THE REVIVAL
In the making of modern Wales two men stand out pre-eminent, and
without rivals--King Henry VIII, and the Revivalist Howel Harris.
The former gave to Wales the opportunity of playing an equal part
with England in the life of the Empire. The latter roused Wales from
its mediæval lethargy into clear realization and appreciation of the
opportunity which lay within its grasp. In the darkest hour of its
history, in 1916, the British Empire entrusted its fortunes to the
care of a Welshman. That Welshman had been made possible by Henry
VIII: he was produced by Howel Harris.
Enough has been said already to prove that Nonconformity did not
appear in Wales for the first time in the eighteenth century. The
Act of Uniformity of 1662 occasioned the ejection from their livings
of some two thousand clergy, more than a hundred of whom are said to
{200} have been Welsh. Yet in spite of that, and in spite of the
persecution made possible by the Clarendon Code, Dissent continued to
exist. The Toleration Act of King William made matters easier; but
even then Nonconformity did not thrive. There was nothing peculiarly
Welsh about any of the sects; they were merely branches in Wales of
bodies English or Continental in origin, thought, and outlook. Long
before the time of the Methodist Revival these sects had ceased to be
missionary enterprises. They had lost all their evangelical ardour,
and were occupied mainly with rancorous disputations about recondite
points of theology. For the moral and religious condition into which
Wales had fallen, they were almost as much to blame as the
Established Church. Even if we accept the most favourable accounts,
the condition of the people must have been extremely bad. Few of the
lower classes knew how to read. In many churches whole months would
elapse without any sermon at all; while in others the parson would
read a learned English discourse to a sparse congregation knowing
nothing but Welsh. Wesley declared that the people were "as little
versed in the principles of Christianity as a Creek or Cherokee {201}
Indian." That the people were completely indifferent to any
religious impulse, and that they lived, for the most part, the life
of mere animals, is proved by an overwhelming mass of evidence. Of
course too much must not be made of the testimony of extreme
Puritans, who were scandalized by what they considered desecration of
the Sabbath, and by such things as wrestling, dancing, cock-fighting,
and drinking. But when all allowance has been made for this
prejudice, a terrible indictment can still be drawn up; for the vast
majority of the people must have been totally illiterate, extremely
superstitious, and without a thought save for the gratification of
their bodily needs and desires. North Wales was almost wholly
Anglican, there being not more than ten small Nonconformist
congregations. In the South Dissenters were more numerous. But at
the highest computation we cannot put the total number of
Nonconformists in Wales at more than an eighth of the total
population.
The awakening came with Howel Harris, a man, like Luther, of
tempestuous passions, strong character, wide vision, and magnetic
personality. A clear hint had already been given by the Rev.
Griffith Jones, Vicar of {202} Llanddowror, of the method which would
have to be employed for the regeneration of Wales. In spite of every
discouragement from his fellow clergymen, he had begun the practice
of preaching, in a popular style, in the open air, at fairs and wakes
and wherever people were gathered together for dissipation. Griffith
Jones, however, was an educator rather than a revivalist, and as such
we shall have more to say about him in another place. Of the Revival
itself he was a precursor, rather than a leading figure.
Howel Harris was born in 1714, at Trevecka in Breconshire. He was
educated at the Llwynllwyd Grammar School, and was intended for the
Church. But the death of his father made it necessary that he should
earn his own living; and for some years he became a schoolmaster.
During this period he studied hard, and, what is of more importance
in his case, pondered over the evil condition of the people among
whom he dwelt. An intense desire was awakened within him to save
souls. In 1735 he matriculated at St. Mary Hall, Oxford; but his
sojourn at the University was only a few weeks in duration, and he
returned to his own home more eager than ever to preach the Gospel.
He was {203} not ordained, neither was he a licensed preacher of any
Nonconformist body. On the contrary he was then, and remained all
through life, a member of the Church of England. But he began to go
on preaching tours into every part of Wales; and this work he
continued, without intermission, for the next sixteen years. The
life was a strenuous, and even a dangerous, one. On one occasion he
writes: "It is now nine weeks since I began to go round South and
North Wales, and this week I came home. I have visited in that time
thirteen counties, and travelled most of 150 miles every week and
discoursed twice every day--sometimes three or four times a day. In
this last journey I have not taken off my clothes for seven nights,
travelling from one morning to the next evening without any rest
above 100 miles, discoursing at midnight, or very early, on the
mountains in order to avoid persecution." The closing words have a
very modest sound; but it must not be thought that Harris fled from
danger; on the contrary it would be nearer the truth to say that he
wantonly incurred it. The "persecution" of which he speaks was no
figurative expression, but a hard and stern reality. Indeed this
period of his life is one {204} of the most wonderful romances of
modern times.
