and his companion attended the morning and afternoon services in some
of the Newcastle churches; but at five o’clock, amid balmy breezes,
he again took his stand on the hill, by the side of the Keelman’s
Hospital. On one hand was the town with the fine old wall, fortified
with towers; on the other hand were fields, stretching away to Ouseburn
and Byker; behind him was the open country, dotted here and there with
fragrant gardens, Jesus’s Hospital, the workhouse, the charity school
of Allhallows church, and Pandon Hall, formerly the residence of the
Northumbrian kings; while just before him were the swarming hordes of
Sandgate, the crowded quay, and the river Tyne. The hill was covered
from its summit to its base. In Moorfields and on Kennington Common,
he had preached to congregations numbering from ten to twenty thousand
people; but his congregation here was the largest he had ever seen.
“After preaching,” he writes, “the poor people were ready to tread me
under foot, out of pure love and kindness.” With difficulty, he reached
his inn, where he found several of his hearers waiting his arrival.
They told him they were members of a religious society, which had
existed for many years, had a “fine library,” and whose “steward read
a sermon every Sunday.” They urged him to remain with them, at least,
a few days longer; but, having promised to be at Birstal on Tuesday
night, he was unable to consent. Accordingly, rising even before the
sun on Monday morning, he set out at three o’clock, rode about eighty
miles, and lodged at night at Boroughbridge. The next day, he came to
Birstal, holding a prayer-meeting at Knaresborough on the way; and at
night, surrounded by a vast multitude, conducted a religious service
of two hours and a half duration. In Birstal and its neighbourhood, he
spent the next three days, preaching at Mrs. Holmes’s, near Halifax, at
Dewsbury Moor, at Mirfield, and at Adwalton.
He then set out for Epworth, and went to an inn, where an old servant
of his father’s and two or three poor women found him. The next day
being Sunday, he offered to assist Mr. Romley, the curate, either by
preaching or reading prayers; but his offer was declined, and a sermon
was offensively preached by Romley against enthusiasts. After the
service, John Taylor gave notice, as the people were coming out, that
Mr. Wesley, not being permitted to preach in the church, designed
to preach in the churchyard, at six o’clock. Accordingly, at that
hour, he stood on his father’s tombstone, and preached to the largest
congregation Epworth had ever witnessed. The scene was unique and
inspiriting,—a living son preaching on a dead father’s grave, because
the parish priest refused to allow him to officiate in a dead father’s
church. “I am well assured,” writes Wesley, “that I did far more good
to my Lincolnshire parishioners by preaching three days on my father’s
tomb, than I did by preaching three years in his pulpit.”[464]
Contrary to his intention, he remained eight days at Epworth, and every
night used his father’s tombstone as his rostrum. He also preached at
Burnham, Ouston, Belton, Overthorp, and Haxey. Here religious societies
had been formed; but two men, John Harrison and Richard Ridley, had
poisoned them with the Moravian heresy, telling them that “all the
ordinances are man’s inventions, and that if they went to church or
sacrament, they would be damned.” One of them, at Belton, who once ran
well, now said “he saw the devil in every corner of the church, and in
the face of every one who went to it.” Still, a great work had been
wrought among them, and some of them had suffered for it. “Their angry
neighbours,” says Wesley, “had carried a whole wagon-load of these new
heretics before a magistrate. But when he asked what they had done,
there was a deep silence, for that was a point their conductors had
forgotten. At length, one said ‘they pretended to be better than other
people, and prayed from morning to night;’ and another said, ‘they have
_convarted_ my wife. Till she went among them she had such a tongue!
and now she is as quiet as a lamb!’ ‘Take them back, take them back,’
replied the justice, ‘and let them convert all the scolds in the town.’”
As already intimated, Wesley’s preaching on his father’s grave was
attended with amazing power. On one occasion, the people on every side
wept aloud; and on another, several dropped down as dead; Wesley’s
voice was drowned by the cries of penitents; and many there and then,
in the old churchyard, found peace with God, and broke out into loud
thanksgiving. A gentleman, who had not been at public worship of any
kind for upwards of thirty years, stood motionless as a statue. “Sir,”
asked Wesley, “are you a sinner?” “Sinner enough!” said he, and still
stood staring upwards, till his wife and servant, who were both in
tears, put him into his chaise, and took him home.
John Whitelamb, Wesley’s brother-in-law, clergyman at Wroote, heard
him preach at Epworth, and wrote him, saying, “Your presence creates
an awe, as if you were an inhabitant of another world. I cannot think
as you do; but I retain the highest veneration and affection for you.
The sight of you moves me strangely. My heart overflows with gratitude.
I cannot refrain from tears, when I reflect, this is the man, who at
Oxford was more than a father to me; this is he, whom I have there
heard expound, or dispute publicly, or preach at St. Mary’s, with such
applause. I am quite forgotten. None of the family ever honour me with
a line! Have I been ungrateful? I have been passionate, fickle, a fool;
but I hope I shall never be ungrateful.”[465]
On receiving this, Wesley hastened to visit his old friend; preached,
on his way, at Haxey; then again in Whitelamb’s church; and again, at
night, on his father’s tomb, to an immense multitude, the last service
lasting for about three hours. He writes, “We scarce knew how to part.
Oh, let none think his labour of love is lost because the fruit does
not immediately appear! Near forty years did my father labour here; but
he saw little fruit of all his labour. I took some pains among this
people too; and my strength also seemed spent in vain: but now the
fruit appeared. There were scarce any in the town on whom either my
father or I had taken any pains formerly, but the seed, sown so long
since, now sprung up, bringing forth repentance and remission of sins.”
Thus, despite Mr. Romley’s railing at the enthusiast, his churchyard
became the scene of some of Wesley’s greatest triumphs. John Whitelamb,
writing to Charles Wesley, says: “I had the honour and happiness of
seeing and conversing with my brother John. He behaved to me truly like
himself. I found in him, what I have always experienced heretofore, the
gentleman, the friend, the brother, and the Christian.”[466]
Wesley’s visit to Epworth was a memorable one; and it is not surprising
that artists have vied with each other in portraying it. Thousands of
Methodist homes have pictures of Wesley preaching on his father’s tomb;
and the scene itself, throughout all time, will be regarded as one of
the most striking incidents in Wesley’s history. Here, at Epworth,
Wesley’s venerable father had toiled, with exemplary diligence and
fidelity, for the long space of nine-and-thirty years; a man who, for
strength of mind and godly earnestness, had few superiors; and yet, a
man whose life was a perpetual worry of poverty and persecution. Here,
Wesley’s almost unequalled mother, during the whole of that period,
had been the sharer of her husband’s joys and sorrows. Here had been
nurtured a family, who, for genius, talent, and romantic history, must
always stand high among the remarkable households of mankind. The
family was now scattered. Seven years had elapsed since the father’s
death. Samuel, the eldest, and Keziah, the youngest of the children,
(that survived the days of infancy,) had since expired. And what about
the widowed mother? We shall soon see.
Wesley left Epworth on the 14th of June; and, after preaching for four
days in Sheffield and the neighbourhood, he hastened to the Countess of
Huntingdon’s, and thence, by way of Coventry, Evesham, and Stroud, to
the city of Bristol, which he reached on June 28.
Within a month after this, his venerable mother exchanged earth for
heaven. Hearing of her illness, he hastened from Bristol to London
to see her. Charles was absent, but her five daughters were with
her. Wesley writes: “I found my mother on the borders of eternity;
but she had no doubt or fear; nor any desire but to depart and to be
with Christ.” She died of gout,[467] on Friday, July 23. Early in the
morning, on awaking out of sleep, she cried, “My dear Saviour! Art
Thou come to help me at my last extremity?” In the afternoon, as soon
as the intercession meeting at the Foundery was ended, Wesley went to
her, and found her pulse almost gone, and her fingers dead. Her look
was calm, and her eyes were fixed upward. Wesley used the commendatory
prayer, and, with his sisters, sang a requiem to her parting soul. She
was perfectly sensible, but gasping for life. Within an hour, she died
without a struggle, groan, or sigh; and Wesley and his sisters stood
round her bed, and fulfilled her last request, uttered a little before
she lost her speech: “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm
of praise to God.” The remains of this sainted lady were interred on
Sunday, August 1, in Bunhill-fields. An immense multitude was present;
Wesley performed the service; and then preached from Revelation xx. 12,
13. “It was,” says he, “one of the most solemn assemblies I ever saw,
or expect to see on this side eternity.”[468]
Wesley spent the next three months in London and in Bristol, and in
journeying to and fro; his brother Charles labouring, at the same time,
at Newcastle and in the north.
On the 18th of August, he met his brother and Charles Caspar Graves in
Bristol. Mr. Graves had been a student of St. Mary Magdalen College,
Oxford, and was one of the Oxford Methodists. Two years after the
Wesleys left for Georgia, the friends of Graves believed him to be
“stark mad,” and removed him from his college. He found peace with God
in 1738, and became an exceedingly zealous out-door preacher; but,
in 1740, he was persuaded, and almost coerced, to sign a paper to
the effect, that he now renounced the principles and practice of the
Methodists; that he was heartily sorry he had occasioned scandal by
attending their meetings; and that, in future, he should avoid doing so.
For nearly two years, he acted accordingly; but, on meeting the Wesleys
in Bristol at the time above mentioned, he wrote to the fellows of St.
Mary Magdalen College, revoking the document he had been led to sign,
and declaring that he now looked upon himself “to be under no kind of
obligation to observe anything contained in that scandalous paper, so
unchristianly imposed upon him.”
Immediately after this, Charles Wesley and Mr. Graves set off for the
north of England. Having spent a few days with John Nelson and his
Methodist friends at Birstal, they proceeded to Newcastle. Mr. Graves
returned to Birstal in about a fortnight; but Charles Wesley continued
among the colliers of the Tyne, formed the Newcastle society, and did
not return to London until his brother was ready to take his place in
the month of November following.[469]
On his arrival, November 13, Wesley met, what he calls, “the wild,
staring, loving society;” he took them with him to the sacrament at
Allhallows church; he reproved some among them who walked disorderly;
and ascertained that few were thoroughly convinced of sin, and scarcely
any could witness that their sins were pardoned. Great power, however,
began to attend his preaching. On one occasion, six or seven dropped
down as dead; and, at another time, several of the genteel people were
constrained to roar aloud for the disquietness of their hearts.
He extended his labours to the surrounding villages. At Whickham he
“spoke strong, rough words;” but none of the people seemed to regard
his sayings. At Tanfield Leigh, he preached “to a dead, senseless,
unaffected congregation.” At Horsley, notwithstanding a bitter frost,
he preached in the open air, the wind driving upon the congregation,
and scattering straw and thatch among them in all directions.
In Newcastle, though the season was winter, he preached out of doors
as often as he could; and, at other times, in a room, in a narrow
lane, now Lisle Street, nearly opposite the site of Wesley’s Orphan
House. This “room,” or “tabernacle” (as it was also called) had been
built “by a fanatic of the name of Macdonald,” who had now removed to
Manchester.[470] It was the first Methodist meeting-house in the north
of England.
The work accomplished was marvellous. It was only eight months since
Wesley entered Newcastle as a perfect stranger; and, yet, there were
now above eight hundred persons joined together in his society,
besides many others in the surrounding towns and villages who had been
benefited by his ministry. He writes: “I never saw a work of God, in
any other place, so evenly and gradually carried on. It continually
rose step by step. Not so much seemed to be done at any one time, as
had frequently been done at Bristol or London; but something at every
time.”[471]
Among these northern converts, there were not a few, who subsequently
rendered important service to the cause of Christ; brave spirits who
deserve a niche in Methodistic history, but whom, for the present, we
are reluctantly obliged to pass in silence.
Such a society being formed, a place for meeting became imperative.
Several sites were offered; one outside the gate of Pilgrim Street
was bought; and, on December 20, the foundation stone was laid; after
which Wesley preached, but, three or four times during the sermon,
was obliged to stop, that the people might engage in prayer and give
thanks to God. The building was calculated to cost £700; Wesley had
just twenty-six shillings towards this expenditure;[472] many thought
it would never be completed; but Wesley writes: “I was of another mind;
nothing doubting but, as it was begun for God’s sake, He would provide
what was needful for the finishing it.”
This “clumsy, ponderous pile,” as John Hampson calls it, was then the
largest Methodist meeting-house in England. “Clumsy and ponderous”
we grant it was, but still a “pile” hallowed by associations far too
sacred to be easily forgotten. Here one of the first Sunday-schools
in the kingdom was established, and had not fewer than a thousand
children in attendance. Here a Bible society existed before the British
and Foreign Bible Society was formed. Here was one of the best choirs
in England; and here, among the singers, were the sons of Mr. Scott,
afterwards the celebrated Lords Eldon and Stowell.[473] Here was the
resting place of John Wesley’s first itinerants; and here colliers and
keelmen, from all parts of the surrounding country, would assemble,
and, after the evening service, would throw themselves upon the
benches, and sleep the few remaining hours till Wesley preached at five
next morning.[474] The “clumsy, ponderous” old Orphan House was the
head quarters of Methodism in the north of England.
