Part III

., 12mo, 124 pages. The lessons are fifty-seven in number, and are taken from the books of Ezra, Nehemiah, Job, the Psalms, and Proverbs.

The whole of the above were class books in Kingswood school.

7. “Sermons on several Occasions.” Vol. II., 12mo, 312 pages.

8. “A Word to a Methodist.” 12mo, 8 pages. This was written in Wales, and was published in the Welsh language. The following is Wesley’s account of it. “1748, March 27: Holyhead. Mr. Swindells informed me, that Mr. E——, the minister, would take it a favour, if I would write some little thing, to advise the Methodists not to leave the Church, and not to rail at their ministers. I sat down immediately and wrote, ‘A Word to a Methodist,’ which Mr. E—— translated into Welsh, and printed.” In a letter to Howel Harris, dated “Holyhead, February 28, 1748,” he says:—“I presume you know how bitter Mr. Ellis, the minister here, used to be against the Methodists. On Friday, he came to hear me preach, I believe with no friendly intention. Brother Swindells spoke a few words to him, whereupon he invited him to his house. Since then, they have spent several hours together; and, I believe, his views of things are greatly changed. He commends you much for bringing the Methodists back to the Church; and, at his request, I have wrote a little thing to the same effect. He will translate it into Welsh, and then I design to print it, both in Welsh and English.”[46]

9. “A Letter to a Friend concerning Tea.” 12mo, 24 pages. This tract is a strongly worded condemnation of the use of tea; but, as the substance of it has been already given, a further description is unneeded.

10. “A Letter to a Clergyman.” Dublin: Printed by S. Powell, Crane Lane. 12mo, 8 pages. This was written at Tullamore, in Ireland, on the 4th of May, 1748; and was occasioned by a conversation with the clergyman to whom it is addressed. Its object is to show, that the preacher whose preaching saves souls is a true minister of Christ, though he has not had a university education, is without learning, has never been ordained, and receives no temporal reward.

11. “A Letter to a Person lately joined with the People called Quakers. In answer to a Letter wrote by him.” 12mo, 20 pages. Wesley takes his account of Quakerism from the writings of Robert Barclay, and shows wherein the system differs from Christianity; namely—1. Because it teaches that the revelations of the Spirit of God, to a Christian believer, “are not to be subjected to the examination of the Scriptures as to a touchstone.” 2. Because it teaches justification by works. 3. Because it sets aside ordination to the ministry by laying on of hands. 4. Because it allows women to be preachers. 5. Because it affirms that we ought not to pray or preach except when we are moved thereto by the Spirit; and that all other worship, both praises, prayers, and preachings, are superstitious, will worship, and abominable idolatries. 6. Because it alleges that “silence is a principal part of God’s worship.” 7. Because it ignores the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper. 8. Because it denies that it is lawful for Christians to give or receive titles of honour. 9. Because it makes it a part of religion to say _thee_ or _thou_,—a piece of egregious trifling, which naturally tends to make all religion stink in the nostrils of infidels and heathens. 10. Because it teaches that it is not lawful for Christians to kneel, or bow the body, or uncover the head to any man; nor to take an oath before a magistrate.

In his wide wanderings, Wesley met with numbers of friendly Quakers, of whom he speaks in terms of commendation; but their system was one which he abhorred, and, in his “Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion,” he speaks of the inconsistencies of their community in the most withering terms. “A silent meeting,” said he in a letter to a young lady, “was never heard of in the church of Christ for sixteen hundred years.”[47] And, in one of his letters to Archbishop Seeker, he remarks: “Between me and the Quakers there is a great gulf fixed. The sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper keep us at a wide distance from each other; insomuch that, according to the view of things I have now, I should as soon commence deist as Quaker.”[48]

1749.

[Sidenote: 1749 Age 46]

In 1749, Wesley spent four months in London and its vicinity, nearly four in Ireland, ten weeks in Bristol, Wales, and the surrounding neighbourhood, and two months in his tour to the north of England.

His brother employed the year principally in Bristol, Wales, and London, and in visiting intermediate towns and villages.

Whitefield was five months in London, more than five in Bristol and the west of England, and about two were occupied in a visit to Newcastle and the north. In London, besides preaching in the Tabernacle and other places, he acted as the chaplain of the Countess of Huntingdon, and, in her mansion, continued to publish the gospel’s glad tidings to the noble and the rich. Of his seventy-eight published letters, written during 1749, nearly half are addressed to titled ladies. Horace Walpole, in a letter, dated March 23, 1749, remarks: “Methodism in the metropolis is more fashionable than anything but brag; the women play very deep at both; as deep, it is much suspected, as the matrons of Rome did at the mysteries of the _Bona Dea_. If gracious Anne were alive, she would make an admirable defendress of the new faith, and would build fifty more churches for female proselytes.”[49]

In another letter, dated the 3rd of May, he writes:—“If you ever think of returning to England, you must prepare yourself with Methodism. This sect increases as fast as almost any religious nonsense ever did. Lady Frances Shirley has chosen this way of bestowing the dregs of her beauty; and Mr. Lyttelton is very near making the same sacrifice of the dregs of all those various characters he has worn. The Methodists love your big sinners, as proper subjects to work upon; and, indeed, they have a plentiful harvest. Flagrancy was never more in fashion; drinking is at the highest wine mark; and gaming is joined with it so violently, that, at the last Newmarket meeting, a bank bill was thrown down, and nobody immediately claiming it, they agreed to give it to a man standing by.”[50]

Whitefield wrote: “I am a debtor to all, and intend to be at the head of no party. I believe my particular province is, to go about and preach the gospel to all. My being obliged to keep up a large correspondence in America, and the necessity I am under of going thither myself, entirely prevent my taking care of any societies. I profess to be of a catholic spirit. I have no party to be at the head of, and, through God’s grace, will have none; but, as much as in me lies, strengthen the hands of all, of every denomination, that preach Jesus Christ in sincerity.”[51]

His wife arrived from America at the end of June; and, a few weeks afterwards, he set out for the north of England. In Grimshaw’s church, at Haworth, he had a thousand communicants; and, in the churchyard, about six thousand hearers. In Leeds, his congregation consisted of above ten thousand. On his way to Newcastle, Charles Wesley met him, and, returning with him, introduced him to the Orphan House pulpit. Under the date of October 8, Charles writes “The Lord is reviving His work as at the beginning. Multitudes are daily added to His church. George Whitefield, my brother, and I, are one; a threefold cord, which shall no more be broken. The week before last, I waited on our friend George at our house in Newcastle, and gave him full possession of our pulpit and people’s hearts, as full as was in my power to give. The Lord united all our hearts. I attended his successful ministry for some days. He was never more blessed, or better satisfied. Whole troops of the Dissenters he mowed down. They also are so reconciled to us, as you cannot conceive. The world is confounded. The hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. At Leeds, we met my brother, who gave honest George the right hand of fellowship, and attended him everywhere to our societies. Some at London will be alarmed at the news; but it is the Lord’s doing, as they will by-and-by acknowledge.”[52]

Rightly or wrongly, we thus find Whitefield disassociated from all churches and all societies,—the friend of all, the enemy of none,—an evangelist, not a pastor, making it the one business of his life to spread gospel truth, and to convert sinners from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God.

Wesley intended to visit Rotterdam at the beginning of 1749; but was prevented by a request that he would write an answer to Dr. Middleton’s book against the fathers. He says: “I spent almost twenty days in that unpleasing employment.”

In the middle of the month of February, he and his brother, and Charles Perronet, set out from London for Mr. Gwynne’s, in Wales, for the purpose of making final arrangements for Charles’s marriage. John’s proposal was to give his brother security for the payment of £100 per annum out of the profits of their publications. This was accepted as satisfactory, and Mr. Gwynne and Mr. Perronet were to act as the trustees. Miss Sally Gwynne promised to let Charles continue his vegetable diet and his travelling; and, though Mrs. Gwynne wished to stipulate that he should not go again to Ireland, this, at her daughter’s request, was not enforced. It is a fact, however, that, for some reason, Charles Wesley never visited Ireland after he became the son-in-law of Mrs. Gwynne.

Having completed the negotiations for his brother’s marriage, Wesley hurried off to Bristol; and, at Kingswood, collected together seventeen of his preachers, whom he divided into two classes, for the purpose of reading lectures to them every day, during Lent, as he had formerly done to his pupils at Oxford. To one class, he read Bishop Pearson on the Creed; to the other, Aldrich’s Logic; and to both, “Rules for

## Action and Utterance.” About a month seems to have been spent in this

ministerial training. Who were Wesley’s favoured pupils? This is a question we cannot answer; but, from the books selected, we learn that Wesley’s object was—(1) To teach theology; (2) the science of reasoning; (3) the art of elocution. Leisure hours were occupied in making preparations for the “Christian Library,” and in preaching in the surrounding neighbourhood. Once a week, also, he spent an hour with the assembled children of the four Kingswood schools; namely, the boys boarded in the new house, the girls boarded in the old, the boys in the day-school taught by James Harding, and the girls taught in the day-school by Sarah Dimmock.[53]

Lent terminated on the 26th of March, and, a week afterwards, he returned to Wales for the purpose of performing his brother’s marriage. This took place on the 8th of April, and was, in all respects, a happy one, though there was a considerable disparity in age, Charles being forty, and his bride only twenty-three. Her father was a respected magistrate; her mother an heiress of £30,000. The change from her father’s mansion to a small house in Bristol was great; but she loved her husband, and was never known to regret the comforts she had left behind her. She became the mother of eight children: five died in infancy; three survived their parents, and, by their distinguished talent, added lustre even to the name of Wesley. She died on December 28, 1822, at the age of ninety-six. Her long life was an unbroken scene of devoted piety in its loveliest forms; and her death equally calm and beautiful.

Two days after his brother’s marriage, Wesley set out for Ireland, where he landed at three o’clock on Sunday morning, April 16, and, on the same day, preached thrice to the Dublin Methodists. Having spent a fortnight in the city, where the members had increased from four hundred to four hundred and forty-nine, he started off on a visit to the provincial societies. At Edinberry, he had “an exceedingly well behaved congregation,” including “many Quakers,” and took the appropriate text, “They shall be all taught of God.” At Athlone, his audience comprised seven or eight of the officers, and many of the soldiers of the regiment to which John Nelson had been attached. Great numbers of papists also attended, maugre the labour of their priests. Several sinners were converted, including a man, who, for many years, had been “eminent for cursing, swearing, drinking, and all kinds of fashionable wickedness.” At Limerick, Wesley preached to about two thousand people, not one of whom either laughed, or looked about, or minded anything except the sermon. Here the society had taken a lease of an old abbey, and had turned it into a Methodist meeting-house. He met a class of soldiers, eight of whom were Scotch Highlanders; and was introduced to a gentlewoman of unspotted character, who, for two years, had fancied herself forsaken of God, and possessed with devils; and who blasphemed and cursed, and vehemently desired and yet was afraid to die. Of the Limerick society, he writes: “The more I converse with this people, the more I am amazed. That God hath wrought a great work among them, is manifest; and yet the main of them, believers and unbelievers, are not able to give a rational account of the plainest principles of religion. It is plain, God begins His work at the heart; then ‘the inspiration of the Highest giveth understanding.’”

Having employed seventeen days in Limerick, Wesley, on the 29th of May, set out for Cork; but, on the way, Charles Skelton met him, with the tidings that, in consequence of the late riots (which will be noticed presently), it was now impossible to preach in that city. Wesley was not to be deterred; but he had no sooner entered than “the streets, and doors, and windows were full of people.” Prudently enough, instead of staying, he rode on to Bandon, a town entirely inhabited by Protestants, where he had, by far, the largest congregations he had seen in Ireland. Here he met a clergyman, who had come twelve miles purposely to talk with him. All, however, was not smooth sailing even at Bandon. Dr. B—— averred (1) That both John and Charles Wesley had been expelled from the university of Oxford. (2) That there was not a Methodist left in Ireland, except in Cork and Bandon, all the rest having been rooted out, by order of the government. (3) That neither were there any Methodists left in England. And (4) that Methodism was all Jesuitism at the bottom. Wesley took the opportunity of replying to these slanderous falsehoods; and then proceeded to Blarney, where he found another rumour, that the Methodists placed all religion in wearing long whiskers. At Brough, he preached to “some stocks and stones”; and then got back to Limerick, whose society he pronounced the _liveliest_ people he had found in Ireland.

Here he “spent four, comfortable days,” when, having appointed himself to preach at Nenagh, he was obliged to leave; and, for want of better accommodation, was glad to ride on horseback behind “an honest man,” who overtook him as he trudged on foot. At Gloster, he preached “in the stately saloon” of a beautiful mansion, built by an English gentleman. At Ferbane, where he meant to dine, he stopped at two different inns, but found that “they cared not to entertain heretics.” Again reaching Athlone, he preached in the new built chapel, and, towards the close of his discourse, cried out, “Which of you will give yourself, soul and body, to God?” Mrs. Glass responded, with a cry that almost shook the house, “I will, I will.” Two others followed, and the scene became most exciting. Numbers began to cry aloud for mercy, and, in four days, more found peace with God than had done in sixteen months before. At Portarlington, a town chiefly inhabited by French, he met a clergyman, who was a defender of the Methodists, and formed a society of above a hundred persons.

More than nine weeks were occupied in this excursion. On the 5th of July, Wesley got back to Dublin, and, a fortnight afterwards, returned to England; but, before leaving Ireland, we must recur to Cork.

For some time, Methodism, in Cork, met with no serious opposition; but, at length, by the secret plottings of the clergy, the town corporation was moved, and a ballad singer of the name of Butler was engaged to be the leader of a mob. This despicable fellow, dressed in a parson’s gown and bands, with a Bible in one hand and a bundle of ballads in the other, sang and vended, in the streets, doggerel rhymes, stuffed with the vilest lies respecting the Methodists; and, by this means, inflamed the populace against them. On the 3rd of May, Butler and his ragged retinue assembled at the Methodist meeting-house, and pelted the congregation with dirt. On the day following, stones, as well as mire, were thrown; and both men and women were attacked with clubs and swords, and many were most seriously wounded. On the 5th of May, the mob was greater than ever; the mayor, who saw numbers of the people covered with sludge and blood, refused to interfere; and the two sheriffs of the city, entering the chapel, drove the congregation among the rioters, and nailed up the doors. John Stockdale was beaten, bruised, and gashed; and his wife thrown to the ground, and almost murderously abused. For ten days ensuing, Butler and his rabble assembled before the house of Daniel Sullivan,[54] a baker; beat and abused his customers; then broke his windows and spoiled his goods, the mayor of the city being an indifferent spectator. Not content with this, for another fortnight, the rioters daily gathered at the front of Sullivan’s shattered dwelling, and threatened to pull it down. He applied to the mayor for protection. His worship answered, “It is your own fault for entertaining those preachers.” Upon this, the mob set up a loud huzza, and threw stones faster than ever. Sullivan said, “This is fine usage under a protestant government; if I had a priest saying mass in my house, it would not be touched.” The mayor replied, “The priests are tolerated, but you are not;” and the crowd, thus encouraged, continued throwing stones till midnight. On May 31, the day that Wesley passed through Cork, Butler and his friends assembled at the chapel, and beat, and bruised, and cut the congregation most fearfully. The rioters burst open the chapel doors; tore up the pews, the benches, and the floor, and burnt them in the open street. Other outrages were perpetrated almost daily during the month of June. Butler and his gang of ruffians went from street to street, and from house to house, abusing, threatening, and maltreating the Methodists at their pleasure. Some of the women narrowly escaped with life. Butler, addressing Thomas Burnet, said, “You are a heretic dog; your soul will burn in hell.” Burnet meekly asked, “Why do you use me thus?” Upon which Butler struck him with a stone, and rendered him incapable of working for upwards of a week; and, at the same time, without the least provocation, hit his wife, and so hurt her that she was obliged to take to her bed. Ann Cooshea and her family were called heretic bitches; and then a huge stone was thrown at her head with such force as to render her insensible. Ann Wright was told, by the same inhuman wretches, that they would make her house hotter than hell; her goods were dashed to pieces; while she herself was pelted with all kinds of missiles, and had to quit her shop, and flee for her very life. Margaret Griffin had her clothes torn to tatters; was cut in the mouth; and beaten and abused to such a degree, that she was covered with gore, and spat blood for several days. Jacob Connor was fearfully wounded, and, had not a gentleman interposed, would probably have been killed. Ann Hughes, besides being called most abusive names, was dragged by Butler along the ground; had her clothing rent in pieces; and was stabbed and slashed in both her arms by the sword of the ferocious brute. Butler and his troop came to Mary Fuller’s shop, brandishing a dagger, and swearing he would cleave her skull. He then made a stroke at her head, which must have killed her, had not Henry Dunkle diverted the felon’s aim. Dunkle was seized; had his shirt and clothes torn to tatters; and narrowly escaped an untimely death, by the interference of neighbours. Mary Fuller fled for life, and had her goods hacked to pieces. Margaret Tremnell was violently struck with a club on her arm and back; stones were hurled into her shop; and her property was partly destroyed by the swords of Butler’s mob, and partly thrown into the street.

For two months, these horrible outrages were continued; and, at the end of that period, Wesley writes:—“It was not for those who had any regard, either to their persons or goods, to oppose Mr. Butler after this. So the poor people patiently suffered, till long after this, whatever he and his mob were pleased to inflict upon them.”

Of these subsequent sufferings details are wanting. We only know that, on the 19th of August, twenty-eight depositions respecting Nicholas Butler and his crew were laid before the grand jury of the Cork assizes, and were all thrown out. At the same time, the same jurists made a memorable presentment, “which,” says Wesley, “is worthy to be preserved in the annals of Ireland, to all succeeding generations,” to wit, that Charles Wesley, and seven other Methodist preachers therein named, together with Daniel Sullivan, the honest baker, were all persons of ill fame, vagabonds, and common disturbers of his majesty’s peace, and ought to be transported.

This, of course, gave Butler greater licence than ever. His fiendish persecutions had received a sort of semi-official sanction, and were carried on with the greatest gusto. Even as late as February, 1750, ten months after the outrages first commenced, we find him and his friends entering the house of William Jewell, breaking his windows, beating his wife, and swearing that they would blow out his brains if he offered the least resistance. Mary Philips was abused in the grossest terms, was struck on the head, and narrowly escaped an untimely death. Elizabeth Gardelet, a soldier’s wife, was met by Butler and his rabble; and, without any provocation, the brute struck her with both his fists, and beat her head against a wall. On escaping from him, he pursued her and struck her in the face. Running into a school-yard for shelter, he vociferated, “You whore, you stand on consecrated ground;” threw her across the lane; knocked her down backwards; and otherwise so ill treated her as to occasion her miscarriage.

Several depositions, to this effect, were laid before the grand jury of the Lent assizes; but, like those at the assizes preceding, were all rejected. A true bill, however, was found against Daniel Sullivan for discharging a pistol, without a ball, over the heads of Butler and his mob, while they were pelting him with stones. Several of the preachers, presented as vagabonds in autumn, appeared at these assizes, and were ordered into the dock of common criminals. Butler was the first witness against them. The judge, looking at him with a suspicious eye, asked what his calling was. The worthless fellow hung down his head, and sheepishly replied, “I sing ballads, my lord.” The judge lifted up his hands in surprise, and said, “Here are six gentlemen,” (so he was pleased to style them,) “indicted as vagabonds, and the first accuser is a vagabond by profession.” A second witness, being called, was asked the same question. He impudently answered, “I am an anti-swaddler, my lord.” The judge resented the insolence, and ordered the buffoon out of court. Then turning to the jury, he reprimanded the corporation and others, for suffering such a vagrant as Butler to be the ringleader of a rabble, who had committed such atrocious outrages upon so many of the peaceable and respectable inhabitants of the city; and declared that it was an insult to the court to bring such a case before him. The abettors of this infamous persecution were put to shame, and Butler was discarded; but the riots, as we shall see in the next chapter, were still continued.

One of the rabble was, shortly afterwards, buried in a coffin made of two of the benches which he had stolen from the Methodist meeting-house; while the notorious Butler, in the first instance, went to Waterford, where, in another riot, he lost an arm;[55] and then fled to Dublin, where he dragged out the remainder of his life in well deserved misery, and was actually saved from starving by the charity of the Dublin Methodists.[56]

To these abominable outrages we are indebted for several of Wesley’s tracts, published at this period; as his “Short Address to the Inhabitants of Ireland”; his “Letter to a Roman Catholic”; his “Roman Catechism”; and others, which will be noticed more fully hereafter.

We now return to England. In the month of April, a letter was published in the _Bath Journal_, alleging that many Methodists of eminence had been publicly charged with the crimes of fornication and adultery, and that one of their preachers had preached the lawfulness of polygamy. Wesley replied to this infamous accusation while in Ireland, and, of course, denied the reported slander.[57]

On August 28, he set out on a two months’ journey to the north of England, during which occurred one of the most painful episodes in his eventful life. But before proceeding further, some account must be given of two of the chief actors in this humiliating scene.

