holy Spirit, in the use of baptism; whereby he is

translated from his natural state in Adam, to a spiritual state in

Christ.” Written from such a standpoint, the pamphlet of course was a

tacit condemnation of the doctrines of the Methodists. It is immensely

learned, but far from luminous; full of talent, but likewise full of

error; exceedingly elaborate, but, to an equal extent, bewildering.

We shall mention only one other attack on Methodism and the Methodists

made at this period. This was a pamphlet of fifty-five pages, with

the title, “The Trial of Mr. Whitefield’s Spirit, in some remarks

upon his fourth Journal.” The author makes himself merry with the

discovery, that this new sect of enthusiasts, by taking to themselves

the name of _Methodist_, have unintentionally stigmatised themselves

with a designation which is branded in Scripture as evil. “The

word Μεθοδεια, or Methodism, is only used twice throughout the New

Testament (Ephesians iv. 14, and vi. 11), and in both places denotes

that cunning craftiness whereby evil men, or evil spirits, lie in

wait to deceive.” It is alleged that Wesley, Whitefield, and their

followers, “have taken an appellation, perhaps through a judicial

inadvertence, which the Spirit of God has peculiarly appropriated to

the adversary of mankind, and to those who are leagued with him in

enmity to the interests of righteousness and true holiness.” This was

an ingenious hit; the writer, however, forgetting or misstating the

fact, that the name of Methodists was not self-assumed, but imposed by

others. “Μεθοδευσαι δε εστι το απατησαι—to be a Methodist, says St.

Chrysostom, is to be beguiled.” And, from this, the author wishes the

inference to be deduced, that, because the new sect of enthusiasts were

called Methodists, they were all beguiled, and, of course, Wesley and

Whitefield were the great beguilers. The remainder of the pamphlet is

a critique on Whitefield’s Journals, which, it must be admitted, were

unguardedly expressed, and which, before being printed, ought to have

been revised by a kindred spirit, possessed of a soberer judgment than

Whitefield had.

The Methodist persecutions of 1740 were chiefly of a literary kind. It

is true that Charles Wesley met with a rough reception at Bengeworth,

where Henry Seward called him “a scoundrel and a rascal”; directed

the mob to “take him away and duck him”; and actually seized him by

the nose and wrung it. This was bad enough, but the treatment of John

Cennick and his friends was even worse. While he was preaching at

Upton, in Gloucestershire, the mob assembled with a horn, a drum, and

a number of brass pans, and made a most horrid hubbub; the brass pans

being also used in beating the people’s heads. A man likewise put a

cat into a cage, and brought a pack of hounds to make them bark at it.

Another fellow and his wife, who kept an alehouse at Hannam, rode

through the congregation, thrashing the people with their whips, and

trampling them beneath their horses’ hoofs. Little children collected

dust, which their upgrown patrons cast upon Cennick, who was also

struck violently on the nose, and became a target at which to hurl dead

dogs and stones.[380] But even violent and contemptuous treatment like

this was not near so painful as the scurrilous attacks encountered

through the press. In this way, the persecution of the Methodists was

something more than a localised outburst of spleen and hate; for, in

all sorts of squibs, they were gibbeted, and exposed to ridicule,

throughout the kingdom.

Wesley’s trials were not trifles; but, in the midst of all, he bravely

pursued the path of duty; and, after the final separation from his

foolish, fanatical friends at Fetter Lane, his labours in London were

attended with considerable success. On August 11, while forty or fifty

were praying and giving thanks at the Foundery, two persons began to

cry to God with a loud and bitter cry, and soon found peace. Five

days after, a woman, at Long Lane, fell down and continued in violent

agonies for an hour. In September, a great number of men forced their

way into the Foundery, and began to speak big, swelling words; but,

“immediately after, the hammer of the word brake the rocks in pieces.”

A smuggler rushed in and cursed vehemently; but, when Wesley finished

preaching, the man declared, before the congregation, that, henceforth,

he would abandon smuggling and give God his heart.

Wesley’s efforts to do good were various. In London, he induced his

friends to contribute the clothing they could spare, and distributed it

among the poor of the Foundery society. In Bristol, besides visiting

numbers of people “ill of the spotted fever,” he took into his

Broadmead meeting-house twelve of the poorest people he could find,

who were out of work; and, to save them at once from want and from

idleness, employed them for four months in carding and spinning cotton.

Wesley concluded this eventful year at Bristol, by holding a

watchnight meeting, proposed by James Rogers, a Kingswood collier,

noted among his neighbours for his playing on the violin, but who,

being awakened under the ministry of Charles Wesley, went home, burnt

his fiddle, and told his wife that he meant to be a Methodist. To

his death, James was faithful, and, besides many other important

services, was the first Methodist preacher that preached at Stroud in

Gloucestershire.[381]

This was the first watchnight meeting among the Methodists. The people

met at half-past eight; the house was filled from end to end; and “we

concluded the year,” says Wesley, “wrestling with God in prayer, and

praising Him for the wonderful work which He had already wrought upon

the earth.”

The meeting soon became a favourite one, and was held monthly. Wesley

writes: “Some advised me to put an end to this; but, upon weighing the

thing thoroughly, and comparing it with the practice of the ancient

Christians, I could see no cause to forbid it. Rather, I believed

it might be made of more general use.”[382] ‘The church, in ancient

times, was accustomed to spend whole nights in prayer, which nights

were termed _vigiliæ_, or vigils; and, sanctioned by such authority,

Wesley appointed monthly watchnights, on the Fridays nearest the full

moon, desiring that they, and they only, should attend, who could do it

without prejudice to their business or families.

Little more remains to be said concerning 1740. During the entire year,

Wesley preached in only three churches, namely at Newbury, and at

Lanhithel, and Lantarnum, in Wales. His favourite text was Ephesians

ii. 8, showing that his mind and heart were still full of the glorious

truth, salvation by grace through faith in Christ.

One of his publications has been already noticed. Another was a third

volume of hymns, pp. 209, by no means inferior to its predecessors in

poetic excellence, or Christian character. The book is also possessed

of considerable historic interest, containing, as it does, a long hymn

of twenty-two verses, descriptive of Charles Wesley’s history up to

this period; and likewise several hymns addressed to Whitefield; and

one “for the Kingswood colliers.” The volume consists of ninety-six

hymns and poems, only four of which are selected from other authors.

The preface is remarkable, giving a description of the man possessed

of a clean heart. He is freed from pride, self will, evil thoughts,

wandering thoughts, doubts, fears, etc. Wesley, a quarter of a century

afterwards, declared that this preface contains the strongest account

that he ever gave of Christian perfection; and admitted, that some

of the statements needed correction; especially, that the perfect

Christian is so “freed from self will as not to desire ease in pain;”

that, “in prayer, he is so delivered from wanderings, that he has no

thought of anything past, or absent, or to come, but of God alone,”

etc. Wesley never taught anything respecting Christian perfection, but

what was, either directly or indirectly, contained in this preface; but

some of its strong assertions he wished to modify.[383]

Another publication, issued in 1740, was entitled, “Serious

Considerations concerning the Doctrines of Election and Reprobation.

Extracted from a late author.” 12mo, twelve pages. It is a condensed,

well argued tract on what had become a bone of contention between

Wesley and his friend Whitefield. The address to the reader is

beautiful: “Let us bear with one another, remembering it is

the prerogative of the great God to pierce through all His own

infinite schemes with an unerring eye, to surround them with an

all-comprehensive view, to grasp them all in one single survey, and to

spread a reconciling light over all their immense varieties. Man must

yet grapple with difficulties in this dusky twilight; but God, in His

time, will irradiate the earth more plentifully with His light and

truth.”

Another of Wesley’s publications was a 12mo tract of nineteen pages,

with the title, “The Nature and Design of Christianity, extracted from

a late author” (Mr. Law); and another was Wesley’s second Journal,

extending from February 1 to August 12, 1738. 12mo, pp. 90.

The year 1740, in Wesley’s history, was not marked with great

religious success; but it was one of the most eventful years in

his chequered life. There was a full and final separation from the

Moravians; there was the separate organisation of the Methodist society

at Moorfields; and there was the controversy with Whitefield. All these

matters will again demand attention.

1741.

[Sidenote: 1741 Age 38]

With the exception of a week spent in the midland counties, about a

month at Oxford, and three weeks in Wales, Wesley divided the year

1741, in almost equal proportions, between London and Bristol.

Whitefield arrived in England, from America, in the month of March;

and, finding his congregations at Moorfields and Kennington Common

dwindled down from twenty thousand to two or three hundred, he started

off to Bristol, where he remained till the end of May; when he came

back to London, and, on July 25, sailed thence to Scotland, writing

six-and-twenty pastoralizing letters on the way, and arriving at Leith

on July 30. The next three months were spent with the Erskines and

others, the leaders of the Seceders, who, in the year preceding, had

been solemnly expelled by the General Assembly, and had had their

relation to the national church formally dissolved. Whitefield’s career

of out-door preaching, and his success in Scotland, were marvellous.

All the time, however, he was burdened with an enormous debt, incurred

on account of his orphan house in Georgia, and was sometimes threatened

with arrest. On leaving Scotland, he proceeded direct to Wales, where,

on the 11th of November, he married a widow of the name of James, and

set up housekeeping with borrowed furniture, though, according to an

announcement in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_,[384] his wife had a fortune

of £10,000. The rest of the year he spent chiefly in Bristol and the

west of England.[385]

Charles Wesley, of course, alternated with his brother, though he

preached far more at Bristol than in London. Ever and anon he composed

one of his grand funereal hymns, and not unfrequently met with amusing

adventures. In a Kingswood prayer-meeting, while he and others were

praying for an increase of spiritual children, a wild collier brought

four of his black-faced little ones, and threw the youngest on the

table, saying, “You have got the mother, take the bairns as well.” In

another instance, a woman came to him about her husband, who had been

to hear the _predestinarian_ gospel, returned home _elect_, and, in

proof of it, _beat his wife_.

For some months, in the year 1741, Charles Wesley was in danger of

subsiding into Moravian _stillness_; and his brother wrote to him, “The

Philistines are upon thee, Samson, but the Lord is not departed from

thee.” Gambold also, and Westley Hall, were inoculated with the same

pernicious poison. Charles went off to Bristol, and on April 21 Wesley

addressed to him the following:—

“I rejoice in your speaking your mind freely. O let our love be

without dissimulation!

“As yet, I dare in nowise join with the Moravians: 1. Because

their whole scheme is mystical, not scriptural. 2. Because

there is darkness and closeness in their whole behaviour, and

guile in almost all their words. 3. Because they utterly deny

and despise self denial and the daily cross. 4. Because they,

upon principle, conform to the world, in wearing gold or costly

apparel. 5. Because they extend Christian liberty, in this and

many other respects, beyond what is warranted in holy writ.

6. Because they are by no means zealous of good works; or, at

least, only to their own people. And, lastly, because they

make inward religion swallow up outward in general. For these

reasons chiefly, I will rather stand quite alone, than join

with them: I mean till I have full assurance, that they will

spread none of their errors among the little flock committed to

my charge.

“O my brother, my soul is grieved for you; the poison is in

you: fair words have stolen away your heart. ‘No English man or

woman is like the Moravians!’ So the matter is come to a fair

issue. Five of us did still stand together a few months since;

but two are gone to the right hand, Hutchins and Cennick; and

two more to the left, Mr. Hall and you. Lord, if it be Thy

gospel which I preach, arise and maintain Thine own cause!

Adieu!”[386]

In the month of May, a reunion of Wesley’s London society with the

Moravians at Fetter Lane was solemnly discussed; and all the bands

met at the Foundery, on a Wednesday afternoon, to ask God to give

them guidance. “It was clear to all,” writes Wesley, “even those who

were before the most desirous of reunion, that the time was not come:

(1) because the brethren of Fetter Lane had not given up their most

essentially erroneous doctrines; and, (2) because many of us had found

so much guile in their words, that we could scarce tell what they

really held, and what not.”

Wesley entertained no bitterness towards the Moravians. He readily

acknowledges, that they had a sincere desire to serve God; that many

of them had tasted of His love that they abstained from outward sin;

and that their discipline, in most respects, was excellent: but, after

reading all their English publications, and “waiving their odd and

affected phrases; their weak, mean, silly, childish expressions; their

crude, confused, and undigested notions; and their whims, unsupported

either by Scripture or sound reason,”—he found three grand, unretracted

errors running through almost all their books, namely “universal

salvation, antinomianism, and a kind of new, reformed quietism.” No

wonder that the thought of reunion was abandoned.