Within the last four years Wesley had built “the room” at Bristol, and
the school at Kingswood; and he had bought, and repaired, and almost
rebuilt “that vast, uncouth heap of ruins,” called “the Foundery.” He
began in Bristol without funds, but money had been furnished as he
needed it; and now, with £1 6_s._, he begun to erect a building to cost
£700. Three months after laying the foundation stone, in the inclement
month of March, while the building was yet without roof, doors, or
windows, Wesley opened it by preaching from the narrative of the rich
man and Lazarus; and, afterwards, amid bricks, mortar, and a builder’s
usual _débris_, held a watchnight, the light of a full moon probably
being the only illumination the damp, cold, unfinished building had,
and equinoctial gales and winter winds wafting the watchnight hymns of
these happy Methodists to a higher and holier world than this. Truly
the cradle in which Methodism was rocked by the hand of Providence was
often rough.
Having begun the building, it was high time for Wesley to begin to find
means to pay for it. Accordingly, he arranged to leave his Newcastle
friends on the last day of 1742. He preached his farewell sermon—a
sermon of two hours’ continuance—in the open air; men, women, and
children hung upon him, and were unwilling to part with him; and, even
after he had mounted his horse and started on his journey, “a muckle
woman” kept her hold of him, and ran by his horse’s side, through thick
and thin, till the town was fairly left behind him.
We thus find Methodism firmly rooted in Bristol, Kingswood, London, and
Newcastle; and, besides this, Wesley writes: “In this year many other
societies were formed in Somersetshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire,
Leicestershire, Warwickshire, and Nottinghamshire, as well as the
southern parts of Yorkshire.”[475]
Not only were churches on earth multiplied, but additions were made
to the church in heaven. Mr. Dolman, who rarely failed to be at the
Foundery by five o’clock, died full of love, and peace, and joy in
believing. James Angel gave up his spirit to God in the full triumph of
faith. Mary Whittle cried out: “It is done, it is done! Christ lives
in me;” and died in a moment. Another female member of the London
society expired with the words, “I fear not death; it hath no sting
for me. I shall live for evermore.” Sarah Whiskin cried out, “My Lord
and my God!” fetched a double sigh, and died. John Woolley, a child of
thirteen years, threw his arms wide open, and said, “Come, come, Lord
Jesus! I am Thine;” and soon after breathed his last. And Lucy Godshall
died basking in the light of her Saviour’s countenance. All these
belonged to the London society.
The purest gold is sometimes mixed with dross; and so it was with
Methodism. Some of the Foundery society fanatically talked of feeling
the blood of Christ running upon their arms, their breasts, their
hearts, and down their throats. Wesley met them, and denounced their
folly as the empty dreams of heated imaginations. Good John Brown, of
Tanfield Leigh, two or three days after his conversion, came riding
through Newcastle, hallooing and shouting, and driving all the people
before him; telling them that God had revealed to him that he should
be a king, and should tread all his enemies beneath his feet. Wesley
arrested him, and sent him home immediately, advising him to cry day
and night to God, lest the devil should gain an advantage over him.
These were rare exceptions, and were promptly checked.
Two, who called themselves _prophets_, came to Wesley in London,
stating, that they were sent from God to say, he would shortly be
_born’d_ again; and that, unless he turned them out, they would stay
in the house till it was done. He gravely answered, that he would not
turn them out, and took them down into the room of the society. Here he
left them. “It was tolerably cold,” says he, “and they had neither meat
nor drink. However, there they sat from morning to evening, when they
quietly went away, and I have heard nothing from them since.”
In 1742, persecution by means of the public press had, to some extent,
abated;[476] but mobs and vulgar-minded men were as violent as ever. At
Long Lane, in London, they threw large stones upon the house in which
Wesley was preaching, which, with the tiles, fell among the people,
endangering their lives. At Chelsea, burning substances were cast into
the room till it was filled with smoke. At Pensford, near Bristol, a
hired rabble brought a bull, which they had been baiting, and tried to
drive it among the people; and then, forcing their way to the little
table on which Wesley stood, they “tore it bit from bit,” with fiendish
vengeance. A similar outrage was perpetrated in the neighbourhood of
Whitechapel. The mob did their utmost to force a herd of cattle among
the congregation; and then threw showers of stones, one of which struck
Wesley between the eyes; but, wiping away the blood, he continued the
service as if nought had happened. At Cardiff, while Charles Wesley was
preaching, women were kicked, and their clothes set on fire by rockets,
thrown into the room among them; the desk in which the preacher stood
was dashed to pieces, and the Bible wrested from his hands, one of the
brutal persecutors solemnly declaring that, if he went straight to hell
for doing it, he would persecute the Methodists to his dying day.[477]
In the midst of such violence, Wesley calmly pursued the path of duty,
praying, preaching, visiting the sick and dying, forming societies,
building chapels, reading, writing, and publishing.
During the year, he read Dr. Pitcairn’s works,—“dry, sour, and
controversial;” Jacob Behmen’s Exposition of Genesis, the “most sublime
nonsense, inimitable bombast, fustian not to be paralleled, all of a
piece with his inspired interpretation of the word _tetragrammaton_;
Madame Guyon’s “Short Method of Prayer,” and “Les Torrents
Spirituelles,” from which “poor quietist” the Moravians had taken many
of their unscriptural expressions; “The Life of Ignatius Loyola,” “a
surprising book,” concerning “one of the greatest men that ever engaged
in supporting so bad a cause;” and “The Life of Gregory Lopez,” “a good
and wise, though much mistaken man.”
Wesley’s publications, during 1742, were the following:—
1. “A Companion for the Altar. Extracted from Thomas à Kempis.” 12mo,
24 pages.
2. “An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from August 12,
1738, to November 1, 1739.” 12mo, 98 pages.
3. “A Treatise on Christian Prudence. Extracted from Mr. Norris.”[478]
12mo, 35 pages.
4. “A Collection of Hymns, translated from the German;” 36 pages. These
were twenty-four in number, and had previously been published in his
“Hymns and Sacred Poems.”
5. “A Narrative of the Work of God, at and near Northampton in New
England. Extracted from Mr. Edwards’s Letter to Dr. Coleman.” 12mo, 48
pages.
6. “A Collection of Tunes set to Music, as they are commonly sung at
the Foundery.” Duodecimo, of thirty-six pages, containing forty-three
tunes for one voice only, some set in the treble and some in the tenor
clef.[479]
Great revivals of religion have generally been attended by copious
productions of hymns of praise; and thus it was at the rise of
Methodism. This was emphatically the great era of hymn writing in the
English church. Watts, Doddridge, and Erskine poured forth the joys
of their converted hearts, and furnished lyric lines, which have been
used, in sacred worship, by millions. But of all the hymnists then
living, the Wesleys were the most remarkable. A competent authority
has estimated that, during Wesley’s lifetime there were published not
fewer than six thousand six hundred hymns from the pen of Charles
Wesley only.[480] Having furnished their societies with so many hymns,
no wonder that the Wesleys collected and furnished tunes. Their
religion made them happy; and happiness always finds vent in song.
The old Methodists were remarkable for their singing. Why? Because
their hearts throbbed with the “joy unspeakable and full of glory.”
Make a man happy, and he is sure to sing. Thus it was with Wesley and
the thousands who looked to him as their great leader. Naturally, the
Wesleys were full of poetry; and religion, so far from extinguishing
the fire, fanned it into a holy flame. Their taste in music may be
gathered from Wesley’s directions to his preachers. “Suit the tune
to the words. Avoid complex tunes, which it is scarcely possible to
sing with devotion. Repeating the same words so often, especially
while another repeats different words, shocks all common sense,
necessarily brings in dead formality, and has no more religion in it
than a Lancashire hornpipe. Sing no anthems. Do not suffer the people
to sing too slow. In every society, let them learn to sing; and let
them always learn our own tunes first. Let the women constantly sing
their parts alone. Let no man sing with them, unless he understands
the notes, and sings the bass, as it is pricked down in the book.
Introduce no new tunes till they are perfect in the old. Let no organ
be placed anywhere, till proposed in the Conference. Recommend our
tune-book everywhere; and if you cannot sing yourself, choose a person
or two in each place to pitch the tune for you. Exhort every one in the
congregation to sing, not one in ten only.”[481]
Well would it be if Methodist ministers were to enforce such rules as
these, instead of leaving the most beautiful part of public worship,
as is too often done, to the irreligious whims and criminal caprice
of organists and choirs. No one can doubt the fact that, within the
last forty years, the singing in Methodist chapels has deteriorated
to an extent which ought to be alarming. The tunes now too generally
sung are intolerably insipid; and, as to any sympathy between them
and the inspiriting hymns of Charles Wesley, it would be preposterous
to say that a particle of such sympathy exists. Such singing may suit
the _classic_ taste of fashionable congregations assembled amid the
chilling influence of gothic decorations; but it bears no resemblance
whatever to the general outbursts of heartfelt praise, adoration, and
thanksgiving, which characterised the old Methodists. It is high time
for Methodist preachers to keep John Wesley’s rules respecting singing;
to substitute John Wesley’s tunes and others like them for the soulless
sounds now called classic music; and to feel that, before God and man,
they are as much responsible for the singing in sanctuaries as they are
for that part of public worship which consists of prayer.
7. Wesley’s last publication, in 1742, was “The Principles of a
Methodist,” 12mo, 32 pages. This was written in reply to a pamphlet of
the Rev. Josiah Tucker, who had tried to show that the Methodists, in
the first instance, had been the disciples of William Law the mystic,
and then of the Moravians; and, that now their principles were a
perfect “medley of Calvinism, Arminianism, Quakerism, Quietism, and
Montanism, all thrown together.”[482]
In reply to the charge of believing inconsistencies, Wesley remarks:—1.
That Mr. Law’s system of truth had never been the creed of the
Methodists. He himself was eight years at Oxford before he read any
of Mr. Law’s writings; and when he did read them, so far from making
them his creed, he had objections to almost every page. 2. That the
Germans, with whom he travelled to Georgia, infused into him no ideas
about justification, or anything else; for he came back with the same
notions he had when he went; but Peter Bohler’s affirmation that
true faith in Christ is always attended with “dominion over sin, and
constant peace from a sense of forgiveness,” and that “justification
was an instantaneous work,”—led him to make anxious inquiry, which
resulted in his conviction, that Bohler’s doctrine was true, and that,
notwithstanding all his past good performances, he himself was still
without true faith in Christ. 3. He repudiates the inconsistent creed
which Mr. Tucker puts into his mouth, and concludes as follows:—“I may
say many things which have been said before, and perhaps by Calvin
or Arminius, by Montanus or Barclay, or the Archbishop of Cambray;
but it cannot thence be inferred that I hold a ‘medley of all their
principles,—Calvinism, Arminianism, Montanism, Quakerism, Quietism,
all thrown together,’ There might as well have been added Judaism,
Mahommedanism, Paganism. It would have made the period rounder, and
been full as easily proved, I mean asserted; for no other proof is yet
produced.”
This was Wesley’s first battle. In his “address to the reader,” he
remarks:—
“I have often wrote on controverted points before; but not with
an eye to any particular person. So that this is the first time
I have appeared in controversy, properly so called. Indeed I
have not wanted occasion to do it before; particularly when,
after many stabs in the dark, I was publicly attacked, not by
an open enemy, but by my own familiar friend.” [Whitefield.]
“But I could not answer him. I could only cover my face and
say, Και συ εις εκεινων; και συ, τεκνον; ‘Art thou
also among them? art thou, my son?’
“I now tread an untried path, ‘with fear and trembling’; fear,
not of my adversary, but of myself. I fear my own spirit, lest
I ‘fall where many mightier have been slain.’ Every disputant
seems to think (as every soldier) that he may hit his opponent
as much as he can; nay, that he ought to do his worst to him,
or he cannot make the best of his own cause.”
Wesley then denounces this mode of conducting controversy, and declares
that he wishes to treat Mr. Tucker and all opponents as he would treat
his own brother. In such a spirit, Wesley began his long continued,
perhaps unparalleled, controversial life.[483]
1743.
[Sidenote: 1743 Age 40]
During the year 1743, Wesley spent about fourteen weeks in London,
ten in Bristol and its vicinity, thirteen in Newcastle and the
neighbourhood, three in Cornwall, and twelve in travelling chiefly to
the north of England. He was now a thorough itinerant; and itinerating
in England then was widely different from what it is at present.