John Bennet was born at Chinley, in Derbyshire; received a good education; was fond of books; and, at the age of seventeen, was placed under the care of Dr. Latham, near Derby, with a view of his studying for the office of the Christian ministry. Before long, however, he engaged himself as clerk to a magistrate; and, at twenty-two, embarked in the business of carrier between Sheffield and Macclesfield, employing a number of horses for conveying goods across mountains, over which carts and wagons had never passed.[58] In 1739, he went to Sheffield races; heard David Taylor preach; sold his racehorse; brought Taylor into Derbyshire; and was converted. He soon relinquished all secular pursuits, and began to preach himself; his “round,” as it was called, extending to Macclesfield, Burslem, Chester, Whitehaven, Bolton, and Manchester.[59] In 1742, he first met with Wesley; and, a year later, became one of his itinerants, and attended the first Methodist conference in 1744.[60] On October 3, 1749, he was married to Grace Murray. Meanwhile, he had introduced Methodism into Stockport and the city of Chester; had been mobbed in Manchester; and had formed a society in Rochdale.[61] At the conference following his marriage, he was appointed to the Cheshire circuit, and was desired to furnish a plan for conducting quarterly meetings; and to pay a special visit to Wednesbury and Newcastle, for the purpose of teaching the Methodists of these circuits “the nature and method” of such meetings.[62] Soon after, he began to grumble, and wrote to Whitefield complaining of Wesley’s discipline and doctrine. Whitefield replied, on June 29, 1750, as follows:—

“I am utterly unconcerned in the discipline of Mr. Wesley’s societies. I can be no competent judge of their affairs. If you and the rest of the preachers were to meet together more frequently, and tell each other your grievances and opinions, it might be of service. This may be done in a very friendly way; and, thereby, many uneasinesses might be prevented. After all, those that will live in peace must agree to disagree in many things with their fellow labourers, and not let little things part or disunite them. I know not well what you mean about gospel privileges. If you mean lovefeasts, bands, etc., these I think are prudential means, and, therefore, prudence should be exercised in the use of them. I am of your opinion, that too much familiarity in these things is hurtful. But it is hard to keep a medium, where a multitude is concerned. As ill effects are discovered, they should be corrected and avoided. The question and answer you refer to, I do not like. I know nothing of Christ’s righteousness being imputed to all mankind. It is enough to say with the Scriptures, ‘that it is imputed to all believers.’ Another seven years’ experience will teach some to handle the word of life in a better manner. You would do well to read more; but whether it would be best for you to pursue, or re-assume, your old studies, unless you are determined to settle, I cannot tell. Reading a _Latin_ author, a little every day, could do you no hurt. It has been my judgment, that it would be best for many of the present preachers to have a tutor, and retire for a while, and be content with preaching now and then, till they were a little more improved. Otherwise, I fear many who now make a temporary figure, for want of a proper foundation, will run themselves out of breath, will grow weary of the work, and leave it. This is the plan I purpose to pursue abroad. Look to Jesus, and let not little things disappoint and move you. If this be your foible, beware, and pray that Satan may not get an advantage over you. He will be always striving to vex and unhinge you. The Lord be with you and yours, and give Mrs. Bennet faith and courage in her approaching hour!”[63]

Besides being in other respects of some importance, Whitefield’s letter will help the reader to understand Bennet’s subsequent career. It was not nine months since his marriage with Grace Murray; and, eighteen months after this, he stood up in the Bolton chapel, and said, “I have no longer any connection with Mr. Wesley. He denies the perseverance of the saints, and asserts sinless perfection. All of you, who are of my mind, follow me.” The society did so; for, out of a hundred and twenty-seven members, only nineteen remained faithful. He then went to Stockport, where, after preaching, he met the society, told them what he had done at Bolton, and added, “You must take either me or Mr. Wesley.” They all joined him, but one, Molly Williamson. He promised to preach to them every fortnight; but, within a year, utterly forsook them.[64]

Here we have the first Methodist agitator. Bennet pursued his divisive career. On December 30, 1751, Thomas Mitchell preached at Bolton, after which Bennet met the shattered society, spoke bitterly of Wesley, and said he was a pope, and preached nothing but popery. Spreading out his hands, he cried, “Popery! popery! popery! I have not been in connection with him these three years, neither will I be any more.” Thomas Mitchell said, “The spirit in which you now speak is not of God; neither are you fit for the pulpit, while you are of such a spirit”; upon which a woman struck Mitchell in the face. The congregation was now in uproar, and Mitchell quietly retired. The day following, however, Bennet went to the quarterly meeting, and repeated to all the stewards of the circuit what he had said, on the previous evening, to the Bolton society. “His mind,” says Thomas Mitchell, “was wholly set against Mr. Wesley, and against the whole Methodist doctrine and discipline; and he had so infused his own spirit into the people in many places, that I had hard work among them. But the Lord kept my soul in peace and love. Glory be unto His holy name!”[65]

Such was John Bennet, the first Methodist reformer,—a man of respectable social position, and a classical scholar; but a man not overstocked with honesty and honour, a man of energy, but somewhat conceited, a hard worker, and, we hope, devout, but also suspicious, testy, and vindictive,—a man whose early labours were greatly blessed, but who, in 1754, settled at Warburton, a small village of four or five hundred inhabitants, situated about six miles eastward of the town of Warrington; where, in a chapel erected for his use, he continued to preach Calvinistic doctrines for the next five years, when he was seized with jaundice, and, after an illness of thirty-six weeks, finished his course on May 24, 1759, aged forty-five.[66] His wife, who had no little experience, says she never saw any saint’s death to equal his. Addressing him, she said, “Thou art not afraid of dying?” “No,” he answered, “I am assured, beyond a doubt, that I shall be with Christ. I long to be dissolved. Come, Lord Jesus! Loose me from the prison of this clay!” She asked again, “Canst thou now stake thy soul on the doctrines thou hast preached?” “Yes,” said he, “ten thousand souls. It is the everlasting truth. Stick by it.” He then prayed for his wife, his children, and the church, after which he said, “I long to be gone. I am full. My cup runneth over. Sing, sing, yea, shout for joy”; and with the words, “Sing, sing, sing,” upon his lips, he died.

Grace Murray, his wife and widow, was the daughter of Robert and Grace Norman, of Newcastle upon Tyne, and was born January 28, 1716. In early childhood, she was religiously disposed, read the Bible, and gave all her pence to relieve the poor. Between eight and nine she was sent to a dancing school, lost her religious impressions, and became an admired companion of the gay and frivolous. At sixteen, she commenced sweethearting, and, at eighteen, was pressed by her attentive swain to marry; but, being averse to this, she removed to London to her sister. Here she became a servant, and, as far as her circumstances permitted, was swallowed up in worldly pleasures and diversions. At the age of twenty, she married a sailor of the name of Alexander Murray, who, three or four days after the marriage ceremony, went to sea, and was absent for ten or eleven months. Her husband, however, though a sailor, was related to a Scottish family of some importance, who, being concerned in the rebellion of 1715, had forfeited their estate, and suffered other loss and inconvenience. Her first affliction was the death of an infant child, fourteen months of age. This made her serious, and she began to attend the ministry of Whitefield and the Wesleys. She became a penitent; and, while reading Romans v., found peace with God, through faith in Christ. Her husband, returning from a voyage, and finding she had become a Methodist, swore that she should not hear the Methodists again. Grace told him, that if she yielded to him in this, she should lose her soul. He stamped and raved and swore: “You shall leave them or me.” She answered: “I love you above any one else on earth; but I will leave you and all that I have, sooner than I will leave Christ.” He threatened to send her to the mad house in West Gardens. She replied: “I am ready to go not only to prison, but to death. I know in whom I have believed, and am confident He would give me strength to confess Him in the flames.” Her husband said: “If you are resolved to go on thus, I will leave you; I will go as far as ships can sail.” She answered: “I cannot help it; I could lay down my life for you; but I cannot destroy my soul. If you are resolved to go, you must go; I give you up to God.”

In process of time, Murray softened, and he himself became a penitent, desiring nothing so much as to know Jesus Christ and Him crucified. In August, 1741, he sailed for Virginia, and, in the same month of the year following, the ship returned with the tidings that he had been drowned at sea.

In October, Grace Murray returned to her mother’s, at Newcastle, a young, fascinating widow of twenty-six. She was no sooner settled, than John Brydon fell in love with her, and, though there was no engagement, it was commonly supposed they were about to marry. Meanwhile, she was appointed leader of several classes, and made excursions to Horsley, Tanfield, and neighbouring villages, speaking to the people, and praying with the societies. Thomas Meyrick, one of the preachers, being ill, she, at Wesley’s desire, removed to the Orphan House to take care of him; but a feminine squabble between her and sister Jackson soon led to her returning to her mother’s.

In the spring of 1743, she came back to London; and then returned to Newcastle in the autumn following, where she devoted herself altogether to the service of the church. Her home was the Orphan House. Part of every week she spent with her classes and the sick; the rest in visiting the country societies. She and sister Jackson had renewed quarrels, which, at the end of a year, led to her again retiring from what ought to have been a holy and happy family. In the meantime, John Brydon married another woman, and soon became careless about religious matters. “This,” says Grace Murray, “shocked me exceedingly. I was afraid his blood would be upon my head, because I did not marry him.” She fell into deep despondency; saw nothing but hell before her; wished she had been a beast or creeping thing; was tempted to dash out her brains. “I was got to such a pass,” she says, “that no preaching did me any good; so wise, that I thought I knew all before the preacher spoke. The Holy Spirit was grieved. My state daily grew worse and worse; and I was even ready to disbelieve in the Bible itself.” For about two years, she continued in this mournful and distressed condition, when she was again enabled to rejoice in God her Saviour, and again became an inmate of the Orphan House. Here, during the autumn of 1745 and the spring of 1746, besides her usual employment in town and country, she had to nurse John Haughton, William Sheppard, and Thomas Westall, all of whom were seriously attacked by fever. In 1747, she had to render the same service to John Wheatley, Edward Dunstan, and Eleazer Webster, who were all ill in the house together. John Bennet, also, was seized with fever, and for twenty-six weeks was tended by her with the greatest care. Such was the life she lived until the autumn of 1748, when she and the other Orphan House sisters again had quarrels, and, for this and another reason to be mentioned shortly, she left the family for ever.

In October, 1749, she became the wife of John Bennet, and, of course, was with him in all his disreputable railings against Wesley. To some extent, she sympathised with the action that her husband took, and also embraced his Calvinistic creed. She was left a widow with five sons, the eldest not eight years old; and, ever after, lived a life of religious retirement. She rose early, prayed much, watched the education of her children, observed great order in her domestic matters, read largely, entertained gospel ministers, visited the sick, and had weekly meetings for prayer and Christian fellowship, chiefly conducted by herself. Having seen those of her children, who were spared, settled in life, she removed to Chapel-en-le-frith, where she again joined the Methodists, and had a class-meeting in her house. Her diary, begun in 1792 and continued for eight years afterwards, when her eyesight failed her, is rich and beautiful. She died on February 23, 1803, aged eighty-seven, after a widowhood of nearly four and forty years. Her last words were: “Glory be to Thee, my God; peace Thou givest.” Dr. Bunting, at that time one of the circuit preachers, preached her funeral sermon, from a text of her own choosing: “I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”[67]

We now reluctantly proceed to dwell on matters of extreme delicacy, and which, under ordinary circumstances, ought not to be introduced; but the case before us is exceptional. John Wesley’s courtship with Grace Murray has been noticed by all his biographers; but, as Mr. Jackson observes:—“all the circumstances of the case have never been disclosed, and the affair is still involved in considerable mystery.”[68] In its ultimate effects, it was one of the great events in Wesley’s history. Curiosity has been excited, but never satisfied. What is the truth respecting it? Who was the faithless one? What were the tricks employed? Who were the censurable parties? Did Wesley act discreetly, or did he act dishonourably? Does the transaction stain the character of the great reformer, or is he innocent and injured? These are questions of some importance, and must serve as an apology for the introduction of details usually omitted in the biographical memoirs of illustrious men.

It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley contemplated marriage early in the year 1748. In the month of August following, his brother was seized, at Newcastle, with what seems to have been a bilious attack, and which, to some extent, disabled him, though, during its six days’ continuance, he managed to preach at Biddick, at Pelton, at Spen, at Horsley, and at Newcastle. Grace Murray attended him during his sickness. When he was somewhat recovered, he proposed to marry her. She seemed amazed, and said, “This is too great a blessing for me; I can’t tell how to believe it. This is all I could have wished for under heaven!” From that time, Wesley regarded her as his affianced bride.

In a week or ten days after making his proposal of marriage, Wesley was obliged to leave Newcastle for the south. The night before he started, he told Grace Murray that he was fully convinced God intended her to be his wife; and that, though they must part at present, he hoped when they again met, they would part no more. The young widow begged they might not separate so soon, saying it was more than she could bear. Upon this, Wesley took her with him through Yorkshire and Derbyshire, where, he says, “she was unspeakably useful both to him and to the societies.” Here they parted, Grace Murray being left with Bennet, and Wesley making his way to London.

Is it unfair to suspect some dishonourable collusion here? Let us see. A year before, John Bennet, for twenty-six weeks, was an invalid in the Orphan House, at Newcastle, and was nursed by widow Murray. From that time, they carried on an epistolary correspondence. Meanwhile, Wesley had proposed marriage, and his proposal had been ardently accepted. Grace Murray was so deeply smitten, that she was unable to bear the thought of Wesley leaving her. To satisfy and give her pleasure, he, perhaps indiscreetly, took her with him; but, on reaching John Bennet’s circuit, he was permitted to proceed alone, and she contentedly remained with a man whom she had nursed in sickness for half a year, and with whom she had corresponded ever since. Added to all this, no sooner had Wesley left the loving couple, than they both wrote to him; Bennet desiring his consent to marry her; and she declaring that she believed it was the will of God she should. Wesley was “utterly amazed, but wrote a mild answer to both, supposing they were married already.” Further correspondence followed. For six months, immediately succeeding, she coquetted between the two. When she heard from Wesley, she resolved to live and to die with him. When Bennet wrote, she replied to him in the tenderest terms. In February, 1749, she sent to Bennet the intelligence, that Wesley had requested her to accompany him to Ireland; that, if he loved her, he must meet her at Sheffield; and that, if he failed in this, she could not answer for results. Bennet determined to go to Sheffield; but, at the last moment, was prevented by the death of a relative. The widow, therefore, went on to Bristol without seeing him. Here there were mutual explanations. She related to Wesley what had passed between Bennet and herself, and seemed to think, that the contract was binding. Wesley, on the other hand, reminded her of what had passed between himself and her; and she professed herself quite convinced, that her engagement with Bennet was not binding; and, accordingly, she and Wesley went off to Ireland.

Here they passed several months together. “She examined all the women in the smaller societies, and the believers in every place. She settled all the women bands, visited the sick, prayed with the mourners, more and more of whom received remission of sins, during her conversation or prayer.” To Wesley himself “she was both a servant and a friend, as well as a fellow labourer in the gospel. She provided everything he wanted; and told him, with all faithfulness and freedom, if she thought anything amiss in his behaviour. The more they conversed together, the more he loved her; and, at Dublin, they contracted by a contract _de præsenti_. All this while she neither wrote to Bennet, nor he to her.”

At the end of July, they returned to Bristol. Here she heard some idle tales concerning Wesley and Molly Francis. Jealousy took possession of her, and she addressed a loving letter to forsaken Bennet, and received an answer, that he would meet her in her journey to the north.

In August, she came with Wesley to London. Here a friend advised her to abandon the thought of marrying Wesley, on the ground, that the London Methodists would never treat her with the respect which Wesley’s wife ought to have; and, that she had not sufficient humility and meekness to bear the slights that would be cast upon her.

On August 28, they started for Newcastle; and, at Epworth, John Bennet met them. Wesley began to “speak to him freely.” Bennet told him, that Grace Murray had sent to him all the letters which Wesley had sent to her. This decided Wesley. He judged it right, that she and Bennet should marry without delay, and wrote her a line accordingly. On receiving it, she ran to Wesley “in an agony of tears, and begged him not to talk so, unless he designed to kill her.” Immediately after, Bennet came to Wesley, and “claimed her as his right”; and Wesley again “determined to give her up.” Four or five days were spent at Epworth. Wesley had fully made up his mind to let John Bennet have her, though he felt the deepest anguish from what he calls “a piercing conviction of his irreparable loss.” While thus suffering, a message was brought him, that “sister Murray was exceeding ill.” He went to her. She cried, “How can you think I love any one better than I love you! I love you a thousand times better than I ever loved John Bennet in my life. But I am afraid, if I don’t marry him, he’ll run mad.” At night, Bennet came to visit her, and, at his urgent request, she again promised to be his wife. Next morning she told Wesley what had passed; and he was more perplexed than ever.

On September 4, they proceeded to Newcastle, resting on the way at Sykehouse, and at Osmotherley. For several days, Wesley was unable to decide how to act; but on September 6, he asked her, “Which will you choose?” Again and again she declared, “I am determined, by conscience as well as by inclination, to live and die with you.” Accordingly, the day following, he wrote a long letter to Bennet, remonstrating with him on his unjust, unkind, and treacherous behaviour. This was sent by the hand of William Shent, but was not delivered. She also wrote to Bennet to the same effect.

She now urged Wesley to marry her _immediately_. To this he objected, because he wished—(1) To satisfy John Bennet; (2) to procure his brother’s consent; (3) to send an account of his reasons for marrying to all his preachers and societies, and to desire their prayers. She said she would not be willing to wait longer than a year. He answered, “Perhaps less time will suffice.” She seemed satisfied, and every day and almost every hour assured him of the most intense and inviolable affection; and declared God had now united them for ever.

She was not without enemies, and Wesley took the opportunity of inquiring their reasons for disliking her. Sister Lyddell’s reason was, because Grace had had the impudence to ride into Newcastle with him. Mr. Williams accused her of not lending his wife her saddle; and Mrs. Williams of buying a holland shift. Nancy and Peggy Watson were angry, because she had bought a joseph before she wanted it. Ann Matteson complained of her being proud and insolent; and Betty Graham of her spending ten shillings upon an apron. Wesley regarded all this as the fruit of vexatious jealousy.

On September 20 they went, with Christopher Hopper, to Hineley Hill. Hopper was made their confidant. In his presence, they renewed the contract they had made in Dublin; after which he was despatched to Chinley, in Derbyshire, to try to satisfy John Bennet. Wesley himself went forward to Whitehaven; his betrothed being left behind to examine the women bands in Allandale.

Meanwhile, Wesley had written to his brother Charles at Bristol. Charles was shocked at the thought of his brother marrying at all, and especially of his marrying a woman who had been a domestic servant; and believed, that it would break up all their societies, and put a stop to the work of God. Instead of replying to his brother’s letter, Charles hurried down to Leeds, and thence posted to Newcastle, where Jeannie Keith informed him that, in consequence of his brother’s contemplated marriage, the town was in an uproar, and all the societies ready to fall in pieces. He hastened to Whitehaven, and told his brother, that all their preachers would leave them, and all their societies disperse, if he married so mean a woman. Wesley weighed the reasons alleged against his marrying. He acknowledges that, at the age of seven and twenty, he was persuaded that “it was unlawful for a priest to marry”; and that, soon after, he was brought to think that there was some degree of taint upon the mind, necessarily attending the marriage bed. Further inquiry, however, had led him to alter his opinions. The meanness of Grace Murray’s origin was no objection, for he had regarded her, not for her birth, but for her qualifications. She was remarkably neat; nicely frugal, yet not sordid; gifted with a large amount of common sense; indefatigably patient, and inexpressibly tender; quick, cleanly, and skilful; of an engaging behaviour, and of a mild, sprightly, cheerful, and yet serious temper; while, lastly, her gifts for usefulness were such as he had not seen equalled. His conclusions were: (1) “have scriptural reason to marry. (2) I know no person so proper as this.”

Next morning his brother left him, and proceeded to Hineley Hill. Meeting the intended bride, he kissed her, and said, “Grace Murray, you have broken my heart.” By some means, he persuaded her to ride behind him to Newcastle, where John Bennet was awaiting their arrival. She fell at her lover’s feet, acknowledged she had used him ill, and begged he would forgive her. Within a week, the two were made man and wife in St. Andrew’s church.

Whitefield was at Leeds, and, by Joseph Cownley, wrote to Wesley, desiring him to come to him. Wesley went, and was told by Whitefield, that his brother refused to leave Newcastle till John Bennet and Grace Murray had been united in marriage bonds. Perceiving Wesley’s trouble, Whitefield wept and prayed over him, and did all he could to comfort him. The day after, Charles and the newly married couple came. Charles, with characteristic impetuosity, accosted his brother, saying, “I renounce all intercourse with you, but what I would have with a heathen man or a publican.” Whitefield and John Nelson burst into tears; prayed, cried, and entreated, till the storm passed over. The brothers, unable to speak, fell on each other’s neck. John Bennet was introduced; but, instead of upbraiding, Wesley kissed him. Wesley and his brother had a private interview, and, on hearing explanations, Charles was utterly amazed, exonerated him from blame, and declared that all the culpability was hers.

Thus the matter ended. Wesley patiently submitted; but this was, unquestionably, one of the greatest trials of his life. In a long hymn of thirty-one six lined stanzas, he poured forth the sorrows of his heart.[69] Four days after the marriage, he wrote as follows, to Mr. Thomas Bigg, of Newcastle:—

“LEEDS, _October 7, 1749_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Since I was six years old, I never met with such a severe trial as for some days past. For ten years, God has been preparing a fellow labourer for me, by a wonderful train of providences. Last year I was convinced of it; therefore I delayed not, but, as I thought, made all sure beyond a danger of disappointment. But we were soon after torn asunder by a whirlwind. In a few months, the storm was over; I then used more precaution than before, and fondly told myself that the day of evil would return no more. But it too soon returned. The waves rose again since I came out of London. I fasted and prayed, and strove all I could; but the sons of Zeruiah were too hard for me. The whole world fought against me; but above all, my own familiar friend. Then was the word fulfilled, ‘Son of man, behold! I take from thee the desire of thine eyes at a stroke; yet shalt thou not lament, neither shall thy tears run down.’

“The fatal, irrecoverable stroke was struck on Tuesday last. Yesterday I saw my friend (that was), and him to whom she is sacrificed. I believe you never saw such a scene. But ‘why should a living man complain? a man for the punishment of his sins?’

“I am, yours affectionately, “JOHN WESLEY.”[70]

Wesley was not without friends to sympathise with him. Vincent Perronet, in a letter to Charles Wesley, wrote:—

“Yours came to hand to-day. I leave you to guess how such news must affect a person whose very soul is one with yours and our friend. Let me conjure you to soothe his sorrows. Pour nothing but oil and wine into his wounds. Indulge no views, no designs, but what tend to the honour of God, the promoting the kingdom of His dear Son, and the healing of our wounded friend. How would the Philistines rejoice, could they hear that Saul and Jonathan were in danger from their own swords!”[71]

Wesley had an interview with Grace Bennet three days after her dishonourable marriage; but, for thirty-nine years afterwards, they never met again. In 1788, when her son was officiating at a chapel in Moorfields, she came to visit him, and expressed a wish to see her distinguished and too faithful lover. Wesley went; the meeting was affecting, but soon over; and he was never heard to mention even her name afterwards.[72]

This has been a painful exposure. Perhaps the writer will be blamed for giving details usually too delicate to be put in print; but it must be borne in mind, that the whole of what is here related has been already published. Besides, up to a recent period, this episode in Wesley’s history has been a puzzle to all his biographers. It has never been explained. Mystery has enwrapped it. Readers have been left in doubt who were the parties to be blamed. Now there can be no great difficulty in pronouncing judgment. John Wesley was a dupe. Grace Murray was a flirt. John Bennet was a cheat. Charles Wesley was a sincere, but irritated, impetuous, and officious friend. Fancy wonders what would have been the result, if Grace Murray had become John Wesley’s wife; and probability suggests that one result would have been, that Mrs. Vazeille would not have had the opportunity of tormenting him as her second husband. But would he have been happy? We doubt it. Joseph Cownley was not far wrong, when, being interrogated by John Bennet, he replied, “If Grace Murray consult her ambition, she will marry Mr. Wesley; if she consult her love, she will marry you.”[73] Ambition properly controlled is not an evil; but ambition in a wife, unmixed with love, inevitably engenders discontent and misery. Besides, it is fair to ask the question, would Wesley’s marrying Grace Murray have been satisfactory to his friends? Wesley was a scholar, an author, and a minister of high repute; his friends included not only thousands of the labouring classes, but a fair sprinkling of brother clergymen, and a few who were men of wealth and position. Was it likely that such friends would look with approbation upon a marriage which was a _mesalliance_? Was not such a marriage calculated to injure Wesley’s influence with the general public? Was it not likely to give an advantage to his enemies? Was it not probable, that it would create disaffection among his preachers, and among his societies? Does not lowliness like to see leadership maintain its dignity? Charles Wesley was culpable for the impetuosity of his interference, and for some of the means he used to effect his purpose; but his alarm was reasonable, and his interposition needed. The fact is, though his brother doubtless loved Grace Murray, she was not worthy of his love. It was a huge imprudence to make her his travelling companion, first in the northern counties, and then, for months, in the sister island. All must admit this. His conduct throughout was honest and honourable, though, at the same time, foolish, and unworthy of his character and position. Without doubt, she was talented, talkative, and bewitching; her services also, as a female itinerant, were popular, and, in a certain sense, successful; but Wesley’s opinion of her character and piety was far higher than our own. The woman who, after a few years of high religious profession, could, for so long a period, sink into almost sceptical depression, and yet, all the while, meet her bands and go through all the other Methodistic duties prescribed for her, as though nought had happened,—the woman who was almost constantly in hot water with her neighbours, and with the other Orphan House sisters; and who so infamously coquetted with the greatest reformer of the age, and with one of his most educated and able helpers,—was not the perfect saint that Wesley pictured her. She was a woman of energy, of dauntless resolution, and of a certain sort of religious zeal; and, late in life, she seems to have been a loving, lovely Christian; but, at the period of her dualistic courtship, she was uneducated, vain, fickle, selfish, and presuming. Her husband wanted her, and got her; and we hope, and doubt not, that their married life was happy; but even Bennet was deserving of a more worthy wife; for, though his treatment of Wesley was, in the first instance, treacherous, and afterwards abusive, he was almost the only one of Wesley’s itinerants who was a man of education and of property; and, both before his marriage and after it, was an earnest, zealous, brave, and useful preacher. But now we bid adieu to Wesley’s flirting sweetheart, and his rival lover; and, with deep regret, begrudge the space we have felt it right to give them.