A month after the above meeting, at the Foundery, Wesley made a tour

among the Moravians, in the midland counties. Here Ingham had preached

with great success; and here Mr. Simpson, one of the Oxford Methodists,

had settled as a sort of Moravian minister. During the journey, Wesley

made an experiment which he had often been urged to make, namely that

of speaking to no one on sacred things, unless his heart was free to

it. The result was, that, for eighty miles together, he had no need to

speak at all; and he tells us that, instead of having crosses to take

up and bear, he commonly fell fast asleep; and all behaved to him, as

to a civil, good-natured gentleman. On reaching Ockbrook, where Simpson

lived, he found that though, a few months before, there had been a

great awakening all round about, three-fourths of the converts were

now backsliders. Simpson had drawn the people from the Church, and

had advised them to abandon devotion. He said, there was no Church of

England left; and that there was no scriptural command for family or

private prayer. The sum of his teaching was: “If you wish to believe,

be still; and leave off what you call the means of grace, such as

prayer and running to church and sacrament.” Mr. Graves, the clergyman

of the parish, having offered the use of his church to Wesley, the

latter preached two sermons, one on “the true gospel stillness”, and

the other from his favourite text—“By grace are ye saved, through

faith.”

From Ockbrook, Wesley went to Nottingham, where he found further

evidences of backsliding. The room, which used to be crowded, was now

half empty; and the few who did attend the services, instead of praying

when they entered, sat down without any religious formality whatever,

and began talking to their neighbours. When Wesley engaged in prayer

among them, none knelt, and “those who stood chose the most easy and

indolent posture which they conveniently could.” One of the hymn-books,

published by the Wesleys, had been sent from London to be used in the

public congregations; but both that and the Bible were now banished;

and, in the place of them, lay the Moravian hymns and Zinzendorf’s

sixteen sermons. Wesley preached twice in this Moravian meeting; and

once in the market place, to an immense multitude, all of whom, with

two or three exceptions, behaved with great decorum.

After spending a week at Markfield, Ockbrook, Nottingham, Melbourn, and

Hemmington, and also probably becoming acquainted with the Countess of

Huntingdon, who lived in this locality, Wesley returned to town, on the

16th of June, and, a fortnight after, went to Oxford, where he met his

old friend Mr. Gambold, who honestly told him, he was ashamed of his

company, and must be excused going to the Moravian meeting with him.

At the beginning of September, Zinzendorf wished to have an interview,

and, at his request, Wesley went to Gray’s-inn Walk, a public

promenade, to meet him. Zinzendorf charged him with having changed his

religion; with having quarreled with the Brethren; and with having

refused to be at peace with them, even after they had asked his

forgiveness. In reference to Wesley’s doctrine of Christian perfection,

the count became furious. “This,” said he, “is the error of errors. I

pursue it through the world with fire and sword. I trample upon it. I

devote it to utter destruction. Christ is our sole perfection. Whoever

follows inherent perfection, denies Christ. All Christian perfection

is faith in the blood of Christ; and is wholly imputed, not inherent.”

Wesley asked, if they were not striving about words; and, by a series

of questions, got the obfuscated German to admit, “that, a believer

is altogether holy in heart and life,—that he loves God with all his

heart, and serves Him with all his powers.” Wesley continued: “I

desire nothing more. I mean nothing else by perfection, or Christian

holiness.” Zinzendorf rejoined: “But this is not the believer’s

holiness. He is not more holy if he loves more, or less holy, if he

loves less. In the moment he is justified, he is sanctified wholly;

and, from that time, he is neither more nor less holy, even unto death.

Our whole justification, and sanctification, are in the same instant.

From the moment any one is justified, his heart is as pure as it

ever will be.” Wesley asked again: “Perhaps I do not comprehend your

meaning. Do we not, while we deny ourselves, die more and more to the

world and live to God?” Zinzendorf replied: “We reject all self denial.

We trample upon it. We do, as believers, whatsoever we will, and

nothing more. We laugh at all mortification. No purification precedes

perfect love.”[387] And thus the conference ended.

“The count,” said Mr. Stonehouse after reading the conversation, “is a

clever fellow; but the genius of Methodism is too strong for him.”[388]

Zinzendorf accused Wesley of refusing to live in peace, even after the

Brethren had humbled themselves and begged his pardon. Wesley says

there is a mistake in this. Fifty or more Moravians spoke bitterly

against him; one or two asked his pardon, but did it in the most

careless manner possible. The rest, if ashamed of their behaviour at

all, managed to keep their shame a profound secret from him.[389]

As to the count’s theory, that a man is wholly sanctified the moment

he is justified—a theory held by the Rev. Dr. Bunting, at all events,

at the commencement of his ministerial career[390]—we say nothing; but

there can be no question, that his sentiments respecting self denial,

and the right of believers to do or not to do what they like, are, in

a high degree, delusive and dangerous. We have here the very essence of

the antinomian heresy, and are thus prepared for an entry in Charles

Wesley’s journal:—

1741. September 6.—“I was astonished by a letter from my

brother, relating his conference with the apostle of the

Moravians. Who would believe it of Count Zinzendorf, that he

should utterly deny all Christian holiness? I never could, but

for a saying of his, which I heard with my own ears. Speaking

of St. James’s epistle, he said: ‘If it was thrown out of the

canon, I would not restore it.’”

The heresy of such a man was of vast importance; for, in this same year

and month, September, 1741, Zinzendorf told Doddridge, that he had

“sent out, from his own family of Moravians, three hundred preachers,

who were gone into most parts of the world; and that he himself was now

become the guardian of the Protestant churches in the south of France,

sixty of which were assembling privately for worship.”[391]

As already stated, Charles Wesley was in danger of falling into the

Moravian heresy. The following is an extract from a letter addressed to

Wesley by the Countess of Huntingdon, and dated October 24, 1741.

“Since you left us, the _still ones_ are not without their

attacks. I fear much more for your brother than for myself,

as the conquest of the one would be nothing in respect to the

other. They have, by one of their agents, reviled me very much,

but I have taken no sort of notice of it. I comfort myself,

that you will approve a step with respect to them, which your

brother and I have taken: no less than his declaring open war

against them. He seemed under some difficulty about it at

first, till he had free liberty given him to use my name, as

the instrument, in God’s hand, that had delivered him from

them. I rejoiced much at it, hoping it might be the means of

working my deliverance from them. I have desired him to enclose

to them yours on Christian perfection. The doctrine therein

contained, I hope to live and die by; it is absolutely the most

complete thing I know. Your brother is also to give his reasons

for separating. I have great faith God will not let him fall;

for many would fall with him. His natural parts, his judgment,

and the improvement he has made, are so very far above the very

highest of them, that I should imagine nothing but frenzy had

seized upon him.

“We set out a week ago for Donnington, and you shall hear from

me as soon as I arrive, and have heard how your little flock

goes on in that neighbourhood.”[392]

Methodists will learn, from this interesting letter, that they owe a

debt of gratitude to the noble and “elect lady” of the midland counties.

We turn to Whitefield. On his arrival from America, in the month of

March, he found his position far from pleasant.

First of all, there was the melancholy death of his friend, William

Seward—really Methodism’s first martyr—a man of considerable property,

but of meagre education and inferior talent; Whitefield’s travelling

companion in his second voyage to Georgia, and who, at the time of

his being murdered, in Wales, was itinerating with Howel Harris in

Glamorganshire. At Newport, the mob had torn Harris’s coat to tatters,

stolen his wig, and pelted him and his companion with apples, stones,

and dirt. At Caerleon, rotten eggs were thrown in all directions,

Seward’s eye was struck, and, a few days after, he was entirely blind.

At Monmouth, their treatment was of the same kind as at Newport and

Caerleon; but Seward bravely cried, “Better endure this than hell.”

At length, on reaching Hay, a villain hit him on the head; the blow

was fatal; and William Seward went to inherit a martyr’s crown, at the

early age of thirty-eight, on October 22, 1741.

Besides the death of Methodism’s protomartyr, there were other troubles

which Whitefield had to carry. He had an orphan family of nearly a

hundred persons to maintain; was above a thousand pounds in debt for

them; and was threatened with arrest on account of a bill for £350,

drawn, in favour of the orphan house by his dead friend, William

Seward, but which had not been met by him. James Hutton, who had been

his publisher, refused to have any further transactions with him.

“Many of my spiritual children,” he writes, “who, when I last left

England, would have plucked out their own eyes to have given me, are

so prejudiced by the dear Messrs. Wesleys’ dressing up of election in

such horrible colours, that they will neither hear, see, nor give me

the least assistance. Yea, some of them send threatening letters, that

God will speedily destroy me. As for the people of the world, they

are so embittered by my _injudicious_ and _too severe_ expressions

against Archbishop Tillotson, the author of the old Duty of Man, that

they fly from me as from a viper; and, what is worst of all, I am

now constrained, on account of our differing in principles, publicly

to separate from my dear, dear old friends, Messrs. John and Charles

Wesley.”[393]

During his passage to England, Whitefield wrote to Charles Wesley as

follows: “My dear, dear brother, why did you throw out the bone of

contention? Why did _you_ print that sermon against predestination?

Why did you, in particular, affix your hymn and join in putting out

your late hymn-book? How can you say you will not dispute with me about

election, and yet print such hymns?” And then he proceeds to state,

that he had written an answer to Wesley’s sermon on free grace, and was

about to have it printed in Charlestown, Boston, and London.[394]

About six weeks before his arrival in England, some one obtained a

copy of the letter he had sent to Wesley, under the date of September

25, 1740,[395] (an extract of which is given in the previous chapter,

page 316,) and had printed it without either his or Wesley’s consent,

and circulated it gratuitously at the doors of the Foundery. Wesley

heard of this; and, having procured a copy, tore it in pieces before

the assembled congregation, declaring that he believed Whitefield would

have done the same. The congregation imitated their minister’s example,

and, in two minutes, all the copies were literally torn to tatters.

Three weeks after this, Wesley had to hurry off to Kingswood to allay

the turmoils there. He met the bands, but it was a cold uncomfortable

meeting. Cennick and fifteen or twenty of his friends had an interview

with Wesley, who accused them of speaking against him behind his

back. They replied that they had said nothing behind his back which

they would not say before his face; namely, that he preached up the

faithfulness of man, and not the faithfulness of God.

After a lovefeast, held in Bristol on Sunday evening, February 22,

Wesley related to the Bristol Methodists, that many of their brethren

at Kingswood had formed themselves into a separate society, on account

of Cennick preaching doctrines different to those preached by himself

and his brother. Cennick, who was present, affirmed, that Wesley’s

doctrine was false. Wesley charged him with supplanting him in his own

house, stealing the hearts of the people, and, by private accusations,

dividing very friends. Cennick replied, “I have never privately accused

you.” Wesley, who, by some means, was possessed of a letter which

Cennick had recently addressed to Whitefield, answered: “My brethren,

judge;” and then began to read as follows:—

“_January 17, 1741._

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—That you might come quickly, I have written

a second time. I sit solitary, like Eli, waiting what will

become of the ark. My trouble increases daily. How glorious did

the gospel seem once to flourish in Kingswood! I spake of the

everlasting love of Christ with sweet power; but now brother

Charles is suffered to open his mouth against this truth,

while the frighted sheep gaze and fly, as if no shepherd was

among them. O, pray for the distressed lambs yet left in this

place, that they faint not! Brother Charles pleases the world

with universal redemption, and brother John follows him in

everything. No atheist can preach more against predestination

than they; and all who believe election are counted enemies to

God, and called so. Fly, dear brother. I am as alone; I am in

the midst of the plague. If God give thee leave, make haste.”

Cennick acknowledged the letter was his, that it had been sent to

Whitefield, and that he retracted nothing in it. The meeting got

excited, and Wesley adjourned the settlement of the business to

Kingswood on Saturday next ensuing.

Here he heard all that any one wished to say, and then read the

following paper:—

“BY many witnesses, it appears that several members of the

band society in Kingswood have made it their common practice

to scoff at the preaching of Mr. John and Charles Wesley;

that they have censured and spoken evil of them behind their

backs, at the very time they professed love and esteem to their

faces; that they have studiously endeavoured to prejudice other

members of that society against them; and, in order thereto,

have belied and slandered them in divers instances.

“Therefore, not for their opinions, nor for any of them

(whether they be right or wrong), but for the causes above

mentioned, viz. for their scoffing at the word and ministers of

God, for their talebearing, backbiting, and evil speaking, for

their dissembling, lying, and slandering:

“I, John Wesley, by the consent and approbation of the band

society in Kingswood, do declare the persons above mentioned

to be no longer members thereof. Neither will they be so

accounted, until they shall openly confess their fault, and

thereby do what in them lies, to remove the scandal they have

given.”