Innumerable examples could be given of the things which Harris
endured at the hands of his opponents; and it must be confessed that
his own aggressiveness, and the unseasonable moment selected by him
for delivering his message, make one feel that his sufferings were,
at times, almost deserved. On one occasion a Justice of the Peace,
one Marmaduke Gwynn by name, came to hear him, armed with a copy of
the Riot Act, but was so impressed with what he heard that he invited
him to be a guest at his house. Sometimes his success was complete.
"Yesterday," he writes, "was a glorious day: I was at a great feast,
and chose to oppose the devil on his own ground; and we discoursed
within a few yards of a public house, where diversion was to be. I
never tasted more power. I believe some were cut through; many wept,
and one fainted; others felt a great trembling, and all were filled
with awe." His enemies did not hesitate to issue false reports about
him. "Last night and to-day," he says, "I met with no opposition;
many are deterred from coming to hear by a report passing for truth,
that I really correspond {205} with the King of Spain, and that £40
are offered for taking me." At Llanbrynmair he finds the people
living "like brutes, knowing nothing"; yet so convincing was the
message which he delivered, that he left behind him there the nucleus
of one of the first and strongest Methodist congregations. On the
road from Cemmaes he was roughly hustled and beaten, and followed by
a gang of men who cried, "Down with the Roundheads." A woman threw
mud at him, calling him a "damned devil"; and he was hounded out of
the parish with dogs. At Machynlleth he was beset by an infuriated
rabble, headed by an attorney's clerk with mouth "so full of the
language of hell as if his name had been legion"; and with him a
gentleman and a clergyman whose language was, apparently, in no wise
different from that of the clerk! Some years later this same clerk
relented; but the parson, to the end of his days, never ceased to
allude to the new preachers, in his sermons, as "those wicked
Methodists." At Crickhowell Harris was so roughly handled that he
was obliged to seek refuge in a friend's house, his clothes torn, his
face covered with blood, his head cut in thirteen places, and his
body bruised. South Wales seems to {206} have been decidedly more
wicked than the North, and Glamorgan worst of all. An attempt to
shoot Harris was made at Swansea and Llandilo; and at Carmarthen a
man drew a sword, with the intention of killing him. But the North
was bad enough. At Bala (so soon afterwards to become the Oxford of
Welsh Nonconformity) he had a very unpleasant time on his second
visit to the place. The Vicar raised a great club which he was
carrying, and threatened to strike him with it. Not content with
that, the reverend man caused a barrel of beer to be placed in the
open street, where all comers might freely drink, in order that their
will to harm the Revivalist might be strengthened, and their valour
enhanced at the cost of their discretion. Nevertheless, in spite of
all persecution, the whole country was soon ablaze with the Revival;
and people came in hundreds and thousands to hear the preachers.
Howel Harris was not alone in the field. About the same time, and
quite independently of him, Daniel Rowlands, the eloquent curate of
Llangeitho, had begun to preach, and a warm friendship was struck
between the two men. Griffith Jones gave the new movement
encouraging recognition; and Whitefield who, {207} by his intense
ardour and matchless eloquence, was infusing new life into the
religion of England extended the right hand of fellowship. In 1740
Harris made an invaluable convert in the person of William Williams
of Pantycelyn, in all probability the greatest hymn writer the world
has ever seen, a man who gave imperishable expression to the
theology, the ethics, and the ideals of the Revival. Williams was
ordained by the Bishop of St. David's; and became curate to that
charming and picturesque Welsh historian, Theophilus Evans. But the
learned author of _Drych y Prif Oesoedd_ had no liking for his
curate's superabundant zeal; and when restraint was put upon his
preaching, Williams joined the Methodists.
In 1743 was held at Watford what was probably the first Welsh
Methodist Association; and, in the same year, another at Carmarthen.
During the first few years there was active partnership between the
Welsh Methodists and those of England; and plans were discussed for
their unification. Fortunately these plans always failed to commend
themselves to the majority, and the two bodies remained apart. By
degrees Harris became estranged from all his early {208} friends and
coadjutors. For this he himself was, no doubt, chiefly to blame. He
was not an easy man to work with, being jealous, obstinate, and
masterful. Furthermore, his theological opinions were undergoing a
change, and he had become subject to frequent ecstasies and visions,
all of which he regarded as special revelations and tokens of Divine
favour. The upshot of it all was that Howel Harris decided to live a
life apart, and to form at Trevecka a sort of religious community
which he called a Family. Something must be said about this scheme,
which engrossed the last twenty-two years of his life (1751-1773)
before we return to follow the growth of Methodism in general.