Turnpike roads did not exist; and no stage coach went farther north
than the town of York.[484] Wesley travelled on horseback, reading as
he rode, and usually having one of his preachers with him. In a life
like this, there was much of both hardship and incident. For instance,
on New Year’s day, between Doncaster and Epworth, he met a man so
drunk that he could hardly keep his seat, but who, on discovering that
Wesley was his fellow traveller, cried out, “I am a Christian! I am a
Churchman! I am none of your Culamites!” And then, as if afraid that
Wesley might turn out to be the devil, away he went, as fast as his
horse could carry him. Twelve days after, on reaching Stratford upon
Avon, Wesley was requested to visit a woman of middle age, who, with
a distorted face, and a lolling tongue, had bellowed so horribly, in
the presence of the parish minister, that he pronounced her possessed
with demons. Wesley went, but, staring at her visitor, she said nothing
ailed her. After singing a verse or two, Wesley and his friends began
to pray. Just as he commenced, he felt as if he “had been plunged into
cold water,” and immediately there was a tremendous roar. The woman
was reared up in bed, her whole body moving, without bending either
joint or limb. Then it writhed into all kinds of postures, the poor
wretch still bellowing. Wesley, however, continued praying, until all
demoniacal symptoms ceased, and the woman began rejoicing and praising
God. On another occasion, in the month of April, while baiting his
horse at Sandhutton, he found sitting, in the chimney corner of the
public house, a good natured man, who was enjoying his grog with the
greatest gusto. Wesley began to talk to him about sacred things, having
no suspicion that he was talking to the parish priest. And yet so it
was; but the reverend tippler, instead of boiling over with offence,
begged his reprover to call upon him when he next visited his village.
In July, when he and John Downes reached Darlington, from Newcastle,
both their horses lay down and died; and, in August, when he was
leaving London for Bristol, his saddle slipped upon his horse’s neck;
he was jerked over the horse’s head; and the horse itself ran back to
Smithfield. Six days later, being in Exeter, he went to church both
morning and afternoon, and writes: “the sermon in the morning was quite
innocent of meaning; what that in the afternoon was, I know not; for
I could not hear a single sentence.” In October, when he was leaving
Epworth, he had to cross the Trent in a ferry boat; a terrible storm
was raging; and the cargo consisted of three horses and eight men and
women. In the midst of the river, the side of the boat was under water,
and the horses and men rolling one over another, while Wesley was laid
in the bottom, pinned down with a large iron bar, and utterly unable to
help himself. Presently, however, the horses jumped into the water, and
the boat was lightened, and came safe to land. Such were some of the
incidents Wesley met with in 1743.
One of the first events in this memorable year was the organisation
of the Calvinistic Methodists in Wales. At a meeting held at Watford
(near Cardiff), on January 5 and 6, and at which there were present
four clergymen—Whitefield, Rowlands, Powell, and Williams, and three
laymen—Howel Harris, Joseph Humphreys, and John Cennick, it was agreed
that “public exhorters” should be employed, and that each “public
exhorter,” with the assistance of “private exhorters,” should take the
oversight of twelve or fourteen societies. Each “private exhorter” was
to inspect only one or two societies, and was to follow his ordinary
calling. Howel Harris was to be a general travelling superintendent;
and the clergymen were to itinerate as much as they were able. Each
society was to have a box, under the care of stewards, to receive
weekly contributions towards the support of the general work; and the
clergymen and exhorters were to meet in conference once, or oftener,
every year.[485] Thus Whitefield, Harris, Humphreys, and Cennick began
to _organise_ their societies before the Wesleys did.
After an absence of seven weeks, Wesley returned to Newcastle, on
the 19th of February, and at once set to work to purge the society
of unworthy members. Since he left, on December 30, seventy-six had
forsaken the society; and sixty-four were now expelled, about eight
hundred still remaining. Of those who had voluntarily withdrawn
themselves, a large proportion were Dissenters, who left, because
otherwise their ministers refused to them the sacrament; thirty-three
because their husbands, wives, parents, masters, or acquaintance
objected; five because such bad things were said of the society; nine
because they would not be laughed at; one because she was afraid of
falling into fits; and fourteen for sundry other reasons. Among those
expelled, there were two for swearing; two for sabbath breaking;
seventeen for drunkenness; two for retailing spirituous liquors; three
for quarreling; one for beating his wife; three for wilful lying;
four for railing; one for laziness; and twenty-nine for lightness
and carelessness. Thus, within a few months after its formation, the
Newcastle society was purged of one hundred and forty of its members.
Joined with Newcastle were a number of country places, at each of which
Wesley preached every week, excepting Swalwell, where he went only
once a fortnight. These were Horsley, Pelton, Chowden, South Biddick,
Tanfield, Birtley, and Placey. At Chowden, he found he had got into
the very Kingswood of the north; twenty or thirty wild children, in
rags and almost nakedness, flocking round about him. At Pelton, in the
midst of the sermon, one of the colliers began to shout amain from an
excess of joy; but their usual token of approbation was clapping Wesley
on the back. At Placey, the colliers had always been in the first rank
for savage ignorance and all kinds of wickedness. Every Sunday men,
women, and children met together to dance, fight, curse and swear,
and play at chuck ball, span farthing, or whatever came to hand; but,
notwithstanding this, when Wesley went among them, on the 1st of April,
and preached amid wind, sleet, and snow till he was encased in ice,
“they gave earnest heed to the things which were spoken.”
In Newcastle, almost every night, there were scenes of great
excitement. Numbers dropped down, lost their strength, and were seized
with agonies. Some said, they felt as if a sword was running through
them; others thought a great weight upon them; others could hardly
breathe; and others felt as if their bodies were being torn to pieces.
“These symptoms,” says Wesley, “I can no more impute to any natural
causes, than to the Spirit of God. I can make no doubt, but it was
Satan tearing them, as they were coming to Christ. And hence proceeded
those grievous cries, whereby he might design both to discredit the
work of God, and to affright fearful people from hearing that word
whereby their souls might be saved.”
Wesley left on April 7, and on the 30th of May was succeeded by his
brother. Charles put an end to these annoying fits, and says, “I am
more and more convinced it was a device of Satan to stop the course of
the gospel.” He preached to “a thousand wild people” at Sunderland. At
South Shields, his congregation consisted of “a huge multitude; many of
them very fierce and threatening”; while the churchwardens and others
tried to interrupt him by throwing dirt, and even money among the
people. The mob at North Shields, led on by the parish priest, roughly
saluted him; his reverence commanding a man to blow a horn, and his
companions to shout.
Charles left on the 21st of June, and, eight days afterwards,
was succeeded by John. The society was further reduced, by fresh
backslidings, to about six hundred members. Wesley spent nearly three
weeks among them; formed a society out of “his favourite congregation
at Placey;” and then returned to London.
He came again on October 31st, and found the following advertisement
was published:—
“FOR THE BENEFIT OF MR. ESTE.
By the Edinburgh Company of Comedians, on Friday, November 4,
will be acted a Comedy, called
THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS;
To which will be added, a Farce, called,
TRICK UPON TRICK, OR METHODISM DISPLAYED.”
The day came; and about fifteen hundred people assembled in Moot Hall
to see the funny farce, some hundreds having to sit upon the stage.
Soon after the comedians began the first act of “The Conscious Lovers,”
the seats upon the stage broke down, and their occupants were left
sprawling in all directions. In the midst of the second act, all the
shilling seats gave a crack, and began to sink. The people shrieked,
and numbers ran away. When the third act was commencing, the entire
stage suddenly sunk about six inches, and the players precipitately
fled. At the end of the act, all the sixpenny seats, in a moment,
fell with an alarming crash, which caused cries on every side. Most
of the people had now left the hall, but, two or three hundred still
remaining, Este, who was to act the Methodist, came forward and told
them he was determined that the farce should be performed. While he was
speaking, the stage sunk six inches more; when the valorous comedian
and the remnant of his audience took to their heels in the utmost
confusion. The week after, however, the farce was acted, and hundreds
of people went again to see it.
One or two incidents in connection with Wesley’s northern journeys may
be noticed here.
While returning to the south, at the beginning of the year, he was, for
the first time in his life, repelled from the sacramental table. This
occurred at Epworth. Having preached, on his father’s tomb, to a large
congregation, gathered from the neighbouring towns, and it being the
sacramental Sunday, some of the people went to Romley, the curate, to
ask his permission to communicate; to whom the proud priest replied,
“Tell Mr. Wesley, I shall not give _him_ the sacrament; for he is not
_fit_.” Wesley writes, “How wise a God is our God! there could not have
been so fit a place under heaven, where this should befal me first,
as my father’s house, the place of my nativity, and the very place
where, ‘according to the straitest sect of our religion,’ I had so
long ‘lived a Pharisee.’ It was also fit, in the highest degree, that
he who repelled me from that very table where I had myself so often
distributed the bread of life, should be one who owed his all in this
world to the tender love which my father had shown to his, as well as
personally to himself.”
While on his third journey to Newcastle, in 1743, Wesley paid his first
visit to the town of Grimsby. Here a woman—a magdalen, who was parted
from her husband—offered him a convenient place for preaching, and,
under his sermon, became a penitent. Wesley, after hearing her domestic
history, told her she must return instantly to her forsaken spouse. She
replied, her husband was at Newcastle, and she knew not how to reach
him. Wesley said, “I am going to Newcastle to-morrow morning. William
Blow is going with me; and you shall ride behind him.” This was an odd
arrangement, and perhaps not too prudent; but it was carried out. The
poor creature rode to Newcastle, sad and sombre; there she met her
husband; and, a short time after, was drowned at sea, while on her way
to Hull.
The year 1743 will always be memorable for the riots in Staffordshire.
At this period, West Bromwich was an open common, covered with heath,
and burrowed with rabbit warrens. Wednesbury was a small country town,
irregularly built, the roads following ancient footways, and leaving
wide spaces unoccupied. One of these was called the “High Bullen,”
and was the place where bulls were baited. So extensively did this
barbarous sport prevail in the “black country,” that, in Tipton parish,
nineteen of these furious animals were baited at one of the annual
wakes. Wednesbury, however, was most celebrated for its cockfights.
Indeed, the Wednesbury “cockings,” as Charles Knight informs us, were
almost as famous as the races of the “Derby day” at the present time.
Recreations are an index to character, and sports, such as these,
reflected, as well as moulded, the moral condition of the people.
Charles Wesley, accompanied by Mr. Graves, was the first Methodist who
preached at Wednesbury. This was in November, 1742.[486] His brother
followed in January, 1743, and spent four days among the people,
preached eight sermons, and formed a society of about one hundred
members.[487] Mr. Egginton, the vicar, was extremely courteous, told
Wesley he had done much good already, and he doubted not would do
much more, invited him to his house, and said the oftener he came the
better.[488]
Wesley was followed by Mr. Williams, a Welshman, who, it is alleged,
vilified the clergy, and called them dumb dogs that could not bark.
After him came a bricklayer; then a plumber and glazier, both sent
from London; and, under their preaching, people fell down in fits,
and made strange hideous noises. Malice, spleen, and feuds sprung up.
The Methodists spoke ill natured things of their lawful minister, and
told the members of the Church of England, that they would all be
damned. These things, it is said, exasperated ignorant people, and
were the principal cause of the subsequent disturbances.[489] Wesley
paid a second visit to Wednesbury on the 15th of April, and says, “the
inexcusable folly of Mr. Williams had so provoked Mr. Egginton, that
his former love was turned into bitter hatred.” Wesley went to church,
where Egginton delivered, with great bitterness of voice and manner,
what Wesley pronounced, the most wicked sermon he ever heard; and, two
days afterwards, while he himself was preaching, a neighbouring parson,
who was extremely drunk, after using many unseemly and bitter words,
tried to ride over his congregation.
Charles Wesley came on the 20th of May, and found the society increased
to above three hundred. “The enemy,” he writes, “rages exceedingly, and
preaches against them. A few have returned railing for railing; but the
generality have behaved as the followers of Christ.” A Dissenter had
given a piece of ground upon which to build a chapel, and Charles says,
“I consecrated it by a hymn.” He went to Walsal, accompanied by many
of the brethren, singing songs of praise. He preached from the steps
of the market house, the mob roaring, shouting, and throwing stones
incessantly. Many struck him, but none hurt him.
Soon after this, while a small party of Wednesbury Methodists were
returning from Darlaston, singing hymns, the Darlaston mob began to
pelt them with stones and dirt; while the united mobs of Darlaston,
Walsal, and Bilston smashed the windows of most of the Methodist houses
in Wednesbury, Darlaston, and West Bromwich.[490] In some instances,
money was extorted, and in others furniture was broken, spoiled, or
stolen; and even pregnant women were beaten with clubs and otherwise
abused.[491] John Adams, John Eaton, and Francis Ward went to Walsal
for a warrant to apprehend the rioters. The magistrate, Mr. Persehouse,
told them they had themselves to blame for the outrage that had been
committed, and refused their application.[492] The mob hurled against
them all sorts of missiles, and when the magistrate was asked to quiet
these disturbers of the public peace, he swung his hat round his head,
and cried, “Huzza!” Mr. Taylor, the curate of Walsal, came, not to stop
the outrage, but to encourage the rioters in their violence. One of
them struck Francis Ward on the eye, and cut it so, that he expected
to lose his sight. He went into a shop and had it dressed, when the
ruffians again pursued him, and beat him most unmercifully. He escaped
into the public house, and was again fetched out, and dragged along the
street, and through the public kennels, till he lost his strength, and
was hardly able to stand erect.
Wesley writes, June 18th: “I received a full account of the terrible
riots which had been in Staffordshire. I was not surprised at all,
neither should I have wondered if, after the advices they had so often
received from the pulpit, as well as from the episcopal chair, the
zealous high churchmen had rose and cut all that were Methodists in
pieces.”