This is a remarkable document It was hardly two years since Whitefield

and Wesley began to preach at Kingswood, and yet here we have a large

number of their converts charged with backbiting, lying, slandering,

and other crimes. “How is the gold become dim!” Were the former days

better than these? We doubt it.

Here we also have the first Methodist expulsion; not for opinions, but

for sins; not by the sole authority and act of John Wesley, but “by the

consent and approbation” of the society, whose refractory members were

to be put away. Such was Methodism, at its beginning.

Cennick, and those who sympathised with his sentiments, refused

to own that they had done aught amiss; and declared that, on many

occasions, he had heard both Wesley and his brother preach Popery.

Wesley gave them another week to think the matter over. They were still

intractable; and alleged that the _real_ cause of their expulsion was

their holding the doctrine of election. Wesley answered, “You know in

your conscience it is not. There are several predestinarians in our

societies both at London and Bristol, nor did I ever put any one out

of either because he held that opinion.” The result of the whole was,

Cennick and fifty-one others at once withdrew, and the remainder,

numbering about a hundred, still adhered to Wesley.[396]

Such was the first schism in Methodist history,—John Cennick the

leader,—fifty of the Kingswood members its abettors,—and John Wesley

and a majority of the Kingswood society, the court enacting their

expulsion.

The writer’s chief object is to furnish facts, and therefore he

refrains from comment on these transactions. No doubt Cennick was

sincere. After the risks he ran in preaching Christ, no one can doubt

his Christian earnestness: but, having come to Kingswood at Wesley’s

invitation, and having been employed by him as the teacher of his

school, and also as an evangelist among the surrounding colliers, it

would, at least, have been more courteous to have quietly retired from

his present sphere of action, when he found his views different from

those of his patron and his friend, than it was for him to pursue the

controversial and divisive course he did. John Cennick had a lion’s

courage and a martyr’s piety; but his passions sometimes mastered his

prudence, and, for want of the serpent’s wisdom, he often failed in

exhibiting the meekness of the dove.

Whitefield arrived in London a few days after the Kingswood expulsion;

and Wesley, on the 25th of March, hastened off to meet him. Whitefield

told him they preached two different gospels, and that he was resolved

to preach against him and his brother wherever he preached at all. A

weekly publication, of four folio pages, entitled “The Weekly History;

or An Account of the most remarkable Particulars relating to the

present Progress of the Gospel,” was immediately started by J. Lewis,

Whitefield promising to supply him with fresh matter every week. This

was really the first Methodist newspaper ever published. Of course,

Calvinism was its inspiring genius. The principal contributors were

Whitefield, Cennick, Howel Harris, and Joseph Humphreys.

The last mentioned was employed by Wesley as a sort of Moravian lay

preacher, as early as the year 1738,[397] and was greatly attached to

him. At this period, he was acting as Moravian minister at Deptford,

and wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“DEPTFORD, _April 5, 1741_.

“DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—I think I love you better than ever.

I would not grieve you by any means, if I could possibly help

it. I think I had never more power in preaching than I had

this morning. And, if this is the consequence of electing

everlasting love, may my soul be ever filled with it!”[398]

In another letter, of three weeks later date, addressed to “Mr. M——,”

he avows his belief in the doctrine of final perseverance, and proceeds

to say:—

“The doctrine of sinless perfection in this life, I utterly

renounce. I believe the preaching of it has led many souls

into darkness and confusion. I believe those that hold it,

if children of God at all, are in a very legal state. I

believe those who pretend to have attained it are dangerously

ignorant of their own hearts. I also see that, if I incline

towards universal redemption any longer, I must also hold with

universal salvation.”

He then adds: “Last Saturday I sent the following letter to the Rev.

Mr. J. Wesley.”

“REVEREND SIR,—I would have been joined with you to all

eternity if I could; but my having continued with you so long

as I have has led me into grievous temptation; and I now think

it my duty no longer to join with you, but openly to renounce

your peculiar doctrines. I have begun to do it at London; and,

as the Lord shall enable me, will proceed to do it here at

Bristol. I feel no bitterness in my spirit, but love you, pray

for you, and respect you.

“I am, sir, your humble servant and unworthy brother,

“JOSEPH HUMPHREYS.”

The above letter was sent to the editor of the _Weekly History_ by

Whitefield, accompanied by the following note:—

“I would have you print this letter with my last. If you

think it best, I would also have it printed in the _Daily

Advertiser_. I see the mystery of iniquity, that is working,

more and more.

“Ever yours,

“G. WHITEFIELD.“[399]

Humphreys and Cennick were now both at Kingswood, which was, for the

time being, the head quarters of the Calvinistic schism. Here, in the

month of April, the separatists got, from an old man, his copy of

Wesley’s treatise against predestination, and burnt it.[400] About

the same time, however, Wesley distributed a thousand copies among

Whitefield’s congregation, and a thousand more at the Foundery;[401]

and, in the same month, addressed the following characteristic letter

to his friend.[402]

“_April, 1741._

“Would you have me deal plainly with you? I believe you would;

then, by the grace of God, I will.

“Of many things I find you are not rightly informed; of others

you speak what you have not well weighed.

“‘The society room at Bristol,’ you say, ‘ is adorned,’ How?

Why, with a piece of green cloth nailed to the desk; and two

sconces for eight candles each in the middle. I know no more.

Now, which of these can be spared I know not; nor would I

desire more adorning, or less.

“But ‘lodgings are made for me and my brother,’ That is, in

plain English, there is a little room by the school, where I

speak to the persons who come to me; and a garret, in which a

bed is placed for me. And do you grudge me this? Is this the

voice of my brother, my son, Whitefield?

“You say further, ‘that the children at Bristol are clothed

as well as taught,’ I am sorry for it, for the cloth is not

paid for yet, and was bought without my consent, or knowledge.

‘But those at Kingswood have been neglected,’ This is not so,

notwithstanding the heavy debt that lay upon it. One master and

one mistress have been in the house ever since it was capable

of receiving them. A second master has been placed there some

months since; and I have long been seeking for two proper

mistresses; so that as much has been done, as matters stand, if

not more, than I can answer to God and man.

“Hitherto, then, there is no ground for the heavy charge

of perverting your design for the poor colliers. Two years

since, your design was to build them a school. To this end,

you collected some money more than once; how much I cannot

say, till I have my papers. But this I know, it was not near

one-half of what has been expended on the work. This design you

then recommended to me, and I pursued it with all my might,

through such a train of difficulties as, I will be bold to

say, you have not met with in your life. For many months, I

collected money wherever I was, and began building, though

I had not then a quarter of the money requisite to finish.

However, taking all the debt upon myself, the creditors were

willing to stay; and then it was that I took possession of it

in my own name; that is, when the foundation was laid; and I

immediately made my will, fixing you and my brother to succeed

me therein.

“But it is a poor case, that you and I should be talking thus.

Indeed, these things ought not to be. It lay in your power to

have prevented all, and yet to have borne testimony to what you

call ‘the truth.’ If you had disliked my sermon, you might have

printed another on the same text, and have answered my proofs,

without mentioning my name; this had been fair and friendly.”

The two friends were thus at variance; but every candid reader must

honestly acknowledge, that Wesley triumphantly refutes Whitefield’s

petulant objections.

Meanwhile, Whitefield’s adherents in the metropolis, within a few

days after his arrival, set to work to erect him a wooden building

near the Foundery, which they called “a Tabernacle, for morning’s

exposition.”[403] On April 25, he went to Bristol, where Charles

Wesley was officiating; and, three weeks after, wrote to a friend,

saying, “The doctrines of the gospel are sadly run down, and most

monstrous errors propagated. They assert, ‘that the very in-being of

sin must be taken out of us, or otherwise we are not new creatures,’

However, at Bristol, error is in a great measure put a stop to.”[404]

So Whitefield thought, and yet, at this very time, Charles Wesley was

preaching at Bristol and Kingswood, if possible, with greater power

than ever. In June, however, Whitefield began to collect money for a

rival meeting-house at Kingswood, and wished John Cennick to lay the

foundation immediately, but to take care not to make the building

either too large or too handsome.[405]

Wesley and Whitefield were divided; but Howel Harris, with his warm

Welsh heart, tried to reunite them. In the month of October, Harris

had loving interviews with both Wesley and his brother, and wrote to

Whitefield, then in Scotland. Whitefield, easily moved in the path of

Christian love, immediately addressed to Wesley the letter following:—

“ABERDEEN, _October 10, 1741_.

“REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—This morning I received a letter

from brother Harris, telling me how he had conversed with

you and your dear brother. May God remove all obstacles that

now prevent our union! Though I hold particular election,

yet I offer Jesus freely to every individual soul. You may

carry sanctification to what degrees you will, only I cannot

agree with you that the in-being of sin is to be destroyed

in this life. In about three weeks, I hope to be at Bristol.

May all disputings cease, and each of us talk of nothing but

Jesus and Him crucified! This is my resolution. I am, without

dissimulation,

“Ever yours,

“G. WHITEFIELD.”[406]

It was nearly two years after this that Wesley wrote the piece, in his

collected works, entitled, “Calvinistic Controversy” (vol. xiii., p.

478). He says:—

“Having found for some time a strong desire to unite with Mr.

Whitefield, as far as possible, to cut off needless dispute, I wrote

down my sentiments, as plain as I could, in the following terms:—

“There are three points in debate: 1. Unconditional election. 2.

Irresistible grace. 3. Final perseverance.”

With regard to the first, Wesley expresses his belief, that God has

unconditionally elected certain persons to do certain work, and certain

nations to receive peculiar privileges; and allows, though he says

he cannot prove, that God “has unconditionally elected some persons,

thence eminently styled ‘the elect,’ to eternal glory;” but he cannot

believe, that all those, not thus elected to glory, must perish

everlastingly; or, that there is a soul on earth but what has the

chance of escaping eternal damnation.

With regard to irresistible grace, he believes, that the grace which

brings faith, and, thereby, salvation, is irresistible at that moment;

and, that most believers may remember a time when God irresistibly

convinced them of sin, and other times when He acted irresistibly upon

their souls; but he also believes, that the grace of God, both before

and after these moments, may be, and hath been resisted; and that, in

general, it does not act irresistibly, but we may comply therewith, or

may not. In those eminently styled “the elect” (if such there be), the

grace of God is so far irresistible, that they cannot but believe, and

be finally saved; but it is not true, that all those must be damned

in whom it does not thus irresistibly work, or, that there is a soul

living who has not any other grace than such as was designed of God to

increase his damnation.

With regard to final perseverance, he believes, “that there is a state

attainable in this life, from which a man cannot finally fall; and that

he has attained this, who can say, ‘Old things are passed away; all

things in me are become new;’ and, further, he does not deny, that all

those eminently styled ‘the elect’ will infallibly persevere to the

end.”[407]

In reference to “the elect,” Henry Moore adds, that Wesley told him,

that, when he wrote this, he believed, with Macarius, that all who are

perfected in love are thus elect.

The document from which the above is taken, was written in 1743. As

Mr. Jackson says, it “evidently leans too much towards Calvinism.”

It is valuable chiefly because it shows Wesley’s anxiety to be at

peace with Whitefield. The latter writes as though all the blame, in

reference to the rupture in their friendship, lay with Wesley; whereas

this was far from being true. Wesley honestly and firmly believed

the doctrine of general redemption; and, because he preached it, and

published a sermon in condemnation of the doctrines opposed to it,

Whitefield worked himself into a fume, and wrote his pamphlet, in which

he not only tries to refute Wesley’s teaching, but unnecessarily makes

a personal attack on Wesley’s character, and taunts him about casting

lots,—a wanton outrage, for which, in October, 1741, he humbly begged

his pardon.[408] The intolerant, excessive zeal was altogether on the

side of Whitefield. Wesley believed and preached general redemption;

but raised no objection to Whitefield believing and preaching election

and final perseverance. Instead of reciprocating this, Whitefield,

in his pamphlet, blustered; and, in his letters, whined, until the

difference of opinion disturbed their friendship, and led them to

build separate chapels, form separate societies, and pursue, to

the end of life, separate lines of action. One of Wesley’s friends

wished him to reply to Whitefield’s pamphlet. Wesley answered, “You

may read Whitefield against Wesley; but you shall never read Wesley

against Whitefield.”[409] In private, Wesley opposed Whitefield, but

in public never. On one occasion, when the two friends met in a large

social gathering, Whitefield mounted his hobby, and spoke largely and

valiantly in defence of his favourite system. Wesley, on the other

hand, was silent till all the company were gone, when, turning to the

spurred and belted controversial knight, he quietly remarked, “Brother,

are you aware of what you have done to-night?” “Yes,” said Whitefield,

“I have defended truth.” “You have tried to prove,” replied Wesley,

“that God is worse than the devil; for the devil can only _tempt_ a man

to sin; but, if what you have said be true, God _forces_ a man to sin;

and therefore, on your own system, God is worse than the devil.”[410]

Thus the gulf between Wesley and Whitefield was immense. “It was

undesirable—indeed, it was impossible—that they should continue to

address, in turn, the same congregations; for such congregations would

have been kept in the pitiable condition of a ship, thrown on its beam

ends, larboard and starboard, by hurricanes driving alternately east

and west.”[411]

Being separated from Whitefield and the Moravians, Wesley began to

purge and to organise the societies, which were now purely and properly

his own. At Bristol, he took an account of every person—(1) to whom

any reasonable objection was made; and (2) who was not known to and

recommended by some, on whose veracity he could depend. To those who

were sufficiently recommended, he gave tickets. Most of the rest he

had face to face with their accusers; and such as appeared to be

innocent, or confessed their faults and promised better behaviour,

were then received into the society. The others were put upon trial

again, unless they voluntarily expelled themselves. By this purging

process, about forty were excluded.[412] He also appointed stewards,

to receive and expend what was contributed weekly; and, finding the

funds insufficient, he discharged two of the Bristol schoolmasters,

retaining still, at Kingswood and Bristol unitedly, three masters and

two mistresses for the two schools respectively.