Wesley’s fortitude was one of his greatest virtues. Terrible had been his disappointment and his trial; and yet, on Friday, October 6, the day after the stormy salutation of his brother, and his painful interview with Bennet and his bride, we find him preaching once at Birstal, and twice at Leeds. He then made a brief eight days’ visit to Newcastle, where, he writes, “at a meeting of the select society such a flame broke out as was never there before. We felt such a love to each other as we could not express; such a spirit of supplication, and such a glad acquiescence in all the providences of God, and confidence that He would withhold from us no good thing.” This was the more remarkable, as, only ten days before, his irritated brother had so severely censured him among the Newcastle Methodists, that the Orphan House was full of anger and confusion. Sister Proctor said, she would leave the house immediately. John Whitford, in the fourth year of his itinerancy, declared that he would no longer be a helper. Matthew Errington dreamed that the Orphan House was all in flames; another dreamer saw Wesley himself in hell; while Jeannie Keith oracularly pronounced him one of the children of Satanas.[74] The fire was fierce, but, for want of fuel, was soon extinguished.

Strangely enough, on leaving Newcastle, Wesley went, at the request of John Bennet, to Rochdale. His home was at Bankhouse, the residence of Mr. Healey, the grandfather of the Messrs. Healey, of Liverpool.[75] On entering the town, he found the streets lined with a vast multitude of people, shouting, cursing, blaspheming, and gnashing on him with their teeth; but, notwithstanding this, he preached, taking as his text, “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts.”

From Rochdale, he went to Bolton, and soon found that the Rochdale lions were lambs, in comparison with those at Bolton. Edward Perronet was thrown down and rolled in mud and mire. Stones were hurled, and windows broken. John Bennet was made a captive, and was hemmed in on every side; but “laid hold of the opportunity to tell them the terrors of the Lord.” Wesley preached thrice, and with such effect, that, before he left, he and his party “could walk through every street of the town; and none molested or opened his mouth, unless to thank or bless them.”

Leaving Bolton, Wesley proceeded to Bristol, and thence to London, which he reached on November 10. Here he received a letter from Johannes de Koker, of Rotterdam, telling him, that he was about to translate and publish his “Plain Account,” and his “Character of a Methodist”; and advising him to “avoid, more than he would a mad dog or a venomous serpent, the multiplying of dogmas, and disputations about things unnecessary”; for these had “been the two stratagems of Satan, by which he had caused the church, insensibly and by degrees, to err from evangelical simplicity and purity.”

Wesley was again involved in trouble with the Moravians. In a collection of tracts, they printed all the passages they could glean from his various writings, that were calculated to prejudice the Lutherans against the Methodists. In the _London Daily Post_, they ostentatiously announced to the English public, that the Methodists and Moravians were not the same; and sent to the editor of that journal, “the declaration of Louis, late bishop and trustee of the Brethren’s church.” Wesley writes: “the Methodists, so called, heartily thank brother Louis for his declaration; as they count it no honour to be in any connection either with him or his brethren.” He then adds: “but why is he ashamed of his name? The Count’s name is Ludwig, not Louis; no more than mine is Jean or Giovanni.”

It was probably this scrimmage which led to the publication, in 1749, either by Wesley or his friends, of a small 12mo pamphlet of twelve pages, with the title, “Hymns composed for the use of the Brethren. By the Right Reverend and Most Illustrious C. Z. Published for the benefit of all mankind. In the year 1749.”[76] Neither printer nor compiler’s name is given; but there is an address “to the reader,” as follows: “The following hymns are copied from a collection printed, some months since, for James Hutton, in Fetter Lane, London. You will easily observe, that they have no affinity at all to that old book called the Bible: the illustrious author soaring as far above this, as above the beggarly elements of reason and common sense.”[77]

Zinzendorf’s worst wisher could have published nothing more calculated to create disgust against him, as the Moravian hymnist, than this. The sufferings of the Lord Jesus are represented as “shining from the Moravian _handmaid_.” The believer is “a little bee, resting from the hurry and flurry of earth on the breast of Jesus.” The wounded side of the blessed Saviour is “God’s side-hole, sparkling with an everlasting blaze,” and to which prayer is offered; the poet licks it, like rock salt, and finds no relish to equal it; and, as a snail creeps into its house, so he creeps into it. To multiply such ideas would be criminal. We content ourselves with giving a single verse, intended to be a description of the Moravian church:

“The daughters reverence do, _Christess_, and praise thee too Thou happy _Kyria_, daughter of _Abijah_, _Ve-Ruach Elohah_, sister of Jehovah. _Manness_ of the man Jeshuah, Out of the Pleura hosannah.”[78]

Is it surprising, that Wesley “counted it no honour” to be connected with a man who could write such profane balderdash as this? or with a church, which was insane enough, in the service of sacred song, to sing it?

The conference of 1749 was held in London, on the 16th of November and following days. The chief subject discussed seems to have been, the possibility of joining all the societies in the kingdom in a general union; and the desirability of investing the stewards of the London society with power to consult together for the good of all.

The conference being ended, Wesley retired to his friend Perronet’s, at Shoreham, that he might be at leisure to employ his pen. Here he spent about a fortnight; then a week at Lewisham; and about another week at Newington.

We conclude, as before, with a list of Wesley’s publications during 1749.

1. “Excerpta ex Ovidio, Virgilio, Horatio, Juvenali, Persio, et Martiali. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 242 pages.

2. “Caii Sallustii Crispi Bellum Catilinarium et Jugurthinum. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 110 pages.

3. “Cornelii Nepotis excellentium Imperatorum Vitæ. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 100 pages.

4. “A Short Latin Grammar.” 12mo, 48 pages.

5. “A Short Account of the School in Kingswood, near Bristol.” 12mo, 8 pages.

6. “Directions concerning Pronunciation and Gesture.” 12mo, 12 pages.

This last publication was intended, “_in usum juventutis Christianæ_”; but it was also meant for his helpers, and may still be profitably studied by numbers of Wesley’s ministerial successors. “A good pronunciation is nothing but a natural, easy, and graceful variation of the voice, suitable to the nature and importance of the sentiments we deliver.” “The first business of a speaker is so to speak, that he may be heard and understood with ease.” Persons with weak voices are recommended to strengthen them, by “reading or speaking something aloud, for at least half an hour every morning.” “The chief faults of speaking are—1. The speaking too loud. 2. The speaking too low, which is more disagreeable than the former. 3. The speaking in a thick cluttering manner, mumbling and swallowing words and syllables, to cure which defect, Demosthenes repeated orations every day with pebbles in his mouth. 4. The speaking too fast, a common fault, but not a little one. 5. The speaking too slow. 6. The speaking with an irregular, desultory and uneven voice. But, 7. The greatest and most common fault of all, is, the speaking with a tone—in some instances womanish and squeaking; in others singing or canting; in others high, swelling, and theatrical; in others awful and solemn; and in others, odd, whimsical, and whining.” In reference to gesture, Wesley remarks, that it is more difficult for a man to find out the faults of his own gesture than those of his pronunciation; because he may hear his own voice, but cannot see his own face. He recommends the use of a large looking glass, after the example of Demosthenes; or, what is better still, to have some excellent pattern constantly in view. Directions are given concerning the motions of the body, of the head, the face, the eyes, the mouth, the hands. The mouth must never be turned awry; neither must a speaker bite or lick his lips, shrug his shoulders, or lean upon his elbow. He must never clap his hands, nor thump the pulpit. The hands should seldom be lifted higher than the eyes; and should not be in perpetual motion, for this the ancients called “the babbling of the hands.”

Wesley’s tract is small and unpretending; but it would not be a waste of time if the students at Didsbury, Richmond, and Headingley would occasionally give it their serious attention.

7. “An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from September 3, 1741, to October 27, 1743.” 12mo, 123 pages.

8. “A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Conyers Middleton, occasioned by his late ‘Free Inquiry.’” 12mo, 102 pages. Middleton was born at Richmond, in Yorkshire, in 1683, and died the year after Wesley wrote his letter. He was a favourite of George I.; was hated by Dr. Bentley, the master of his college; had three wives; was Woodwardian professor, and the university librarian; a writer of great powers, but more an author of whose productions are debased by the leaven of infidelity. Of an irritable temper, he was always creating antagonists instead of friends. But for his doubtful opinions and his quarrelsome disposition, he might have adorned as well as acquired a mitre, instead of which he held, at the time of his decease, no preferment but a small living given to him by Sir John Frederick. The work which gave birth to Wesley’s letter had recently been published, and was entitled, “A Free Inquiry into the Miraculous Powers, which are supposed to have subsisted in the Christian Church, from the earliest ages, through several successive centuries.” Middleton’s professed object was to denounce the practice of taking the primitive fathers as exponents of the Christian faith, because this gave to papists an unassailable advantage in the defence of their superstitions and errors. He rightly contends, that “the Bible only is the religion of protestants”; but, in pushing his principle, he was, perhaps wrongly, suspected of wishing to undermine the authority of the Bible itself. The substance of Wesley’s pungent answer may be guessed from the opening paragraph:—

“In your late ‘Inquiry,’ you endeavour to prove, first, that there were no miracles wrought in the primitive church; secondly, that all the primitive fathers were fools or knaves, and most of them both one and the other. And it is easy to observe, the whole tenor of your argument tends to prove, thirdly, that no miracles were wrought by Christ or His apostles; and, fourthly, that these too were fools or knaves, or both. I am not agreed with you on any of these heads. My reasons I shall lay before you, in as free a manner, though not in so smooth or laboured language, as you have laid yours before the world.”

Bishop Warburton, who was no friend to Wesley, pronounced the answer to Middleton “a scholar-like thing”; though, he adds, “perhaps more temper might have been expected from this modern apostle.”[79]

It may be added, that the conclusion of Wesley’s letter was afterwards published, in a separate form, under the title of “A Plain Account of Genuine Christianity.” 12mo, 12 pages.[80]

9. “A Plain Account of the People called Methodists. In a letter to the Rev. Mr. Perronet, vicar of Shoreham.” 12mo, 34 pages. The substance of this pamphlet has been already given in previous chapters; but it may be added here, that Wesley’s “Plain Account” immediately evoked the following: “An Answer to a late pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Plain Account of the People called Methodists.’ Addressed to the Rev. Mr. Wesley. By a Clergyman of the Church of England. London: 1749.” 12mo, 31 pages. The reverend pamphleteer tells Wesley, that he has read his letter to Perronet, and considers “it to be as weak a performance as ever he met with”; and therefore, that he cannot allow “it to pass uncensured”; especially as by this “weak performance” Wesley was “sapping many of the truths and principles of Christianity, like other sectarists, under the specious pretence of greater sanctity and holiness.” If Wesley’s “performance” was “weak,” this of his opponent was feebleness itself.

10. “A Serious Answer to Dr. Trapp’s Four Sermons on the Sin, Folly, and Danger of being Righteous Overmuch. Extracted from Mr. Law.” 12mo, 48 pages. This production of the genius, piety, and pen of William Law was as grand a piece of writing as can be found in the English language. It is somewhat remarkable, however, that Wesley, in republishing that part of it which contains Law’s account of the _ground_ of the Christian religion, should have put into the hands of his Methodist readers the author’s mystical views concerning the primeval kingdom of Lucifer and his angels, and the results of their rebellion and ruin. It is true, that Wesley, in a foot note, observes: “This is the theory of Jacob Behmen, but quite incapable of proof;” but then, in the same note, he says that, though the theory “is not supported by Scripture, it is, notwithstanding, probable.”

Of course, by republishing the writings of other men, Wesley made their sentiments his own, except in cases to which he himself makes objection. On this ground, we give the two extracts following. The first will help to exhibit one of the guiding principles of Wesley’s life; the other will show his estimate of the office and the use of human learning.

Addressing the younger clergy, he remarks: “Lay this down as an infallible principle, that an _entire, absolute renunciation_ of all worldly interest, is the only possible foundation of that virtue which your station requires. Without this, all attempts after an exemplary piety are vain. Detest therefore, with the utmost abhorrence, all desires of making your fortunes, either by preferments or rich marriages, and let it be your only ambition to stand at the top of every virtue, as visible guides and patterns, to all that aspire after the perfection of holiness.”

The other extract is not of trifling importance. “Human learning is by no means to be rejected from religion; but if it is considered as a key, or the key, to the mysteries of our redemption, instead of opening to us the kingdom of God, it locks us up in our own darkness. God is an all-speaking, _all-working_, _all-illuminating_ essence, possessing the depths of every creature according to its nature; and when we turn from all impediments, this Divine essence becomes as certainly the true light of our minds here, as it will be hereafter. This is not enthusiasm, but the words of truth and soberness; and it is the running away from this enthusiasm, that has made so many great scholars as useless to the church as tinkling cymbals, and Christendom a mere Babel of learned confusion.”

11. “The Manners of the Ancient Christians, extracted from a French Author.” 12mo, 24 pages. The French author, from whose works this was taken, was the renowned Claude Fleury, the associate of Bossuet and Fenelon; the preceptor of the Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berry; the friend of Louis XIV.; the author of an Ecclesiastical History, the fruit of thirty years of devoted study; a man of great learning and simplicity, of high integrity, and ardent piety; who died in 1723, at the age of 83.

12. “A Roman Catechism, faithfully drawn out of the allowed writings of the Church of Rome. With a Reply thereto.” 12mo, 79 pages. This was a republication of a work bearing the following title: “A Catechism truly representing the Doctrines and Practices of the Church of Rome, with an Answer thereunto. By a Protestant of the Church of England. London: 1686.” 12mo, 104 pages. On one page is the catechism, and on the opposite page the answer, throughout. Wesley neglects to acknowledge that the pamphlet was not an original production; and it has improperly been placed in the last edition of his collected works.

13. “A Letter to a Roman Catholic.” 12mo, 12 pages. Its object is to mollify the papist, by showing, that he and the protestant equally hold most of the great truths of the Christian religion; and that they therefore ought to live in peace and love. Wesley writes: “O brethren, let us not still fall out by the way! I hope to see you in heaven. And if I practise the religion above described, you dare not say I shall go to hell. You cannot think so. None can persuade you to it. Your own conscience tells you the contrary. Then, if we cannot as yet think alike in all things, at least, we may love alike. Herein we cannot possibly do amiss.”

14. “Minutes of Several Conversations between the Rev. Messrs. John and Charles Wesley and others.” Dublin: 1749.

15. It was also in this, or in a former year, that Wesley published his threepenny tract, entitled, “An Extract of the Life and Death of Mr. John Janeway,” a young man of remarkable piety, who died at the age of twenty-three, in the year 1657.

16. “A Christian Library. Consisting of Extracts and Abridgments of the Choicest Pieces of Practical Divinity which have been published in the English Tongue. In Fifty Volumes. By John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford. Bristol: printed by Felix Farley.”

This work was begun in 1749, and completed in 1755. A prodigious number of books were read. Folios and quartos had to be reduced to 12mo volumes. Some were abridged on horseback, and others at wayside inns and houses where Wesley tarried for a night. During the six years spent in finishing his task, he suffered a long and serious illness; had to provide his school at Kingswood with necessary books; wrote his “Explanatory Notes on the New Testament”; and was laboriously engaged in preaching Christ, and governing his societies. The work was Herculean. Such an enterprise had never before been attempted. It was a noble effort to make the masses—his own societies in

## particular—acquainted with a galaxy of the noblest men the Christian

church has ever had. His design was to leave out whatever might be deemed objectionable or unimportant in sentiment, and superfluous in language; to divest practical theology from logical technicalities and unnecessary digressions; and to separate the rich ore of evangelical truth from the base alloy of Pelagian and Calvinian error. In some instances he failed in doing this. He writes:—“I was obliged to prepare most of these tracts for the press just as I could snatch time for it; not transcribing them; none expected it of me; but only marking the lines with my pen, and altering or adding a few words here or there, as I had mentioned in the preface. Besides, as it was not in my power to attend the press, that care necessarily devolved on others; through whose inattention a hundred passages were left in, which I had scratched out. It is probable too, I myself might overlook some sentences which were not suitable with my own principles. It is certain, the correctors of the press did this in not a few instances.”[81] This was written in 1772, as a reply to the charge, that, in his writings, he had contradicted himself. “If,” says he, “there are a hundred passages in the ‘Christian Library’ which contradict any or all of my doctrines, these are no proofs that I contradict myself. Be it observed once for all, citations from the ‘Christian Library’ prove nothing but the carelessness of the correctors.”[82]

This is an important fact to be borne in mind by those who are possessors of the first edition only. After the attack just mentioned, Wesley read the whole of the ‘Christian Library’ with careful attention, and marked with his pen the passages which he deemed objectionable in sentiment; and, from this corrected copy, the new edition, in thirty vols., octavo, issued in 1819-26, was printed.[83]

Wesley wrote not for pecuniary gain, but for the profit of his people. Three years before the work was finished, he had already been a loser to the amount of £200, no inconsiderable sum for a man like him. Still the publication went on, and, in due time, one of the grandest projects of his life was finished.

The first volume was published in 1749. Two years elapsed before the second was given to the public. In the preface, he affirms his belief, “that there is not in the world a more complete body of divinity, than is now extant in the English tongue, in the writings of the last and present century; and that, were a man to spend fourscore years, with the most indefatigable application, he could go but a little way, toward reading what had been published within the last hundred and fifty years.” His endeavour was “to extract such a collection of divinity as was all true; all agreeable to the oracles of God; all practical, unmixed with controversy; and all intelligible to plain men.”

The opening volume contains—1. The Epistles of the apostolical fathers, Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp, whom he believed to be “endued with the extraordinary assistance of the Holy Spirit,” and whose writings, “though not of equal authority with the holy Scriptures,” he considered to be “worthy of a much greater respect than any composures that have been made since.” 2. The Martyrdoms of Ignatius and Polycarp. 3. An Extract from the Homilies of Macarius, born about the year 301. 4. An Extract of John Arndt’s “True Christianity”; Arndt was an eminent protestant divine, who died in 1621.

1750

[Sidenote: 1750 Age 47]

Whitefield was now an evangelist at large,—the minister of no church in particular, but a preacher labouring for all. Early in January, he wrote: “I have offered Mr. Wesley to assist occasionally at his chapel. Oh that I may be a freedman, and ready to help all that preach and love the Lord Jesus in sincerity! I am a debtor to the greek and to the barbarian, to the wise and to the unwise; and think it my highest privilege to preach Christ and Him crucified to all.”[84] Accordingly, on Friday, January 19, Wesley read prayers at West Street chapel, and Whitefield delivered “a plain, affectionate discourse.” On the Sunday following, the order was reversed; Whitefield read the prayers, and Wesley preached; after which, they unitedly administered the sacrament to about twelve hundred people.[85] On Sunday, the 28th, the liturgy was read by Wesley, and Whitefield preached the sermon. The two friends were now visibly as well as really united. Wesley remarks: “By the blessing of God, one more stumbling block is removed. How wise is God in giving different talents to different preachers! Even Mr. Whitefield’s little improprieties, both of language and manner, were a means of profiting many, who would not have been touched by a more correct discourse, or a more calm and regular manner of speaking.”

The fraternization was not confined to Whitefield. In the same week, Howel Harris preached in the old Foundery, Wesley observing concerning him—“a powerful orator, both by nature and grace; but owing nothing to art or education.” “Thanks be to God,” writes the Countess of Huntingdon, “for the unanimity and love which have been displayed on this happy occasion. May the God of peace and harmony unite us all in a bond of affection! In forbearance toward each other, and mutual kindness, may we imitate His blessed disciples, so that all those who take knowledge of us may say, ‘See how these Christians love one another!’”[86]

We purposely refrain from following Whitefield in his wondrous wanderings; but it may be interjected here, that, during the year, when at Rotherham, the town crier was employed to give notice of a bear baiting, it being understood that Whitefield was the bear; and, accordingly, when he began to preach a mob surrounded him, and a row ensued. In Cumberland, his enemies injured his chaise, and cut off the tail of one of his horses. At Ulverstone, a clergyman, looking more like a butcher than a minister, charged a constable to arrest him. But none of these things checked his triumphal march. People, by thousands, flocked to hear him. At a single sacramental service, Grimshaw’s church, at Haworth, was thrice filled with communicants. From his leaving London to his reaching Edinburgh, he preached ninety times, to about a hundred and forty thousand people. At Lady Huntingdon’s, he seemed to think himself at the gates of paradise. He writes: “October 11.—For a day or two, her ladyship has had five clergymen under her roof. Her house is indeed a Bethel. To us in the ministry, it looks like a college. We have the sacrament every morning, heavenly conversation all day, and preach at night. This is to _live at court_, indeed.”[87]

Wesley began the year by preaching, in London, to a large congregation at four o’clock in the morning. At the end of the month, he paid a visit to Canterbury, where a society had been already formed; and, during three days, preached in the butter market,[88] and other places, including an antinomian meeting-house, situated in Godly Alley.

The introduction of Methodism into the city of Canterbury was opposed not only by mobs, but by parsons. Hence the issue of the following furious effusion: “The Impostor Detected: or, the Counterfeit Saint turned inside out. Containing a full discovery of the horrid blasphemies and impieties, taught by those diabolical seducers, called Methodists, under colour of the only real Christianity. Particularly intended for the use of the city of Canterbury, where that mystery of iniquity has lately begun to work. By John Kirkby, rector of Blackmanstone, in Kent.” London: 1750. 8vo, 55 pages.

Meek Mr. Kirkby tells his Canterbury friends, that the Methodists, “spiritual Ephraimites, are the true successors of the pharisees, in hypocrisy and spiritual pride, and nauseously abuse sacred things.” Wesley is accused of “matchless impudence and wickedness, and of impious cant. He is a chameleon; uses blasphemous jargon; basely belies Christianity; and nonsense is the smallest of his failings. In him the angel of darkness has made his incarnate appearance; and he and his brother are murderers of sense as well as souls, and just about as fitly cut out for poets as a lame horse would be for a rope dancer.” The polite author continues: “the sacred names of God and Christ are dreadfully blasphemed by the Methodists to serve their wicked purposes: Hypocrisy is their trade, and seeming sanctity their disguise. Wesley and his abettors are not only impious blasphemers of God, but also the most wicked damners of their brethren. Among them religion is impiously mocked; and the senseless effusions of a dissembling hypocrite are interpreted to be the language of the Holy Ghost.”

_Quantum sufficit._ It is time to bid adieu to the Christian rector of Blackmanstone.

Returning to London, Wesley spent Sunday, February 4, with the Rev. Charles Manning, vicar of Hayes, in whose church he preached. He writes: “what a change is here within a year or two! Instead of the parishioners going out of church, the people come now from many miles round. The church was filled in the afternoon likewise; and all behaved well but the singers, whom I therefore reproved before the congregation.”

Mr. Manning, for some years, was one of Wesley’s most faithful friends. Wesley preached in his church at least fifteen times; and through him also gained access to the churches at Uxbridge and Hillingdon. Mr. Manning attended the sittings of Wesley’s conference in 1747; he was the most noted of the Methodist clergy in Middlesex, and was subjected to a large amount of petty persecution. Clergymen would turn their backs upon him while he was reading prayers or preaching. The singers were most obstreporous. His churchyard was used for fighting cocks. On one occasion, William Blackall came into the church, while the psalm was being sung, with a pipe in his mouth and a pot of beer in his hand, and, seating himself in his pew; behaved with the greatest indecency during the whole of Manning’s sermon. On the 5th of November, while he was preaching, a constable and three other fellows took possession of the belfry, rung the bells, and spat upon the heads of the people seated in their pews beneath. Such was the heathenism, in the midst of which Charles Manning laboured. No wonder that Wesley thought even decent behaviour a fact worth mentioning.