He immediately set out to assist the poor Methodists, as far as he
was able, and came to Francis Ward’s on the 22nd. After hearing the
statements of the people, he “thought it best to inquire whether there
could be any help from the laws of the land”; and rode to Counsellor
Littleton at Tamworth, to ask his opinion on the matter.
The mob were still as violent as ever. On the very day before Wesley’s
arrival at Francis Ward’s, a large crowd came to the house of John
Eaton, who was a constable. John went to the door, with his constable’s
staff, and began to read the act of parliament against riots; but
stones flew so thick about his head, that he was obliged to leave off
reading and to retire. They then broke all his windows, destroyed the
door of his dwelling, and smashed his clock to pieces. On the same
day, two or three of the Methodists were singing a hymn in John Adams’
house, when a pack of apprentices came and threw stones through the
windows. A mob destroyed Jonas Turner’s windows with a club, threw
three baskets full of stones to break his furniture, and ruthlessly
dragged him along the ground a distance of sixty yards. They went to
Mary Turner’s house, at West Bromwich, and hunted her and her two
daughters with stones and stakes, threatening to knock them on the
head, and to bury them in a ditch. They came to John Bird’s house,
felled his daughter, snatched money from his wife, and then broke ten
of his windows, besides destroying sash frames, shutters, chests of
drawers, doors, and dressers. They took Humphrey Hands by the throat,
swore they would be the death of him, gave him a great swing, and
hurled him on the ground. On rising, they struck him on the eye, and
again knocked him down. They then smashed all his windows, shivered
many of his household goods, and broke all the shelves, drawers, pots,
and bottles in his shop, and destroyed almost all his medicines. All
this happened within a day or two of Wesley’s coming to Francis Ward’s.
Indeed, at this very time, there were in and about Wednesbury more than
eighty houses, all of which had their windows damaged, and in many of
which not three panes of glass were left unbroken.[493]
Counsellor Littleton assured Wesley they might have an easy remedy, if
they resolutely prosecuted, as the law directed; and doubtless this
encouraged John Griffiths and Francis Ward to apply, at the end of
June, to another magistrate for protection and redress; but, having
stated their case to his worship, he talked to them roughly, made game
of them, refused a warrant, and said, “I suppose you follow these
parsons that come about. I will neither meddle nor make.”
For some time, preaching was suspended; and then came Messrs. Graves
and Williams, who, however, confined their preaching to private
houses.[494] At length, on October 20, Wesley himself again entered
this wild beasts’ den. At noon, he preached in the centre of the town,
and was not disturbed; but, two or three hours afterwards, while he
was writing at Francis Ward’s, the mob beset the house, and cried,
“Bring out the minister; we will have the minister!” At Wesley’s
request, three of the most furious came into the house, and, after the
interchange of a few sentences, were perfectly appeased. With these men
to clear the way, Wesley went out, and, standing in the midst of the
surging mob, asked them what they wanted with him. Some said, “We want
you to go with us to the justice.” Wesley replied, “That I will, with
all my heart”; and away they went. Before they had walked a mile, the
night came on, accompanied with heavy rain. Bentley Hall, the residence
of Mr. Lane, the magistrate, was two miles distant. Some pushed
forward, and told Mr. Lane, that they were bringing Wesley before his
worship. “What have I to do with Wesley?” quoth the magistrate; “take
him back again.” Presently the crowd came up, and began knocking for
admittance. A servant told them his master was in bed. The magistrate
declined to see them, but his son asked their business. A spokesman
answered, “To be plain, sir, if I must speak the truth, all the fault
I find with him is, that he preaches better than our parsons.” Another
said, “Sir, it is a downright shame; he makes people rise at five in
the morning to sing psalms.[495] What advice would your worship give
us?” “Go home,” said Lane, the younger, “and be quiet.”
Finding it impossible to obtain an audience of Mr. Lane, they then
hurried Wesley to Walsal, to Mr. justice Persehouse. It was now about
seven o’clock, and, of course, was dark. Persehouse, however, also
refused to see them, on the ground that, like magisterial Mr. Lane, he
was gone to bed; and hence there was nothing for it but to trudge back
again. About fifty of the crowd undertook to be Wesley’s convoy; but,
before they had gone more than a hundred yards, the mob of Walsal ran
after them; some were pelted; others fled; and Wesley was left, alone
and unbefriended, in the hands of the victorious ruffians. Some tried
to seize him by the collar, and to pull him down. A big lusty fellow,
just behind him, struck him several times with an oaken club. Another
rushed through the crowd, lifted his arm to strike, but, on a sudden,
let it drop, and only stroked Wesley’s head, saying “What soft hair he
has!” One man struck him on the breast; and another on the mouth, with
such force, that the blood gushed out. He was dragged back to Walsal;
and, attempting to enter a large house, the door of which was standing
open, he was seized by the hair of the head, and hindered. He was then
paraded through the main street, from one end of Walsal to the other.
Here he stood, and asked, “Are you willing to hear me speak?” Many
cried, “No, no! knock out his brains; down with him; kill him at once!”
Wesley asked, “What evil have I done? which of you all have I wronged
in word or deed?” Again they cried, “Bring him away, bring him away!”
Wesley began to pray; and now a man, who just before headed the mob,
turned and said, “Sir, I will spend my life for you; follow me, and no
one shall hurt a hair of your head.” Two or three of his companions
joined him; the mob parted; and these three or four brave ruffians, the
captains of the rabble on all occasions, and one of them a prizefighter
in a bear garden, took Wesley and carried him safely through the
infuriated crowd. He writes: “a little before ten o’clock, God brought
me safe to Wednesbury; having lost only one flap of my waistcoat, and a
little skin from one of my hands. From the beginning to the end I found
the same presence of mind, as if I had been sitting in my own study.
But I took no thought for one moment before another; only once it came
into my mind, that, if they should throw me into the river, it would
spoil the papers that were in my pocket. For myself, I did not doubt
but I should swim across, having but a thin coat and a light pair of
boots.”
It is right to add, that, in the midst of all these perils, there were
four brave Methodists who clung to Wesley, resolved to live or die with
him, namely, William Sitch, Edward Slater, John Griffiths, and Joan
Parks. When Wesley asked William Sitch, what he expected when the mob
seized them, William answered with a martyr’s spirit, “To die for Him,
who died for us.” And when Joan Parks was asked if she was not afraid,
she said: “No, no more than I am now. I could trust God for you, as
well as for myself.”
Such was the beginning of Methodism in the “black country.” “The
heathen raged, and the people imagined a vain thing. But He that
sitteth in the heavens laughed; the Lord had them in derision.”
Human justice there was none; but Divine protection was sufficient.
Wesley was carried to the houses of Lane and Persehouse, but these
two magisterial worthies refused to see him; and yet, only eight days
before, they had the effrontery to issue the following proclamation,
which Wesley justly calls one of the greatest curiosities, of the kind,
that England had ever seen:—
“_To all High Constables, Petty Constables, and other of His
Majesty’s Peace Officers, within the county of Staffordshire,
and particularly to the Constable of Tipton_:—
“Whereas, we, His Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the said
county of Stafford, have received information, that several
disorderly persons, styling themselves Methodist preachers,
go about raising routs and riots, to the great damage of His
Majesty’s liege people, and against the peace of our Sovereign
Lord the King.
“These are in His Majesty’s name, to command you, and every
one of you, within your respective districts, to make diligent
search after the said Methodist preachers, and to bring him
or them before some of us His said Majesty’s Justices of the
Peace, to be examined concerning their unlawful doings.
“Given under our hands and seals, this 12th day of October,
1743.
“J. LANE,
“W. PERSEHOUSE.”[496]
It is a remarkable fact, however, that, notwithstanding Wesley’s rough
usage, and the pretentiously loyal proclamation of these two unjust
justices, Charles Wesley boldly bearded the lions in their den only
five days after his brother so miraculously escaped. He found the poor
Methodists “standing fast in one mind and spirit, in nothing terrified
by their adversaries.” He writes: “Never before was I in so primitive
an assembly. We sung praises lustily, and with a good courage; and
could all set our seal to the truth of our Lord’s saying, ‘Blessed are
they that are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.’ We assembled before
day to sing hymns of praise to Christ; and, as soon as it was light,
I walked down the town, and preached boldly on Revelation ii. 10. It
was a most glorious time. Our souls were satisfied as with marrow and
fatness, and we longed for our Lord’s coming to confess us before His
Father and His holy angels.”[497]
Even this is not all. The clergyman at Darlaston was so struck with
the meek behaviour of the Methodists, in the midst of suffering, that
he offered to join the Wesleys in punishing the rioters;[498] while
“honest Munchin,” as he was called, the captain of the rabble, who
first came to Wesley’s help and rescued him, was so impressed with his
spirit and behaviour, that he immediately forsook his gang of godless
companions, joined the Methodists, and was received, by Charles Wesley,
as a member on trial, only five days after Wesley’s deliverance. “What
thought you of my brother?” asked Charles Wesley of “honest Munchin.”
“Think of him!” said he, “I thought he is a _mon_ of God; and God was
on his side, when so _mony_ of us could not kill one _mon_.”
It may here be added, that “Munchin” was a nickname only,—a provincial
word expressive of coarse, brutal strength. The real name of Wesley’s
deliverer was George Clifton. He lived in a small house at the foot
of Holloway Bank, and never tired of telling, in after days, how
God stayed his hand, when he nearly took Wesley’s life. He died in
Birmingham, at the age of eighty-five, in the year 1789, and was buried
in St. Paul’s churchyard. It is a notable incident[499] that, while
Wesley’s persecutors passed quickly away, nearly all who took joyfully
the spoiling of their goods, lived, like “honest Munchin,” a long and
a peaceful life, and saw their children’s children walking in the fear
of God.
Unfortunately, the “Staffordshire riots” did not terminate in October,
1743; and, in order to complete the summary, we must trespass, for a
moment, on the events of 1744.
We learn from the pamphlet already quoted, “Papers giving an account of
the Rise and Progress of Methodism at Wednesbury and in other parishes
adjacent,” that, after the bold visit of Charles Wesley, Messrs. Graves
and Williams, who, for months past, had preached only in private
houses, now begun to preach publicly. At Christmas, Whitefield came
and spent several days in preaching in the streets with his accustomed
eloquence and power; and then, on February 2, 1744, Charles Wesley
again entered the field of action. Egginton, the Wednesbury vicar,
had drawn up a paper, and sent the crier to give notice, that all the
Methodists must sign it, or else their houses would be immediately
demolished. It was to this effect, “that they would never read, or
sing, or pray together, or hear the Methodist parsons any more.”
Several signed through fear; and every one who did was mulcted a penny
to assist in making the rabble drunk.[500]
This was not more than about a month before Charles Wesley’s visit.
When he came, however, Egginton was dead; but, in the meantime, not a
Methodist in Darlaston had escaped the renewed violence of the vicar’s
godless mob, except two or three who had bought exemption by giving
their purses to the lawless gang. The windows of all the Methodists
were broken, neither glass, lead, nor frames remaining. Tables, chairs,
chests of drawers, and whatever furniture was not easily removable,
were dashed in pieces. Feather beds were torn to shreds, and the
feathers strewed about the rooms[501] in all directions.
No craven-hearted parson would have ventured to preach to humanised
fiends like these; and yet these were pre-eminently the men whom the
Wesleys tried to benefit and save. At the risk of being murdered, they
fearlessly told them of their sin and danger. More than once they had
hazarded their lives; and now, Charles was in the midst of these
begrimed ruffians, as courageous as ever. He escaped, but the poor
Methodists were again made to suffer from the more than brutal violence
of their fiendish neighbours.
One man’s wife, about Candlemas, was abused in a manner too horrible
to relate; and, because he tried to bring some of the recreants to
justice, his windows were broken; his furniture and tools destroyed;
all his wife’s linen was torn to tatters; his bed and bedstead were
cut; and his Bible and Prayer-Book pulled to pieces. On Shrove Tuesday,
the house of Francis Ward was forcibly entered, and all his goods
were stolen. John Darby’s house was broken open, his furniture and
five stalls of bees destroyed, and his poultry filched. Other houses
were plundered and injured in like manner. Some of the mob were armed
with swords, some with clubs, and some with axes. The outrages, if
possible, were even worse than those some months before. One man cut
Mary Turner’s bible into fragments with his axe. Another swore he would
beat out Mrs. Sheldon’s brains with her fire shovel. Joshua Constable
was attacked by an outrageous gang, his house, in part, pulled down,
his goods destroyed and stolen, and his wife violently and brutally
assaulted. For six days, in the early part of 1744, this lawless
riot lasted, and the damage done to the property of the Wednesbury
Methodists amounted to a serious sum. Applications for redress were
made to not fewer than three magistrates, but to no purpose. The
document, containing many of the above facts, was drawn up on February
26, 1744 when the persecuted Methodists remark:—“We keep meeting
together morning and evening, are in great peace and love with each
other, and are nothing terrified by our adversaries. God grant we may
endure to the end!”[502]
Leaving the “black country,” we must pass to other scenes of fiendish
violence, and yet sacred triumph.