In London, he adopted the same process, and set apart the hours from

ten to two, on every day but Saturday, for speaking with the bands and

other persons, that no disorderly walker, nor any of a careless or

contentious spirit, might remain among them; the result of which was

the society was reduced to about a thousand members.[413] Ascertaining

that many of the members were without needful food, and destitute

of convenient clothing, he appointed twelve persons to visit every

alternate day, and to provide things needful for the sick; also to

meet once a week to give an account of their proceedings, and to

consult what could be done further. Women, out of work, he proposed

to employ in knitting, giving them the common price for the work they

did, and then adding gratuities according to their needs. To meet

these expenses, he requested those who could afford it, to give a penny

weekly, and to contribute any clothing which their own use did not

require.

Here we have a new Methodist agency employed. Wesley had already

permitted laymen to exhort and preach; he now authorised them to

pay pastoral visits among his people. At present, they were _mere

visitors_, and meetings analogous to the class-meetings of the present

day did not exist. The two Wesleys often addressed the societies apart,

after they had dismissed the general congregation. They also fixed

certain hours for private conversation; and now they appointed visitors

to visit those who through sickness, poverty, or other causes, were

not able to avail themselves of such assistance. This, as yet, was

all. In the present sense, bands and classes there were none, except

that each society, after the manner of the Moravians, was divided into

male and female, and, perhaps, married and unmarried, bands, all of

them watched over by Wesley or by his brother; and the sick and poor

among them visited by persons appointed to that office. In Bristol,

several members applied to Wesley for baptism, and he gave the bishop

notice to that effect, adding, that they desired him to baptize them

by immersion.[414] The Kingswood society, having been repelled from

the sacramental table at Temple church, Charles Wesley gave them the

sacrament in their own humble school; and, notwithstanding his high

churchism, declared that, under the circumstances, if they had not had

the school, he should have felt himself justified in administering

it in the wood. In London, some of the members communicated at St.

Paul’s, or at their own parish churches; but, during the autumn, on

five successive Sundays, Wesley availed himself of the offer of Mr.

Deleznot, a French clergyman, and used his small church, in Hermitage

Street, Wapping, in administering the Lord’s supper to five successive

batches of about two hundred members of his society (as many as the

place could well contain), until all the society, consisting of about a

thousand persons, had received it.[415]

To the members at Bristol, and doubtless also at London, Wesley

gave _tickets_. On every ticket he wrote, with his own hand, the

member’s name, “so that,” says he, “the ticket implied as strong a

recommendation of the person to whom it was given as if I had wrote at

length, ‘I believe the bearer hereof to be one that fears God and works

righteousness.’”

Wesley regarded these tickets as being equivalent to the επιστολαι

συστατικαι, “commendatory letters,” mentioned by the apostle, and

says they were of use: (1) because, wherever those who bore them

came, they were acknowledged by their brethren, and received with all

cheerfulness; (2) when the societies had to meet apart, the tickets

easily distinguished who were members and who were not; (3) they

supplied a quiet and inoffensive method of removing any disorderly

member; for, the tickets being changed once a quarter, and, of course,

no new ticket being given to such a person, it was hereby immediately

known that he was no longer a member of the community.[416]

The writer is possessed of nearly a complete set of these society

tickets, from the first, issued about 1742, to those given a hundred

years afterwards. Many of them bear the autographs of John and Charles

Wesley, William Grimshaw, and other old Methodist worthies. The

earliest are wood and copper-plate engravings, printed on cardboard,

without any text of Scripture: some bearing the emblem of an angel

flying in the clouds of heaven, with one trumpet to his mouth, and a

second in his hand; and others of the Sun of Righteousness shining on a

phœnix rising out of fire. Some have a dove encircled with glory; and

others have no engraving whatever, but simply an inscription, written

by Charles Wesley, “August, 1746.” Some merely have the word “Society”

imprinted, with the member’s name written underneath; others have a

lamb carrying a flag; and others a tree with a broken stem, Jehovah

as a sun shining on it, and at its foot two men, one planting a new

cutting, and the other watering one already planted. Some represent

Christ in the clouds of heaven, with the cross in one hand and a crown

in the other; and others represent the Christian kneeling before an

altar, inscribed with the words, “Pray always and faint not.” One

represents Christ as washing a disciple’s feet; and another, with

a text of Scripture at the top, has four lines below, in which are

printed, “March 25, June 25, September 29, December 25,” with space

left opposite to each for writing the member’s name, and so making one

ticket serve for the four quarters of a year. One bears the impress

of an anchor and a crown; and another the image of old father Time,

hurrying along, with a scroll in his hand, inscribed with “Now is the

accepted time.” Some are printed with black ink, some with red, and

some with blue. About 1750, emblems gave place to texts of Scripture,

which have been continued from that time to this.

The Methodist societies, as organised by Wesley, were thus fairly

started in 1741. Meanwhile, Methodism on earth began to swell the

inhabitants of heaven. At the very commencement of the year, Elizabeth

Davis, of London, after she was speechless, being desired to hold up

her hand if she knew she was going to God, immediately held up both.

Anne Cole, on being asked by Wesley, whether she chose to live or die,

answered: “I choose neither, I choose nothing. I am in my Saviour’s

hands, and I have no will but His.” Another of the London members, when

visited by Wesley, said: “I am very ill,—but I am very well. O, I am

happy, happy, happy! My spirit continually rejoices in God my Saviour.

Life or death is all one to me. I have no darkness, no cloud. My body

indeed is weak and in pain, but my soul is all joy and praise.” Jane

Muncy exclaimed: “I faint not, I murmur not, I rejoice evermore, and in

everything give thanks. God is ever with me, and I have nothing to do

but praise Him.” In Bristol, a woman in her dying agonies cried out:

“O, how loving is God to me! But He is loving to every man, and loves

every soul as well as He loves mine.” The last words of another were,

“Death stares me in the face, but I fear him not.” Hannah Richardson,

who was followed to her grave by the whole of the Bristol society, the

procession being pelted in the streets with dirt and stones, said: “I

have no fear, no doubt, no trouble. Heaven is open! I see Jesus Christ

with all His angels and saints in white. I see what I cannot utter or

express.” Sister Hooper cried, “I am in great pain, but in greater

joy.” Sister Lillington exclaimed, “I never felt such love before;

I love every soul: I am all love, and so is God.” Rachel Peacock

sang hymns incessantly, and was so filled with joy that she shouted:

“Though I groan, I feel no pain at all; Christ so rejoices and fills my

heart.”[417] And to all these may be added Keziah Wesley. In a letter

to his brother, dated March 9, 1741, Charles Wesley writes: “Yesterday

morning, sister Kezzy died in the Lord Jesus. He finished His work, and

cut it short in mercy. Full of thankfulness, resignation, and love,

without pain or trouble, she commended her spirit into the hands of

Jesus, and fell asleep.”[418]

These were triumphs in the midst of troubles; for, besides the anxiety

and pain arising out of the differences with Whitefield and the

Moravians, Wesley, in 1741, had to encounter no inconsiderable amount

of unprincipled persecution. At Deptford, while he was preaching,

“many poor wretches were got together, utterly devoid both of common

sense and common decency, who cried aloud, as if just come from ‘among

the tombs.’” In London, on Shrove Tuesday, “many men of the baser

sort” mixed themselves with the female part of his congregation, and

behaved with great indecency. “A constable commanded them to keep the

peace, in answer to which they knocked him down.” In Long Lane, while

Wesley was preaching, the mob pelted him with stones, one of great

size passing close past his head. In Marylebone fields, in the midst

of his sermon, out of doors, missiles fell thick and fast on every

side. In Charles Square, Hoxton, the rabble brought an ox which they

endeavoured to drive through the congregation. A man, who happened to

be a Dissenting minister, after hearing him preach at Chelsea, asked,

“_Quid est tibi nomen?_” and, on Wesley not answering his impertinence,

the pedantic puppy turned in triumph to his friends, and said, “Ah! I

told you he did not understand Latin.” Among other slanders concerning

him, it was currently reported that he had paid a fine of £20, for

selling Geneva gin; that he kept in his house two popish priests;

that he had received large remittances from Spain, in order to make

a party among the poor; and that, as soon as the Spaniards landed,

he was to join them with twenty thousand men. It was also rumoured,

that, in Bristol, he had hanged himself, and had been cut down just

in time to save his life. The _Scots Magazine_, for August, had a

scurrilous article to the following effect. Above thirty Methodists

had been in Bedlam, and six were there at present. Wesley had set up,

at his Moorfields meeting-house, a number of spinning wheels, where

girls who had absconded from their homes, and servants who had been

discharged for neglecting their master’s business, were set to work,

and were allowed sixpence daily, the overplus of their earnings going

into Wesley’s pocket. Boys and girls mixed together, and were taught to

call each other brother and sister in the Lord. They had to greet each

other with a holy kiss, and to show the utmost affection and fondness,

in imitation of the primitive Christians. In the rooms adjoining the

spinning wheels were several beds, and when persons, in the Foundery

congregation, fell into fits, either pretended or real, they were

carried out and laid upon these beds, that Wesley might pray the evil

spirits out of them, and the good spirit into them, and thus convert

them.

In refutation of this tissue of unmingled falsehoods, a writer says,

in the same magazine, that he had visited the Foundery, and found it

“an old open house, like the tennis court at Edinburgh;” but there were

no bedchambers, and no spinning wheels; and, consequently, no runaway

girls nor discarded menials. And, so far from above thirty Methodists

having been sent to Bedlam, the writer had made inquiry in London, and

was unable to hear of one.[419]

The _Gentleman’s Magazine_, for the same year (page 26), has a

ridiculous letter, purporting to be from a Methodist to a clergyman,

in which the clergyman is charged with turning “the _Scripters_ upside

down,” and with calling the Methodists “_expownding infildelfels_.”

Appended to the letter are annotations, stating that, in a certain

barn, twenty or thirty Methodists rendezvous to hear a young

schoolmaster preach, pray, and sing Wesley’s hymns; and that, recently,

a mob of juveniles had chastised his ambition by throwing snowballs

at him; but the preaching pedagogue, instead of ceasing, had cheered

himself by singing hymns suitable to such adventurers; and a cobbler’s

wife had been so excited by his dissertations upon the pangs of the

new birth, that she imagined herself pregnant with devils, had been

delivered of two or three, but still felt others struggling within her.

The _Weekly Miscellany_ tells its readers that, in the assemblies of

the expounding houses, lately erected in the outskirts of London by the

Methodists, any one, who conceits himself inwardly moved, immediately

sets up for a Scripture expounder. In a long article, it pretends to

show that the Methodist preachers are like the German Anabaptists—1.

Because they act contrary to the oaths they have taken. 2. Because

of their invectives against the clergy. 3. Because they are against

all rule and authority. 4. Because they let laymen and also women

preach. 5. Because they preach in the streets. 6. Because they denounce

vengeance and damnation against sinners. 7. Because they contend for

absolute perfection in this life. 8. Because they pretend to be always

guided by the Holy Ghost. And, 9. Because they hold the doctrine of

community of goods.

The same abusive but vigorously written paper contains an attack

upon the poor Methodists, by Hooker, the editor, begun in the number

for March 14, and continued weekly until June 27, when this scolding

periodical came to a well deserved termination. The following are a few

selections:—

March 28.—Wesley pretends to cast out spirits from those whom he

declares possessed of them; but he is “a grand, empty, inconsistent

heretic; the ringleader, fomenter, and first cause of all the

divisions, separations, factions, and feuds that have happened in

Oxford, London, Bristol, and other places where he has been.”