On the 8th of February, London was startled, in the midst of its noisy bustle, by the rockings and rumblings of an earthquake. The inhabitants, struck with panic, rushed into the streets, fearing to be buried beneath the ruins of their tottering houses. Exactly a month afterwards, a second shock occurred, more violent and of longer continuance. Ten days later, Gosport, Portsmouth, and the Isle of Wight were shaken. People became frantic with fear. Meanwhile, a crazy soldier took upon himself to prophesy, that, on the 4th of April, there would be another earthquake, which would destroy half of London and Westminster.[89] The prophet was sent to Bedlam for his foolhardiness; but thousands were credulous enough to believe the silly prognostication of this mad enthusiast. When the looked for night arrived, Tower Hill, Moorfields, Hyde Park, and other open places, were filled with men, women, and children, who had fled from houses which they expected to become heaps of ruins; and there, filled with direful apprehensions, they spent long hours of darkness, beneath an inclement sky, in momentary expectation of seeing the soldier’s oracular utterance fulfilled. Multitudes ran about the streets in frantic consternation, quite certain that the final judgment was about to open; and that, before the dawn of another day, all would hear the blast of the archangel’s trumpet. Places of worship were packed, especially the chapels of the Methodists, where crowds came during the whole of that dreary night, knocking and begging for admittance. At midnight, amid dense darkness, and surrounded by affrighted multitudes, Whitefield stood up in Hyde Park, and, with his characteristic pathos, and in tones majestically grand, took occasion to call the attention of listening multitudes to the coming judgment, the wreck of nature, and the sealing of all men’s destinies.

The scene was awful. London was in sackcloth. Women made themselves what Horace Walpole calls “_earthquake gowns_, that is, warm gowns in which to sit out of doors all night.” Within three days, seven hundred and thirty coaches had been counted passing Hyde Park Corner filled with families removing to the country.[90] Sherlock, bishop of London, a fortnight before the expected shock,[91] had published a letter, addressed “to the clergy and people of London and Westminster, on occasion of the late earthquakes”; and sixty thousand copies had been already sold to eager purchasers. This 12mo tract of twelve pages was ably written, and was a faithful warning of the just judgments which the people and the nation might expect unless they repented of the enormous sins with which they were now disgraced. “The gospel,” says Sherlock, “had been not only rejected, but treated with malicious scorn. The press swarmed with books, some to dispute, and some to ridicule the great truths of religion, both natural and revealed. Blasphemy and horrid imprecations might be heard on every hand. Lewdness and debauchery so prevailed among the lowest classes, as to keep them idle, poor, and miserable. By lewd pictures, sold in the open day, the abominations of the public stews were exposed to view. Histories or romances of the vilest prostitutes were published. Friendly visits for conversation had degenerated into meetings for gambling; and men, who had lost all principles of religion, and were lost to all sense of morality, in time of sickness, when fears of futurity were revived, became an easy prey to popish priests, and greedily swallowed their absolution cordials, which, like other cordials, gave present ease, but wrought no cures.”

Sherlock’s letter was timely, and faithful, and did him honour; but it also helped to create the excitement which gave credence to the mad soldier’s prophecy, and which led to the strange scenes witnessed during the night of April 3, and the early morn of April 4. There can be no question that, at this period, the wickedness of London and of the nation was enormous. The people were not only glutted with all the inordinate gratifications and pleasures common to the country; but they had grown delicate in vice, and had adopted all the dainties of debauchery from abroad; and it is a fact, that the very parties, who fled from London for fear of another earthquake, on returning, seemed desirous of apologizing for their cowardice by plunging into revels and riotings more dissolute than ever. Conscious of their folly, they imputed blame to Sherlock, for raising unnecessary fears, by his pastoral, excellent, and truly seasonable charge. Grub Street pamphlets, the harangues of coffee house libertines, and the craven and calumnious whispers of drawing rooms, once more filled with fugitives returned to forsaken homes, soon made his lordship the public butt of abusive ridicule.[92]

Where was Wesley in this unparalleled commotion? For nearly three weeks after the first shock, on February 8, he remained in London, and held a “solemn fast day,” and two watchnight meetings, besides other services, at all of which there were remarkable manifestations of the presence and power of God. He then, on February 27, set out for Bristol; but was succeeded by his brother, who preached, at least, on four different occasions, respecting the fearful events which were then exciting the public mind. One of these was published, and is now included in Wesley’s collected sermons, with the title “The Cause and Cure of Earthquakes.” He also issued a pamphlet, entitled “Hymns occasioned by the Earthquake, March 8, 1750. In two parts.” The hymns were nineteen in number, some of which are published in the Methodist Hymn-book. One of these is the hymn numbered 555; and another is that commencing with the line: “How weak the thoughts and vain.” Two or three of the verses may be quoted here:—

“How happy then are we, Who build, O Lord, on Thee! What can our foundation shock? Though the shattered earth remove, Stands our city on a rock, On the rock of heavenly love.

A house we call our own, Which cannot be o’erthrown; In the general ruin sure, Storms and earthquakes it defies; Built immovably secure, Built eternal in the skies.

High on Thy great white throne, O King of saints, come down; In the New Jerusalem Now triumphantly descend; Let the final trump proclaim Joys begun which ne’er shall end.”

Such was Charles Wesley’s happy, hopeful, buoyant spirit, when all around him were well-nigh paralysed with fear.

During this earthquake commotion, the once gay and sprightly, but for long, long years, the cruelly treated and broken hearted Mehetabel Wesley was taken to the peace and purity of heaven. Of all the Wesley children, none were gifted with finer poetic genius than she. An unhappy marriage with an ignorant, drunken, brutal glazier, of the name of Wright, clouded, with distressing darkness, a life which ought to have been full of sunshine and of happiness. At the time of her peaceful death, Wesley was in Wales; but his brother had the mournful pleasure of repeatedly seeing her in her last sickness, of following her to her quiet grave, and of improving her blissful release from the sorrows of an afflicted life, by preaching from the text: “Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.” She died on the 21st of March, in the fifty-third year of her age.

On his way from London to Bristol, besides preaching at Colnbrook, Reading, Blewbury, Oxford, and Cirencester, Wesley read Dr. Bates’s “_Elenchus Motuum nuperorum in Anglia_,” and pronounces his thoughts generally just, and his Latin not much inferior to Cæsar’s, but says “he has no more mercy on the Puritans, than upon Cromwell.”

Seventeen days were spent in Bristol and at Kingswood, during which he began writing his French Grammar; met the preachers every day at four in the afternoon; and expelled a boy from Kingswood school, who had studiously laboured to corrupt all the others. The Kingswood society was stationary; that at Bristol a great deal worse. They complained of the want of lively preachers, and had among them an almost universal deadness. He writes: “What cause have we to be humbled over this people! Last year more than a hundred members were added; this year near a hundred are lost. Such a decay has not been in this society, since it began to meet together.”

On the 19th of March, Wesley and Christopher Hopper set out for Ireland; but it was not until the 6th of April that they were able to sail from Holyhead to Dublin. In riding to Brecknock, Wesley’s horse fell twice; but without hurt either to man or beast. While they were crossing the Welsh mountains, rain was incessant; and the wind blew so boisterously, that it was with the utmost difficulty they could save themselves from being blown over their horses’ heads. In a cottage on the road, Wesley “sat down for three or four hours, and translated Aldrich’s Logic.” At Holyhead, he overtook John Jane, a preacher, in the third year of his itinerancy, who had set out from Bristol with three shillings in his pocket. For six nights out of seven he had been entertained by utter strangers; and, on his arrival, had just a penny left. Five months afterwards, this brave-hearted itinerant died, his last words being, “I have found the love of God in Christ Jesus.” A friend, who was with him at the time, observes:[93] “all his clothes, linen and woollen, his stockings, hat, and wig, are not thought sufficient to pay his funeral expenses, which amount to £1 17_s._ 3_d._ All the money he had was one shilling and fourpence. But he had enough. Food, raiment, and a good conscience were all he wanted here.” “Enough,” adds Wesley, “for any unmarried preacher of the gospel to leave to his executors.”

Wesley and Hopper embarked at Holyhead on the 29th of March, and found on board Mr. Griffith, of Carnarvonshire, “a clumsy, overgrown, hardfaced man, who poured out such a volley of ribaldry, obscenity, and blasphemy, every second or third word being an oath, as was scarce ever heard at Billingsgate.” Wesley says: “His countenance I could only compare to that which I saw in Drury Lane thirty years ago, of one of the ruffians in ‘Macbeth.’ Finding there was no room for me to speak, I retired into my cabin, and left him to Mr. Hopper.” Hopper adds: “God stopped his mouth, and he was confounded.”[94] Jonah was on board; and, after being tossed by a tremendous storm for two and twenty hours, the Methodist itinerants were thankful to get back to the bay that they had left.

On landing, Wesley preached to “a room full of men, daubed with gold and silver,” some of whom “rose up and went away railing and blaspheming.” The next night, he was about to preach again, when Griffith, at the head of a drunken rabble, burst open both the outer and inner doors, struck Wesley’s host, kicked the poor man’s wife, and, with twenty full mouthed oaths and curses, demanded, “Where is the parson?” Wesley was locked in another room, the door of which Griffith broke. The man was far too big to be a climber; but, notwithstanding this, impelled by his bad passions, he mounted a chair to search for Wesley on the top of the bed tester; but the burly detective fell down backwards, and then with his troop departed. Wesley having descended to a lower room, and spent half an hour in prayer with a small company of poor people gathered for the purpose, Griffith and his gang again assembled. Griffith burst into the house; a young girl, standing in the passage with a pail of water, drenched him from head to foot, and made the bully cry “Murder! murder!” Another locked the door, when, finding himself a prisoner, the poor wretch had to beg most piteously to be released, and to give his word of honour, that he and his companions would quietly decamp.

At length, after a detention which had severely taxed Wesley’s patience, he and Hopper again embarked, and on April 6 arrived safe at Dublin.

To his great annoyance, he found that, during his absence, the Dublin society had been beguiled by a man of the name of Roger Ball, who had been employed to preach to the Dublin congregations, and had been domiciled as a member of Wesley’s family. The man was an antinomian of the worst description, a crafty debauchee, full of deceit, and holding the most abominable errors, by means of which he had done a large amount of mischief. Some were disposed to give up the sacrament; and all were inclined to drop the Tuesday and Thursday preaching, on the ground that “the dear Lamb is the only teacher.” For years, this infamous man hung upon the skirts of the Methodist societies.

Six days after his arrival in Dublin, Wesley had an unexpected interview with a woman of great, though unenviable fame. Lætitia Pilkington was the daughter of a Dublin physician, and was born in that city, in 1712. Her sprightliness and charms attracted numerous admirers, and among others, the Rev. Matthew Pilkington, author of a well known volume of miscellanies. To this gentleman she was married. Dissension soon sprung up, which ended in separation. She then fell into a licentious life, and once was in the Marshalsea for debt. Colley Cibber obtained her release from prison, and procured her a subscription of fifteen guineas, with which she opened a book shop in St. James’s Street. She was the author of a comedy, called “The Turkish Court”; a tragedy, entitled “The Roman Father”; and also another piece, “The Trial of Constancy,” and other poems. Her most famous production, however, was her own Life, in two volumes, written with indecent freedom, but shrewd and entertaining, and displaying extensive knowledge of the world. Dean Swift was one of her intimate friends, and had a high opinion of her intellectual faculties. Her memory was remarkable, if it be true, as stated, that she was able to repeat almost the whole of Shakspeare by heart.

These particulars will give increasing interest to the following extract from Wesley’s Journal: “1750. April 12.—I breakfasted with one of the society, and found she had a lodger I little thought of. It was the famous Mrs. Pilkington, who soon made an excuse for following me upstairs. I talked with her seriously about an hour; we then sang, ‘Happy Magdalene.’ She appeared to be exceedingly struck: how long the impression may last, God knows.”

Mrs. Pilkington was now thirty-eight years of age. Five months afterwards she died.

Having spent thirteen days in Dublin, Wesley set out, on the 19th of April, on a country excursion. At Portarlington, he preached to almost all the gentry in the town. At Mountmellick, he found the society much increased in grace, and yet lessened in number; a case which he thought was without a parallel. At Tullamore, many of his congregation were drunk; but the bulk paid great attention. He rebuked the society for their lukewarmness and covetousness; and had the pleasure of seeing them evince signs of penitence. At Tyrrell’s Pass, he found a great part of the society “walking in the light, and praising God all the day long.” At Cooley-lough, he preached to backsliders. In the midst of the service at Athlone, a man passed by on a fine prancing horse, which drew off a large part of the congregation. Wesley paused, and then raising his voice, said, “If there are any more of you who think it is of more concern to see a dancing horse than to hear the gospel of Christ, pray go after them.” The renegades heard the rebuke; and the majority at once returned. At Aghrim, he preached “to a well meaning, sleepy people,” and “strove to shake some of them out of sleep by preaching as sharply as he could.” At Nenagh, he preached in the assembly room. At Limerick, he “told the society freely and plainly of their faults.” At Killdorrery, a clergyman would talk with him whether he would or not; and this made him too late for preaching at Rathcormuck in the evening.

Here let us pause for a moment. The clergyman at Rathcormuck was the Rev. Richard Lloyd, who, twelve months before, had permitted Wesley to preach in his pulpit, and had shown him great attention. On this occasion, likewise, there was the same brotherly affection. It so happened, that, at the time of Wesley’s visit, there was an Irish funeral. An immense crowd of people had assembled, to do honour to the dead; Mr. Lloyd read part of the burial service in the church; after which Wesley preached; and, as soon as his discourse was ended, the customary Irish howl was given. Wesley writes: “It was not a song, but a dismal, inarticulate yell, set up at the grave by four shrill voiced women, who were hired for that purpose. But I saw not one that shed a tear; for that, it seems, was not in their bargain.”

Mr. Lloyd got into trouble by his allowing Wesley to occupy his church. The neighbouring clergy complained to the bishop. The bishop directed Mr. Davies, the archdeacon, to deliver to Lloyd an episcopal order, that he must not “suffer any person to preach in his church, who was not a licensed preacher of that or the neighbouring diocese.” In a long letter to the bishop, dated “July 4, 1750,” and sent as an answer to his order, Mr. Lloyd remarks:—

“I confess that Mr. Wesley has preached (though seldomer than has been wished) in my church. And I thought, that a fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, who is admitted to preach before the university there, and has preached in many churches in London, and other parts of England, as also in Dublin, might be permitted to preach here also.” He adds: “The mobs at Cork, and some other places in this kingdom, have obliged the Methodists to seek the protection of government, which undoubtedly they will have. Several of them, of good fortunes, to escape the persecution, are preparing to settle in England; and, because the clergy are supposed to have encouraged it, numbers of others resolve to quit our church. At this rate, we may, in a short time, have only the refuse left. Religion, my lord, is now at a very low ebb in the world; and we can scarce see the outward form of it remaining. But corrupt as the world is, it is thought better that the devil should reign, than that Mr. Wesley should preach, especially in a church.”

On the same day, the bishop answered as follows:—

“CLOYNE, _July 4, 1750_.

“REVEREND SIR,—I have that opinion of your prudence, that I doubt not you will be cautious whom you admit into your pulpit; and that you will avoid doing or countenancing anything that may offend your brethren of the clergy, or give occasion to mobs and riots.

“I am, reverend sir, your faithful brother and humble servant,

“G. CLOYNE.”[95]

Blarney seemed to succeed when peremptoriness had failed; Wesley had preached for the last time in Rathcormuck church.

Leaving Rathcormuck on May 19, Wesley rode on to Cork; and, at eight o’clock the next morning (Sunday), had a large and deeply attentive congregation in Hammond’s Marsh. Wesley declares, that he had “seldom seen a more quiet and orderly assembly at any church in England or Ireland.” He designed to preach in the marsh again at night; but, during the afternoon, received a message from the mayor, Mr. Crone, that he would have no more mobs and riots; and that, if Wesley attempted to carry out his purpose, he would be prepared for him. Wesley, not wishful to give offence, relinquished his purpose of preaching out of doors, and conducted the evening service in the chapel; but no sooner had he commenced doing so than his mightiness, the mayor, came with the town drummers, and an immense rabble, and continued drumming as long as Wesley continued preaching. On leaving the chapel, Wesley was hemmed in by the mayor’s mob. Observing a serjeant standing by, Wesley desired him to keep the king’s peace. The king’s officer replied, “Sir, I have no orders to do that.” And so, amid all sorts of missiles, the poor, harmless parson, had to make his way, through a brutish crowd, over Dant’s Bridge, to the house of Mr. Jenkins. Some of the congregation were more roughly handled,

## particularly Mr. Jones, who was covered with filth, and escaped with

his life almost by miracle.

The next day Wesley rode to Bandon; but, for four hours in the afternoon, the mob of Cork marched in grand procession, and then burnt him in effigy.

The day after, May 22, the mob and drummers met at the house of John Stockdale, the tallowchandler, whom they had nearly murdered twelve months before, and whose wife was then abused most brutally. The mayor was sent for, and came with a company of soldiers. Addressing the mob, he said: “Lads, once, twice, thrice, I bid you go home; now I have done”; and away he went, taking the soldiers with him. Of course the “lads” knew how to interpret his worship’s sham loyalty, and, accordingly, at once proceeded to smash all Stockdale’s windows.

On the following day, May 23, the infuriated crowd still patrolled the streets, abused all that were called Methodists, and threatened to murder them, and to pull down their houses. On the 24th, they again assaulted Stockdale’s dwelling; broke down the boards he had nailed up against his windows; destroyed the window frames and shutters; and damaged a considerable part of his stock in trade. On the 25th Roger O’Ferrall put up an advertisement, at the public Exchange, to the effect that he was ready to march at the head of any rabble, and to pull down all the houses that harboured “swaddlers.”

During this week of misrule and terror, in which not Mr. Crone but king Mob was mayor of Cork, Wesley was peaceably preaching in the town of Bandon; but, on the evening of Saturday the 26th, with a congregation in the main street, twice as large as usual, he was disgracefully interrupted. When he had preached about a quarter of an hour, a drunken clergyman, with a large stick in his hand, placed himself by the side of Wesley, and began a preconcerted disturbance; but, before he had uttered a dozen words, three resolute women seized him, pulled him into a house, expostulated with him, and then dismissed him through a garden, where the poor maudlin priest, who had intended to stop Wesley’s mouth, fell in love with one of Wesley’s admirers, who, in order to extricate herself from his brutal embrace, had to repel force by force and to cuff him most soundly. Thus the parson was got rid of, leaving behind, however, three young gents—his friends—all armed with pistols, more dangerous than even his reverence’s shillalah; but the belligerent youths were quietly arrested, by others of Wesley’s audience, and were taken away with more civility than they merited. And, then, to complete this fantastic display of Irish bravery, the last hero in the plot came on with the utmost fury; but “a butcher of the town, not a Methodist, used him as he would an ox, bestowing one or two lusty blows upon his head, and thus cooled his courage. So,” says Wesley, “I quietly finished my discourse.”

The next day, Sunday, May 27, Wesley preached thrice in Bandon, and wrote a letter to the mayor of Cork, the conclusion of which is worth quoting:—

“I fear God, and honour the king. I earnestly desire to be at peace with all men. I have not willingly given any offence, either to the magistrates, the clergy, or any of the inhabitants of the city of Cork; neither do I desire anything of them, but to be treated (I will not say as a clergyman, a gentleman, or a Christian, but) with such justice and humanity as are due to a Jew, a Turk, or a pagan.”

Wesley now turned towards Dublin. One day, he was on horseback, with but an hour or two’s intermission, from five o’clock in the morning till nearly eleven o’clock at night; and yet only five hours after this, he again set out, and made the longest day’s journey that he ever rode—about ninety miles. At midnight, he came to Aymo, where he wished to sleep; but the woman who kept the inn refused him admittance, and, moreover, let loose four dogs to worry him.

He spent only two days in Dublin, when he began a second visit to the provincial societies. He writes: “June 21.—I returned to Closeland, and preached in the evening to a little, earnest company. Oh who should drag me into a great city, if I did not know there is another world! How gladly could I spend the remainder of a busy life in solitude and retirement.”

At Portarlington, he had the unthankful task of reconciling the differences of two termagant women, who talked for three hours, and grew warmer and warmer, till they were almost distracted. Wesley says: “I perceived there was no remedy but prayer; so a few of us wrestled with God for above two hours.” The result was, after three hours of cavilling and two hours of prayer, anger gave place to love, and the quarrelsome ladies fell upon each other’s neck. Here also, there being no English service, he attended the French church service, and writes: “I have sometimes thought Mr. Whitefield’s action was violent; but he is a mere post to Mr. Calliard.”

Wesley then proceeded to Mountmellick, Montrath, Roscrea, Birr, Tullamore, Athlone, Aghrim, Ahaskra, Longford, Kenagh, and Tyrrell’s Pass. On the 14th of July he got back to Dublin, where he spent the next eight days, and then embarked for England. The day before he sailed, he wrote as follows to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell:—

“DUBLIN, _July 21, 1750_.

“DEAR SIR,—I have had so hurrying a time for two or three months, as I scarce ever had before; such a mixture of storms and clear sunshine, of huge applause and huge opposition. Indeed, the Irish, in general, keep no bounds. I think there is not such another nation in Europe, so

‘Impetuous in their love and in their hate.’

“That any of the Methodist preachers are alive is a clear proof of an overruling Providence; for we know not where we are safe. A week or two ago, in a time of perfect peace, twenty people assaulted one of our preachers, and a few that were riding with him, near Limerick. He asked their captain what they intended to do, who calmly answered, ‘To murder you!’ and accordingly presented a pistol, which snapped twice or thrice. Mr. Fenwick then rode away. The other pursued, and fired after him, but could not overtake him. Three of his companions they left for dead. But some neighbouring justice of the peace did not take it well; so they procured the cutthroats to be apprehended; and it is supposed they will be in danger of transportation, though murder is a venial sin in Ireland.

“I am, dear sir,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[96]

Another letter, likewise written in Dublin, though a little out of chronological order, is too important to be omitted. It was addressed to Joseph Cownley, just after Wesley’s arrival in the Irish metropolis, and contains an opinion on preaching, which, in this smooth-tongued age, is well worth pondering.

“DUBLIN, _April 12, 1750_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—I doubt you are in a great deal more danger from honour than from dishonour. So it is with me. I always find there is most hazard in sailing upon smooth water. When the winds blow, and the seas rage, even the sleepers will rise and call upon God.

“From Newcastle to London, and from London to Bristol, God is everywhere reviving His work. I find it so now in Dublin, although there has been great imprudence in some, whereby grievous wolves have lately crept in among us, not sparing the flock; by whom some souls have been utterly destroyed, and others wounded, who are not yet recovered.[97] Those who ought to have stood in the gap did not; but I trust they will be wiser for the time to come. After a season, I think it will be highly expedient for you to labour in Ireland again.

“I see a danger you are in, which perhaps you do not see yourself. Is it not most pleasing to me, as well as to you, to be always preaching of the love of God? Without doubt so it is. But yet it would be utterly wrong and unscriptural to preach of nothing else. Let the law always prepare for the gospel. I scarce ever spoke more earnestly here of the love of God in Christ than I did last night; but it was after I had been tearing the unawakened in pieces. Go thou and do likewise. It is true, the love of God in Christ alone feeds His children; but even they are to be guided as well as fed, yea, and often physicked too; and the bulk of our hearers must be purged before they are fed, else we only feed the disease. Beware of all honey. It is the best extreme; but it is an extreme.

“I am your affectionate brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[98]

Upon the whole, Wesley was well satisfied with the work in Ireland. He writes: “I had the satisfaction of observing how greatly God had blessed my fellow labourers, and how many sinners were saved from the error of their ways. Many of these had been eminent for all manner of sins. Many had been Roman Catholics; and I suppose the number of these would have been far greater, had not the good protestants, as well as the popish priests, taken true pains to hinder them.”[99]

Wesley’s “fellow labourers,” however, gave him trouble as well as joy. Dr. Whitehead has inserted, in his Life of Wesley, the following extracts of letters, written to Edward and Charles Perronet, during the present year. They seem somewhat testy, and, we incline to think, were written in a querulous frame of mind, to which all men are, more or less, liable. We give them as we find them.