Cornwall, at this period, was as imbruted as Staffordshire. Smuggling
was considered an honourable traffic, and the plunder of shipwrecked
mariners was accounted a lawful prize. Drunkenness was general; and
cockfighting, bullbaiting, wrestling, and hurling were the favourite
amusements of the people. Francis Truscott relates that, at the time
when the Wesleys first went to Cornwall, there was a village, about
five miles from Helstone, which was literally without a Bible, and
which had, no religious book whatever, except a single copy of the Book
of Common Prayer, kept at the public house. On one occasion, during
a terrific storm, when the people feared that the world was ending,
they fled in consternation to the tavern, that Tom, the tapster, might
secure them protection by reading them a prayer. Having fallen upon
their knees, Tom hastily snatched a well thumbed book; and began, with
great pomposity, to read about storms, wrecks, and rafts, until his
mistress, finding that some mistake was made, cried out, “Tom, that is
‘Robin Cruso’!” “No,” said Tom, “it is the Prayer-Book;” and on he went
until he came to a description of man Friday, when his mistress again
vociferated that she was certain Tom was reading “Robin Cruso.” “Well,
well,” said Tom, “suppose I am; there are as good prayers in ‘Robin
Cruso’ as in any other book”; and so Tom proceeded, till the storm
abated, and the conscience stricken company dispersed, complacently
believing that they had done their duty.[503]
While the people, however, were thus generally sunk in ignorance and
vice, there were a few exceptions. Among these were Catherine Quick and
eleven others, at St. Ives, who frequently met together to pray, and
to read Burkitt’s Notes on the New Testament. This godly band of pious
people was visited by Captain Turner, a Methodist from Bristol; and
this led Catherine Quick and her associates to invite Wesley to visit
them.[504]
Charles Wesley was the first to come. Entering St. Ives, on July 16,
Mr. Shepherd met him; the boys of the place gave him a rough salute;
and Mr. Nance made him his welcome guest. The day after his arrival,
he went to church, where the rector preached a railing sermon against
the Methodists, or, as he called them, “the new sect, enemies to the
Church, seducers, troublers, scribes, pharisees, and hypocrites.”
Immediately after being thus religiously regaled, Charles and his
godly inviters went to the church at Wednock, where Mr. Hoblin, the
curate, poured out such a hotch-potch of railing and foolish lies as
might have made even the devil blush. Charles told the preacher, that
he had been misinformed; upon which his reverence replied, with more
coarseness than courtesy, “You are a liar,” and then left him. On the
day following, when Charles Wesley went to the market house, at St.
Ives, and commenced singing the hundredth psalm, the mob began to beat
a drum and shout. Four days later, when he had just named his text, the
same unruly ruffians rushed upon his congregation, and threatened to
murder them. The sconces of the room were broken, the windows dashed
in pieces, and the shutters, benches, and, indeed, everything except
the walls, destroyed. They asseverated, that Charles Wesley should not
preach again, and lifted up their hands and clubs to strike him. The
women were beaten, dragged about, and trampled on without mercy; until,
at length, the rascals fell to quarreling among themselves, broke the
town clerk’s head, and left the room. Two days after, while preaching
at Wednock, the minister’s mob fell upon the congregation, and _swore_
most horribly, that they would be revenged on them for their taking the
people from the church, and making such a disturbance on the sabbath
day. Sticks and stones were used, and ten cowardly ruffians attacked
one unarmed man, beat him with their clubs, and knocked him to the
ground. The day following, at St. Ives, the service was broken up by
the mob throwing eggs and stones, and swearing they would pull down the
walls of the room, whose windows, benches, and sconces they had already
ruthlessly destroyed. At Pool, on July 26, the churchwarden shouted,
and hallooed, and put his hat to Charles Wesley’s mouth to prevent his
preaching.
All these outrages were principally prompted by the parsons, who
continually spoke of the Methodists as popish emissaries, and who,
to use the Rev. Mr. Hoblin’s fisticuff language, “ought to be driven
away by blows, and not by arguments.” At length, the mayor of St. Ives
appointed twenty new constables to suppress the rioters by force of
arms, “and plainly told Mr. Hoblin, the fire and fagot minister, that
he would not be perjured to gratify any man’s malice.”
Charles Wesley came to St. Ives on the 16th of July, and set out, on
his return to London, on August 8, his brother having summoned him
to attend a conference with the adherents of Whitefield and with the
Moravians. In this way, his labours in Cornwall were interrupted;
but, a fortnight after, his brother, accompanied by John Nelson, John
Downes, and Mr. Shepherd, succeeded him. Nelson and Downes had but
one horse between them, and, hence, rode by turns. They reached St.
Ives on August 30, and found the society increased to about a hundred
and twenty, nearly a hundred of whom had found peace with God. John
Nelson began to work at his trade as a stonemason; and, as opportunity
permitted, preached at St. Just, the Land’s End, and other places. John
Downes fell ill of a fever, and was unable to preach at all. Wesley
and Nelson slept upon the floor, Wesley using Nelson’s top coat for
a pillow, and Nelson using Burkitt’s Notes on the New Testament for
his. One morning, at three o’clock, after using this hard bed for a
fortnight, Wesley turned over, clapped Nelson on the side, and jocosely
said: “Brother Nelson, let us be of good cheer, for the skin is off but
one side yet.” Their board also was as hard as their bed. They were
continually preaching; but “it was seldom,” says Nelson, “that any
one asked us to eat or drink. One day, as we returned from St. Hilary
Downs, Mr. Wesley stopped his horse to pick the blackberries, saying,
‘Brother Nelson, we ought to be thankful, that there are plenty of
blackberries; for this is the best country I ever saw for getting an
appetite, but the worst for getting food.’”[505]
Wesley spent three weeks in Cornwall, leaving Nelson behind him. Upon
the whole, he had been kindly treated. The mob at St. Ives, it is true,
welcomed him with a loud huzza; and serenaded him before his window
with the harmless ditty:—
“Charles Wesley is come to town,
To try if he can pull the churches down.”
But, during his stay, the only act of violence he met with was, on one
occasion, when the mob burst into the room at St. Ives, and a ruffian
struck him on the head.
On his way to Cornwall, and also on returning, Wesley preached at
Exeter, and visited a lad, and a clergyman in prison, both sentenced to
suffer death. His vast congregation “in that solemn amphitheatre,” as
he calls the castle yard, was such an one as he had rarely seen,—“void
both of anger, fear, and love.” He also preached at the cross in
Taunton, where a man, attempting to make disturbance, so exasperated
the congregation, that there was a general cry, “Knock the rascal
down, beat out his brains!” and Wesley had to interfere to prevent his
being roughly handled. He likewise paid a flying visit to the Isles
of Scilly, crossing the ocean in a fishing boat, and singing amid the
swelling waves:—
“When passing through the watery deep,
I ask in faith His promised aid;
The waves an awful distance keep,
And shrink from my devoted head,
Fearless their violence I dare;
They cannot harm,—for God is there.”
It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley was summoned from
Cornwall to attend a conference in London, consisting of the leading
men of the three communities,—the Arminian Methodists, the Calvinistic
Methodists, and the Moravians. The object of the conference was,
by mutual explanations and concessions, to cultivate a better
understanding with each other; so that the parties might avoid all
unnecessary collision, and unite, as far as was practicable, in
advancing what they believed to be the work of God. Wesley drew up a
statement of the questions at issue between himself and Whitefield,
with the concessions he was prepared to make.[506] Mr. Jackson says,
the project had its origin with Wesley,[507] and perhaps it had; but,
a year before this, John Cennick expressed a wish for the same sort
of meeting. In a letter to Whitefield’s wife, dated May 6, 1742, he
writes:—“I have had it much impressed upon my mind, that it would be
right in the sight of God, that all our preachers, all Mr. Wesley’s,
and all the Moravian brethren should meet together. Who knows but we
might unite? Or if not, we might consent in principles as far as we
can, and love one another. At least, I think all _our_ preachers
should meet, as the apostles did, often. I know it would be for good;
but I suspend my judgment to the elder brethren.”[508]
It may thus be doubtful whether the proposal for the conference
originated with Wesley or with Cennick; but, through no fault of
Wesley’s, the proposal was abortive. To be present at the conference,
Wesley travelled from Newcastle; his brother came all the way from
Cornwall; and John Nelson trudged from Yorkshire. But Whitefield, who
was in London, seems to have declined the invitation; the Moravians
refused to come; and, though Spangenberg had promised to attend, he
left England instead of doing so; while James Hutton said, his brethren
had orders not to confer at all, unless the archbishop of Canterbury,
or the bishop of London, were also present.[509]
This was the last attempt at union; but perhaps it suggested to
Wesley’s mind the idea of having conferences of his own, which he began
to hold twelve months afterwards.
Not a little of the time of the two Wesleys was now employed in
pastoralizing the societies they had formed in London, Bristol, and
other places. In Bristol, in the month of January, Wesley spoke to each
member of society, and rejoiced in finding them neither barren nor
unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. He did the same
at Kingswood, and remarks: “I cannot understand how any minister can
hope ever to give up his account with joy, unless (as Ignatius advises)
he knows all his flock by name; not overlooking the men servants and
maid servants.” In London, he and his brother began visiting the
society together, on February 2, which they continued from six in the
morning to six at night, until the visiting was completed. The same
practice was pursued at Newcastle.
The London society now consisted of nineteen hundred and fifty members;
and, before the year was ended, it numbered two and twenty hundred.
This was a large church, gathered within the last four years, and
needing a more than ordinary amount of pastoral attention. The members
only, to say nothing of children, servants, and outside hearers, were
almost sufficient to fill the Foundery chapel twice over. More room
became imperative. Without this, it seemed to be impossible to extend,
or even to conserve the work. London had one Methodist chapel already;
before the year was ended, it had two others.
In the month of May, Wesley had the offer of a chapel in West Street,
Seven Dials, which about sixty years before had been built by the
French Protestants. He accepted the offer, and opened the chapel, as
a Methodist place of worship, on Trinity Sunday, the first service
lasting from ten o’clock till three. At five, he preached again to
an immense congregation at the Great Gardens; then met the leaders;
and after them the bands; and yet, at ten o’clock at night, he was
less weary than when he began his enormous day’s work in the morning.
Here, when in London, he and his brother now regularly officiated on
Sunday mornings and evenings, read the liturgy, and administered the
sacraments. The Lord’s supper was celebrated at the morning service on
both the first and second Sundays of the month, and the attendance was
so numerous, that, in both instances, the service usually lasted at
least five hours. This was longer than even Wesley thought desirable,
and led him to divide the communicants into three divisions, so that
not more than about six hundred might communicate on the same occasion.
These were enormous gatherings, with which those of the present day
will hardly bear comparison.
Three months after he took possession of the West Street chapel, Wesley
became the occupier of a third, which had been built in Bermondsey,
Southwark, by a Unitarian. Being vacant, Wesley took it. Some objected
to this. “What!” said a zealous woman, “what! will Mr. Wesley preach at
Snowsfields? Surely not! there is not such another place in London. The
people there are not men, but devils!” This was just the sort of reason
to induce Wesley, not to stay away, but go. Accordingly, on August 8,
he opened Snowsfields chapel by preaching from the words—“Jesus said,
They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I came
not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”
Wesley did more than this for the London society. Visiting the sick
he regarded as an imperative Christian duty. Sending them help was not
enough. Besides, to neglect this was not only to neglect a duty, but
to lose a means of grace. “One great reason,” says Wesley, “why the
rich have so little sympathy for the poor, is, because they so seldom
visit them.” “All,” he adds, “who desire to escape the everlasting
fire, and to inherit the everlasting kingdom, are equally concerned,
according to their power, to practise this important duty.”[510]
Holding such sentiments, Wesley himself, throughout life, visited
the poor and the afflicted, to the utmost of his ability; but, of
course, as an itinerant evangelist, when he had done his best, much
was left untouched. Hence, in the year 1743, he appointed in London
visitors of the sick, as distinct office bearers in his society.[511]
Stewards had been appointed already, to receive the contributions of
the society, which amounted to nearly £8 per week; and to distribute
them, partly in repairing and paying for chapel premises, partly
in paying debts, partly in other necessary expenses, and partly in
relieving the afflicted and the poor. The stewards, seven in number,
were to be frugal; to have no long accounts; to give none, that asked
relief, either an ill word or an ill look; and to expect no thanks
from man. They met together every Thursday morning at six o’clock,
and distributed all the money paid to them up to the previous Tuesday
night; so that all receipts and disbursements were concluded within
the week. The stewards, however, soon found a difficulty with regard
to the afflicted. Some were ready to perish before they heard of them;
and, even when they became acquainted with their illness, being persons
generally employed in trade, they were unable to visit them as often as
they wished. To meet this deficiency, Wesley called together the whole
of the London society; showed how impossible it was for the stewards to
visit all the sick in all parts of the metropolis; desired the leaders
to be more careful in inquiring after sick cases, and in giving early
information concerning them; and then appealed to the assembled members
and asked for volunteers for this important work. Numbers cheerfully
responded, out of whom Wesley selected forty-six, whom he judged to
be of the most tender, loving spirit. He then divided London into
twenty-three districts, and arranged that the sick, in each district,
should be visited, by a couple of visitors, three times every week; and
that the visitors, besides inquiring into the state of the people’s
souls, should relieve those of them in want, and should present their
accounts to the stewards weekly. Wesley writes:—
“Upon reflection, I saw how exactly, in this also, we had
copied after the primitive church. What were the ancient
deacons? What was Phœbe, the deaconess, but such a visitor of
the sick?”