April 25.—Wesley rebaptizes adults, on the ground that, _really_ they

have never been baptized before, the baptism of infants by sprinkling

being no true baptism in his esteem. When Whitefield returned from

Georgia, he preached at the Foundery, taking for his text, “O foolish

Galatians, who hath bewitched you?” For this he was immediately

excommunicated from the Foundery pulpit, lest the people should think

that Wesley was a conjuror. “Everybody allows that there are above

twenty, and some say forty, spinning wheels at the Foundery.” “Wesley

well knows how to breakfast with one of his devotees, dine with

another, and sup with a third, all of which retrenches the charges

of housekeeping at home. Those who sit in his gallery must subscribe

five shillings a quarter, and those who stand, a penny a week. He who

advances half-a-crown a quarter is admitted into the close society; and

he who doubles that amount becomes a member of the bands, where men and

women stay all night, but for what purpose is known only to God and to

themselves. The price for resolving cases of conscience is threepence

each. Wesley makes at least £50 by every edition of the hymns he

publishes; and thus, by his preaching, his bookselling, his workhouse,

his wheedling, and his sponging, it is generally believed that he gets

an income of £700 a year, and some say above £1000. This,” adds the

mendacious editor, “is priest-craft in perfection.”

May 9.—The writer speculates concerning what is likely to be the end

of the Methodist movement. 1. Some think if the Methodists are let

alone, they will, as a matter of course, fall to pieces. 2. Others

think that the irreconcilable differences between Wesley and Whitefield

will effect their ruin; for Whitefield has set up a conventicle of

boards not far from Wesley’s Foundery; and while one calls the other

schismatic, the other in requital calls him a heretic. 3. Some think

that their congregations, by neglecting their business and their work,

will be reduced to beggary, and this, of course, will ruin all. 4.

Lastly, others think their conduct will be such that the government

will find it necessary to suppress them.

June 13.—Proposes the erection of a Methodist edifice on Blackheath.

The foundation stone is to be the tombstone that prevented the

resurrection of Dr. Emes, the famous French prophet. The principal

entrance is to be adorned with statues of the most eminent

field-preachers. The hall is to be decorated with a piece, in which the

principal figure is to be Enthusiasm, sitting in an easy chair, and

just delivered of two beauteous babes, the one called Superstition,

and the other Infidelity. On her right hand must be a grisly old

gentleman with a cloven foot, holding the new born children in a

receiver, which the Pope has blessed, and gazing upon them with most

fatherly affection. The _pang room_ of the building is to be for the

accommodation of those seized with the pangs of the new birth. All

who run mad about election must be lodged in the _predestination

room_,—which, by the way, is likely to be well peopled, and therefore

must be large, as well as dark and gloomy, and must be adorned with

the evolutions, intricacies, and involutions of a rusty chain, held

at one end by the Methodistic founder, and at the other by the devil.

The _disputation room_ is, like a cockpit, to be round as a hoop, so

that the disputants may have the pleasure of disputing in a circle.

The _expounding room_ is to be adorned with a picture of the founder,

with a pair of scissors in one hand and a Bible in the other; a motto

over his reverend head, “Dividing the word of God;” and all round about

scraps of paper supposed to be texts newly clipped from the sacred

Scriptures. The _refectory_ is to have a painting to represent Wesley,

Whitefield, and C. Graves at supper, with Madam Bourignon presiding.

Near her must be an ass’s head boiled with sprouts and bacon; and,

at the other end of the table, a dish of owls roasted and larded.

Having already helped Whitefield to the jaw bone of the ass’s head,

and Wesley to the sweet tooth, she now gives Mr. Graves a spoonful

of the brains and a bit of tongue, which he receives with a grateful

bow. The foundation stone is to be laid on the first of April; and the

procession to the site are to sing, not the psalms of David, for they

are not half good enough, but a hymn of Wesley’s own composing.

Ridicule like this was even worse than being pelted with brickbats and

rotten eggs.

The two Wesleys and Whitefield were often roughly treated; and so

also was John Cennick, the Methodist Moravian. At Swindon, the mob

surrounded his congregation, rung a bell, blew a horn, and used a fire

engine in drenching him and them with water. Guns were fired over the

people’s heads, and rotten eggs were plentiful.[420] At Hampton, near

Gloucester, the rabble, chiefly soldiers, to annoy him, beat a drum

and let off squibs and crackers. For an hour and a half, hog’s wash

and fœtid water were poured upon him and his congregation, who all the

while stood perfectly still, in secret prayer, with their eyes and

hands lifted up to heaven.[421] At Stratton, a crowd of furious men

came, armed with weapons, clubs, and staves. Cudgels were used most

unmercifully. Some of his congregation had blood streaming down their

faces; others, chiefly women, were dragged away by the hair of their

head. Sylvester Keen spat in the face of Cennick’s sister, and beat

her about the head, as if he meant to kill her. The mob bellowed and

roared like maniacs; but Cennick kept on preaching and praying till he

was violently pulled down; when he and his friends set out for Lineham,

singing hymns, and followed by the crowd, who bawled—“You cheating dog,

you pickpocketing rogue, sell us a halfpenny ballad!”[422]

In the midst of such treatment, Methodism went on its way, and

prospered. It is a remarkable fact, that, during 1741, there were no

_stricken_ cases, like those which occurred in 1739, excepting two

at Bristol; but there were many signal seasons of refreshing from

the presence of the Lord. A man, who had been an atheist for twenty

years, came to the Foundery to make sport, but was so convinced of sin,

that he rested not until he found peace with God. At Bristol, on one

occasion, “some wept aloud, some clapped their hands, some shouted, and

the rest sang praise.” In Charles Square, London, while a violent storm

was raging, “their hearts danced for joy, praising ‘the glorious God

that maketh the thunder.’”

Two or three other important events, occurring in the year 1741, must

be noticed.

At midsummer, Wesley spent about three weeks in Oxford. Here he

inquired concerning the exercises requisite in order to become a

Bachelor in Divinity. The Oxford Methodists were scattered. Out of

twenty-five or thirty weekly communicants, only two were left; and

not one continued to attend the daily prayers of the Church. Here he

met with his old friend, Mr. Gambold, who told him he need be under

no concern respecting his sermon before the university, which he

had come to preach, for the authorities would be utterly regardless

of what he said. Here also he had a conversation with Richard Viney,

originally a London tailor, but now the Oxford Moravian minister,—a

man, as James Hutton tells us, whose person, delivery, and bearing

prevented his sermons being acceptable to many, and yet a man, who, in

this same year, was elected president of the society in Fetter Lane.

Ultimately he removed to Broad Oaks, Essex, as the superintendent of

the Moravian school; then, by casting lots, was condemned as an enemy

of the work of God; and then joined Wesley’s society at Birstal, which

he so perverted, that they “laughed at all fasting, and self denial,

and family prayer,” and treated even John Nelson slightingly.[423]

Wesley preached his sermon at St. Mary’s, on Saturday, July 25, to

one of the largest congregations he had seen in Oxford. His text

was: “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian;” and his two

divisions, (1) what is implied in being _almost_; and (2) what in being

_altogether_, a Christian. The sermon is one of the most faithful that

Wesley ever preached. It was printed by W. Strahan, 12mo, pages 21, and

was sold at twopence.

It is almost certain, however, that this was not the sermon that Wesley

_meant_ to preach. After his decease, a mutilated manuscript in English

was found among his papers, dated “July 24, 1741” (a month before he

preached at Oxford), and also a copy of the same in Latin. This was a

discourse on the text, “How is the faithful city become an harlot!”

There can be no question that the sermon was written with the design

of being delivered before the university, and that, for some reason,

the design for the present was abandoned. The sermon, if preached, must

inevitably have brought upon the preacher the ire of his hearers. While

admitting that the university had some who were faithful witnesses of

gospel truth, Wesley alleges that, comparatively speaking, they were

very few. To say nothing of deists, Arians, and Socinians, some of the

chief champions of the faith were far from being faultless. Tillotson

had published several sermons expressly to prove that, not _faith

alone_, but _good works_, are necessary in order to justification; and

the great Bishop Bull had taken the same position. Wesley then proceeds

to attack the members of the university in a way, perhaps, not the most

prudent. He asks if it is not a fact, that many of them “believe that a

good moral man, and a good Christian, mean the same?” He continues:—

“Scarcely is the form of godliness seen among us. Take any one

you meet; take a second, a third, a fourth, or the twentieth.

Not one of them has even the appearance of a saint, any more

than of an angel. Is there no needless visiting on the sabbath

day? no trifling, no impertinence of conversation? And, on

other days, are not the best of our conversing hours spent in

foolish talking and jesting, nay, perhaps, in wanton talking

too? Are there not many among us found to eat and drink with

the drunken? Are not even the hours assigned for study too

commonly employed in reading plays, novels, and idle tales? How

many voluntary blockheads there are among us, whose ignorance

is not owing to incapacity, but to mere laziness! How few, of

the vast number, who have it in their power, are truly learned

men! Who is there that can be said to understand Hebrew? Might

I not say, or even Greek? O what is so scarce as learning, save

religion!”[424]

The remainder of this remarkable sermon is in the same strain. Its

allegations, we are afraid, were true; but the sermon was far too

personal to be prudent, and Wesley exercised a wise discretion in

exchanging it for the other.

During the year 1741, while in Wales, Wesley was seized with a serious

illness. Hastening to Bristol, he was ordered, by Dr. Middleton, to go

to bed,—“a strange thing to me,” he writes, “who have not kept my bed

a day for five-and-thirty years.” A dangerous fever followed, and the

Bristol society held a fast and offered prayer. For eight days, he hung

between life and death; and, for three weeks, he was kept a prisoner,

when, contrary to the advice given him, he resumed his work, and began

to preach daily.

This was a long interval of enforced retirement for a man of Wesley’s

active temperament; but it was not unprofitably spent. As soon as

he could, he began to read, and during his convalescence devoured

half-a-dozen works. He read “the life of that truly good and great man,

Mr. Philip Henry;” and “the life of Mr. Matthew Henry,—a man not to

be despised, either as a scholar or a Christian, though not equal to

his father.” He read “Mr. Laval’s ‘History of the Reformed Churches in

France;’ full of the most amazing instances of the wickedness of men,

and of the goodness and power of God.” He likewise read “Turretin’s

‘History of the Church,’ a dry, heavy, barren treatise.” He gave a

second perusal to “Theologia Germanica,” and asks, “O, how was it that

I could ever so admire the affected obscurity of this unscriptural

writer?” He also “read again, with great surprise, part of the

‘Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius,’” and says, “so weak, credulous,

thoroughly injudicious a writer have I seldom found.”

Among the pamphlets published against Wesley, during 1741, was one

entitled: “The Perfectionists Examined; or, Inherent Perfection in

this Life, no Scripture Doctrine. By William Fleetwood, Gent.” 8vo, 99

pages. Fleetwood asserts that, of all the open and professed enemies of

the gospel, the Methodists are the worst; “they are more destructive

to religion than the papists or Mahometans;” “by their artful

insinuations, and outward sanctity, they have drawn numbers of _silly

women_ after them; they plainly show themselves to be some of those of

whom the apostle Peter prophesied, ‘Such as bring in damnable heresies,

denying the Lord that bought them’”; “and are more like _French_

enthusiasts, or rank papists, than true Christians.” The reader must

guess the rest.

Another opponent was Joseph Hart, who published a small work on “The

Unreasonableness of Religion, being Remarks and Animadversions on Mr.

John Wesley’s Sermon on Romans viii. 32.” Of all the enemies Wesley

had, Joseph Hart was one of the most persisting, for he scarcely ever

preached without endeavouring, more or less, to explode Wesley’s

doctrines, as tending to lead the people into dangerous delusions.[425]

Another pamphlet, octavo, 75 pages, published during the year 1741, was

entitled: “The Doctrine of Justification by Faith, stated according

to the Articles of the Church of England. By Arthur Bedford, M.A.,

Chaplain to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.” This was written

at the request of “a member of the religious societies in London,” who

told the author, that, “there had been great disputes among them lately

concerning this doctrine; some having advanced faith so high, as to

make no necessity of a good life; and others having advanced works so

high, as to make faith to consist only in a general belief, that the

New Testament is the word of God.” The pamphlet is an able production,

and is temperately written. To most of its sentiments, Wesley himself

would have raised no objection.