“I have abundance of complaints to make, as well as to hear. I have scarce any one on whom I can depend, when I am a hundred miles off. ’Tis well if I do not run away soon, and leave them to cut and shuffle for themselves. Here” [in Ireland] “is a glorious people; but oh! where are the shepherds? The Society at Cork have fairly sent me word, that they will take care of themselves, and erect themselves into a Dissenting congregation. I am weary of these sons of Zeruiah: they are too hard for me. Charles and you _behave_ as I want you to do; but you cannot, or will not, preach _where_ I desire. Others can and will preach _where_ I desire; but they do not _behave_ as I want them to do. I have a fine time between the one and the other. I think both Charles and you have, in the general, a right sense of what it is to serve as sons in the gospel; and if all our helpers had had the same, the work of God would have prospered better, both in England and Ireland. I have not one preacher with me, and not six in England, whose wills are broken to serve me thus.”[100]

This is a dark picture; but we still think, that, though Wesley’s first helpers were far from perfect, his complaint concerning them is too strongly worded. Biliousness makes even the best men fretful, and it may be fairly supposed that Wesley himself was not free from this.

Wesley’s passage from Dublin to Bristol was stormy and dangerous. There was a combination of wind, thunder, rain, and darkness. The sea ran mountains high. The ship had no goods, and little ballast, and rolled most fearfully. He and Christopher Hopper began to pray; the wind was hushed; the sea fell; the clouds dispersed; and, on July 24, they arrived in safety.

Ten days before his arrival, a long and most scandalous letter, of nearly three folio columns, was published in _The Bristol Weekly Intelligencer_; but was far too scurrilous to be answered. Some parts of it are literally obscene, and must not be quoted. The following are among the most mildly expressed charges. The “gifted itinerants,” who “had been bred up as tailors, masons, colliers, tinkers, and sow-gelders,” made it their “business to talk about the other world, in order to maintain themselves in this.” They were “of a gloomy temper, and rueful countenance,” holding the doctrines, that “the Deity is an arbitrary being; that positive institutions are more obligatory than moral duties; and that man is not a free agent, but a mere machine.” Their followers were—(1) The most ignorant and credulous, who were “apt to admire everything that was new, surprising, and mysterious”; (2) the old, melancholy, and sick, who were ready to trust any one, that could, with confidence, promise to put them in a way of safety; (3) notorious bad livers, who made a great noise about religion, hoping to be happy hereafter without being good here; and (4) the female sex, who received the preachers very kindly into their houses, and, for their sakes, neglected and left their husbands and their families. In their preaching, the itinerants “interlarded their miscellaneous thoughts with a whole effusion of Scripture texts, without regard to their just sense or proper application; they roared, raved, thundered, and stunned their congregations, using every variation of voice, and all manner of bodily agitations, and attributed the whole to the powerful operations of the Holy Ghost. Their proper friends were the Jesuits, and they opposed peace and order, and a regular government in church and state. They bred ill opinions about the clergy, by insinuating that they had more regard for their tithes than for their flocks, their pleasures than their prayers; and that they strove more for good livings than for eternal life.”

Such are meek specimens of the long letter published in the midst of the Bristol Methodists.

Wesley spent six days at Bristol, during which he preached at Point’s Pool, “in the midst of the butchers, and all the rebel rout that neither fear God nor reverence man.” He was greatly disheartened at finding the Kingswood family considerably lessened. “I wonder,” he writes, “how I am withheld from dropping the whole design; so many difficulties have continually attended it.”

On July 30, he set out for Shepton-Mallet, and, for five hours, rode through an incessant rain and a furious wind, till he was “drenched to the very soles of his feet.” Next day, he came to Shaftesbury, and preached to a crowded congregation, including “the chief opposers of John Haime; but none stirred, none spoke, none smiled; many were in tears; and many others were filled with joy unspeakable.”

He then proceeded, by way of Collumpton, to Tiverton, to him a sacred place as containing the ashes of his brother Samuel. He preached in the market place. One of his hearers was Miss Sampson, a young lady of five and twenty, the daughter of a Baptist minister. She became one of the first members of the Tiverton society; married James Cotty, an itinerant preacher; and died in peace on New Year’s day, 1819.[101] Tiverton was a place which Wesley often visited, and sometimes (as we shall see hereafter) a place which gave him not the most courteous welcome.

Leaving Tiverton, he went to Cornwall, and found that, throughout the entire county, the societies had “suffered great loss for want of discipline.” The largest society was at St. Just, and contained a “greater proportion of believers” than he had found in any other society in the kingdom. It was during this visit of three weeks’ continuance, that the first watchnight was held in Cornwall. He preached at least thirty times, held a quarterly meeting at St. Ives, at which were present the stewards of all the Cornish societies; and, besides other books, read what he calls an “odd one,” entitled “The General Delusion of Christians with regard to Prophecy”; and was convinced of what he had long suspected: “(1) That the Montanists, in the second and third centuries were real, scriptural Christians;[102] and (2) that the grand reason why the miraculous gifts were so soon withdrawn, was, not only that faith and holiness were well-nigh lost, but that dry, formal, orthodox men began even to ridicule whatever gifts they had not themselves; and to deny them all, as either madness or imposture.”

In returning, he called again at Tiverton, where the meadow in which he preached “was full from side to side, and many stood in the gardens and orchards round.” At Hillfarrance, “three or four boors would have been rude if they durst; but the odds against them was too great.” At Bridgewater, he had “a well behaved company.” At Shaftesbury, a constable came, and said, “Sir, the mayor discharges you from preaching in this borough any more.” Wesley replied, “While King George gives me leave to preach, I shall not ask leave of the mayor of Shaftesbury.” At Salisbury, he preached in the chapel which formerly was Westley Hall’s, a poor woman endeavouring to interrupt by uttering an inarticulate and dismal yell. Behaviour like this was now, at Salisbury, of common occurrence; the misconduct of Hall afforded the children of darkness an occasion of triumph. The poor Methodists were loaded with infamy and insults on his account. One of them was Mrs. Barbara Hunt, who, after a membership of sixty-three years, fell asleep in Jesus, on July 22, 1813.[103] From Salisbury, Wesley proceeded to Winterburn and to Reading, and, on September 8, after a six months’ absence, got back to London.

A week later, he wrote: “September 15.—I read a short ‘Narrative of Count Zinzendorf’s Life, written by himself.’ Was there ever such a Proteus under the sun as this Lord Freydeck, Domine de Thurstain, etc., etc.? For he has almost as many names as he has faces or shapes. O when will he learn (with all his learning) simplicity and godly sincerity? When will he be an upright follower of the Lamb, so that no guile may be found in his mouth?”

To some this language may seem somewhat harsh; but was it so? Take the commencement of a letter which Zinzendorf addressed to the Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1749. “We, Lewis, by Divine providence, bishop, Liturgus, and Ordinary of the churches known by the name of the Brethren; and, under the auspices of the same, Advocate during life, with full power over the hierarchy of the Slavonic Unity; Custos Rotulorum, and Prolocutor both of the general Synod and of the Tropus of instruction; by these presents declare,” etc. Or take the following from Spangenberg, who says he thus enumerates all the titles of the count, because he not unfrequently availed himself of them:—“The individual whose character I have attempted to pourtray, was Nicolas Lewis, Count and Lord of Zinzendorf and Pottendorf, lord of the baronies of Freydeck, Schöneck, Thurnstein, and the vale of Wachovia, lord of the manor of Upper, Middle, and Lower Bertholdsdorf, Hereditary Warden of the Chace to his imperial Roman majesty, in the Duchy of Austria, below the Ens, and at one time Aulic and Justicial Counsellor to the Elector of Saxony.” Compare this sickening bombast with Wesley’s most flattering description of himself: “John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford.” Unfortunately we shall have to return to this high-flown German gentleman.

It seems to have been some time during the present year, that the Methodists of London began to occupy the French church, in Grey Eagle Street, Spitalfields. This chapel had been built by the French protestant refugees, and is said to have had for its minister, from 1700 to 1705, the eminent French protestant preacher, James Saurin. It is now a part of the brewery of Truman, Buxton, and Hanbury.[104] Here, on September 21, Wesley held a watchnight, and remarks: “I often wonder at the peculiar providence of God on these occasions. I do not know that, in so many years, one person has ever been hurt, either in London, Bristol, or Dublin, in going so late in the night to and from all parts of the town.”

Wesley’s stay in London was of short duration. On September 24, he left for Kingswood, where he spent a month in revising and preparing for the school the works following: Parochial Antiquities, by White Kennet, bishop of Peterborough; Grecian Antiquities, by Archbishop Potter; and Hebrew Antiquities, by Mr. Lewis. He also wrote, at this time, his “Short History of England,” and his “Short Roman History”; and nearly finished his abridgment of Cave’s Primitive Christianity, which he had begun about two years before. On October 24, he returned to London, and here, with the exception of short journeys to Windsor, Canterbury, and Leigh, he remained till the year was ended.

His publications, during 1750, were as follows.—

1. “Desiderii Erasmi Colloquia Selecta. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 85 pages.

2. “Phædri Fabulæ Selectæ. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 35 pages.

3. “A Compendium of Logic.” 12mo, 33 pages. This was a translation of Dr. Henry Aldrich’s “Artis Logicæ Compendium. Oxon: 1691” [8vo]. “Logic,” says Wesley, “is the art of apprehending things clearly, judging truly, and reasoning conclusively. What is it, viewed in another light, but the art of learning and teaching; whether by convincing or persuading? What is there, then, in the whole compass of science, to be desired in comparison of it? It is good for this, at least (wherever it is understood), to make people talk less; by showing them both what is, and what is not, to the point; and how extremely hard it is to prove anything.”[105] It is well known, that Wesley himself was an adept in the art of logic. “For several years,” says he, “I was moderator in the disputations which were held six times a week at Lincoln College, in Oxford. I could not avoid acquiring hereby some degree of expertness in arguing; and especially in discerning and pointing out well covered and plausible fallacies. I have since found abundant reason to praise God for giving me this honest art. By this, when men have hedged me in by what they called demonstrations, I have been many times able to dash them in pieces; in spite of all its covers, to touch the very point where the fallacy lay; and it flew open in a moment.”[106]

All the works, already mentioned, were chiefly designed for the use of Kingswood school. Those that follow were of a different kind.

4. “Letter to the Rev. Mr. Bailey, of Cork, in answer to a letter to the Rev. John Wesley.” 12mo, 36 pages. Wesley handles Bailey with deserved severity, telling him, that many of his accusations are no more likely to be credited than that of a wise friend of his, who said “the Methodists were a people who placed all their religion in wearing long whiskers.” Bailey’s slanderous charges were of the coarsest kind. The Methodist preachers were “a parcel of vagabond, illiterate babblers, who amused the populace with nonsense, ribaldry, and blasphemy, and were not capable of writing orthography or good sense.” Wesley is called a “hairbrained enthusiast,” and is accused “of frontless assurance, and a well dissembled hypocrisy”; of “promoting the cause of arbitrary popish power”; of “robbing and plundering the poor, so as to leave them neither bread to eat, nor raiment to put on”; and of “being the cause of all that Butler had done.” Such a slanderer had no claim to mercy. “Never,” says Wesley, “was anything so ill judged as for you to ask, ‘Does Christianity encourage its professors to make use of lies, invectives, or low, mean abuse, and scurrility, to carry on its interests?’ No, sir, it does not. I disclaim and abhor every weapon of this kind. But with these have the Methodist preachers been opposed in Cork above any other place. In England, in all Ireland, have I neither heard nor read any like those gross, palpable lies, those low Billingsgate invectives, and that inexpressibly mean abuse, and base scurrility, which the opposers of Methodism have continually made use of, and which has been the strength of their cause from the beginning.”

5. “A Short Address to the Inhabitants of Ireland. Occasioned by some late occurrences. Dublin: 1750.” 12mo, eight pages. Wesley, in this small tract, answers three questions concerning the Methodists, or, as the Irish called them, Swaddlers—1. What are the Methodists? 2. What do they teach? 3. What are the effects of their teaching?

6. “A Letter to the Author of the ‘Enthusiasm of the Methodists and Papists compared.’” 12mo, 44 pages.

Lavington, bishop of Exeter, was the author here addressed. Early in 1749 he published the first part of his work, and it is this only which Wesley answers. In his preface, the bishop tells his readers, that the Methodists are “a set of pretended reformers,—a dangerous and presumptuous sect, animated with an enthusiastical and fanatical spirit;” and that his object is “to draw a comparison between the wild and pernicious enthusiasms of some of the most eminent saints of the popish communion, and those of the Methodists in our own country.” He further alleges, that the Methodists are a people of “sanctified singularities, low fooleries, and high pretensions; they are doing the papists’ work for them, and agree with them in some of their principles; their heads are filled with much the same grand projects, and they are driven on in the same wild manner,—not perhaps from compact and design, but from a similar configuration and texture of the brain, or the fumes of imagination producing similar effects.” The preachers were “strolling predicants, of affected phrases, fantastical and unintelligible notions, whimsical strictnesses, and loud exclamations. The windmill indeed was in all their heads. Every flash of zeal and devotion,—every wild pretension, scheme, tenet, and overbearing dictate,—impulses, impressions, feelings, impetuous transports and raptures,—intoxicating vapours and fumes of imagination,—phantoms of a crazy brain, and uncouth effects of a distempered mind or body,—their sleeping or waking dreams,—their

## actions and passions,—all were ascribed, with an amazing presumption,

to the extraordinary interposition of heaven, setting its seal to their mission.”

In illustration of all this, Whitefield and Wesley are treated with the grossest ridicule.

Whitefield replied to Lavington at once, and published his pamphlet in the month of May, with the title: “Some Remarks on a Pamphlet, entitled, The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared; wherein several mistakes in some parts of his past writings and conduct are acknowledged, and his present sentiments concerning the Methodists explained.” 8vo, 48 pages.

In September following, another reply was published, namely, “Some Remarks on the Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared. By Vincent Perronet, A.M.” Price threepence.[107]

Limited space prevents any further notice of these productions; except to say, that both are ably written, and evince a Christian spirit.

Wesley’s reply was finished at Canterbury on the 1st of February, 1750, and was published soon afterwards. Like most of his other writings, it is as brief as he could make it. Wesley was too busy to compose elaborate answers to the attacks of his opponents. Besides, had it been otherwise, his passion for saying all he wished to say in as few words as possible, would, under any circumstances, have prevented him from using the verbosity of others. Lavington’s pamphlet was anonymous; but there was little doubt respecting its author. Though a bishop, his composition is loose and faulty, and is characterized by the most glaring grammatical mistakes. He might be a punster and buffoon; but his performance does him no honour as a scholar. If the blunders in his pamphlet had been found in his youthful essays, they would have been more likely to have secured him a flagellation in the Winchester school, where it was his privilege to be, than to obtain the applause of his tutors and friends. His gift was not genius, nor yet grace; but a sort of merry-andrewism, more laughable than learned, and more suited for a stage than for a bishop’s throne.

Wesley tells him, that it is well he hides his name; otherwise he would be obliged to hide his face; for some of his sentences are neither sense nor grammar. He writes: “I must beg you, sir, in your third part, to inform your reader, that whenever any solecism or mangled sentences appear in the quotations from my writings, they are not chargeable upon me; that if the sense be mine (which is not always), yet I lay no claim to the manner of expression; the English is all your own.”

Wesley’s letter was addressed to an anonymous author; but that author was a bishop, and for a bishop to be lectured about his bad English was a pill which Lavington must have found difficult to swallow. The next quotation, however, must have been bitterer still.

“You proceed to prove my enthusiasm from my notions of conversion. And here great allowances are to be made, because you are talking of things quite out of your sphere; you are got into an unknown world! Do you know what conversion is? ‘Yes; it is to start up perfect men at once’ (page 41). Indeed, sir, it is not. A man is usually converted long before he is a perfect man. It is probable most of the Ephesians to whom St. Paul directed his epistle were converted. Yet they were not ‘come’ (few if any), ‘to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.’ I do not, sir, indeed I do not, undertake to make you understand these things. I am not so vain as to think it is in my power. It is the utmost of my hope to convince you, that you understand just nothing about them.”

The following is Wesley’s concluding paragraph.

“Any scribbler, with a middling share of low wit, not encumbered with good nature or modesty, may raise a laugh on those whom he cannot confute, and run them down whom he dares not look in the face. By this means, even a comparer of Methodists and papists may blaspheme the great work of God, not only without blame, but with applause; at least, from readers of his own stamp. But it is high time, sir, you should leave your skulking place. Come out, and let us look each other in the face. I have little leisure, and less inclination, for controversy. Yet I promise, if you will set your name to your third part, I will answer all that shall concern me, in that, as well as the preceding. Till then,

“I remain, sir,

“Your friend and well wisher,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

This was galling; the bishop felt it so; and, as we shall see hereafter, allowed his indignation to boil over. Southey says, that Wesley did not treat Bishop Lavington with the urbanity which he usually displayed towards his opponents. This is scarcely true; but if it were, his grace of Exeter deserved all he got. We regret, that we shall be obliged to renew acquaintance with him. Meanwhile, let us briefly say, that this buffooning bishop was born at Mildenhall in 1683. On leaving the school at Winchester, he was removed to New College, Oxford, where he graduated for the civil law, and obtained a fellowship. At the age of thirty-four, he was made rector of Hayford Warren; then prebendary of Worcester; then canon of St. Paul’s; and then bishop of Exeter. He died on the 13th of September, 1762; exactly fifteen days after the following entry in Wesley’s journal:—

“Sunday, August 29, 1762.—I preached, at eight, on Southernhay Green” [Exeter] “to an extremely quiet congregation. At the cathedral, we had an useful sermon, and the whole service was performed with great seriousness and decency. Such an organ I never saw or heard before, so large, beautiful, and so finely toned; and the music of ‘Glory be to God in the highest,’ I think, exceeded the ‘Messiah’ itself. I was well pleased to partake of the Lord’s supper with my old opponent, Bishop Lavington. O may we sit down together in the kingdom of our Father!”

1751.

[Sidenote: 1751 Age 48]

The year upon which we are now entering was one of vast anxiety and trouble, and, of course, like previous years, was characterized by unceasing activity on the part of the great chiefs of the Methodist movement. Charles Wesley was from four to five months in London, about the same in Bristol, and spent the rest in an important visit to the numerous societies in the midland counties and the north of England. Whitefield gave the first two months of the year to the metropolis, the next three to the west of England and to Wales, more than two to Ireland and Scotland, and then, in August, set sail for America. Wesley himself spent eight months in itinerancy, and the rest in London.

Moravianism was more than ever a _vexata quæstio_. Whitefield, in a letter dated March 30, 1751, remarks:—“I doubt not but there are many holy souls among the Moravians; but their not preaching the law, either as a _schoolmaster_ to show us our need of Christ, or as a _rule of life_, after we have closed with Him, is what I can in nowise concur with. These their two grand mistakes, together with their unscriptural expressions in their hymns, and several superstitious fopperies lately intruded among them, make me think they are sadly departed from the simplicity of the gospel.”[108]

A friend, writing to Wesley, at the commencement of the year, observes:—

“No doubt God had wise ends in permitting the _Unitas Fratrum_ to appear, just as the people of God began to unite together; but we cannot fathom His designs. Very probably we should have been now a very different people from what we are, had we had only our own countrymen to cope with. We should then have set the plain gospel of Christ against what is palpably another gospel. But this subtle poison has more or less infected almost all among us. We would put gospel heads on bodies ready to indulge unholy tempers. Although as a society we stand as clear of joining with the Beast as any other, yet we have not purged out all his leaven; the antinomian leaven is not yet cast out. All our preaching at first was pointed at the heart; and in almost all our private conversation, ‘Do you feel the love of God in your heart? Does His Spirit reign there? Do you walk in the Spirit? Is that mind in you which was in Christ?’ were frequent questions among us. But while these preachers to the heart were going on gloriously in the work of Christ, the false apostles stepped in, laughed at all heart work, and laughed many of us out of our spiritual senses; for, according to them, we were neither to see, hear, feel, nor taste the powers of the world to come, but to rest contented with what was done for us seventeen hundred years ago. ‘The dear Lamb,’ said they, ‘has done all for us; we have nothing to do, but to believe.’ Here was a stroke at the whole work of God in the heart! And ever since, this German spirit has wrought among us, and caused many to rest in a barren, notional faith, void of that inward power of God unto salvation.”

One of the Moravians themselves, who had been the physician in one of their religious houses, and had also been a preacher among them both at home and abroad, and who, with his wife, still attended their services, informed Wesley of his own knowledge of sensual abominations practised by the brethren and sisters at Leeds and Bedford, which, though referred to in Wesley’s Journal, we shall not pollute our pages by printing. No wonder, after Wesley had committed the man’s statement to writing, and had submitted it to him for his own correction, he should exclaim in a burst of sorrowful indignation, “Was there ever so melancholy an account? and what is human nature! How low are they fallen, who were once burning and shining lights, spreading blessings wherever they came!”

Wesley has oft been blamed for speaking far too harshly of his old Moravian friends; but those who blame him are either ignorant of facts like those alluded to above, or they wickedly wink at their existence. Moravianism in England, in 1751, had become, to a great extent, a luscious morsel of antinomian poison; and it was a painful knowledge of this distressing fact, which led Wesley to adopt the course he did.

One pamphlet, published at the close of 1750, has not been mentioned, though there is little doubt that Wesley was its author. His name does not appear; but that was not unusual, for many of his tracts and pamphlets were printed without his name, or with his initials only. The preface is dated “London, October 2, 1750,” though Wesley then had retired for a month to Kingswood, for the purpose of writing books. The style is his to a nicety, and the most incredulous will find it difficult to doubt that Wesley was the writer. The pamphlet was not published in his own edition of his collected works in 1771; but that is not conclusive evidence against its authenticity, for other pamphlets were similarly omitted, as, for instance, his “Extract of Zinzendorf’s Discourses,” seventy-eight pages, and his Zinzendorf’s Hymns, twelve pages. Its title is as follows: “The Contents of a Folio History of the Moravians, or United Brethren, printed in 1749, and privately printed and sold under the title of ‘_Acta Fratrum Unitatis in Anglia_,’ with suitable remarks. Humbly addressed to the Pious of every Protestant Denomination in Europe and America. By a Lover of the Light. London: 1750.” 12mo, 60 pages. On the title page there is the following text:— “While they promise them liberty, they themselves are the servants of corruption.”

Rightly to understand the merits of this peculiar and now extremely scarce publication, it is necessary to look back upon the Moravian history of the previous five years.

As early as 1746, Zinzendorf was anxious to have the Moravians legally acknowledged by the British parliament, and to secure for them a legal standing. To accomplish this, he, with effrontery worthy of a better cause, made friends with Potter, the archbishop of Canterbury; with Sherlock, bishop of London; with Thomas Penn, the proprietor of Pennsylvania; and with General Oglethorpe, governor of Georgia. He succeeded in bringing the cause of the Brethren before the king’s privy council, and, in 1747, contrived to get an act through parliament, exempting the Moravians, in British North America, from taking oaths. But even this was not enough to satisfy Zinzendorf’s ambition. In this act there was only a _tacit_ and _indefinite_ acknowledgment of his church. He wished for more, and, in order to get it, agreed with his friends to petition that the Moravians in England might have the same exemption, as those in the American colonies; and that they should have the further privilege of not bearing arms. The petition stated, that the Brethren were descended from the ancient Bohemian and Moravian church; that, in their doctrinal views, they followed the Augsburg Confession of 1530, and the synod of Berne in 1532; that they consisted of the _threefold_ union of Moravians, Lutherans, and Reformed, or, in other words, the three principal sections of the protestant church; that their proper ecclesiastical title was “_Unitas Fratrum_”; and that, in support of these pretensions, they could adduce, before a parliamentary committee, not fewer than one hundred and thirty-five different documents.