Four rules were to be observed:—
“1. Be plain and open in dealing with souls. 2. Be mild,
tender, patient. 3. Be cleanly in all you do for the sick. 4.
Be not nice.”
Wesley adds, five years afterwards:—
“We have ever since had great reason to praise God for His
continued blessing on this undertaking. Many lives have been
saved, many sicknesses healed, much pain and want prevented or
removed. Many heavy hearts have been made glad, many mourners
comforted; and the visitors have found, from Him whom they
serve, a present reward for all their labour.”[512]
The two thousand members of the London society contributed about £400 a
year, or, at the rate of a shilling per member per quarter. The Bristol
society consisted of seven hundred members, and, after the same ratio,
would contribute £140 per year. Eight hundred members at Newcastle
would raise £160; and the societies at Kingswood and other places
might give £100 additional: thus making the Methodist income, for
1743, something like £800. Out of this, all chapel expenses had to be
defrayed; a large proportion was given to the afflicted poor; something
was necessary for the contingent expenses of Wesley’s helpers; and the
remainder,—how much was it?—was perhaps given to the two Wesleys to
meet some of their own necessary wants. These were the men preying upon
the pockets of the poor, and making themselves a fortune out of other
people’s money! Such falsehoods were current, and were not entirely
disbelieved even by some of Wesley’s own relatives.
Poor Emily Wesley, a classical scholar, and no mean poet,—after
teaching in a boarding school where she was ill used and worse paid,
and after marrying a poor Quaker, who did little for her, and soon left
her—was now a penniless and dependent widow, maintained entirely by her
two brothers, and living at the Foundery. Emily, in a petulant humour,
wrote to her brother John, accusing him of the want of kindness and of
natural affection, notwithstanding his reputed riches. John, in reply,
wrote one of his most pungent letters, of which the following is a
copy:—
“NEWCASTLE, _June 30, 1743_.
“DEAR EMILY,—Once, I think, I told you my mind freely before;
I am constrained to do so once again. You say, ‘From the time
of my coming to London, till last Christmas, you would not do
me the least kindness.’ Do I dream, or you? Whose house were
you in for three months, and upwards? By whose money were you
sustained? It is a poor case, that I am forced to mention these
things.
“But, ‘I would not take you lodgings in fifteen weeks.’ No, nor
should I have done in fifteen years. I never once imagined,
that you expected _me_ to do this! Shall I leave the word of
God to serve tables? You should know I have quite other things
to mind; temporal things I shall mind less and less.
“‘When I was removed you never concerned yourself about me.’
That is not the fact. What my brother does, I do. Besides, I
myself spoke to you abundance of times, before Christmas last.
“‘When I was at preaching, you would scarce speak to me.’ Yes;
at least as much as to my sister Wright, or, indeed, as I did
to any else at those times.
“‘I impute all your unkindness to one principle you hold, that
natural affection is a great weakness, if not a sin.’ What is
this principle I hold? That natural affection is a sin? or that
adultery is a virtue? or that Mahommed was a prophet of God?
and that Jesus Christ was a son of Belial? You may as well
impute _all_ these principles to me as _one_. I hold one just
as much as the other. O Emmy, never let that idle, senseless
accusation come out of your mouth.
“Do you hold that principle, ‘that we ought to be just (_i.
e._ pay our debts) before we are merciful’? If I held it, I
should not give one shilling for these two years, either to
you or any other. And, indeed, I have, for some time, stayed
my hand; so that I give next to nothing, except what I give to
my relations. And I am often in doubt with regard to that, not
whether natural affection be not a sin; but whether it ought
to supersede common justice. You know nothing of my temporal
circumstances, and the straits I am in, almost continually; so
that were it not for the reputation of my great riches, I could
not stand one week.
“I have now done with myself, and have only a few words
concerning you. You are of all creatures the most unthankful
to God and man. I stand amazed at you. How little have you
profited under such means of improvement! Surely whenever
your eyes are opened, whenever you see your own tempers, with
the advantages you have enjoyed, you will make no scruple to
pronounce yourself, (whores and murderers not excepted,) the
very chief of sinners.—I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”[513]
This is a caustic letter; and yet John Wesley was a loving brother.
For nearly thirty years afterwards, Emily Harper was a resident in
the preachers’ house at West Street, was a constant attendant on the
ministry of her brothers, and died in peace, at the age of eighty,
about the year 1772.
Much has been already related respecting the Methodist persecutions of
1743; but the whole has not been told. At Newcastle, three Dissenting
ministers agreed together to exclude all from the holy communion,
who would not refrain from attending Wesley’s ministry. One of them
publicly affirmed, that the Methodist preachers were all papists, and
that their doctrine was Popery. Another preached against them, and
said, “Many texts in the Bible are for them; but you ought not to mind
these texts; for the papists have put them in.” At Cowbridge, in Wales,
when Wesley attempted to preach, the mob shouted, cursed, blasphemed,
and threw showers of stones almost without intermission. At Bristol,
a clergyman preached, in several of the city churches, against the
_upstart_ Methodists; and was about to do so in the church of St.
Nicholas, when, after naming his text, he was seized with a rattling in
his throat, fell backward against the pulpit door, and, on the Sunday
following, expired. At Egham, Wesley went to church, and listened to
one of the most miserable sermons he ever heard; stuffed with dull,
senseless, improbable lies against those whom the parson complimented
with the title of “false prophets.”
At Sheffield, the ministers of the town so inflamed the people, that
they were ready to tear the Methodists to pieces. An army officer
drew his sword, and presented it at Charles Wesley’s breast. The
meeting-house was ruthlessly demolished, and the mob encouraged by the
constable. The windows of Mr. Bennett’s house, in which Charles Wesley
lodged, were smashed to atoms; and stones flew thick and fast in all
directions. Near Barley Hall, a few miles from Sheffield, Charles
Wesley and David Taylor were assaulted with a storm of stones, eggs,
and dirt; David was wounded in the head and lost his hat; and the
clothes of his companion were besmeared with filth.[514]
At Hampton, in Gloucestershire, the mob threatened to make aprons of
Whitefield’s gown; broke a young lady’s arm; threw Mr. Adams twice
into a pool of water; seized Whitefield for the purpose of casting
him into a pit of lime;[515] and, from four in the afternoon till
midnight, continued rioting, and declaring that no Anabaptists, etc.,
should preach there, upon pain of being first put into a skin-pit,
and afterwards into a brook. Women were pulled down the stairs by the
hair of their heads; Mr. Williams was twice thrown into a hole full of
noisome reptiles and stagnant water, and was beaten, and dragged along
the kennel; while the Methodists, in general, were mobbed to such an
extent, that many expected to be murdered, and hid themselves in holes
and corners, to avoid their enemies.
All this was bad enough; but there was something else, perhaps, quite
as painful. The press, in its attacks, became as virulent as ever.
Among other publications issued, was the following: “The Notions of
the Methodists fully disproved, with a Vindication of the Clergy of
the Church of England from their Aspersions. In two Letters to the
Rev. Mr. John Wesley. Newcastle: 1743.” In this precious morsel, of
near a hundred pages, the Methodists are branded as “conceited, vain
boasters,” and “ignorant, giddy, presumptuous enthusiasts.” Wesley is
accused of “compassing sea and land to gain proselytes”; of “making
unwarrantable dissensions in the Church”; and of “prejudicing the
people, wherever he came, against his brethren the clergy.” “You are,”
writes this northern pamphleteer, “guilty both of schism and rebellion,
which are two very grievous and damnable sins. You are the sower and
ringleader of dissension, endeavouring with unwearied assiduity to
set the flock at variance with their ministers and each other. You
assume to yourself great wisdom and high attainments in all spiritual
knowledge; but it requires no depth of understanding, to judge whether
your character and conduct suit that of the spiritually or carnally
wise man in St. James. You scruple not to accuse the clergy of almost
universally teaching devilish doctrine, and of being deceitful workers;
but, however you may boast of your conversions, you will in the end
render yourselves the ridicule of mankind. You go from one end of
the nation to another, lamenting the heresies of your brethren, and
instilling into the people’s minds, that they are led into errors
by their pastors; when the truth is, you are perverting them with
solifidian and antinomian blasphemies. Consider, sir, how wicked and
abominable in the sight of God it is for you to misrepresent your
brethren to the people, in this scandalous manner. The mischief is,
the giddy multitude, like the Athenians, love to spend their time in
nothing else but hearing some new thing. They are tired with the solid,
plain, and rational way of preaching they have been accustomed to in
the Church, and think it dry and insipid in comparison of the powerful
charms of that ecstatic eloquence, those highflown metaphors, those
pretty rhymes, those taking gestures, with which you tickle and bewitch
them. You give a deplorable account of the debt you have contracted
by the building of your meeting-houses; but unless you can bring
better proof than you have hitherto done, of the necessity there is to
give yourself all this trouble and expense, all wise and considerate
men, without any breach of charity, will look upon subscriptions for
carrying on your designs, as little less than picking the poor people’s
pockets, and robbing them of that which should maintain their families.”
Such is a specimen of the malignant slanders cast upon Wesley by this
northern clergyman.
It has been already stated, that the Rev. Henry Piers preached, in
1742, before the clergy of the deanery of Shoreham, a visitation
sermon, which Wesley revised, and which, at the time of its delivery,
gave great offence. The preacher chosen for this office, in 1743,
was of another stamp; and his sermon also was published, with the
following title: “Of Speaking as the Oracles of God. A Sermon,
preached before the Reverend the Clergy of the Deanery of Shoreham, at
the Visitation, held in the Parish Church of Farningham, on Thursday,
May 19, 1743. By John Andrews, M.A., Vicar of that Church.” 8vo, 30
pages. The world would have sustained no loss, if Mr. Andrews’ sermon
had not been printed. The preacher sneers at the fancies of theological
empirics, in one paragraph, and, in the next, speaks of the doctrines
of “justification and regeneration as questions and strifes of words,
which profit not.” Mr. Piers’ visitation sermon is attacked on the
subject of faith; and the assembled clergy of the deanery of Shoreham
are officially informed, that “every one, that is rightly and duly
baptized, not only receives the outward ordinance, but the inward and
spiritual grace annexed to it.”
Another pamphlet, published at this period, was, “A Fine Picture of
Enthusiasm, chiefly drawn by Dr. Scott; with an application to our
modern Methodists.” 40 pages. Dedicated to the Bishop of London. In
this miserable _morceau_, we are told, that “there are thousands
flocking after those enthusiasts, Whitefield and Wesley, who appear to
be deluding crowds of people into a passionate, mechanical religion.”
One of them, at least, is suspected to be a masked Jesuit; and both
have courted persecution, but have had a mortifying disappointment.
The singing of the Methodists is enchanting, and their tunes the most
melodious that ever were composed for church music; but their hymns
are irrational, and, like their prayers, dwell upon a word, or are
immediate addresses to the Son of God, and represent Him as much more
compassionate to the human race than God the Father ever was. “One of
these artful teachers,” says the writer, “has ordered the tickets for
his people to be impressed with the crucifix; and this, with their
_confessions_ and other customs, intimates a manifest fondness for the
orthodox institutions of the Church of Rome. These _modest_ teachers
have not failed to trumpet their own extraordinary piety and holiness,
as well as their extraordinary knowledge and illumination; and this
has been done with great effect among the people. Their doctrine has
very generally occasioned disorder in the passions of their hearers;
the screamings and convulsions common among them, in their public
assemblies, being called convictions. Vast numbers have gone melancholy
among them. Many have been led to quit their lawful and necessary
employment; to neglect their husbands, children, and families; and from
useful members in society have become mopes and visionaries, incapable
of pursuing their proper business, or of supporting themselves with
decency.”
A fourth publication, belonging to the year 1743, was “The Progress
of Methodism in Bristol; or, the Methodist Unmasked: wherein the
doctrines, discipline, policy, divisions, and successes of that
novel sect are fully detected and properly displayed in Hudibrastick
verse, by an Impartial Hand. To which is added, by way of appendix,
the Paper-Controversy between Mr. Robert Williams, supported by
Thomas Christie, Esq., Recorder of Savannah, and the Rev. Mr. Wesley,
supported only by his own integrity and assurance. Together with
authentic extracts, taken from a late narrative of the state of
Georgia, relating to the conduct of that gentleman during his abode in
that colony. Bristol: 1743.” 16mo, 72 pages.