It only remains to notice Wesley’s own publications during 1741.[426]

Probably the first was his sermon, entitled, “Christian Perfection.” He

writes: “I think it was in the latter end of the year 1740, that I had

a conversation with Dr. Gibson, then bishop of London, at Whitehall. He

asked me what I meant by perfection. I told him without any disguise

or reserve. When I ceased speaking, he said, ‘Mr. Wesley, if this be

all you mean, publish it to all the world,’ I answered, ‘My lord, I

will’; and accordingly wrote and published the sermon on Christian

perfection.”[427]

The two divisions of this important sermon are: (1) in what sense

Christians _are not_, and (2) in what sense they _are_, _perfect_.

Wesley shows that no one is so perfect in this life, as to be free

from ignorance, from mistakes, from infirmities, and from temptations.

On the other hand, he proves that the perfect Christian is freed from

outward sin; from evil thoughts; and from evil tempers. The sermon is

elaborate, and has affixed to it Charles Wesley’s hymn on “The Promise

of Sanctification,” consisting of twenty-eight stanzas, and beginning

with the line,—“God of all power, and truth, and grace.”

Another of Wesley’s publications was, “A Collection of Psalms and

Hymns.” Hitherto, all the hymn-books, except the first, had borne, on

the title-page, the names of both the brothers; but this has the name

of Wesley only.

A third was, “A Dialogue between a Predestinarian and his Friend.”

12mo, eight pages. The object of this short tract is to show,

from the writings of Piscator, Calvin, Zanchius, and others, that

predestinarianism teaches, that God causes reprobates to sin, and

creates them on purpose to be damned.[428]

Besides the above, Wesley published four abridgments from other works.

1. “The Scripture Doctrine concerning Predestination, Election, and

Reprobation.” 12mo, 16 pages.

2. “Serious Considerations on Absolute Predestination.” 12mo, 24 pages.

The tract proves, that the doctrine of absolute predestination is

objectionable: (1) because it makes God the author of sin; (2) because,

it makes Him delight in the death of sinners; (3) because, it is highly

injurious to Christ our Mediator; (4) because, it makes the preaching

of the gospel a mere mock and illusion; etc.

3. “An Extract of the Life of Monsieur De Renty, a late Nobleman

of France.” 12mo, pages 67. De Renty usually rose at five o’clock;

communicated every day; and spent his time in devotion and doing good.

For several years he ate but one meal a day, and even that was scanty

and always of the poorest food. He often passed the night in a chair,

instead of in bed, or would lie down upon a bench in his clothes and

boots. He parted with several books, because richly bound; and carried

no silver about him, but for works of charity. When his mother took

from him a large portion of his property, he caused the _Te Deum_ to

be sung, beginning it himself. He was wont to say, “I carry about with

me ordinarily a plenitude of the presence of the Holy Trinity.” In

visiting the sick, he would kindle their fires, make their beds, and

set in order their little household stuff. His zeal for the salvation

of men was boundless. “I am ready,” said he, “to serve all men, not

excepting one, and to lay down my life for any one.” He established

numbers of societies at Caen and other places, for the purpose of

Christians assisting one another in working out both their own and

their neighbours’ salvation. He died at Paris, in the thirty-seventh

year of his age, on April 24, 1649. De Renty was, in Wesley’s

estimation, a model saint.

4. The fourth and last abridgment published, in 1741, was entitled,

“Reflections upon the Conduct of Human Life, with reference to Learning

and Knowledge.” 12mo, pages 36. This was extracted from a work written

by Dr. John Norris, an old friend of Wesley’s father, and one of the

principal contributors to the _Athenian Gazette_.[429]

The tract, throughout, is in a high degree rich and racy, and well

worth reading. It unquestionably contains the great principles which

guided Wesley in all his reading, writing, publishing of books, and

educational efforts in general. He considered all kinds of knowledge

useful; but, some being much more so than others, he devoted to them

time and attention accordingly; and made the whole subordinate to the

great purpose of human existence,—the glory of God, and the happiness

of man. We finish the present chapter with a few sentences culled from

the conclusion of this threepenny production:—

“I cannot, with any patience, reflect, that, out of so short a

time as human life, consisting, it may be, of fifty or sixty

years, nineteen or twenty shall be spent in hammering out a

little Latin and Greek, and in learning a company of poetical

fictions and fantastic stories. If one were to judge of the

life of man by the proportion of it spent at school, one would

think the antediluvian mark were not yet out. Besides, the

things taught in seminaries are often frivolous. How many

excellent and useful things might be learnt, while boys are

thumbing and murdering Hesiod and Homer? Of what signification

is such stuff as this, to the accomplishment of a reasonable

soul? What improvement can it be to my understanding, to

know the amours of _Pyramus_ and _Thisbe_, or of _Hero_ and

_Leander_? Let any man but consider human nature, and tell me

whether he thinks a boy is fit to be trusted with Ovid? And

yet, to books such as these our youth is dedicated, and in

these some of us employ our riper years; and, when we die,

this makes one part of our funeral eulogy; though, according

to the principles before laid down, we should have been as

pertinently and more innocently employed all the while, if we

had been picking straws in Bedlam. The measure of prosecuting

learning is its usefulness to good life; and, consequently, all

prosecution of it beyond or beside this end, is impertinent

and immoderate. For my own part, I am so thoroughly convinced

of the certainty of the principles here propounded, that I

look upon myself as under almost a necessity of conducting

my studies by them, and intend to study nothing at all but

what serves to the advancement of piety and good life. I have

spent about thirteen years in the most celebrated university

in the world, in pursuing both such learning as the academical

standard requires, and as my private genius inclined me to; but

I intend to spend my uncertain remainder of time in studying

only what makes for the moral improvement of my mind, and the

regulation of my life. More particularly, I shall apply myself

to read such books as are rather persuasive than instructive;

such as warm, kindle, and enlarge the affections, and awaken

the Divine sense in the soul; being convinced, by every day’s

experience, that I have more need of heat than light; though

were I for more light, still I think the love of God is the

best light of the soul of man.”

This is a long extract; but it is of some consequence, as furnishing

a key to the whole of Wesley’s literary pursuits—from this, the

commencement of his Methodist career, to the end of his protracted

life. His aim was not to shine in scholarship, but to live a life of

goodness.

1742.

[Sidenote: 1742 Age 39]

Wesley now began to enlarge the sphere of his operations. Hitherto,

his only stated congregations had been at Kingswood, at Bristol, and

at the Foundery, London. For these, the ministrations of himself and

his brother were sufficient; but, as the work increased, new preachers

became needful. Cennick and Humphreys had both left him; but others

supplied their places. John Nelson came to London, was converted, and,

at the end of the year 1740, returned to Birstal in Yorkshire, where,

impelled by the love of Christ, and almost without knowing it, he

began to preach to his unconverted neighbours. Thomas Maxfield also,

one of the first converts in Bristol, and who, for a year or two,

seems to have travelled with Charles Wesley, perhaps in the capacity

of servant, being left in London, to meet during Wesley’s absence the

Foundery society, pray with them, and give them suitable advice, was

insensibly led from praying to preaching,—his sermons being accompanied

with such power, that numbers were made penitent and were converted.

Wesley, hearing of this irregularity, hurried back to London, for the

purpose of stopping it. His mother, living in his house, adjoining the

Foundery, said: “John, take care what you do with respect to that young

man, for he is as surely called of God to preach, as you are. Examine

what have been the fruits of his preaching, and hear him yourself.” The

Countess of Huntingdon also wrote: “Maxfield is one of the greatest

instances of God’s peculiar favour that I know. He is my astonishment.

The first time I made him expound, I expected little from him; but,

before he had gone over one fifth part of his discourse, my attention

was riveted, and I was immovable. His power in prayer, also, is very

extraordinary.”[430]

Wesley was convinced, and the Rubicon was passed. “I am not clear,”

he writes under the date of April 21, 1741, “that brother Maxfield

should not expound at Greyhound Lane; nor can I as yet do without him.

Our clergymen” (Stonehouse, Hall, and others) “have miscarried full as

much as the laymen; and that the Moravians are other than laymen, I

know not.”[431] Wesley wrote again, about four years after employing

Maxfield:—

“I am bold to affirm, that these unlettered men have help

from God for the great work of saving souls from death. But,

indeed, in the one thing which they profess to know, they are

not ignorant men. I trust there is not one of them, who is

not able to go through such an examination, in substantial,

practical, experimental divinity, as few of our candidates for

holy orders, even in the university, are able to do. In answer

to the objection, that they are laymen, I reply, the scribes

of old, who were the ordinary preachers among the Jews, were

not priests; they were not better than laymen. Yea, many of

them were incapable of the priesthood, being not of the tribe

of Levi. Hence, probably, it was, that the Jews themselves

never urged it as an objection to our Lord’s preaching, that

He was no priest after the order of Aaron; nor, indeed, could

be; seeing He was of the tribe of Judah. Nor does it appear

that any objected this to the apostles. If we come to later

times, was Mr. Calvin ordained? Was he either priest or deacon?

And were not most of those whom it pleased God to employ in

promoting the Reformation abroad, laymen also? Could that great

work have been promoted at all, in many places, if laymen had

not preached? In all Protestant churches, ordination is not

held a necessary pre-requisite of preaching; for in Sweden, in

Germany, in Holland, and, I believe, in every Reformed church

in Europe, it is not only permitted, but required, that, before

any one is ordained, he shall publicly preach a year or more

_ad probandum facultatem_. And, for this practice, they believe

they have an express command of God; ‘let those first be

proved, then let them use the office of a deacon, being found

blameless’ (1 Tim. iii. 10). Besides, in how many churches, in

England, does the parish clerk read one of the lessons, and

in some the whole service of the Church, perhaps every Lord’s

day? And do not other laymen constantly do the same thing in

our very cathedrals? which, being under the inspection of

the bishops, should be patterns to all other churches. Nay,

is it not done in the universities themselves? Who ordained

that singing man at Christ Church; who is likewise utterly

unqualified for the work, murdering every lesson he reads; not

endeavouring to read it as the word of God, but rather as an

old song?”

Where is the priest, pretending that preaching belongs exclusively to

those in orders, who can answer such arguments as these? But Wesley’s

case was stronger than even this. He proceeds to relate that, after God

had used him and his brother clergymen, in several places, in turning

many from a course of sin to a course of holiness, the ministers of

these places, instead of receiving them with open arms, spoke of them

“as if the devil, not God, had sent them; and represented them as

fellows not fit to live,—papists, heretics, traitors, conspirators

against their king and country;” while the people, who had been

converted by their preaching, were “driven from the Lord’s table,

and were openly cursed in the name of God.” What could be done in a

case like this? “No clergyman would assist at all. The expedient that

remained was, to find some one among themselves, who was upright of

heart, and of sound judgment in the things of God; and to desire him

to meet the rest as often as he could, in order to confirm, as he was

able, in the ways of God, either by reading to them, or by prayer, or

by exhortation.”

This was done, and God blessed it. “In several places, by means of

these unlettered men, not only those who had already begun to run well

were hindered from drawing back to perdition; but other sinners also,

from time to time, were converted from the error of their ways.”

“This plain account,” continues Wesley, “of the whole proceeding, I

take to be the best defence of it. I know no scripture which forbids

making use of such help, in a case of such necessity. And I praise

God who has given even this help to those poor sheep, when ‘their own

shepherds pitied them not.’”

Brave-hearted Wesley! The step he took was momentous; but he was a

match for all opposers; and marvellous is the fact that the very

Church, which so branded him for such a departure from Church order,

is now actually copying his example. Notable, in future years, will be

the incident, which has almost passed without being noticed, that, in

the month of May, 1869, in his own private chapel, at London House,

Dr. Jackson, Bishop of London, formally authorised eight laymen “to

read prayers, and to read and _explain_ the Holy Scriptures,” and “to

conduct religious services for the poor in schools, and mission rooms,

and in the open air,” in the London diocese, with the understanding

and agreement that their labours will be rendered gratuitously.[432]

Thus are even bishops treading in the once hated footsteps of the great

Methodist.

In 1742, Wesley’s itinerating commenced in earnest. During the year,

he spent about twenty-four weeks in London and its vicinity; fourteen

in Bristol and the surrounding neighbourhood; one in Wales; and

thirteen in making two tours to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, taking, on his

way, Donnington Park, Birstal, Halifax, Dewsbury, Mirfield, Epworth,

Sheffield, and other towns and villages adjoining these.

Whitefield spent the first two months in Bristol, Gloucester, and the

west of England, and the three following in London. He then went to

Scotland, where he continued until the end of October, when he returned

to London for the remainder of the year.

Wesley and he were again friends. On April 23, Wesley writes: “I spent

an agreeable hour with Mr. Whitefield. I believe he is sincere in all

he says, concerning his earnest desire of joining hand in hand with all

that love the Lord Jesus Christ. But if, as some would persuade me, he

is not, the loss is all on his own side. I am just as I was. I go on my

way, whether he goes with me or stays behind.”