Strangely enough, a committee of the House of Commons was appointed, with Oglethorpe for its chairman. The report of the committee was read and ordered to be printed; and Oglethorpe was commissioned to draw up a bill, founded upon the report presented, and to bring it before the house. The bill passed the House of Commons on the 18th of April, 1749. On being introduced into the House of Lords, the lord chancellor objected to almost every line of it; and especially against the power vested in Zinzendorf, as the _Advocatus Fratrum_, in ecclesiastical matters,—a power authorising him, though a foreigner, to enjoin upon the bishops and ministers of the Church of England to give certificates, that the parties holding them were members of the _Unitas Fratrum_, which certificates the British authorities were to accept as legal. Zinzendorf, in a conversation with Lord Halifax, had said: “Against the will of the king, I would not like to press the matter; but a _limitation of the act_ I will not accept. Everything or nothing! No modifications!” This was German swagger. Finding the lord chancellor earnest in his objection, he was fain, rather than lose his bill, to leave out the words which put the bishops and clergy of the Church of England beneath his power, and proposed the following as a substitute: “that the _verbal declaration_ of the individual, together with the certificate of a bishop or minister of the Brethren, shall be sufficient proof of membership.” With this alteration, the bill became law, on the 12th of May, 1749. By this act of parliament, Zinzendorf gained the following points:—

1. The _Unitas Fratrum_ were acknowledged as an ancient protestant episcopal church.

2. Those of its members, who scrupled to take an oath, were exempted from doing so on making a declaration in the presence of Almighty God, as witness of the truth.

3. They were exempted from acting as jurymen.

4. They were exempted from military service, in the American colonies, under reasonable conditions.[109]

This was a singular episode in Moravian history. Zinzendorf was proud of it; and well he might. It was scarcely fifteen years since the Moravians first set foot in England. They had been torn by faction, and persecuted by furious mobs. Their tenets, in many instances, were far from orthodox. Many of their practices were silly and objectionable. Their hymns and literature were loathsomely luscious, and familiarly irreverent. Their leader, though a German noble, and, upon the whole, benevolent and devout, was ambitious and overbearing, if not insane; and yet, the British parliament had already given them not only a legal standing, but an ecclesiastical cognomen of their own selecting, and had granted them exemptions, which they had no right to claim. How was this? We can hardly tell; but a German sat on the British throne, and his court, to a great extent, was a German court.

A few months after the Moravian bill was passed by parliament, Zinzendorf had put to the press, in his own private printing office, a folio volume, entitled “_Acta Fratrum in Anglia_,” containing (1) all the past public negotiations in England; (2) an exposition of the doctrine, liturgy, and constitutions of the Brethren’s congregations. This was the “folio history,” of which the pamphlet, that we have attributed to Wesley, professes to give the “contents.” The following are a few of the writer’s running observations.

“The absurdities of this history are fairly confuted by only repeating them.” Referring to the expression, “blood and wounds theology,” he asks,—“Is this honouring the name and sacrifice of the glorious Son of God? O count! art thou wiser, or more inspired, than Paul or Peter? If thou art not, surely thou art lost in thine own greatness, and swallowed up in the delusions of the devil.” (Page 38.)

“Here follows a dark apology for their enigmatical jargon, in which they say, ‘The people who pick up and pervert our practical phrases incur a terrible guilt thereby.’ 1. The much greater part of their phrases are altogether unintelligible to any but themselves, and therefore none but some of themselves can pervert them. 2. Those phrases that have a little common sense in them are so encumbered with nonsense and error, that it is hardly possible not to reprove them, which I suppose is called perverting them.” (Page 43.)

“As to ordinances, the _Unitas Fratrum_ have ‘baptism, with a covenant water certainly impregnated with the blood of Christ’; and the Lord’s supper, which they call ‘a partaking of the corpse of our Saviour, at receiving which, they prostrate themselves in awe of His tremendous majesty.’ I cannot once imagine, they have any design to promote popery; but, O count! don’t you see, that these expressions might have been used by Ignatius Loyola, in honour of holy water and his wafer god?” (Page 44.)

“Their thoughts on marriage are dark and mysterious. They call it, ‘an holy mystery, a _sacramentum magnum_.’ And by their own account, their hymns on this subject are not fit to be read by any that attach bad ideas to bad expressions; but say they, ‘We hold forth chaste matter under usual and express words.’ O ye dreamers! When will ye hold forth nothing but what is taught by God and the holy Scriptures? Why do you choose to express yourselves as if taught in the school of Ignatius Loyola?” (Page 45.)

“Will you receive advice, ye _Unitas Fratrum_? Then, for the glory of the gospel of Jesus Christ, appear to the world clothed in the robes of innocency and truth. Lay aside your darkness, and bring all your words to light. If you have any meaning, reveal it for the good of souls; if you have no meaning, call yourselves anything but Christians.” (Page 50.)

Attached to the pamphlet is a postscript addressed to those of the _Unitas Fratrum_, who once were Methodists. The following is an extract:—

“Is not your doctrine dull, flat, and insipid? Does it not come from a floating imagination? Is not its chief aim to fill the mind with ideas of the Lamb’s heart? of soaking and melting in blood? of playing near, and creeping into the side-hole? of pretty, happy sinnership? of beating the little sinner on the bill when he has been naughty? and of a thousand such strange, unheard of absurdities? Your doctors, by playing with words, and jingling soft sounds, may delight the fancy; but whoever they are that look for sense, must miss of edification.” (Page 57.)

Such are fair specimens of the short critiques of the curious “contents” of Zinzendorf’s folio history of the “_Acta Fratrum in Anglia_.” It is painful to have to record quarrels among old friends and brethren; but facts are too serious to be blinked for an author’s private pleasure. As a sort of counterpoise to this unpleasantness, we subjoin an extract from a letter, addressed to Wesley, by Cennick, at this time the most laborious and successful Moravian preacher in the sister island.

“DUBLIN, _June 25, 1751_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—Yesterday I received yours, and assure you, I am sincere in my desires and proposals of speaking and writing freely to each other; and wish heartily, that Christians conferring together had hindered the making that wide space between us and you. Perhaps He that maketh men to be of one mind in a house, may nevertheless, in our days, begin the gathering together in one the people of God that are scattered abroad. I think, if I could see the dawn of that gracious day, I would wish no more, but be content to labour myself to death, and finish my pilgrimage with a cheerfulness inexpressible. Till then, as long as people in many things think differently, all must be allowed their Christian liberty; and though some may remove from you to us, or from us to you, without becoming bitter, and with upright views to please our Saviour, I can see no harm in it. I really love the servants and witnesses of Jesus in all the world. I wish all to prosper. I salute Mrs. Wesley; and assure you, I am your affectionate loving brother,

“JOHN CENNICK.”[110]

This is very beautiful, especially remembering the past and present days. Wesley entitles the letter, “Sincere professions of Christian love.” They do Cennick credit, and were grateful to the heart and mind of Wesley.

Cennick’s letter concludes with a salutation to Mrs. Wesley; and we must now refer to another painful subject—Wesley’s marriage.[111] This took place in the month of February. The exact day is doubtful. Wesley says it was a few days after February 2. The _Gentleman’s Magazine_ has the following in its list of marriages: “February 18.—Rev. Mr. John Wesley, Methodist preacher, to a merchant’s widow in Threadneedle Street, with a jointure of £300 per annum”; and the _London Magazine_: “February 19.—Rev. Mr. John Wesley, to Mrs. Vazel, of Threadneedle Street, a widow lady of large fortune.” The large fortune consisted of £10,000, invested in three per cent. consols, and was wholly secured to herself and her four children.[112]

Charles Wesley seems to have been introduced to her in July, 1749, at Edward Perronet’s, and describes her then as “a woman of sorrowful spirit.” Mr. Moore remarks, that Mrs. Vazeille (her proper name), from all that he had heard of her from Wesley, and from others, seemed at the time to be well qualified for her new position. “She appeared to be truly pious, and was very agreeable in her person and manners. She conformed to every company, whether of the rich or of the poor; and had a remarkable facility and propriety in addressing them concerning their true interests.”[113] Mr. Watson observes, that “she was a woman of cultivated understanding, as her remaining letters testify; and that she appeared to Mr. Wesley to possess every other qualification, which promised to increase both his usefulness and happiness, we may conclude from his having made choice of her as his companion.” Mr. Jackson says: “Neither in understanding nor in education was she worthy of the eminent man to whom she was united; and her temper was intolerably bad. During the lifetime of her first husband, she appears to have enjoyed every indulgence; and, judging from some of his letters to her, which have been preserved, he paid an entire deference to her will. Her habits and spirit were ill adapted to the privations and inconveniences which were incident to her new mode of life, as the travelling companion of Mr. John Wesley.”[114] Hampson remarks: “The connection was unfortunate. There never was a more preposterous union. It is pretty certain that no loves lighted their torches on this occasion; and it is as much to be presumed, that neither did Plutus preside at the solemnity. Mrs. Wesley’s property was too inconsiderable, to warrant the supposition that it was a match of interest. Besides, had she been ever so rich, it was nothing to him; for every shilling of her fortune remained at her own disposal; and neither the years, nor the temper of the parties, could give any reason to suppose them violently enamoured. That this lady accepted his proposals, seems much less surprising than that he should have made them. It is probable, his situation at the head of a sect, and the authority it conferred, was not without its charms in the eyes of an ambitious female. But we much wonder, that Mr. Wesley should have appeared so little acquainted with himself and with human nature. He certainly did not possess the conjugal virtues. He had no taste for the tranquillity of domestic retirement: while his situation, as an itinerant, left him little leisure for those attentions which are absolutely necessary, to the comfort of married life.”[115] Dr. Whitehead writes: “Mr. Wesley’s constant habit of travelling, the number of persons who came to visit him wherever he was, and his extensive correspondence, were circumstances unfavourable to that social intercourse, mutual openness and confidence, which form the basis of happiness in the married state. These circumstances, indeed, would not have been so very unfavourable, had he married a woman who could have entered into his views, and have accommodated herself to his situation. But this was not the case. Had he searched the whole kingdom, he would hardly have found a woman more unsuitable in these respects, than she whom he married.”[116]

From the first, Charles Wesley felt the strongest aversion to his brother’s marriage. Why? Mr. Jackson suggests, that this could not proceed from any feeling of personal or family dislike to Mrs. Vazeille (which we somewhat doubt); nor from any repugnance to the marriage state, for he himself was eminently happy in that relation; but because he believed that, by this means, Wesley’s labours would be confined within the same comparatively narrow circle, as his own, and, as a consequence, many of the Methodist societies, for want of oversight, would become Independent churches; a wide separation from the national establishment would ensue, and the kingdom be deprived of that extensive reformation which the brothers had hoped by God’s blessing to effect.

Probably there is some truth in this; but we still incline to the opinion, that Charles Wesley’s dislike to the marriage was, at least,

## partly owing to a disapprobation of his brother’s choice. In 1750,

Charles took her on a fortnight’s visit to his wife’s relations at Ludlow; and, on her return to London, he and his Sally, for eight or nine days, were guests of Mrs. Vazeille herself. Charles was a keen discerner of personal character,—perhaps much more than his brother was,—and must have seen some of the faults which afterwards became more apparent, and to which, at subsequent periods, he so frequently refers.

At all events, on February 2, a fortnight before the marriage, he writes as follows: “My brother told me he was _resolved to marry_. I was thunderstruck, and could only answer, he had given me the first blow, and his marriage would come like the _coup de grace_. Trusty Ned Perronet followed, and told me, the person was Mrs. Vazeille! one of whom I had never had the least suspicion. I refused his company to the chapel, and retired to mourn with my faithful Sally. I groaned all the day, and several following ones, under my own and the people’s burdens. I could eat no pleasant food, nor preach, nor rest, either by night or by day.”

On the same day, Wesley himself wrote: “Having received a full answer from Mr. Perronet, I was clearly convinced, that I ought to marry. For many years, I remained single, because I believed I could be more useful in a single than in a married state. And I praise God, who enabled me so to do. I now as fully believed that, in my present circumstances, I might be more useful in a married state.”

This is a curious entry. Can it be true that, up to this day, Wesley had not proposed marriage to Mrs. Vazeille? that Vincent Perronet’s letter brought him to a decision? that he acquainted his brother as soon as he had made up his mind? and that all the courtship preceding his marriage was really of not more than fifteen or sixteen days’ continuance? If so, no wonder that this, like most hasty marriages, was so unfortunate.

This brief period was a curious episode in Wesley’s history. Four days after he told his brother that he “_was resolved to marry_” he strangely enough “met the single men” of the London society, “and showed them on how many accounts it was good for those who had received that gift from God, to remain ‘single for the kingdom of heaven’s sake;’ unless where a particular case might be an exception to the general rule.” His intention was to set out five days after this, on his journey to the north; but, on the day before he purposed starting, his feet slipped on the ice, in crossing London Bridge, and he fell with great force, the bone of his ankle lighting on a stone, and one of his legs being severely sprained. A surgeon bound up the leg; and, with great difficulty, he proceeded to Seven Dials, where he preached. He attempted to preach again, at the Foundery, at night; but his sprain became so painful, that he was obliged to relinquish his intention; and, at once, removed to Threadneedle Street, where Mrs. Vazeille resided; and here he spent the seven days next ensuing, “partly,” he says, “in prayer, reading, and _conversation_, and partly in writing a Hebrew grammar, and Lessons for Children.” During this brief period of enforced retirement, when he had purposed to be far on his way to the north of England, the _tete-a-tete_ unexpectedly issued in a marriage. The accident occurred on Sunday, February 10; on the Sunday following, he was “carried to the Foundery, and preached kneeling,” not being yet able to stand; and, on the next day, or, at most, the day after that, cripple though he was, he succeeded in leading Mrs. Vazeille, a widow, seven years younger than himself, to the hymeneal altar, and was married. On the Monday (February 18) he was still unable to set his foot to the ground. On the Tuesday evening, and on the Wednesday morning, he preached kneeling. This was an odd beginning,—the bridegroom crippled, and, instead of making a wedding tour, preaching on his knees in London chapels. A fortnight after his marriage, being, as he says, “tolerably able to ride, though not to walk,” he set out for Bristol, leaving his newly married wife behind him. Here he held a five days’ conference with his preachers, who had assembled from various parts, and says: “My spirit was much bowed down among them, fearing some of them were perverted from the simplicity of the gospel; but the more we conversed, the more brotherly love increased. I expected to have heard many objections to our first doctrines; but none appeared to have any: we seemed to be all of one mind, as well as one heart. I mentioned whatever I thought was amiss, or wanting, in any of our brethren. It was received in a right spirit, with much love, and serious earnest attention; and, I trust, not one went from the conference discontented, but rather, blessing God for the consolation.”

The conference being ended, he returned to London on March the 21st, and, six days afterwards, set out for Scotland, and inserted in his journal what, perhaps, was a sly hit at his brother Charles: “I cannot understand how a Methodist preacher can answer it to God, to preach one sermon, or travel one day less, in a married than in a single state. In this respect surely, ‘it remaineth, that they who have wives be as though they had none.’”

Was there ever a marriage like John Wesley’s? It was one of the greatest blunders he ever made. A man who attains to the age of forty-eight, without marrying, ought to remain a bachelor for life, inasmuch as he has, almost of necessity, formed habits, and has acquired angularities and excrescences, which will never harmonize with the relationships and duties of the married state. Besides, if there ever was a man whose mission was so great and so peculiar as to render it inexpedient for him to become a benedict, Wesley was such a man. His marriage was ill advised as well as ill assorted. On both sides, it was, to a culpable extent, hasty, and was contracted without proper and sufficient thought. Young people entering into hurried marriages deserve and incur censure; and if so, what shall be said of Wesley and his wife? They married in haste, and had leisure to repent. Their act was, in a high degree, an act of folly; and, properly enough, to the end of life, both of them were made to suffer a serious penalty. It is far from pleasant to pursue the subject; but perhaps it is needful. In a world of danger like this, we must look at beacons as well as beauties. Let us then, as far as is possible, see the results of this hasty and ill judged marriage, and then have done with it.

One necessary consequence was the resignation of Wesley’s fellowship, which he sent, on the 1st of June, to the following effect;—“I, John Wesley, fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, do hereby spontaneously and freely resign whatever rights I possess in the aforesaid society, to the rector and fellows of the same: wishing to all and each of them perpetual peace and every species of felicity in Christ.”

Another result was a painful quarrel with his brother. It is true, this was not of long continuance; for, on March 22, they met together, and had free and full explanations, and were reconciled to each other.[117] So they said, and yet it is a fact, that, for years afterwards, there seemed to be a shyness and a want of perfect confidence between them. Charles pitied the misfortune of his brother; but never attempted to excuse his folly. Towards his brother’s wife, he found it difficult to maintain, at all times, the semblance of courteous conduct. Nine days after the marriage, he kissed her, and assured her he was reconciled to her and his brother. In the month of May following he says: “I met my sister in Bristol, and behaved to her _as such_. I showed her, both at my own house, and the houses of my friends, all the civility in my power.” A month later, he found her in tears, heard her complaints against her husband, and professed love, pity, and a desire to help her. Serious quarrels, however, ensued after this, between her and Charles, and when Wesley thought himself dying, in December 1753, he made it his request to his wife and to his brother, to forget the past; which, says the latter, “I readily agreed to, and once more offered her my service in great sincerity.” A year or two later, the following significant sentences occur in Charles’s letters to his wife: “I called, two minutes before preaching, on Mrs. Wesley, at the Foundery; and, in all that time, had not one quarrel.”[118] Again: “I hope Mrs. Wesley keeps her distance. If malice is stronger in her than pride, she will pay you a mischievous visit. Poor Mr. Lefevre laments that he cannot love her. Blessed be God, I can, and desire to love her more.”[119] In 1766, he describes her as “quite placid and tame,” and desires his Sally to be courteous to her without trusting her.[120] Charles’s friendship for his sister-in-law was down to freezing point, and his wife’s seems to have been lower still.

What concerning Wesley himself? His wife’s money soon became a trouble; and at no time was a benefit. Within two months after his unhappy marriage, we find him writing to his friend Blackwell, asking him to render his assistance in settling her affairs; and adding: “She has many trials, but not one more than God knows to be profitable to her. I believe you have been, and will be, a means of removing some. If these outward incumbrances were removed, it might be a means of her spending more time with me; which would probably be useful as well as agreeable to her.”[121]

Mrs. Wesley seems to have accompanied her husband in his long northern journey, undertaken a few weeks after they were married. She, also, went with him into Cornwall, in the month of August following. Again, in March 1752, she, and one of her daughters, shared all the adventures, privations, and roughnesses of another three months’ journey to the north of England.[122] On the way, while at Epworth, Wesley wrote as follows to Mr. Blackwell: “April 16, 1752.—My wife is, at least, as well as when we left London: the more she travels, the better she bears it. It gives us yet another proof, that, whatever God calls us to, He will fit us for. I was, at first, a little afraid, she would not so well understand the behaviour of a Yorkshire mob; but there has been no trial; even the Methodists are now at peace throughout the kingdom.”[123] Before the month was ended, Wesley and his wife had mobbing to their hearts’ content.

Hitherto, their married life, if not ecstatic, had not been absolutely miserable. Things, however, were soon altered. On November 3, 1752, Vincent Perronet wrote as follows to Charles Wesley: “I am truly concerned that matters are in so melancholy a situation. I think the unhappy lady is most to be pitied, though the gentleman’s case is mournful enough. Their sufferings proceed from widely different causes. His are the visible chastisements of a loving Father; hers, the immediate effects of an angry, bitter spirit; and, indeed, it is a sad consideration, that, after so many months have elapsed, the same warmth and bitterness should remain.”[124]

This was within a year and three quarters of the time when the marriage ceremony was performed. Four months later, she again went with Wesley to the north and to Scotland. Indeed, up to the year 1755, she seems, generally speaking, to have been his travelling companion; but, in the autumn of that year, there was a change. Wesley then went to Cornwall without her, and, while there, sent a packet of letters to Charles Perronet. The packet came into the hands of his jealous wife; most unwarrantably she opened it, and, finding a few lines addressed to Mrs. Lefevre, fell into a furious passion.[125] Ever after, there was little else than a succession of connubial storms. In February, 1756, Wesley wrote to Sarah Ryan: “Your last letter was seasonable indeed. I was growing faint in my mind. The being continually watched over for evil; the having every word I spoke, every action I did, small and great, watched with no friendly eye; the hearing a thousand little, tart, unkind reflections, in return for the kindest words I could devise—

‘Like drops of eating water on the marble, At length have worn my sinking spirits down.’

Yet I could not say, ‘Take Thy plague away from me;’ but only, ‘Let me be purified, not consumed.’[126]

We have here a painful discovery of the consuming sorrows of Wesley’s domestic life. No doubt, there were faults on his side as well as on the side of his twitting wife. No one, for instance, will for a moment attempt to justify his writing, in the terms just quoted, to Sarah Ryan, his Bristol housekeeper, who, however pious after her conversion, lived a most disreputable life before it. This was, to say the least, supremely foolish; but still it was not sufficient to justify his wife’s subsequent cruel and almost insane behaviour. In another letter to Sarah Ryan he writes as follows:—

“_January 27, 1758._

“MY DEAR SISTER,—Last Friday, after many severe words, my wife left me, vowing she would see me no more. As I had wrote to you the same morning, I began to reason with myself, till I almost doubted whether I had done well in writing, or whether I ought to write to you at all. After prayer, that doubt was taken away. Yet I was almost sorry I had written that morning. In the evening, while I was preaching at the chapel, she came into the chamber where I had left my clothes, searched my pockets, and found the letter there, which I had finished, but had not sealed. While she read it, God broke her heart; and I afterwards found her in such a temper as I have not seen her in for several years. She has continued in the same ever since. So I think God has given a sufficient answer, with regard to our writing to each other.”[127]

We think nothing of the kind; and again regret his writing such a letter, on such a subject, to such a woman. His motives and his end were unquestionably pure; but the act itself cannot be defended. His wife was jealous, cruelly jealous, and he ought to have avoided what was likely to feed and increase her passion.

Wesley and his wife, however, were again united, but were far from being happy. So things proceeded till 1771. “On one occasion, she seized his letters and other papers, and put them into the hands of such as she knew to be his enemies, that they might be printed, as presumptive proofs of illicit connections.” She even interpolated letters which she had intercepted, so as to make them bear a bad construction, and then read them to different persons in private, for the purpose of defaming him. In one or two instances, she published interpolated or forged letters in the public prints.[128] She accused Charles Wesley of idleness, and declared that, for years, his dearest Sally had been John Wesley’s mistress. Charles danced with rage at this imputation cast upon his wife; but his Sally calmly smiled, and said, “Who will believe my sister now?”[129] Frequently she would drive a hundred miles to observe who was in the carriage with her husband on his entering a town. Sometimes her passions hurried her into outrage and indecency. More than once, she laid violent hands upon his person, and tore his hair.[130] “Jack,” said John Hampson, senior, to his son, “I was once on the point of committing murder. Once, when I was in the north of Ireland, I went into a room, and found Mrs. Wesley foaming with fury. Her husband was on the floor, where she had been trailing him by the hair of his head; and she herself was still holding in her hand venerable locks which she had plucked up by the roots. I felt,” continued the gigantic Hampson, who was not one of Wesley’s warmest friends, “I felt as though I could have knocked the soul out of her.”[131]

Other statements of the same character might be multiplied; but we are aweary of this painful subject. “Fain,” writes Southey, “would she have made him, like Marc Antony, give up all for love; and, being disappointed in that hope, she tormented him in such a manner, by her outrageous jealousy and abominable temper, that she deserves to be classed in a triad with Xantippe and the wife of Job, as one of the three bad wives.”

In the midst of all this, Wesley, on one occasion, wrote her as follows:—

“I cannot but add a few words: not by way of reproach, but of advice. God has used many means to curb your stubborn will, and break the impetuosity of your temper. He has given you a dutiful but sickly daughter; He has taken away one of your sons; another has been a grievous cross, as the third probably will be. He has suffered you to be defrauded of much money; He has chastened you with strong pain. And still He may say, ‘How long liftest thou up thyself against Me?’ Are you more humble, more gentle, more patient, more placable than you were? I fear, quite the reverse; I fear, your natural tempers are rather increased than diminished. O beware, lest God give you up to your own heart’s lusts, and let you follow your own imaginations!