Among other things, this mendacious pamphlet contains an affidavit,
sworn by Robert Williams before Stephen Clutterbuck, Mayor of Bristol,
to the effect, that two freeholders at Savannah became bail for
Wesley’s appearance at the sessions to take his trial, and that he
dishonourably escaped from the colony and left his bondsmen in the
lurch. To this Wesley replied: “Captain Robert Williams, you know in
your own soul, that every word of this is a pure invention, without
one grain of truth from the beginning of it to the end. What amends
can you ever make, either to God, or to me, or to the world? Into what
a dreadful dilemma have you brought yourself! You must either openly
retract an open slander, or you must wade through thick and thin to
support it, till that God, to whom I appeal, shall maintain His own
cause, and sweep you away from the earth.”[516]
Whitefield and Wesley, in this scurrilous production, are accused of
preaching to get money, and of placing men with plates at each gate
and stile of the fields in which they harangued the people, to gather
collections for the Orphan House in Georgia and the Room in Bristol.
Wesley is charged with pretending to work miracles; for, upon a company
of women falling down before him, he first of all prays over them, then
sings a hymn, and then exorcises devils. In the midst of a most severe
winter, he had taken his converts, early in the morning, through frost
and snow, to the river Froom, at Baptist Mills, where, on the ice being
broken, he and they went into the water, where, with “limbs shuddering
and teeth _hackering_,” he baptized or dipped them. Class-meetings are
described, the leaders of which note the sins of those who confess to
them, register them in a book, and, in due season, “report them to
John, who admonishes one, reprimands another, and expels a third.”
At first, each member gave a penny, but now the _lowest_ payment was
twopence weekly. At present there were forty-eight classes in Bristol,
each class containing “an even dozen.” After the watchnight meetings at
Kingswood,
“Men, boys, and girls, and women too,
Come strolling home at morning two:”
and at the nightly lovefeasts, “the ghostly father and all his sons
draw near—
“The pious sisters, wives, and misses,
And greet them well with holy kisses.”
But enough of this. What did Wesley himself publish in 1743?
1. “Nature, Design, and General Rules of the United Societies,
in London, Bristol, Kingswood, and Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
Newcastle-upon-Tyne: printed by John Gooding, on the Side. Price one
penny. 1743.” Twelve pages.
This, the first edition of the “Rules,” is signed by John Wesley only,
and bears date February 23, 1743. A second edition was issued, signed
by both John and Charles Wesley, and dated May 1, 1743. The first
edition has annexed “A Prayer for those who are convinced of Sin,”
consisting of eighteen stanzas of four lines each, and from which is
taken the beautiful hymn, numbered 462, in the Wesleyan Hymn-Book,
and beginning with the line, “O let the prisoners‘mournful’ cries”;
a production admirably appropriate to the circumstances in which the
members of the first Methodist societies were placed.
Societies cannot exist without rules. Up to the present, Wesley
had regulated his societies by _vivâ voce_ instructions and direct
authority; but, as the Methodists increased and multiplied, this became
more difficult, and hence the publication now mentioned. The Rules were
both written and published at Newcastle upon Tyne. Eleven days after
the date they bear, Wesley read them to the Newcastle society, and
desired the members seriously to consider whether they were willing
to observe them. The careful reader will remark the designation which
Wesley gives to his societies, as well as his description of their
“nature and design.” They are not “Wesleyan,” or “Methodist,” but
“United Societies.” As compared with the rules now in use, there are
a few variations in the original edition deserving of being noticed.
For instance, in the list of the leader’s duties, the first in order
was, to receive from each person in his class, once a week, what the
members were willing to give toward _the relief of the poor_. This
is now altered thus: “to receive what they are willing to give for
the _support of the gospel_.” The present rule forbidding “_brother_
going to law _with brother_,” in the first and several subsequent
editions, simply read, “going to law.” To the original rule, “the
giving or taking things on usury,” has been added the words, “that
is, unlawful interest;” and to the rule prohibiting “uncharitable or
unprofitable conversation,” there was added, in the fourth edition,
published in 1744, “especially, speaking evil of ministers or those in
authority,” words now changed for “magistrates or ministers.” In the
list of things forbidden in the present Rules, is the important one,
“borrowing without a probability of paying; or taking up goods without
a probability of paying for them;” this is not in the first editions.
And among the duties enjoined is “_family_ and private prayer”; but in
the first edition the word _family_ is not found, though, in the fourth
edition, published twelve months afterwards, it was inserted.
The curious reader will forgive these trifles. They are all the
variations found in the first edition of the Rules, as compared with
the Rules now in use. The Rules themselves are too well known to
require insertion.
2. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1743, was “A Word in Season;
or, Advice to a Soldier.” 12mo, six pages. This is a model tract, and
shows that, from the first, soldiers excited Wesley’s sympathy.
3. “Thoughts on Marriage and Celibacy.” 12mo, twelve pages. A strange
production, substantially embodied in the piece in Wesley’s collected
works, entitled, “Thoughts on a Single Life” (see vol. xxiv., page
252, orig. edit.). What shall we say of this? Wesley admits, that
the popish doctrine forbidding to marry is a doctrine of devils, and
that a person may be as holy in a married as in a single state; but
he proceeds to show, that the happy few who have power to abstain
from marriage are free from a thousand nameless domestic trials which
are found sooner or later in every family. They are at liberty from
the greatest of all entanglements, the loving one creature above all
others; they have leisure to improve themselves; and, having no wife or
children to provide for, may give all their worldly substance to God.
Those highly favoured celibates are exhorted to prize the advantages
they enjoy, and to be careful to keep them; they are to avoid all
needless conversation, much more all intimacy with those of the other
sex; all softness and effeminacy; all delicacy and needless self
indulgence; and all sloth, inactivity, and indolence. They are to sleep
no more than nature requires; to use as much bodily exercise as they
can; to fast, and practise self denial; to wait upon the Lord without
distraction; and to give all their time and their money to God. On the
whole, without disputing whether the married or single life is the more
perfect state. Wesley concludes by adding, “We may safely say, Blessed
are they who abstain from things lawful in themselves, in order to be
more devoted to God.”
Thirty years afterwards, when Wesley was twitted for marrying, after
expressing such opinions, he averred, that his opinions with regard
to the advantages of a single life were still unchanged; and that he
entered the married state “for reasons best known to himself.”[517]
This was a lame reply to a reasonable reflection on inconsistency.
Wesley’s tract was a mistake; or, if not, Wesley ought to have adopted
his own principles, and have lived and died a celibate.
4. In July, 1743, Wesley wrote his “Instructions for Children,” which
reached a second edition in 1745, 12mo, 38 pages. Prefixed, was a
preface, addressed “to all parents and schoolmasters,” stating, that
a great part of the tract was translated from the French, and that it
contained “the true principles of the Christian education of children,”
and that these “should in all reason be instilled into them, as soon as
they can distinguish good from evil.”
The first twelve lessons are a catechism, respecting God, the creation
and the fall of man, man’s redemption, the means of grace, hell, and
heaven. Then follow lessons how to regulate our desires, understanding,
joy, and practices.
Repenting is defined as “being thoroughly convinced of our sinfulness,
guilt, and helplessness”; faith in Christ, as “a conviction that Christ
has loved _me_ and given Himself for _me_;” holiness, as “the love of
God and of all mankind for God’s sake.” Wesley asserts that “they who
teach children to love praise, train them for the devil”; and that
“fathers and mothers who give children everything they like, are the
worst enemies they have.”
Wesley considered these “Instructions for Children,” extracted from
Abbé Fleury and M. Poiret, superior, “for depth of sense and plainness
of language, to anything in the English tongue.”[518] The Church
Catechism he declared to be “utterly improper for children of six or
seven years old,” and thought “it would be far better to teach them the
short catechism, prefixed to the ‘Instructions.’”[519] Accordingly, he
requested all his preachers to give children the “Instructions,” and to
encourage them in committing the book to memory; while they themselves
were to make it the subject of special study.[520]
Wesley’s attention to children is proverbial. “When I was a child,”
said Robert Southey, “I was in a house, in Bristol, where Wesley was.
On running downstairs before him, with a beautiful little sister of my
own, he overtook us on the landing, when he lifted my sister in his
arms and kissed her. Placing her on her feet again, he then put his
hand upon my head, and blessed me; and I feel,” continued the bard, his
eyes glistening with tears, and yet in a tone of grateful and tender
recollection, “I feel as though I had the blessing of that good man
upon me still.”[521]
In Wesley’s well known sermon on “Family Religion,” he lays it down
that “the wickedness of children is generally owing to the fault or
neglect of their parents.” The souls of children ought to be fed as
often as their bodies. Methodists are exhorted not to send their sons
“to any of the large public schools (for they are nurseries of all
manner of wickedness), but to a private school, kept by some pious man,
who endeavours to instruct a small number of children in religion and
learning together.” He raises the same objection to “large boarding
schools” for girls; for “in these seminaries, the children teach one
another pride, vanity, affectation, intrigue, artifice, and, in short,
everything which a Christian woman ought not to learn.” He adds: “I
never yet knew a pious, sensible woman, that had been bred at a large
boarding school, who did not aver, one might as well send a young maid
to be bred in Drury Lane.”[522]
This is sweeping language; but at that period it was not without truth.
5. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1743, was, “A Practical
Treatise on Christian Perfection. Extracted from a late author.” 12mo,
115 pages. This was an abridgment of William Law’s pungent book,
published in 1726.
6. Another was an abridgment of Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress,” 12mo, 49
pages, price fourpence. Little did Wesley think that, within a hundred
years, the whole of the glorious dreamer’s immortal work would be sold
for a fourth of the price charged for his own fragment.
7. Wesley’s last, and most important work, which reached a second
edition in the year it was published, was “An Earnest Appeal to Men of
Reason and Religion,” 12mo, 53 pages.[523]
This was a clarion cry which created greater consternation than
ever in the camp of Wesley’s enemies. First of all, he describes
religion—the faith by which it is attained—and its reasonableness.
Then, turning from those who do not receive the Christian system to
those who say they do, he charges them, in the name of God, either to
profess themselves infidels, or to _be_ Christians; either to cast
off the Bible, or their sins. “A common swearer, a sabbath breaker, a
whoremonger, a drunkard, who says he believes the Scripture is of God,
is a monster upon earth, the greatest contradiction to his own, as
well as to the reason of all mankind.” After this, Wesley replies to
the objections raised against Methodist doctrines, and to the calumny,
that he and his coadjutors were papists in disguise, undermining the
Church, and making preaching the means of replenishing their purses.
It had been reported, that he received £1300 a year at the Foundery
only, over and above what he received from Bristol, Kingswood,
Newcastle, and other places. To this he answers, that the moneys given
by the Methodists never come into his hands at all; but are received
and expended by the stewards, in relieving the poor, and in buying,
erecting, or repairing chapels; and that, so far from there being any
overplus when this was done, he himself, at this moment, was in debt
to the amount of £650, on account of the meeting-houses in London,
Bristol, and Newcastle. He had “deliberately thrown up his ease, most
of his friends, his reputation, and that way of life which of all
others was most agreeable both to his natural temper and education; he
had toiled day and night, spent all his time and strength, knowingly
destroyed a firm constitution, and was hastening into weakness, pain,
diseases, death,—to gain a debt of six or seven hundred pounds.” Then
addressing himself to his brother clergy, he asks:—
“For what price will you preach eighteen or nineteen times
every week; and this throughout the year? What shall I give you
to travel seven or eight hundred miles, in all weathers, every
two or three months? For what salary will you abstain from all
other diversions than the doing good, and the praising God? I
am mistaken if you would not prefer strangling to such a life,
even with thousands of gold and silver.
“I will now simply tell you my sense of these matters, whether
you will hear or whether you will forbear. Food and raiment
I have; such food as I choose to eat, and such raiment as I
choose to put on: I have a place where to lay my head: I have
what is needful for life and godliness: and I apprehend this is
all the world can afford. The kings of the earth can give me
no more. For as to gold and silver, I count it dung and dross;
I trample it under my feet; I esteem it just as the mire of
the streets. I desire it not; I seek it not; I only fear lest
any of it should cleave to me, and I should not be able to
shake it off before my spirit returns to God. I will take care
(God being my helper), that none of the accursed thing shall
be found in my tents when the Lord calleth me hence. Hear ye
this, all you who have discovered the treasures which I am to
leave behind me; if I leave behind me £10,—above my debts and
my books, or what may happen to be due on account of them,—you
and all mankind bear witness against me, that I lived and died
a thief and a robber.”
Wesley kept his word; for, within twelve months of his decease, he
closed his cash-book with the following words, written with a tremulous
hand, so as to be scarcely legible:—“For upwards of eighty-six years, I
have kept my accounts exactly; I will not attempt it any longer, being
satisfied with the continual conviction, that I save all I can, and
give all I can; that is, all I have.”
1744.
[Sidenote: 1744 Age 41]
Wesley spent more than half of the year 1744 in London and its
immediate neighbourhood. He made about half-a-dozen visits to Bristol;
and three months were occupied in a tour to Cornwall, thence to
Yorkshire and Newcastle, and thence to London.
Charles Wesley spent the year in London, Bristol, Cornwall,
Staffordshire, Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, at Newcastle, Nottingham,
Sheffield, and other intervening places.