This interview took place at Easter, a season of the year which

Moorfields was wont to keep with uproarious hilarity. On this occasion,

the spacious rendezvous was filled, from end to end, with mountebanks,

players, drummers, trumpeters, merryandrews, and menageries. Whitefield

mounted his field pulpit, and from twenty to thirty thousand people

flocked around him. He became a target, at which were hurled dirt,

dead cats, stones, and rotten eggs. A fool belonging to one of the

puppetshows attempted to lash him with a whip; and a recruiting

sergeant, with his drum and other musical instruments, marched through

his congregation; but Whitefield, for three hours, continued praying,

preaching, and singing; and then retired to the Tabernacle, with his

pocket full of notes from persons who had been awakened by his sermon,

and which were read amid the praises and acclamations of assembled

crowds. A thousand such papers had been sent to him; and three hundred

and fifty of the inquiring penitents were received into church

fellowship in a single day.[433]

Wesley and Whitefield henceforth were divided, and yet united. Each

pursued his own separate course; but their hearts were one. Their

creeds were different; but not their aims. “Mr. Wesley,” writes

Whitefield in 1742, “I think is wrong in some things; but I believe he

will shine bright in glory. I have not given way to him, or to any,

whom I thought in error, no not for an hour; but I think it best not to

dispute, where there is no probability of convincing.”[434] And again,

in a letter to Wesley himself, on October 11, 1742, he says: “I had

your kind letter, dated October 5. In answer to the first part of it, I

say, ‘Let old things pass away, and all things become new.’ I can also

heartily say ‘Amen’ to the latter part of it—‘Let the king live for

ever and controversy die,’ It has died with me long ago. I thank you,

dear sir, for praying for me. I have been upon my knees praying for you

and yours, and that nothing but love, lowliness, and simplicity may be

among us!”[435]

To the day of his death, Whitefield breathed this loving spirit, and

rejoiced to find reciprocal affection in his friend Wesley. After

this, we shall refrain from adverting to his history more than we find

needful,—not for want of admiration of his character and labours, but

because it is impossible, in casual notices, to do him justice. He

was still hounded as much as ever by the dogs of persecution. Though

he was now in Scotland, where, if anywhere, his Calvinistic doctrines

were likely to gain him favour, yet even there he met with virulent

opposers. Among other extremely bitter pamphlets published against him,

in 1742, was one printed at Edinburgh, “by a true lover of the Church

and country,” who represented him as taking upon himself “the office

of a thirteenth apostle,” and concluded his courteous outpouring thus:

“Let all good people beware of this stroller, for he will yet find a

way to wheedle you out of your money. He is as artful a mountebank

as any I know.” Another pamphlet, entitled “The Declaration of the

True Presbyterians, within the Kingdom of Scotland, concerning Mr.

George Whitefield and the work at Cambuslang,” begun as follows:—“The

declaration, protestation, and testimony of the suffering remnant of

the anti-popish, anti-Lutheran, anti-prelatic, anti-Whitefieldian,

anti-Erastian, anti-sectarian, true Presbyterian church of Christ

in Scotland;” and then this windy performance, of thirty-two pages,

proceeds to say that Whitefield is “an abjured, prelatic hireling, of

as lax toleration principles as any that ever set up for the advancing

the kingdom of Satan. He is a wandering star, who steers his course

according to the compass of gain and advantage.” A third publication,

issued in 1742, was, “A Warning against countenancing the ministrations

of Mr. George Whitefield, wherein is shown that Mr. Whitefield is no

minister of Jesus Christ; that his call and coming to Scotland are

scandalous; that his practice is disorderly and fertile of disorder;

and that his whole doctrine is, and his success must be, diabolical.

By Adam Gib, minister of the gospel at Edinburgh.” In this sweet

effusion of seventy-five pages, poor Whitefield is solemnly pronounced

to be “one of those false Christs, of whom the church is forewarned,

Matt. xxiv. 24.” After reviewing some of Whitefield’s tenets, Mr.

Adam Gib deliciously remarks: “in raking through this dunghill of Mr.

Whitefield’s doctrine, we have raised as much _stink_ as will suffocate

all his followers, that shall venture to draw near without stopping

their noses.” “The complex scheme of his doctrine is diabolical; it

proceeds through diabolical influence, and is applied unto a diabolical

use, against the Mediator’s glory and the salvation of men.” This was

pretty strong for a young man, twenty-nine years of age, and who, four

years afterwards, became the leader of the party known by the name of

Anti-burghers. We are prepared, by such pious venom, for the fact,

that, in the year following, when the “associate presbytery met for

renewing the national covenant of Scotland, and the solemn league and

covenant of the three nations,” they drew up and printed “a confession

of the sins of the ministry,” in which they humble themselves before

God, for not “timeously” warning the people against Whitefield; for

being “too remiss in their endeavours to prevent the sad effects

of his ministrations;” for being “too little affected by the

latitudinarian principles and awful delusions which he had propagated;”

and for not “crying to God, that He would rebuke the devourer, and cast

the false prophet and the unclean spirit out of the land.”[436]

Despite all this, Whitefield cheerily pursued the path marked out by

Providence. Few men have been more entitled to the last beatitude in

our Saviour’s sermon, “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and

persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely,

for My sake.”

It was through the timely interposition of Howel Harris, that the

friendship between Wesley and Whitefield was resumed. Towards this

warm-hearted Welshman Wesley cherished the most sincere affection, and,

on the 6th of August, 1742, wrote to him as follows:—

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I have just read yours, dated at Trevecca,

October 19, 1741. And what is it that we contend about? Allow

such a perfection as you have there described, and all further

dispute I account vain jangling and mere strife of words. As to

the other point, we agree: (1) that no man can have any power

except it be given him from above; (2) that no man can merit

anything but hell, seeing all other merit is in the blood of

the Lamb. For those two fundamental points, both you and I

earnestly contend; what need, then, of this great gulf to be

fixed between us? Brother, is thy heart with mine, as my heart

is with thine? If it be, give me thy hand. I am indeed a poor,

foolish, sinful worm; and how long my Lord will use me, I know

not. I sometimes think the time is coming when He will lay me

aside. For surely never before did He send such a labourer into

such a harvest. But, so long as I am continued in the work, let

us rise up together against the evil-doers; let us not weaken,

but strengthen one another’s hands in God. My brother, my soul

is gone forth to meet thee; let us fall upon one another’s

neck. The good Lord blot out all that is past, and let there

henceforward be peace between me and thee!

“I am, my dear brother, ever yours,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[437]

Another of Wesley’s friends, at this period, was the Rev. Henry Piers,

vicar of Bexley, a devoted man, who, through the instrumentality of

Charles Wesley and Mr. Bray, had found peace with God on the 10th of

June, 1738. He at once began to preach, with great fidelity, the

scriptural method of salvation; and such was his success, that in

August, 1739, Whitefield assisted him in administering the sacrament,

in Bexley church, to nearly six hundred communicants. Keziah Wesley

was an inmate of his house; and Wesley himself was a welcome visitor.

He was one of the six persons who composed Wesley’s first Conference,

in 1744; and one of the three who publicly walked with Wesley from the

church of St. Mary’s, Oxford, when he preached, for the last time,

before the university.

In 1742, the vicar of Bexley was appointed to preach at Sevenoaks,

“before the right worshipful the Dean of the Arches, and the reverend

the clergy of the deanery of Shoreham, assembled in visitation.” The

text chosen by Mr. Piers was 1 Corinthians iv. 1, 2; and his object

was to show what doctrines ministers ought to preach, and also what

ought to be their tempers and behaviour. A letter to Wesley, written

May 24, three days after the sermon was delivered, states that, at

the beginning of his discourse, Piers was listened to with gravity;

but, while dwelling upon the doctrines of the Church, his reverend

auditors began to indulge in “shrewd looks and indignant smiles”; this

was followed with “laughter and loud whispers,” some of them saying,

“Piers is mad, crazy, and a fool.” When he came to the application of

his discourse, and asked whether the clergy preached such doctrines,

possessed such tempers, and led such lives, the ordinary would endure

it no longer, but beckoned to the apparitor to open his pew door, and

to the minister of Sevenoaks church to command Piers to stop. The

minister made a sign to the preacher, but without effect. The ordinary

then publicly desired Piers to pronounce the benediction, as the

congregation had already heard quite enough. Piers, however, still went

on; all the clergy, except one or two, walked out; and the preacher,

without further interruption, finished his discourse to an attentive

audience.[438]

The sermon, though written by Mr. Piers, was, previous to its being

preached, revised by Wesley;[439] and, in September ensuing, was

published, price sixpence,[440] with a list of the books sold by Wesley

at the Foundery in Moorfields, inserted. The sermon, in point of fact,

was a joint production of Wesley and his friend. Any one, comparing

it with other sermons published by Mr. Piers, will perceive an

unmistakable difference in style, and force of expression. The sermon

was, to a great extent, Wesley’s; and, in this instance, Wesley was

almost preaching by proxy.

Wesley longed for helpers; but, conscious that none would be useful

unless converted, he was careful in accepting offers. Of his friend

Piers he could have no doubt; but it was otherwise with respect to a

clergyman from America, who called upon him at the beginning of the

year, and “appeared full of good desires.” Wesley writes: “I cannot

suddenly answer in this matter; I must first know what spirit he is

of; for none can labour with us, unless he ‘count all things dung

and dross, that he may win Christ.’” With Wesley, neither learning,

nor talent, nor even orders, nor all combined, were sufficient to

induce him to accept a helper, unless there was also piety. Purity in

preachers is of more importance than either scholarship, or genius, or

both united. The former is an essential, without which no man ought to

preach; the latter are, at the best, but useful in helping a preacher

to preach successfully.

In a certain sense, Methodist societies were begun in 1739; but it was

not until 1742 that they were divided into classes. In January, 1739,

the London society, which was really Moravian, and not Methodist,

consisted of about sixty persons. Three months after that, Wesley

went to Bristol, where “a few persons agreed to meet weekly, with the

same intention as those in London”; and these were soon increased

by “several little societies, which were already meeting in divers

parts of the city,” amalgamating with them. About the same time

similar societies were formed at Kingswood and at Bath.[441] These

religious communities grew and multiplied. At the beginning of 1742,

the London society alone, after repeated siftings, numbered about

eleven hundred members.[442] Hitherto, Wesley and his brother had

been their only pastors; but, on February 15, 1742, an accident led to

a momentous alteration. Nearly three years before, Wesley had built

his meeting-house in Bristol; but, notwithstanding the subscriptions

and collections made at the time to defray the expense, a large debt

was still unpaid. On the day mentioned, some of the principal members

of the Bristol society met together to consult how their pecuniary

obligations should be discharged. One of them stood up and said, “Let

every member of the society give a penny a week, till the debt is

paid.” Another answered, “Many of them are poor, and cannot afford to

do it.” “Then,” said the former, “put eleven of the poorest with me;

and if they can give anything, well; I will call on them weekly; and if

they can give nothing, I will give for them as well as for myself. And

each of you call on eleven of your neighbours weekly; receive what they

give, and make up what is wanting.” “It was done,” writes Wesley; “and

in a while, some of these informed me, they found such and such an one

did not live as he ought. It struck me immediately, ‘This is the thing,

the very thing, we have wanted so long.’”

What was the result? Wesley called together these weekly collectors

of money to pay the debt on the Bristol chapel, and desired each,

in addition to collecting money, to make particular inquiry into

the behaviour of the members whom they visited. They did so. Many

disorderly walkers were detected; and thus the society was purged of

unworthy members.[443]

Within six weeks after this, on March 25, Wesley introduced the

same plan in London; where he had long found it difficult to become

acquainted with all the members personally. He requested “several

earnest and sensible men to meet him,” to whom he explained his

difficulty. They all agreed that, “to come to a sure, thorough

knowledge of each member, there could be no better way than to divide

the society into classes, like those at Bristol.” Wesley, at once,

appointed, as leaders, “those in whom he could most confide”; and

thus, after an existence of three years, the Methodist societies were

divided into classes, in 1742. “This,” says Wesley, “was the origin

of our classes, for which I can never sufficiently praise God; the

unspeakable usefulness of the institution having ever since been more

and more manifest.”[444]

At first, the leaders visited each member at his own house; but this

was soon found to be inconvenient. It required more time than the

leaders had to spare; and many members lived with masters, mistresses,

or relations, where it was almost impossible for such visits to be

made. Hence, before long, it was agreed, that each leader should meet

his apportioned members all together, once a week, at a time and place

most convenient for the whole. The leader began and ended each meeting

with singing and prayer, and spent about an hour in conversing with

those present, one by one.[445]

Thus class-meetings began. Wesley writes, “It can scarce be conceived

what advantages have been reaped by this little prudential regulation.