“Under all these conflicts, it might be an unspeakable blessing, that you have a husband who knows your temper and can bear with it; who, after you have tried him numberless ways, laid to his charge things that he knew not, robbed him, betrayed his confidence, revealed his secrets, given him a thousand treacherous wounds, purposely aspersed and murdered his character, and made it your _business_ so to do, under the poor pretence of vindicating your own character—who, I say, after all these provocations, is still willing to forgive you all, to overlook what is past, as if it had not been, and to receive you with open arms; only not while you have a sword in your hand, with which you are continually striking at me, though you cannot hurt me. If, notwithstanding, you continue striking, what can I, what can all reasonable men think, but that either you are utterly out of your senses, or your eye is not single; that you married me only for my money; that, being disappointed, you were almost always out of humour; and that this laid you open to a thousand suspicions, which, once awakened, could sleep no more?

“My dear Molly, let the time past suffice. As yet, the breach may be repaired. You have wronged me much, but not beyond forgiveness. I love you still, and am as clear from all other women as the day I was born. At length, know me, and know yourself. Your enemy I cannot be; but let me be your friend. Suspect me no more, asperse me no more, provoke me no more. Do not any longer contend for mastery, for power, money, or praise. Be content to be a private insignificant person, known and loved by God and me. Attempt no more to abridge me of my liberty, which I claim by the laws of God and man. Leave me to be governed by God and my own conscience. Then shall I govern you with gentle sway, and show that I do indeed love you, even as Christ the church.”[132]

This is a manly, noble, loving letter, and ought to have produced a good effect; but on January 23, 1771, he wrote: “For what cause I know not, my wife set out for Newcastle, purposing ‘never to return.’ _Non eam reliqui: non dimisi: non revocabo._”

Her reason for repairing to Newcastle may be found in the fact that, two years previously, her daughter, Miss Vazeille, had been united in marriage to Mr. William Smith, a distinguished and highly influential member of the Orphan House society.[133] Wesley’s next visit to the northern metropolis did not take place till the month of May, 1772, when differences were once again made up; and, on his return to Bristol, his wife came back with him.[134] This, however, was but a patched up peace. One of Wesley’s letters to his wife has just been given; and now is added one from his wife to him.

“LONDON, _May 31, 1774_.

“MY DEAR,—Your laconic letter from Edinburgh, May 18, would have seemed strange if I had not known you. Honest John Pawson makes it his business to slander me wherever he goes, saying: ‘Mrs. Wesley has several hundred pounds in her hands belonging to Mr. Wesley, but how he will ever get it from her, I know not, except he puts her to trouble for it, for I do not believe there is a more covetous minded woman in the world than she is.’ In this way, he, and J. Allen, and your old quondam friend, Mary Madan, did all they could to render my life bitter while at Bristol. Mary Madan, the very day you set off from Bristol, said, ‘I hope Mrs. Wesley is not to stay here till Mr. Wesley returns, for, if she does, this society will be quite ruined.’ There were many high words between her and some of the stewards, the night I and Mr. Lewis came from setting you out of town. It was true, I had a horse, but in this I soon was made to _see_ and _feel_ her power, for whenever I wanted to ride, she would contrive to send the man out on some trifling thing or other, so that I have been fourteen days together without riding at all; and when I did, I was sure to be lectured by your man telling me he had enough to do for Mr. Charles Wesley and Mrs. Madan. As I could not use my horse there, and Mr. Lewis telling me Mr. Charles Wesley wanted him to hire one for the man to ride by the side of their carriage, and that it would save the society a guinea if I would lend my horse instead of their hiring one, I said, ‘with all my heart.’ But I was soon informed by your brother, that the London stewards would not like my horse to go; that he must have three there himself; and that a subscription was proposed to buy the third. It was no hard matter to find how I was circumstanced. As I could get no one to ride with me, I did not care to put you to the expense of keeping my horse; so I sold it. So that evil is removed. The next must be myself. Then the Methodists _must be a pure people_, when the troubler of their happiness and peace is removed. My dear friend, let me beg of you for God’s sake, for your own sake, put a stop to this torrent of evil that is poured out against me. It is cruel to make me an offender for defending myself. If you or any others have anything to lay to my charge, let it be proved. I desire to be open to conviction; but, surely, I have a right to do justice to myself, when I have it in my power. The trials and persecutions I have met with lately, were they accompanied with any degree of guilt, would make me of all creatures most miserable; but, bless God, He has hitherto kept me from a prey to my enemies; though I am often tempted to fear I shall not hold out any longer, as I am a poor, weak woman, alone against a formidable body.

“I am your affectionate wife,

“M. WESLEY.”[135]

The letter, from which the above is copied, refutes Mr. Watson’s assertion, that “Mrs. Vazeille was a woman of cultivated understanding”; and confirms Mr. Jackson’s statement, that “neither in understanding nor education was she worthy of the eminent man to whom she was united.” Without altering the sense, we have been obliged to revise both the orthography and syntax of the letter, in order to make it at all fit to appear in print. Mrs. Wesley was evidently a woman of no education, beyond the ability to read and write. Perhaps no better description of her character, as a woman and a wife, can be furnished than what is patent in the peevish, petulant, murmuring, miserable letter just given. Here we leave her, simply adding that, after being Wesley’s wife for a little more than thirty years, she died at the age of seventy-one, on October 8, 1781.[136] Wesley, at the time, was in the west of England; but writes, on October 12, as follows: “I came to London, and was informed that my wife died on Monday. This evening she was buried, though I was not informed of it till a day or two after.” Her fortune, which, by losses and by fraud, had been reduced from ten to five thousand pounds, she bequeathed to her son; and left her husband nothing but a ring.[137] The epitaph on her tombstone describes her as “a woman of exemplary piety, a tender parent, and a sincere friend”; but is wisely silent concerning her conduct as a wife.

Perhaps more than enough has been already said. It must be remembered, however, that John Wesley’s marriage affected and tinged thirty years of his public life. It was one of the gravest events in his chequered history; and, on this ground, it deserves attention. Wesley was not faultless. He married too hurriedly to know the character of the woman whom he made his wife; and he would have acted more wisely if he had refrained from writing religious letters to female members of his society, of whom his wife was jealous. This is all that can be fairly alleged against him. No one will venture to affirm, that he was wanting in affection; and no one can successfully accuse him of treating his wife with coldness and reserve. Charles, a keen judge of character, declared that nothing could surpass his brother’s patience in bearing with his perverse and peevish spouse. Several of his letters to her, written after their marriage, have been preserved; and display the tenderest affection, and justify the opinion that, had it been his happiness to be married to a woman that was worthy of him, he would have been one of the most loving husbands that ever lived. The truth is, John Wesley’s wife was scarcely sane. Mr. Jackson writes: “Scores of documents in her handwriting attest the violence of her temper, and warrant the conclusion, that there was in her a certain degree of mental unsoundness.” This is the most merciful view that it is possible to take of her strange behaviour. In no respect was she a helpmeet for him. As a rule, she was a bitter, unmitigated curse. At home, she was suspicious, jealous, fretful, taunting, twitting, and often violent. Abroad, when itinerating with him, it too generally happened, that nought could please her. “The weather was either intolerably cold, or insufferably hot. The roads were bad, and the means of conveyance, unbearable. The people, by whom they were accommodated, were unpolite and rude; the provisions were scanty, or ill prepared; and the beds were hard, and the covering not sufficient.”[138] Such were the whinings of a woman who began life as a domestic servant. Her husband was a gentleman and a scholar, but was almost an utter stranger to the comforts of wedded life. In lieu of them, he had annoyances, which, to most men, would have been intolerable; and it is no mean proof of the genuine greatness of his character, that during this protracted domestic wretchedness of thirty years’ continuance, his public career never wavered, nor appeared to lose one jot of its amazing energy. “He repeatedly told me,” writes Henry Moore, “that he believed the Lord overruled this painful business for his good; and that, if Mrs. Wesley had been a better wife, he might have been unfaithful in the great work to which God had called him, and might have too much sought to please her according to her own views.”[139]

We must now return to the year 1751. Five weeks after his marriage, Wesley set out for the north of England. He spent Sunday, March 31, at Birmingham, where he warned the society against idle disputes and vain janglings; and was “obliged to preach abroad, the room not being able to contain half the congregation.” He writes: “O how is the scene changed here! The last time I preached at Birmingham, the stones flew on every side. If any disturbance were made now, the disturber would be in more danger than the preacher.”

At Dudley, Wesley was welcomed by a “dismal screaming.” At Wednesbury, the work had been injured by “doubtful disputations.” The predestinarians had not come near the place while persecution lasted; but, “when all was calm, they poured in on every side, and bereaved us of our children.” The society was reduced from three hundred members to seventy, all of whom were weak and lifeless.[140] Throughout the whole neighbourhood, “the classes were miserably shattered by the sowers of strange doctrines,”—baptists and others included.

Arriving at Bolton on the 10th of April, Wesley went to a barber to be shaved. “Sir,” said the man of lather, “I praise God on your behalf. When you were at Bolton last, I was one of the greatest drunkards in the town; but I came to listen at the window, God struck me to the heart, and twelve months ago I was converted.”

Here Wesley was also introduced to a clergyman, who deserves a passing notice. The vicar of Chipping, a village about ten miles north of Preston, was the Rev. J. Milner. Up to the present, Wesley and Milner had never met, though a warm friendship existed between them. Milner had written to Wesley in the most loving terms, and had become a subscriber to his “Christian Library.” He had embraced Wesley’s doctrines; and, as a consequence, most of the neighbouring clergy had cast him off; and all manner of evil was spoken concerning him. Writing to Wesley, in 1750, Milner says: “Twice I have had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ingham. There is a great deal of amiable sweetness in his whole behaviour. I have often wished, that he was disentangled from the Moravians, and cordially _one_ with you in promoting the interests of the gospel. The last time I saw him, he was employed in reconciling two of the Brethren. He allows you incomparably the preference for prudence; but says you have not done Count Zinzendorf justice. At first, I looked upon the difference as that betwixt Paul and Barnabas, which was a furtherance to the gospel of Christ; but since I knew more of the doctrine of the _still Brethren_, I have not had the same favourable opinion of them. Yet, I cannot help thinking Mr. Ingham happy; but may some good providence bring you speedily together; for surely, such souls must glow at meeting, and all unkindness fly at first sight.”[141]

Wesley accompanied Milner to his vicarage at Chipping, which, henceforth, became one of his favourite haunts. In 1752, Milner allowed him to occupy his church; and, for this, was brought before the bishop. Milner told his lordship the story of the Bolton barber, and then descanted on the grand society of Christian worshippers at Newcastle. The bishop talked about order; but Milner replied he had nowhere seen so little order as in the bishop’s own cathedral, where the children took no notice of the preacher, and the choristers rudely talked, and thrust one another with their elbows. He added, that there certainly was need of some one to call them back to the doctrines of the Reformation; for he knew not a single clergyman, in the whole of Lancashire, “that would give the Church’s definition of faith, and stand to it.”[142]

Having spent the night with Milner, Wesley and he proceeded, “over more than Welsh mountains,” to Whitehaven, which they reached on Saturday, April 13. At the pressing request of Joseph Cownley, Wesley had preached here in September, 1749, and had formed a society. He now found two hundred and forty persons meeting in class; and, among the whole, there was only one who ever missed the class without absolute necessity. On Saturday, April 20, he and his clerical friend Milner arrived at the Orphan House, at Newcastle, where they found the society “loving, simple, and zealous of good works.”

On Monday morning following, Wesley, for the first time, set out for Scotland. This was in compliance with the wish of Captain (afterwards Colonel) Gallatin, who was then quartered at Musselburgh; and who, together with his Christian lady, showed the Wesleys the sincerest friendship to the end of life. Twenty-seven years after this, Wesley wrote: 1778, December 18.—I called upon Colonel Gallatin. But what a change is here! The fine gentleman, the soldier, is clean gone; sunk into a feeble, decrepit old man; not able to rise from his seat, and hardly able to speak.” He died soon after, and Charles Wesley evinced his respect for his memory, by composing a beautiful hymn on the occasion, in which he speaks of him as his “bosom friend,” and as “gentle, generous, and sincere.”

Wesley, accompanied by Christopher Hopper, arrived at Musselburgh on April 24. He says, he had no intention to preach in Scotland; nor did he imagine, that there were any that desired he should. A crowd, however, collected in the evening, and “remained as statues from the beginning of the sermon to the end.” Next day, he rode to Edinburgh, which he describes as “one of the dirtiest cities he had ever seen,” Cologne itself not excepted. He returned to dinner, and preached again at six; and “used great plainness of speech,” which was “received in love.” After preaching, one of the bailies of the town, with one of the elders of the kirk, begged he would stay with them awhile, and promised they would fit him up a preaching place. His other arrangements prevented him complying with this courteous request; but, in lieu of this, he offered them the services of Hopper. For a fortnight, Hopper preached night and morning, to large congregations, who heard with great attention; many were cut to the heart; several were joined together in a small society; and thus Methodism gained a footing across the border.[143] Other preachers followed; but the results were small. In the month of August next ensuing, Charles Wesley, who was then at Newcastle, wrote: “I had much discourse with a brother from Scotland, who has preached there many weeks, and not converted one soul. ‘You may just as well preach to the stones,’ he added, ‘as to the Scots.’ Yet, to keep my brother’s word, I sent William Shent to Musselburgh.”

It is clear, that Charles Wesley was not flushed with hope of Methodist success among the Scots. Whitefield, also, said to Wesley himself: “You have no business in Scotland; for your principles are so well known, that, if you spoke like an angel, none would hear you; and, if they did, you would have nothing to do but to dispute with one and another from morning to night.” To this Wesley subsequently answered: “If God sends me, people will hear. And I will give them no provocation to dispute; for I will studiously avoid all controverted points, and keep to the fundamental truths of Christianity. And if any still begin to dispute, they may; but I will not dispute with them.”[144] Whitefield, however, was not satisfied. In a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, dated Edinburgh, July 30, 1751, he adds: “I have been to Musselburgh to see Captain Gallatin and his lady. They hold on. Mr. Wesley has been there, and intends setting up societies, which I think imprudent.”[145]

From the first, men have doubted whether Methodism had a mission to the Scots. Even as late as the year 1826, Dr. Adam Clarke, not the least sanguine of men, wrote: “I consider Methodism as having no hold of Scotland, but in Glasgow and Edinburgh. If all the other chapels were disposed of, it would be little loss to Methodism; and a great saving of money, which might be much better employed.”[146] Wesley, however, as we shall find hereafter, was successful; and, had his preachers and successors adhered to the principle adopted by himself, the results would probably have been far greater than what they are. Perhaps he never had the popularity in Scotland that Whitefield reached; but his work has proved to be more lasting. The one formed a denomination of his own; the other wrought with churches already in existence, and the fruit of his labours was lost in theirs. Though Methodism across the Tweed has never had the same success as it has had in England, yet it would be untrue to say, that its efforts have been a failure. Besides, there have been causes for the difference. In England, Wesley and his assistants found the masses ignorant; in Scotland they had to battle with, a partially enlightened prejudice. In England, the great body of the people were without a creed; in Scotland, the people were creed-ridden. In England, the itinerant plan was not objected to; in Scotland, it has always been a bugbear. Still, one cannot but lament, that the success has not been greater; and we strongly incline to think, that the reasons just assigned are not sufficient to account for the sad defect. Wesley went, not to oppose and to abuse Calvinism, but to preach fundamental truths. If others would dispute, he would not. Truth, not controversy, is the means of converting men. Besides, is it not a fact, that Methodism has sometimes been tampered with, in order to adapt it, forsooth, to Scotch taste and prejudice? This was not Wesley’s way. “What can be done to increase the work of God in Scotland?” he asked. “Answer:—1. Preach abroad as much as possible. 2. Try every town and village. 3. Visit every member of the society at home.”[147] “The way to do them good in Scotland,” he wrote nine years before his death, “is to observe all our rules at Inverness, just as you would at Sheffield; yea, and to preach the whole Methodist doctrine, as plainly and simply as you would in Yorkshire.”[148]

On returning from Musselburgh to Newcastle, Wesley preached at Berwick, to a large congregation, in the midst of a piercing wind; also at Alnwick cross; and at Alemouth, where he found the largest congregation he had seen in all Northumberland.

Having spent a week at Newcastle and among the neighbouring societies, he set out, on the 6th of May, for the south of England. At Stockton, a few angry people “set up a dismal scream” as he was entering the town; but he found that, “by means of a plain, rough exhorter, the society had been more than doubled since he was there before.”[149]

On May 7, he came to York, where was a small society of about half-a-dozen members, with Thomas Staton as their leader, and a room in Pump Yard for their meeting place. From York, Wesley rode to Epworth, where he found “a poor, dead, senseless people; at which,” says he, “I did not wonder, when I was informed (1) That some of our preachers there had diligently gleaned up and retailed all the evil they could hear of me; (2) that some of them had quite laid aside our hymns, as well as the doctrine they formerly preached; (3) that one of them had frequently spoke against our rules, and the others quite neglected them.”

From Epworth, Wesley rode back to Leeds, where he preached “in the walls” of a new chapel; and then held a conference with about thirty of his preachers, particularly inquiring about “their grace, and gifts, and fruit; and found reason to doubt of one only.” Two days after, on the 17th of May he “preached in the new house at Birstal, already too small for even a week day’s congregation.” And then, “after a few days more spent among the neighbouring societies, he returned, by easy journeys, to the metropolis.”

To add to his anxieties, Kingswood school was now in trouble. Three years before, it had been begun with twenty-eight scholars, six masters, and six servants. Wesley had written grammars of the English, French, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin languages, and had printed many other books for the use of the pupils. Soon, however, the maid servants began to quarrel. The masters, also, failed to answer Wesley’s expectations. One of them was rough and disobliging; another was honest and diligent, but his person and his manner made him contemptible; a third was grave and weighty in his behaviour, but the children were set against him; and a fourth, instead of restraining the boys from play, played with them. Four or five of the larger boys grew wicked, and the others became “wilder and wilder, till all their religious impressions were worn off.” The result of the whole was,—the establishment on Kingswood Hill was now, at the end of three years, reduced to two masters, two servants, and eleven children; but Wesley writes: “I believe all in the house are, at length, of one mind; and trust God will bless us in the latter end, more than in the beginning.”

Another trouble, awaiting Wesley, on his return from the north of England, was the scandal occasioned by the sin of James Wheatley. This unhappy man had been a Methodist itinerant preacher since the year 1742. At the beginning of his public labours, he was diligent and useful; but, while in Ireland, he unfortunately became acquainted with certain Moravians of the antinomian creed, and practically, at least, embraced their principles. Wesley says, that Wheatley was never “_clear_ in the faith, and perhaps not sound. According to his understanding was his preaching,—an unconnected rhapsody of unmeaning words, like Sir John Suckling’s

‘Verses, smooth and soft as cream, In which was neither depth nor stream.’”

Wesley asserts, that it was a reproach to the Methodist congregations, that Wheatley became a most popular preacher. Yet so he did; and, though several of the itinerants in Ireland complained both of his doctrine and manner of preaching, it is a fact that, in the space of a few months, he brought almost all the preachers in that kingdom to think and to speak like himself.[150] Robert Swindells and others were exalted above measure, and imagined that they, and they only, preached Christ, and Christ’s gospel. Their brethren, who differed from them, were despised, and were ignominiously branded with the cognomen of “legal preachers,” and “legal wretches.” In this way, James Wheatley’s preaching had been disastrous. Then again, as early as 1749, he had become headstrong and troublesome. Charles Wesley writes: “1749, June 14.—I threw away some advice on an obstinate preacher, James Wheatley; for I could make no impression on him, or in any degree bow his stiff neck.” “He is gone to the north expressly contrary to my advice. Whither will his wilfulness lead him at last?” Two years after this, Wesley calls him “that wonderful self-deceiver and hypocrite.” Why? In June, 1751, Richard Pearce, and Mrs. Silby, of Bradford, in Wiltshire, gave Charles Wesley to understand, that Wheatley had been guilty of indecent behaviour. Charles at once went to Bradford, and took down, from the lips of seven females, their charges against Wheatley. This document was read to Wheatley at Bristol; and, on June 25, the two Wesleys brought him to Bearfield, face to face with two of his principal accusers. He cavilled at a few circumstances, but allowed that the substance of what was said was true. He was taken to Farley, where five other women gave to Wesley’s wife the same statements which they had made to Charles. Wesley persuaded Wheatley to retire for a season from the itinerant work; but it was labour lost. He professed to be penitent; but he extenuated what he was not able to deny, and as constantly accused others as excused himself; saying, many had been guilty of “_little imprudences_” as well as he. He pleaded guilty to the charges brought against him; but justified himself, and basely tried to implicate his brethren. To screen himself, he traduced all the preachers; and, in doing this, told palpable untruths. Ten of the preachers in the west of England were brought before him; and each, in succession, demanded to know the sin with which Wheatley could charge him. “The accuser,” says Charles Wesley, “was silent, which convinced us of his wilful lying.” The result of the whole was his suspension, which ended in expulsion,—the first act of the kind since Methodism had been founded. The following paper was put into his hands.

“_June 25, 1751._

“Because you have wrought folly in Israel, grieved the Holy Spirit of God, betrayed your own soul into temptation and sin, and the souls of many others, whom you ought, even at the peril of your own life, to have guarded against all sin; because you have given occasion to the enemies of God, whenever they shall know these things, to blaspheme the ways and truth of God:

“We can in nowise receive you as a fellow labourer, till we see clear proofs of your real and deep repentance. Of this you have given us no proof yet. You have not so much as named one single person, in all England or Ireland, with whom you have behaved ill, except those we knew before.

“The least and lowest proof of such repentance which we can receive is this: that, till our next conference (which we hope will be in October), you abstain both from preaching and from practising physic. If you do not, we are clear; we cannot answer for the consequences.

“JOHN WESLEY, CHARLES WESLEY.”

This was the first judicial sentence pronounced upon a culprit Methodist preacher. For some weeks, Wheatley went from house to house, justifying himself, and condemning Wesley and his brother for the

## action they had taken. He then proceeded to Norwich, where he was

unknown. Reaching the gates, he gave the bridle to his horse, and was taken to one of the public inns. Before the door he observed a soldier, and, by the soldier, was introduced to a small company of serious people, who were known in Norwich by the name of puritans. He began to preach out of doors. Thousands, who had been notorious for all kinds of profaneness and irreligion, ran to hear him. Nearly two thousand of them were united together in Christian fellowship. The change in the city was most marvellous. A temporary building was erected on Timber Hill, in imitation of the one erected for Whitefield in Moorfields, and was called the Tabernacle. Meanwhile, however, a Jacobite party, commonly called the “Hell Fire Club,” a lawless fraternity who met at the Blue Bell on Orford Hill,[151] in conjunction with the papists and protestants of the city, began to oppose the growing reformation. The windows of Wheatley’s Tabernacle were smashed in pieces, and the chapel itself unroofed. Wheatley was stripped, and dragged to one of the bridges for the purpose of being drowned, but was mercifully rescued by the mayor. Horns were blown; and fireworks, dirt and stones were hurled in all directions at his followers. Some were scorched with fire; others wounded; and others had arms and legs violently broken. A plan was laid to convey the preacher to a mud pit, ten or twelve feet deep, and there to suffocate him. One day, the mob went in procession through most of the streets of Norwich, with a mock burial of the preacher, having upon his coffin the inscription—“Antichrist, Enthusiasm, Imposture, Blasphemy, and Schismatic.” They paraded twice through the Bell Yard, where the Hell Fire Club was kept; then walked three times round a fire in the castle ditch; and then, with mock solemnity, committed the coffin to the flames, and the preacher to the devil. Mrs. Overton and her daughter were beaten, had their eyes plastered up with clay, and their house filled with filthy water. Mr. Standen was left speechless; and numbers more had to be put under the surgeon’s care. On one occasion, the mob stuck a lamb upon a pole, and carried it through the streets, blasphemously crying, “Behold the Lamb of God!” They crowned a man with thorns, and scourged him, calling him by the holy name of Jesus. They carried about a picture, alleging it was the Holy Ghost, and cursed it as they went. Men, women, and children were maimed without mercy. One poor creature, big with child, died of the kicks and bruises she received; another young woman was dragged into the street, and was treated by brute after brute in a manner too shocking to relate, until she was carried home insensible, and with little hopes of living.[152] Two letters, published in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1752, and dated respectively, Norwich, February 19, and March 22, state that, for several months, the city had been disturbed and alarmed by the violent proceedings of an enraged populace, on account of their taking offence “at some encouragement given by the magistrates to Mr. Wheatley, a Welsh cobbler, lately turned Methodist preacher.” “On the 12th of January he had three constables to guard him; but the mob beat both him and them, and so covered them with mud that they could hardly be recognised. They went to his Tabernacle, broke the pulpit and windows, pulled down the seats, and untiled and destroyed a great part of the edifice. The mayor and swordbearer read the proclamation, to which the rioters responded, ‘Church and king! down with the meetings!’” It was alleged that Wheatley, by the number of his religious services, was the occasion of great numbers of both men and women neglecting their occupations; and that, as a consequence, the workhouse was filled, and the parishes burdened with helpless children. Wheatley, it is said, came to the town without a groat in his pocket, but was now receiving from ten to twelve guineas every week. He had been a noted bad liver; but now was well dressed, in a grey coat and black under habit, like a clergyman. His _dear hearers_, who regarded him as a _holy inspired_ preacher, were roughly treated; for the populace, when meeting them, called out, “Bah! bah!” in reference to their being his own _dear lambs_; and, at a recent election of a coroner, had trundled some of them down the Castle Hill, and afterwards pumped on one, and wounded several others.