Whitefield commenced the year with rejoicing over the birth of his
firstborn,—a boy expected to be a minister, and publicly baptized in
the Tabernacle, where thousands, on the occasion, joined in singing
a doggrel hymn, written by an aged and doting widow. On the 8th of
February, this infant prodigy suddenly expired in the Bell Inn,
Gloucester, where Whitefield himself was born; and, after being taken
to the church in which Whitefield was baptized, first communicated, and
first preached, was then buried, Whitefield returning to London deeply
pondering the meaning of what he calls “this blessed riddle.” The next
four months were chiefly spent in the metropolis; after which he and
his wife repaired to Plymouth for the purpose of sailing to America.
Here they were detained for several weeks, waiting for the convoy in
whose company the voyage was to be attempted. During the interval,
Whitefield preached in the town and neighbourhood with great success,
and was nearly murdered by a villain, who beat him most unmercifully
with his golden-headed cane. At length, he set sail in company with
nearly one hundred and fifty ships; and, after not a few adventures,
landed in New England, at the end of October, but was so extremely ill,
that, for several weeks, he was almost incapable of preaching. In point
of fact, Whitefield preached but very little, during the year 1744,
except in London and in Plymouth, and in their respective vicinities.
One of the chief events of 1744 was the threat of a French invasion.
On the 15th of February, the king sent a message to the houses of
parliament, to the effect, that he had received undoubted intelligence,
that the eldest son of the pretender to his crown was arrived in
France, and that preparations were being made to invade England.
Parliament replied, that they looked upon such a design with the
greatest indignation and abhorrence, and would use every effort to
frustrate and defeat so desperate and insolent an attempt.
Great excitement followed. The coast was watched with the utmost care.
A double guard was mounted at the Tower, and also at St. James’s. All
military officers were ordered to their posts of duty. Workmen in the
king’s yards were directed to wear arms and accoutrements, and to be
exercised every morning; and instructions were given to the militia
of the county of Kent, to assemble at the earliest notice.[524] The
Habeas Corpus act was suspended, and a proclamation was issued for a
general fast. All papists and reputed papists were forbidden to remain
within ten miles of the cities of Westminster and London. The Earl of
Barrymore was arrested and committed to the Tower, on the charge of
enlisting men for the Pretender. Loyal addresses were presented to the
king by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, by the merchants
of London, by the convocation of the province of Canterbury, by the
Quakers, by the Protestant Dissenters, and by many others. The city
of Dublin offered a reward of £6000 for apprehending the Pretender,
or his son, either alive or dead, should they attempt to land in
Ireland; and sixty thousand fire arms and accoutrements were seized in
suspected houses in the southern parts of that island. War was declared
against France on the 29th of March, and the whole kingdom seemed to be
inflamed with martial ardour.
How did this affect Wesley? Two days after the king informed parliament
of the threatened invasion, Wesley and his London society held a day
of solemn fasting and prayer. When the proclamation was published
requiring all papists to leave London, though he had appointed to go
out of town, he determined to stay, so as to cut off all occasion
of reproach; but on the 2nd of March (the last day mentioned in the
proclamation), while he was at a house in Spitalfields, a magistrate
and the parish officers came in search of papists. Wesley was glad of
the opportunity to explain the principles and the practices of the
Methodists. The searchers were satisfied, and Wesley was allowed to
depart in peace, a large mob merely gaping, staring, and hallooing
as loud as they were able. Some of his friends pressed him to write
an address to the king, on behalf of the Methodists. He did so,
and described them as “a people scattered and peeled, and trodden
underfoot; traduced as inclined to Popery, and consequently disaffected
to his majesty.” They were, however, “a part of the Protestant Church
established in these kingdoms; they detested the fundamental doctrines
of the Church of Rome; and were steadily attached to his majesty’s
royal person and illustrious house, and ready to obey him to the
uttermost, in all things which they conceived to be agreeable to the
written word of God.” “Silver and gold,” he adds, “most of us must
own, we have none; but such as we have we humbly beg your majesty to
accept, together with our hearts and prayers.” Charles Wesley objected
to the sending of this address _in the name of the Methodists_, because
it would constitute them a sect, or at least would _seem to allow_
that they were a body distinct from the national Church. He wished his
brother to guard against this, and then, in the name of the Lord, to
address the king.[525] Upon further consideration the address was laid
aside.
Wesley’s troubles were not ended. On the 20th of March, he received
a summons from the Surrey magistrates, to appear at the court at St.
Margaret’s Hill. He did so, and asked, “Has any one anything to lay to
my charge?” None replied; but, at length, one of the magistrates said,
“Sir, are you willing to take the oaths to his majesty, and to sign
the declaration against Popery?” Wesley replied, “I am”; which he did
accordingly, and was permitted to depart in peace.
Why was this? Besides the general calumny cast upon the Methodists,
that they were papists, it was at this time currently reported, that
Wesley had recently been seen with the Pretender in France. Might not
this be the reason of the unnecessary and annoying summons to appear at
St. Margaret’s Hill?
In the same month, a warrant was issued, by a magistrate of the west
riding of Yorkshire, to compel the attendance of five witnesses to
give evidence at Wakefield, that they had heard Charles Wesley speak
“treasonable words, as praying for the banished, or for the Pretender.”
At the time appointed, March 15, Charles himself appeared in the
magisterial court, and engaged to prove, that all the Methodists, “to
a man, were true members of the Church of England, and loyal subjects
of his majesty, King George”; and then desired their worships to
administer to him the oaths. All the summoned witnesses retracted
their accusations; and yet the Methodist itinerant was insulted at
the door of the magistrates’ room, for eight long hours, when Mr.
justice Burton, with consummate coolness, told him he might go,
for they had nought against him. “Sir,” said Charles, “that is not
sufficient: I cannot depart till my character is cleared. It is no
trifling matter. Even my life is concerned in the charge.” At length,
their worships reluctantly acknowledged, in explicit terms, that his
“loyalty was unquestionable”; and he took his leave for Birstal, where
the Methodists of the neighbourhood met him on a hill, and joined him
in singing “praises lustily, and with a good courage.” All this arose
out of one of the witnesses having heard him praying, on the 12th of
February, that “the Lord would call home His banished”; the words being
used, of course, in a sense purely spiritual.
Other inconveniences and acts of violence arose out of the threatened
invasion of the French. John Slocomb, a poor baker’s boy, who was now
one of Wesley’s preachers in Cornwall, was arrested, under a press
warrant, and taken by his own uncle to prison, where he was kept a
week, and then brought before the commissioners, who, finding no
cause to punish or detain him, were obliged, at last, notwithstanding
all their threatenings, to let him go. In Nottingham, two other
preachers, John Healey and Thomas Westall, were similarly arrested,
the magistrates demanding their horses for the king’s service, and
refusing to believe they had none till they sent and searched. The
case of John Nelson is known to every one, and will ever stand as one
of the most sublime and tragic chapters in Methodistic history. John
Downes, another itinerant, while preaching at Epworth, was seized and
pressed for the king’s service, and sent as a prisoner to Lincoln
gaol. And then, to all these must be added the mournful case of Thomas
Beard, a quiet and peaceable man, who was torn from his trade, and wife
and children, in Yorkshire, and sent away as a soldier, for no other
crime, either committed or pretended, than that of calling sinners to
repentance; and who, while lodged in the hospital at Newcastle, died;
and, as one of the first martyrs among the Methodists, escaped from his
cruel enemies on earth, to the company of the beatified in heaven.
Thus did the hot-headed friends of King George II. do their utmost to
make leal Methodists disloyal to the throne and house of Hanover; but
the effort failed; for, from first to last, more faithful subjects
than Wesley’s followers the throne of England has never had. “It is
my religion,” wrote Wesley, more than thirty years after this, “which
obliges me to put men in mind to be subject to principalities and
powers. Loyalty is with me an essential branch of religion, and which I
am sorry any Methodist should forget. There is the closest connection,
therefore, between my religious and political conduct; the selfsame
authority enjoining me to fear God, and to honour the king.”[526]
Two events occurred, in the year 1744, which deserve special mention:
the first Methodist conference, and Wesley’s last university sermon.
The conference began on Monday, June 25, and continued the five
following days. It was held at the Foundery, London; and consisted
of the two Wesleys, and four other clergymen, namely, John Hodges,
Henry Piers, Samuel Taylor, and John Meriton; also of four lay
preachers—Thomas Richards, Thomas Maxfield, John Bennet, and John
Downes.[527]
Mr. Hodges was the rector of Wenvo, in Wales, a good man, who, from
the first, was friendly to the Methodists, and who showed his love for
Wesley, in 1758, by writing him a reproof for the tartness of some of
his controversial writings, and which Wesley had the honest manliness
to publish in his _Arminian Magazine_.
Mr. Piers has been already noticed. Samuel Taylor was the great
great grandson of the celebrated Dr. Rowland Taylor, of Hadleigh, in
Suffolk, who was forcibly ejected from his church; whom Gardiner, from
the woolsack, addressed as “a knave, a traitor, and a villain”; whom
Bonner was about to strike with his crosier, and was only hindered by
Taylor telling him he would strike again; and who, amid the tears and
prayers of his afflicted flock, was put into a pitch barrel, by the
bloodthirsty papists, on the 9th of February, 1555, and was set on
fire, one zealous vagabond flinging a fagot at his head, and another
impatient ruffian cleaving his skull with a halbert, while he was
singing in the flames, “In God have I put my trust, I will not fear
what man can do unto me.” The descendant of this brave-hearted martyr
partook of his ancestor’s zealous and heroic spirit. He was vicar of
Quinton in Gloucestershire; but his heart was larger than his parish.
Like Wesley, he went out into the highways and hedges, and was a sharer
in the brutal persecutions of Wednesbury, Darlaston, and other places.
Richard Whatcoat, one of the first Methodist bishops in America, when
a child, sat under his ministry, and received impressions which he
never lost.[528] As a preacher, Mr. Taylor was zealous, pathetic, and
powerful. He died about the year 1750.[529]
Mr. Meriton had been educated in one of the universities, and was now
a clergyman from the Isle of Man.[530] The last years of his life seem
to have been chiefly spent in accompanying the two Wesleys in their
preaching excursions, and in assisting them in the chapels they had
built. He died in 1753.
Of the four lay members of the first Methodist conference, three
afterwards left Wesley, and became ministers of other churches. John
Downes was the only one who lived and died a Methodist.
The day before the conference commenced was one to be remembered.
Besides the ordinary preaching services, a lovefeast was held, at which
six ordained ministers were present; and, during the day, the sacrament
was administered to the whole of the London society, now numbering
between two and three thousand members. At this grand sacramental
service five clergymen assisted.
On the day following, the conference was opened, with solemn prayer, a
sermon by Charles Wesley, and the baptism of an adult, who there and
then found peace with God.[531] The three points debated were:—1. What
to teach. 2. How to teach. 3. How to regulate doctrine, discipline, and
practice.
In reference to the first point, it was settled that, to be justified
is to be pardoned, and received into God’s favour; that faith,
preceded by repentance, is the condition of justification; that
repentance is a conviction of sin; that faith, in general, is a Divine,
supernatural _elenchos_ of things not seen; and that justifying faith
is a conviction, by the Holy Ghost, that Christ loved me, and gave
Himself for me; that no man can be justified and not know it; that the
immediate fruits of justifying faith are peace, joy, love, power over
all outward sin, and power to keep down inward sin; that wilful sin is
inconsistent with justifying faith; that no believer need ever again
come into condemnation; that works are necessary for the continuance
of faith, which cannot be lost but for want of them; and that St. Paul
and St. James do not contradict each other, when one says Abraham was
not justified by works, and the other that he was, because they do not
speak of the same justification, and because they do not speak of the
same works,—St. Paul speaking of works that precede faith, and St.
James of works that spring from it.
The Conference further agreed, that Adam’s sin is imputed to all
mankind in the sense, that in consequence of such sin—(1) our bodies
are mortal; (2) our souls disunited from God, and of a sinful, devilish
nature; and (3) we are liable to death eternal. It was further
agreed, that the Bible never expressly affirms, that God imputes the
righteousness of Christ to any, but rather, that faith is imputed
to us for righteousness. At the same time, the Conference conceived
that, by the merits of Christ, all men are cleared from the guilt
of Adam’s actual sin; that their bodies will become immortal after
the resurrection; that their souls receive a capacity of spiritual
life, and an actual spark or seed thereof; and that all believers are
reconciled to God and made partakers of the Divine nature.
Sanctification was defined, a renewal in the image of God, in
righteousness and true holiness; to be a _perfect Christian_ is to love
the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, implying
the destruction of all inward sin; and faith is the condition and
instrument by which such a state of grace is obtained.
Proceeding to other matters, the Conference resolved to defend the
doctrine of the Church of England both by their preaching and living;
to obey the bishops in all things indifferent, and to observe the
canons as far as they could with a safe conscience; and, finally, to
exert themselves to the utmost not to entail a schism in the Church,
by their hearers forming themselves into a distinct sect; though they
agreed that they must not neglect the present opportunity of saving
souls, for fear of consequences which might possibly or probably
happen, after they were dead.