Many now experienced that Christian fellowship, of which they had not

so much as an idea before. They began to bear one another’s burdens,

and naturally to care for each other’s welfare. And as they had daily

a more intimate acquaintance, so they had a more endeared affection

for each other. Upon reflection, I could not but observe, this is the

very thing which was from the beginning of Christianity. As soon as any

Jews or heathen were so convinced of the truth, as to forsake sin, and

seek the gospel of salvation, the first preachers immediately joined

them together; took an account of their names; advised them to watch

over each other; and met these κατηχουμενοι, _catechumens_, as they

were then called, apart from the great congregation, that they might

instruct, rebuke, exhort, and pray with them, and for them, according

to their several necessities.”[446]

Such is Wesley’s own account of the origin of these weekly meetings.

Some of the old members were, at first, extremely averse to this new

arrangement, regarding it, not as a privilege, but rather a restraint.

They objected, that there were no such meetings when they joined the

society, and asked why such meetings should be instituted now. To this

Wesley answered, that he regarded class-meetings not essential, nor of

Divine institution, but merely prudential helps, which it was a pity

the society had not been favoured with from the beginning. “We are

always open to instruction,” says he to these complainants, “willing to

be wiser every day than we were before, and to change whatever we can

change for the better.”

Another objection was, “There is no scripture for classes.” Wesley

replied, that there was no scripture against them; and that, in point

of fact, there was much scripture for them, namely, texts which

enjoined the substance of the thing, leaving indifferent circumstances

to be determined by reason and experience.

The most plausible objection of all, however, was that which is often

urged at the present day. Wesley writes: “They spoke far more plausibly

who said, ‘The thing is well enough in itself; but the leaders have

neither gifts nor graces for such an employment.’ I answer—(1) Yet such

leaders as they are, it is plain God has blessed their labour. (2) If

any of these is remarkably wanting in gifts or grace, he is soon taken

notice of and removed. (3) If you know any such, tell it to me, not

to others, and I will endeavour to exchange him for a better. (4) It

may be hoped they will all be better than they are, both by experience

and observation, and by the advices given them by the minister every

Tuesday night, and the prayers (then in particular) offered up for

them.”[447]

The appointment of these leaders was of vast importance; but it was

not sufficient. Wesley continues: “As the society increased, I found

it required still greater care to separate the precious from the vile.

In order to this, I determined, at least once in every three months,

to talk with every member myself, and to inquire at their own mouths,

whether they grew in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus

Christ. At these seasons, I likewise particularly inquire whether

there be any misunderstanding or difference among them; that every

hindrance of peace and brotherly love may be taken out of the way.”[448]

Nothing need be added to this full account of the origin of the

class-meeting and the quarterly visitation of the Methodists. Wesley,

from the beginning, “recognised the scriptural distinction between

the church and the world. The men who possessed religion, and the men

who possessed it not, were not for a moment confounded. They might be

neighbours in locality, and friends in goodwill; but they were wide as

the poles asunder in sentiment. The quick and the dead may be placed

side by side; but no one can, for ever so short a period, mistake dead

flesh for living fibre. The church and the churchyard are close by;

but the worshippers in the one and the dwellers in the other are as

unlike as two worlds can make them. The circle within the circle, the

company of the converted, Wesley always distinguished from the mass of

mankind, and made special provision for their edification in all his

organisms.”[449]

After the formation of classes, the next event in point of importance,

in the year 1742, was Wesley’s visit to the north of England. A

combination of circumstances led to this.

John Nelson had been converted among the Methodists in London, and had

returned to Birstal, in Yorkshire, where Benjamin Ingham had already

founded a number of flourishing Moravian brotherhoods. Nelson began to

preach in the towns of Yorkshire; his labours were greatly blessed;

and many of the greatest profligates, blasphemers, drunkards, and

sabbath-breakers were entirely changed. John had often invited Wesley

to visit Yorkshire, and this was one of the reasons of his setting

out.[450]

Another was, that the Countess of Huntingdon had earnestly urged him

to proceed to Newcastle, and to employ his best efforts to improve

the moral and religious condition of the colliers on the Tyne. The

letter, containing this request, has not been published, but is in the

possession of the Rev. James Everett.

The countess was now resident at Donnington Park, the favourite home of

her noble husband, the Earl of Huntingdon, who, like herself, treated

ministers of Christ with every mark of polite attention. His sisters,

Lady Betty Hastings, and Lady Margaret, (who afterwards became the

wife of Ingham,) had been converted through the instrumentality of the

Methodists, and were now sincere and earnest Christians. Donnington

became a sort of rallying place for Christian ministers and Christian

people. Mr. Simpson and Mr. Graves, two converted clergymen, resided

in the neighbourhood. David Taylor, one of the servants of the Earl

of Huntingdon, had commenced preaching in the surrounding hamlets

and villages, and had begun a work which resulted in the forming of

the New Connexion of General Baptists. Miss Fanny Cooper, residing

with the countess, and dying of consumption, was greatly beloved by

Wesley, and wished to see him.[451] All these circumstances had to do

with his setting out for the midland counties, for Yorkshire, and for

Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

On the 9th of January, Lady Huntingdon wrote to him, saying, that Miss

Cooper was waiting for the consolation of Israel with an indescribable

firmness of faith and hope. She had read his Journal, which he had sent

for her perusal, and thought there was nothing in it which ought to be

left out; and that the manner in which he spoke of himself could not be

mended.[452]

In another letter, dated the 15th of March, she tells him that she is

sure he is a chosen vessel set for the defence of the gospel; that she

has given up the school at Markfield; that John Taylor is gone to be

an assistant to David Taylor, and to become a schoolmaster among the

people who had been converted; and that Mr. Graves had been blessed by

Wesley’s conversation, and greatly loved him.[453]

In a third letter, dated ten days later, Wesley is informed that John

Taylor is about to wait upon him, and to say that, unless David Taylor

(who had contracted an ill judged marriage, and fallen into the German

stillness) transferred his flock to Wesley and his brother Charles, the

countess would withdraw from him her support and countenance. She adds:

“I would not trust David with the guidance of my soul, no, not for

worlds. I find he is going to build himself a room, and to break with

the ministers, and become a lay preacher. He has more pride than I ever

saw in man. If he will commit his poor sheep into your hands, I will

assist in the room, school, etc.; but else will I do nothing. You are

much mistaken about the bishops not reading what you publish; I know

they do. Let me know in your next if you approve what I have done about

David.”[454]

Six weeks afterwards, Lady Huntingdon wrote again, saying that Miss

Cooper was at the point of death, and wished to see Wesley; and that

a horse had been ordered for John Taylor to go down with him.[455]

On receiving this, Wesley started almost immediately. He reached

Donnington Park on May 22; found Miss Cooper just alive; spent three

days with her and the countess, rejoicing in the grace of God; and then

set out for Birstal, still accompanied by John Taylor.[456] On arriving

at Birstal, Wesley went to an inn and sent for John Nelson; and John

came and carried him to his own humble home. Thus was the aristocratic

mansion exchanged for the mason’s cottage. Numbers had been converted

by John’s plain, blunt preaching; but, because he advised them to go to

church and sacrament, Ingham reproved him, and forbade the members of

his societies to hear him.

Ingham, to some extent at least, had fallen into the dangerous

delusions of the Moravians. He had also exposed himself to suspicions

of another kind. Dr. Doddridge, in a letter written a fortnight

before Wesley’s visit to Birstal, says: “I am much surprised with a

book, called the ‘Country Parson’s Advice to a Parishioner,’ which is

circulated, with extreme diligence, by Ingham, and other Methodists in

our part of the country. It artfully disguises, but most evidently

contains and recommends, almost all the doctrines of popery, and none

more than that fatal one of consigning conscience and fortune into the

hands of the priesthood.[457] I am not hasty to smell out a Jesuit,

and ever thought the Methodists had more honesty than wisdom; but this

certain fact surprises me, and I should be glad of a key to it. It may

be said, that they have generally appeared men of plain understandings,

void of that art and learning necessary for missionaries; but all

plots require tools, and have underparts, nor may these always be let

into the whole design. On the whole, while they are diffusing such

sentiments, Protestantism and our free constitution may have as little

reason to thank them as learning and reason have already.”[458]

Wesley preached, on May 26, at noon, on the top of Birstal hill; spent

the afternoon in conversing with Nelson’s converts; and, at eight

at night, preached on Dewsbury moor, two miles from Birstal, and,

in opposition to the Moravian tenets, “earnestly exhorted all who

believed, to wait upon God in His ways, and to let their light shine

before men.”

His labours were not without success. One of his hearers was Nathaniel

Harrison, a young man twenty-three years of age, who soon after was

made circuit steward, an office which he filled for more than twenty

years, and during a long life encountered no small amount of brutal

persecution for the sake of his great Master. His father turned him

out of doors; his eldest brother horsewhipped him; and the mob hurled

missiles at his head, and, on one occasion, were literally bespattered

with his blood. Nathaniel Harrison was a happy Christian, and attained

to the age of eighty years before he died; he was wont to say, “My soul

is always on the wing, I only wait the summons.”[459]

Another of Wesley’s hearers was John Murgatroyd, a weaver, who

became a member of the second class which was formed in Yorkshire;

was present when John Nelson was pressed for a soldier; and was one

of those brave-hearted Methodists who sang songs of praise at the

door of Nelson’s prison. He lived to have ten children, fifty-one

grandchildren, and twenty-one great grandchildren; and, after being

sixty-three years a Methodist, he peacefully breathed his last breath

at Wansford, in the east of Yorkshire, having, on the day before,

attended three public services, and sung the praises of his Saviour

with an animation which seemed to evince that he was exulting in the

hope of singing the new song in heaven.[460]

Leaving Birstal, Wesley and John Taylor came to Newcastle on Friday,

May 28.

This northern metropolis was then widely different to what it is at

present. Then the only streets, of any consequence, were Pilgrim

Street, Newgate Street, Westgate Street, the Side, and Sandgate. On

the south of Westgate Street there was nothing but open country.

Between Westgate Street and Newgate Street, the only buildings were the

vicarage and St. John’s church; whilst between Newgate Street and the

upper part of Pilgrim Street almost the only edifice was the house of

the Franciscan Friars. On the east of Pilgrim Street were open fields,

and on the north nothing but a few straggling houses. The town was

surrounded with a wall, having turrets, towers, and gates. On what is

now the centre of the town, stood the princely dwelling of Sir William

Blackett, environed with extensive pleasure grounds, adorned with trees

and statues. There were five churches: St. John’s, in which, besides

the Sunday services, there were public prayers three times every week;

St. Andrew’s, where, in addition to services on sabbaths, prayers were

read every Wednesday and Friday morning; Allhallows; St. Nicholas’s,

in which there was public service twice daily; and the church of

St. Thomas, at the entrance of the street on Newcastle bridge. The

Roman Catholics had a chapel at the Nuns; the Quakers a meeting-house

in Pilgrim Street, nearly opposite to the Pilgrim’s Inn; and the

Dissenters two or three chapels in different parts, and also a burial

ground near Ballast Hills.[461]

As already stated, Wesley reached Newcastle on Friday night, the 28th

of May. The public house, in which he lodged, belonged to a Mr. Gun,

and stood a few yards northward of the site on which he built his

Orphan House. This, at the time, was open country, and about a mile

from busy, dirty, degraded Sandgate on the river side. On walking out,

after tea, he was surprised and shocked at the abounding wickedness.

Drunkenness and swearing seemed general, and even the mouths of little

children were full of curses. How he spent the Saturday we are not

informed; but, on Sunday morning, at seven,[462] he and John Taylor

took their stand, near the pump, in Sandgate, “the poorest and most

contemptible part of the town,” and began to sing the old hundredth

psalm and tune. Three or four people came about them, “to see what

was the matter;” these soon increased in number, and, before Wesley

finished preaching, his congregation consisted of from twelve to

fifteen hundred persons. When the service was ended, the people still

“stood gaping, with the most profound astonishment,” upon which Wesley

said: “If you desire to know who I am, my name is John Wesley. At five

in the evening, with God’s help, I design to preach here again.”

Such was the commencement of Methodism in the north of England,—the

preacher the renowned John Wesley, doubtless dressed in full

canonicals, with plain John Taylor standing at his side,—the time seven

o’clock on a Sunday morning, in the beautiful month of May,—the place

Sandgate, crowded with keelmen and sailors, using, says Christopher

Hopper, “the language of hell, as though they had received a liberal

education in the regions of woe,”[463]—the song of praise the old

hundredth psalm, which, like the grand old ocean, is as fresh and as

full of music now as it was when it first was written,—and the text,

the very pith of gospel truth, “He was wounded for our transgressions,

He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was

upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.”