As early as 1736 Harris seems to have cherished the desire to found
at Trevecka a community, after the pattern of that of Frank at Halle,
or of the Moravians at Herrnhut and Fulneck; but for several years he
was altogether absorbed in the work of evangelization. Now, however,
he took up the idea with renewed zest. In preparing the house at
Trevecka for the reception of the Community, he had the assistance of
his friend and adviser Madame Griffith. Residents began to arrive in
1752, and continued to do so, {209} from time to time, for many
years. But the average membership remained throughout somewhere near
a hundred. Every member was expected to put all his worldly
possessions into a common fund. The concerns of the Family were both
religious and industrial. Three services were held every day, and on
Sundays four. But industry held almost as important a place in the
scheme as religion; and it is this that makes Harris so prominent a
figure in the economic and social, as well as in the religious, life
of Wales. The first faint indications of the coming Industrial
Revolution were beginning to be descried in England; but as yet Wales
was almost wholly agricultural and pastoral; and, of course, what
industries there were, were carried on in the cottages of the people.
In a few short years the enormous mineral wealth of the country would
be discovered; and the introduction of the factory system, and the
construction of turnpike roads, would alter the whole face of
society. More than a century earlier, an Industrial Community had
been founded by the Vaughans of Bredwardine, but that had long sunk
into oblivion: it was the Trevecka Family that really brought the
main ideas of the Industrial Revolution to the doors of {210} the
Welsh people. The industrial pursuits of the new Community were
interesting and varied. They picked wool, carded flax, and knitted.
A woollen factory was instituted, and a printing-press installed.
Harris and his followers were equally interested in the development
of the land. He introduced new, and better, methods of growing
turnips and corn, and also an improved system of crop rotation.
Our account of this versatile man would not be complete without a
word about a most curious, and wholly unexpected, episode in his
life. In 1756 the Seven Years' War broke out, and a French invasion
of England was deemed to be imminent. Loyal citizens everywhere
rushed to arms; and the Breconshire Agricultural Society, with which
Harris was intimately connected, offered to form themselves into a
troop of light horse. Five members of the Family joined the regular
army. They served in Nova Scotia, besieged Louisberg, and fought
with Wolfe at Quebec. Four were killed, or died of fever, and one
only lived to return to Trevecka. In 1759 Harris joined the local
militia; and was made, first an Ensign, and soon afterwards a
Captain-Lieutenant. In this capacity he accompanied {211} the troops
to Yarmouth; and he did not return home until 1763, when the Peace of
Paris put an end to all danger of invasion.
The last ten years of his life Harris spent quietly with the Family,
his calm existence varied only by the assistance which he gave to
Lady Huntingdon in founding her Methodist College at Trevecka Isaf.
To the end he remained a member of the Episcopal Church; and at his
funeral, in July 1773, fifteen clergymen administered the Sacrament
to a multitude of twenty thousand people, who had come to show their
affection and respect.
By this time congregations of Methodists had grown very numerous in
Wales, and the problem of administering to their spiritual needs was
becoming a difficult and a pressing one. It was obvious that the few
clergy who had joined the Association could not cope with the
situation. Large numbers of lay preachers had arisen; but none of
them were ordained, nor did they claim the right to administer the
Sacraments. The English Church was confronted with the alternative
of either making its doors wider, so as to make it possible for the
newly converted multitudes to find a congenial home within it; or of
keeping its doors rigidly narrow, and so {212} keeping the people
out. The latter course was the one adopted. The leaders of the
Church remained stiff, unsympathetic, and aloof. For years the small
band of Methodist clergy strove hard to obtain recognition, having to
perform the difficult task of restraining the eagerness of their own
more extreme followers. To most of them, if not to all, the thought
of a break with the Church was extremely repugnant; and they were
prepared to go great lengths to make such a thing unnecessary. But
on one point they remained firm: the people must have the preaching,
and the religious services which they found to be of most spiritual
value to them. If the Church could provide this, so much the better;
if it refused, then secession must be bravely faced. In 1802 the
Rev. Thomas Charles (better known as Charles o'r Bala) issued his
_Vindication_, in which he repudiated the name "Dissenter," proved
the absolute identity of the Methodists with the Church in creed, and
made a last appeal for recognition. The appeal met with no response;
and at the Association which met at Bala in 1811 Charles himself,
while still protesting his preference for episcopal ordination,
ordained eight preachers, of whom the great John Elias was {213} one.
This implied a definite breach with the Church. The great body of
Methodists formed themselves into a new Church, with its own
constitution and its own Confession of Faith. It became known as the
Calvinistic Methodist Church. But even then six Methodist clergymen
refused to quit the Establishment.
Throughout the nineteenth century Nonconformity flourished abundantly
in Wales. The Revival had not only produced the Calvinistic
Methodists, but had given a new and powerful impetus to the older
sects; and between them they claimed the allegiance of the vast
majority of Welsh people. The young Welshman, and even more so the
foreigner, finds it a little difficult to understand the enormous
place which the Chapel filled in the life of Wales during the greater
part of the century. Those little plain square buildings, scattered
so profusely all over Wales, so ugly in the eyes of the tourist, yet
so sacred to those who dwell around them; what was the secret of
their power and their charm? To-day there are many competing
institutions--the school, the college, the club, and the library; but
in those days the chapel was everything. In the pulpit the artistic
soul of Wales found its full expression, as it {214} has never quite
succeeded in doing anywhere else. Its poetry (if we except its
hymns), good as much of it is, never even approaches the very best.
Its painting and its sculpture are almost non-existent. Even in
music Wales has not given to the world anything of real distinction,
and of abiding value. But between 1780 and 1880 it produced
successive generations of preachers, who brought pulpit oratory to a
point that has never been surpassed, even if it has been equalled, by
any other nation before or since. Even to-day, when oratory has
declined, and when there are so many competing attractions, there is
nothing that the Welshman loves so well as a Preaching Meeting. Five
thousand people will still come together eagerly to the village green
on one of these great occasions. At six o'clock in the morning two
sermons, averaging each an hour in length, will be delivered. These
will be followed, at ten o'clock, by two others of the same length.
In the afternoon two more will be delivered. The day will close with
yet another two, or sometimes three, such sermons; and the multitude
will disperse over hill and moor to their scattered homes, discussing
the great feats of oratory to which they have {215} listened, quoting
and conferring with discrimination, and singing, for the twentieth
time that day, some favourite hymn.
The accounts which we possess, written by eyewitnesses, of some of
the effects produced by the great preachers make marvellous reading.
In the hands of a John Elias, a Henry Rees, or a John Jones, the vast
congregation, standing before them throughout the long summer hours,
would be like clay. From tears to laughter, from ecstatic joy to the
profoundest sorrow and the most poignant terror, it would be moved by
a word, or even a gesture. So realistic and dramatic was the
preaching of John Elias that, on one occasion when he was describing
the Almighty letting the arrow fly from his bow, the whole vast
audience parted in two in order to allow passage for the shaft. So
powerful was the voice of Owen Thomas that, preaching at Bangor his
accents could be distinctly heard in Anglesey across the Menai
Straits. Needless to say, scenes of the most uncontrolled enthusiasm
would prevail. Fear of Hell, and hope of Heaven would alternate in
the hearts of the congregation; but in all the utterances of the
greatest preachers the dominant note was the compelling love of God
in Christ.
{216}
In the chapel, and in the federation of chapels, the Welshman learnt
the difficult art of self-government. The rule of the parson had
been an autocratic one; that of the Nonconformist bodies was, from
the first, democratic. Every official, including the Minister
himself, was chosen by a direct vote of the whole congregation. Even
in a further, and a different, sense Nonconformity was democratic.
Its members were mainly drawn from the middle and lower classes; and
its Ministers, until well advanced in life, were simple workmen--John
Elias a weaver, Christmas Evans a farm servant, John Jones a
quarryman, Williams o'r Wern a carpenter. The doors of the
Universities were closed against them; and Glyndwr's University of
Wales was still an unrealized dream. They were the poor preachers of
a poor people.
Did Nonconformity justify its existence? Was the life of Wales
cleansed and elevated? The answer of the impartial historian must
surely be an emphatic affirmative. Between the itinerary of the
preacher Giraldus Cambrensis, and that of the preacher Howel Harris,
a period of some five hundred and fifty years intervened; but it is
difficult to see that the Welsh people were at all higher, {217}
mentally or morally, at the later date than they were at the earlier
one. But add another hundred years, and no chance visitor would
suppose that he was seeing the same people.
The indirect effects of Nonconformity were, in their own way, as
important as the direct. The Welshman, hitherto so careless and
docile in his politics, became thoughtful and independent, having
accustomed himself to government by discussion and voting in his
chapel. He had learned to read in the Sunday School; and it was not
long before he added to his Bible and his commentary a newspaper and
a literary and political magazine. Every chapel would have its
Literary Society; and by that means new ideas in poetry and music, in
science and in philosophy would slowly be disseminated among the
people. A modern scholar probably did not go too far when he
declared that "Nonconformity found Wales derelict; it has reared up a
new nation. It found Wales pagan; it has made her one of the most
religious countries in the world. It found Wales ignorant; it has so
stimulated her energies that by to-day Welshmen, largely by their own
self-sacrifice, have provided for themselves the most complete
educational system in Europe."
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