This was rough treatment; but Wheatley had been well schooled, and, in the midst of all, continued firm. His courage and his success ultimately turned the tide in his favour; and, in April, 1752, steps were taken to erect for him one of the largest chapels in the city. For a time, this was supplied by him, and Cudworth, and Robinson, afterwards the noted Socinian minister at Cambridge.

Space forbids our following the history of James Wheatley further; except to say, that, in 1754, he again disgraced himself; and the judge of the ecclesiastical court at Norwich, before whom his case was tried, on February 4, 1756, declared him to be “a lewd, debauched, incontinent, and adulterous person; and stated, he had committed the crimes of adultery, fornication, and incontinence, to the great scandal of good men, and the pernicious example of others; and, that he (the judge) decreed, that the said Wheatley be enjoined a public penance, to be performed in a linen cloth, with a paper pinned to his breast, denoting his crime; and, that he further pay the costs of his prosecution.”[153]

For a time, poor Wheatley was obliged to leave the kingdom. He then returned to Norwich, and preached to his “dear lambs” for several years, after which he lost his voice, and went to Bristol, where he was suddenly seized, in a barber’s shop, with a violent fit of coughing, and expired. John Pawson, who knew him, and from whose manuscript letters this is taken, adds: “He was one of the greatest mysteries that ever bore human shape. Such a degree of hypocrisy hardly ever lodged in a human heart before.”

The detected immorality of James Wheatley, and his accusation of other preachers, led Wesley and his brother to determine upon instituting a more strict inquiry into the life, and behaviour of the preachers in connection with them.

It was now twelve years since Methodism was fairly founded. During that period, eighty-five itinerants had, more or less, preached and acted under Wesley’s guidance. Of these, one (Wheatley) had been expelled; six, Thomas Beard, Enoch Williams, Samuel Hitchens, Thomas Hitchens, John Jane, and Henry Millard, had died in their Master’s work; ten, for various reasons, had retired; and sixty-eight were still employed, namely:—

Cornlieus Bastable William Biggs John Bennet Benjamin Beanland William Crouch Jonathan Catlow Alexander Coates Joseph Cownley William Darney John Downes Edward Dunstan John Edwards John Fisher William Fugill Nicholas Gilbert Paul Greenwood John Haughton Thomas Hardwick William Holmes John Haime William Hitchens Christopher Hopper Herbert Jenkins Joseph Jones Samuel Jones John Jones Thomas Kead Samuel Larwood Henry Lloyd Thomas Lee Thomas Maxfield John Maddern Richard Moss James Morris Jonathan Maskew John Morley Samuel Megget Thomas Mitchell James Morgan James Massiott John Nelson James Oddie William Prior John Pearce Edward Perronet Charles Perronet Jacob Rowell Thomas Richards Jonathan Reeves William Roberts William Shent Charles Skelton Robert Swindells Thomas Seacombe John Trembath David Tratham Joseph Tucker William Tucker John Turner Thomas Tobias Thomas Westall Thomas Walsh Thomas Williams Francis Walker Eleazer Webster John Whitford Richd. Williamson James Wild

Of this number, two were expelled, viz. Thomas Williams in 1755, and William Fugill in 1768; and forty-one left the itinerancy; thus leaving only twenty-five of the sixty-eight preachers employed in 1751, who died in the itinerant work. Several of those who left became clergymen of the Church of England, some Dissenting ministers, and some, on account of failing health or for domestic reasons, entered into business, but lived and died as local preachers. There is, however, another fact too notable to be omitted, namely, that, of the forty-one preachers who relinquished the itinerancy, six resigned in 1751, six in 1752, and twelve within four years after that.[154] This was a serious sifting; but the searching examinations of 1751, and the sacramental disturbances of the next five years, account for it.

As already stated, the case of James Wheatley led the Wesleys to resolve upon a thorough inquiry into the character and creed of all their preachers. The office fell upon Charles; and, for that purpose, he started for Leeds on June 28. He preached and visited all the societies on the way. At Worcester, the mob, with faces blacked, some without shirts, and all in rags, began to curse and swear, and sing lewd songs, and throw dust and dirt over both the preacher and his congregation, till they were covered from head to foot, and almost blinded.

The conference, for inquiry, was opened at Leeds, on September 11. It consisted of about a dozen preachers and three clergymen, and was begun by singing a hymn, which Charles Wesley seems to have composed for the occasion, and a few stanzas of which are here subjoined.

“Arise, Thou jealous God, arise, Thy sifting power exert, Look through us with Thy flaming eyes, And search out every heart.

Our inmost souls Thy Spirit knows, And let Him now display Whom Thou hast for Thy glory chose, And purge the rest away.

The apostles false far off remove, Thy faithful labourers own, And give us each himself to prove, And know as he is known.

Do _I_ presume to preach Thy word By Thee uncalled, unsent? Am _I_ the servant of the Lord, Or Satan’s instrument?

I once _unfeignedly believed_ Myself sent forth by Thee; But have I _kept_ the grace received, In simple poverty?”

Twelve verses of this searching hymn were sung; its author, the president, prayed; and then stated his views, freely and fully, concerning the qualifications, work, and trials of Methodist preachers. No immediate action was taken, except that poor William Darney, who had just published his “Collection of Hymns, in four parts,” was refused admittance, and was told, that unless he abstained, in future, “from railing, begging, and printing nonsense,” he should be expelled. The conference lasted but a day, and seems to have passed but one resolution. “We agreed,” writes Charles Wesley, “to postpone opinions till the next general conference, and parted friends.”[155]

Charles Wesley, however, accomplished the work assigned him by his brother, more by private inquiry than by public conference. Robert Swindells he found inclined to Calvinism, but teachable; David Tratham was a confirmed predestinarian;[156] and John Bennet’s theological principles were doubted.

Wesley’s suspicions and anxieties were, at this period, quite equal to his brother’s. He had heard that Charles Skelton, and J. C. (? Joseph Cownley) “frequently and bitterly railed against the Church”; he declared, that “idleness had eaten out the heart of half their preachers, particularly those in Ireland”; and he requested his brother to give them their choice, “Either follow your trade, or resolve, before God, to spend the same hours in reading, etc., which you used to spend in working.” He counselled, that the young preachers should not be checked without strong necessity; and said, that, in the process of sifting, he should prefer grace before gifts. They must deal, not only with disorderly walkers, but with triflers, the effeminate, and busybodies. In a letter to a friend, dated August 21, he wrote: “I see plainly the spirit of Ham, if not of Corah, has fully possessed several of our preachers. So much the more freely and firmly do I acquiesce in the determination of my brother, ‘that it is far better for us to have ten, or six preachers, who are alive to God, sound in the faith, and of one heart with us and with one another, than fifty of whom we have no such assurance.’”

Towards the end of the year, Wesley and his brother conferred with their confidential adviser, the Rev. Vincent Perronet, and then drew up and signed the following agreement.

“With regard to the preachers, we agree—

“1. That none shall be permitted to preach in any of our societies, till he be examined, both as to grace and gifts; at least, by the assistant, who, sending word to us, may, by our answer, admit him a _local_ preacher.

“2. That such preacher be not immediately taken from his trade, but be exhorted to follow it with all diligence.

“3. That no person shall be received as a travelling preacher, or be taken from his trade, by either of us alone, but by both of us conjointly, giving him a note under both our hands.

“4. That neither of us will re-admit a travelling preacher laid aside, without the consent of the other.

“5. That, if we should ever disagree in our judgment, we will refer the matter to Mr. Perronet.

“6. That we will entirely be patterns of all we expect from every preacher; particularly of zeal, diligence, and punctuality in the work; by constantly preaching and meeting the society; by visiting yearly Ireland, Cornwall, and the north; and, in general, by superintending the whole work, and every branch of it, with all the strength that God shall give us. We agree to the above written, till this day next year, in the presence of Mr. Perronet.

“JOHN WESLEY, CHARLES WESLEY.”[157]

This was a momentous epoch in Methodist history. The Wesleys were well aware, that pulpits mould pews. “Like priest, like people,” is a proverb not older than it is true. Perhaps, we cannot do better than conclude the matter with an extract from a long letter, which Wesley wrote to a friend, just before the year was ended.

“LONDON, _December 20, 1751_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—I think the right method of preaching is this. At our first beginning to preach at any place, after a general declaration of the love of God to sinners, and His willingness that they should be saved, to preach the law, in the strongest, the closest, the most searching manner possible.

“After more and more persons are convinced of sin, we may mix more and more of the gospel, in order to beget faith, to raise into spiritual life those whom the law hath slain. I would not advise to preach the law without the gospel, any more than the gospel without the law. Undoubtedly, both should be preached in their turns; yea, both at once, or both in one. All the conditional promises are instances of this. They are law and gospel mixed together.

“In this manner, not only my brother and I, but Mr. Maxfield, Nelson, James Jones, Westall, and Reeves, all preached at the beginning. By this preaching, it pleased God to work those mighty effects in London, Bristol, Kingswood, Yorkshire, and Newcastle. By means of this, twenty-nine persons received remission of sins, in one day, at Bristol only; most of them, while I was opening and enforcing our Lord’s sermon on the mount. In this manner, John Downes, John Bennet, John Haughton, and all the other Methodists, preached, till James Wheatley came among them. The change he has introduced has done great harm to David Tratham, Thomas Webb, Robert Swindells, and John Maddern; all of whom are but shadows of what they were. It has likewise done great harm to hearers as well as preachers, diffusing among them a prejudice against the scriptural, Methodist manner of preaching Christ, so that they can no longer hear the plain old truth, with profit or pleasure, nay hardly with patience. The ‘gospel preachers,’ so called, corrupt their hearers, and they vitiate their taste. They feed them with sweetmeats, till the genuine wine of the kingdom seems quite insipid to them. They give them cordial upon cordial, which make them all life and spirit for the present; but, meantime, their appetite is destroyed, so that they can neither retain nor digest the pure milk of the word.

“According to the constant observations I have made, in all parts both of England and Ireland, preachers of this kind spread death, not life, among their hearers. This was the case when I went last into the north. For some time before my coming, John Downes had scarce been able to preach at all; the three others, in the round, were such as style themselves ‘gospel preachers.’ When I came to review the societies, with great expectation of finding a vast increase, I found most of them lessened by one third. One was entirely broken up. That of Newcastle was less by a hundred members than when I visited it before; and, of those that remained, the far greater number, in every place, were cold, weary, heartless, and dead. Such were the blessed effects of _this gospel_-preaching! of this new method of _preaching Christ_.

“On the other hand, when, in my return, I took an account of the societies in Yorkshire, chiefly under the care of John Nelson, one of the _old_ way, I found them all alive, strong, and vigorous of soul, believing, loving, and praising God their Saviour; and increased in number from eighteen or nineteen hundred, to upwards of three thousand. These had been continually fed with wholesome food. From the beginning they had been taught both the law and the gospel. ‘God loves _you_; therefore love and obey _Him_. Christ died for _you_; therefore die to sin. Christ is risen; therefore rise in the image of God. Christ liveth evermore; therefore live to God, till you live with Him in glory.’

“So _we_ preached; and so _you_ believed. This is the scriptural way, the _Methodist_ way, the true way. God grant we may never turn therefrom, to the right hand or to the left.

“I am, my dear friend, your ever affectionate brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[158]

It has been already stated, that Whitefield embarked for America in the month of August. Before sailing, he penned a letter, an extract from which will be read with some surprise.

“BRISTOL, _March 22, 1751_.

“REVEREND AND VERY DEAR SIR,—Thanks be to God, that the time for favouring the colony of Georgia seems to be come. Now is the season for us to exert our utmost for the good of the poor Ethiopians. We are told, that even they are soon to stretch out their hands to God; and who knows but their being settled in Georgia may be overruled for this great end? As for the lawfulness of keeping slaves, I have no doubt, since I hear of some that were bought with Abraham’s money, and some that were born in his house. I also cannot help thinking, that some of those servants mentioned by the apostles in their epistles were, or had been, slaves. It is plain, that the Gibeonites were doomed to perpetual slavery; and, though liberty is a sweet thing to such as are born free, yet to those who never knew the sweets of it, slavery perhaps may not be so irksome. However this be, it is plain, to a demonstration, that hot countries cannot be cultivated without negroes. What a flourishing country might Georgia have been, had the use of them been permitted years ago! How many white people have been destroyed for want of them, and how many thousands of pounds spent to no purpose at all? Though it is true, that they are brought in a wrong way, from their own country, and it is a trade not to be approved of, yet as it will be carried on whether we will or not, I should think myself highly favoured if I could purchase a good number of them, in order to make their lives comfortable, and lay a foundation for breeding up their posterity in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. I had no hand in bringing them into Georgia, though my judgment was for it, and I was strongly importuned thereto; yet, I would not have a negro upon my plantation, till the use of them was publicly allowed by the colony. Now this is done, let us diligently improve the present opportunity for their instruction. It rejoiced my soul, to hear that one of my poor negroes in Carolina was made a brother in Christ. How know we but we may have many such instances in Georgia? I trust many of them will be brought to Jesus, and this consideration, as to us, swallows up all temporal inconveniences whatsoever.

“I am, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[159]

This is a strange production, especially when read in the present day; but it was not unmeaning talk. Whitefield acted upon the principle propounded, and, at the time of his decease, twenty years afterwards, was the possessor of seventy-five slaves, in connection with his Orphan House plantations in the Georgian settlements.[160] His intention was good; but his warmest admirer will find it difficult to defend his

## action. We shall, hereafter, become acquainted with Wesley’s views,

when the time arrives for noticing his “Thoughts upon Slavery”; suffice it to remark here, that they were in perfect accordance with his well known designation of the slave trade, in 1772,—“an execrable sum of all villanies.”

On August 19, Wesley and his wife set out for Cornwall. At Tiverton, he went to hear a sermon preached at the old church, before the trustees of the school; but “such insufferable noise and confusion he never saw before in a place of worship; no, not even in a Jewish synagogue. The clergy set the example, laughing and talking during great part both of the prayers and sermon.” The next day, he himself preached, when a mob, from Blundell’s school, came with horns, drums, and fifes, and created all the disturbance in their power. They seized a poor chimney sweeper (though no Maccabee, as the Methodists in Tiverton were called), carried him away in triumph, and half murdered him before he could escape from their cruel clutches. A short time after this, the mayor of Tiverton asked a gentleman whether it was not right, that the Methodists should be banished from the town. The gentleman recommended his worship to follow the counsel of Gamaliel to the Jews; upon which the furious functionary observed, that there was no need of any new religion in Tiverton. “There is,” said he, “the old church and the new church; that is one religion. Then there is parson K——’s at the Pitt meeting, and parson W——’s in Peter Street, and old parson T——’s at the meeting in Newport Street,—four ways of going to heaven already; enough in conscience; and if the people won’t go to heaven by one or other of these ways, by —— they shan’t go to heaven at all herefrom, while I am mayor of Tiverton.”[161]

Leaving the religious town of Tiverton, Wesley and his wife went to Taunton, where a mob of “boys and gentlemen” made so much noise, that he was obliged to desist from preaching in the street, and to finish his discourse in the meeting room; on issuing from which his congregation were furiously pelted with all sorts of missiles.

After spending a happy month in Cornwall, and preaching all the way to and fro, he got back to London on October 21, where, with the exception of a short excursion to Canterbury, he continued until the year was ended.

During this brief breathing time, Wesley began his second letter to Lavington, bishop of Exeter. “Heavy work,” says he, “such as I should never choose; but sometimes it must be done. Well might the ancient say, ‘God made practical divinity necessary, the devil controversial.’ But it is necessary: we must resist the devil, or he will not flee from us.”

He likewise entered into correspondence with his disabled itinerant, John Downes, whose health was failing, and who found it necessary to seek temporary retirement. He writes:—

“Some of the preachers do not adorn the gospel; therefore, we have been constrained to lay some of them aside; and some others have departed of themselves. Let us that remain be doubly in earnest. I entreat you, tell me without reserve, what you think of Charles Skelton. Is his heart with us, or is it not? How are you employed? from five in the morning till nine at night? For I suppose you want eight hours’ sleep. What becomes of logic and Latin? Is your soul alive and more athirst for God? You must carefully guard against any irregularity, either as to food, sleep, or labour. Your water should be neither quite warm, for fear of relaxing the tone of your stomach, nor quite cold. Of all flesh, mutton is the best for you; of all vegetables, turnips, potatoes, and apples, if you can bear them. I think it is ill husbandry for you to work with your hands, in order to get money; because you may be better employed. But, if you will work, come and superintend my printing. I will give you £40 for the first year; afterwards, if need be, I will increase your salary; and still you may preach as often as you can preach. However, come, whether you print, or preach, or not.”[162]

John Downes was a remarkable man. Wesley, in his Journal, gives several instances of his mathematical and mechanical talent, and considered him “by nature full as great a genius as Sir Isaac Newton.” He accepted Wesley’s proposal, and, at the age of fifty-two, after a long conflict with sickness, pain, and poverty, died a triumphant death in 1774.

During the year 1751, Wesley was more than usually occupied. First of all, there was his hasty and unhappy marriage. This was followed by the case of Wheatley. Then, there was the not unneeded sifting of his preachers, both itinerant and local. And added to all this, there was the preparation for his “Christian Library”; eleven volumes of which were published in 1751. But, according to our wont, we conclude the chapter with a complete list of the year’s publications.

1. “Thoughts upon Infant Baptism. Extracted from a late writer.” 12mo, 21 pages. This is a summary of the arguments commonly used to vindicate the practice of baptizing children. Those who have doubts on the subject would do well to read Wesley’s tract. We know of no publication, that, in so small a compass, states the arguments so clearly and so conclusively.

2. “A Short Hebrew Grammar.” 12mo, 11 pages.

3. “A Short Greek Grammar.” 12mo, 80 pages.

4. “A Short French Grammar.” 12mo, 35 pages.

Of course these were designed for the use of Kingswood school. On the subject of languages, Wesley writes: “The Greek excels the Hebrew as much in beauty and strength as it does in copiousness. I suppose no one from the beginning of the world wrote better Hebrew than Moses. But does not the language of St. Paul excel the language of Moses, as much as the knowledge of St. Paul excelled his? I speak this, even on supposition, that you read the Hebrew, as I believe, Ezra, if not Moses, did, with points; for if we read it in the modern way, without points, I appeal to every competent judge, whether it be not the most equivocal.”[163] It is a curious fact, that Wesley advised no one above twenty years of age to think of learning Greek or Latin, on the ground that he could then employ his time abundantly better.[164] French he considered to be “the poorest, meanest language in Europe,” and “no more comparable to the German or Spanish, than a bagpipe is to an organ.”[165]

5. “Serious Thoughts upon the Perseverance of the Saints.” 12mo, 24 pages. This was a timely production, and, though concise, is written with much calmness and ability. Wesley admits, that both sides of the question are attended with great difficulties,—difficulties such as unassisted reason is unable to remove; and, therefore, says he, “let the living oracles decide. If these speak for us, we neither seek nor want further witness.” He clearly shows, that Calvinists constantly avail themselves of two fallacies. “1. They perpetually beg the question by applying, to particular persons, texts which relate only to the church in general; and some of them only to the Jewish church and nation, as distinguished from all other people. 2. They take for granted, as an indisputable truth, that whatever our Lord speaks to, or of His apostles, is to be applied to all believers.”

6. Eleven volumes of the “Christian Library,” from Vol. II. to Vol. XII. inclusive, and making altogether three thousand two hundred and fifty 12mo printed pages.

Vol. II. contains a continuation of John Arndt’s “True Christianity.” Vols. III. to VI., inclusive, are occupied with an abridgment of Fox’s Book of Martyrs; and Vols. VII. to XII. with extracts from the works of Bishop Hall, Robert Bolton, Dr. Preston, Dr. Sibbes, Dr. Goodwin, William Dell, and Dr. Manton.

1752.

[Sidenote: 1752 Age 49]

The year 1752 is skipped by the whole of Wesley’s biographers; and yet it was not devoid of incident.

Charles Wesley was now on terms of intimate friendship with the Countess of Huntingdon, and frequently preached and administered the sacrament in her ladyship’s house, to personages of great distinction.[166]

Whitefield arrived from America in the month of May; in June set out on a tour to Wales and the west of England; and in August to the north and to Scotland. The last six weeks of the year he spent in London, and began to take steps towards the erection of the Tabernacle in Moorfields.

He was considerably annoyed at the publication of Wesley’s tract on final perseverance, and, on February 5, wrote as follows: “Poor Mr. Wesley is striving against the stream. Strong assertions will not go for proofs with those who are sealed by the Holy Spirit even unto the day of redemption.”[167]

Several of Wesley’s itinerants began to be disloyal to their chiefs; and this led to the following document being signed with the names appended.

“January 29, 1752. It is agreed by us whose names are underwritten,—

“1. That we will not listen, or willingly inquire after any ill concerning each other.

“2. That, if we do hear any ill of each other, we will not be forward to believe it.

“3. That, as soon as possible, we will communicate what we hear, by speaking or writing to the person concerned.

“4. That, till we have done this, we will not write or speak a syllable of it, to any other person whatever.

“5. That neither will we mention it, after we have done this, to any other person.

“6. That we will not make any exception to any of these rules, unless we think ourselves absolutely obliged in conscience so to do.

“JOHN WESLEY, CHARLES WESLEY, JOHN TREMBATH, E. PERRONET, J. DOWNES, JONATHAN REEVES, JOSEPH COWNLEY, C. PERRONET, THOMAS MAXFIELD, JOHN JONES, JOHN NELSON, WILLIAM SHENT, JOHN HAIME.”[168]

Seven weeks later, another document, dated March 16, 1752, was drawn up and signed, chiefly through the influence of Charles Wesley.[169]

“We whose names are underwritten, being clearly and fully convinced, (1) That the success of the present work of God does in great measure depend on the entire union of all the labourers employed therein; (2) that our present call is chiefly to the members of that Church wherein we have been brought up;—are absolutely determined, by the grace of God, (1) To abide in the closest union with each other, and never knowingly or willingly to hear, speak, do, or suffer anything which tends to weaken that union; (2) never to leave the communion of the Church of England without the consent of all whose names are subjoined.

“CHARLES WESLEY, JOHN WESLEY, JOHN DOWNES, WILLIAM SHENT, JOHN JONES, JOHN NELSON.”[170]

These are curious and important papers, showing that, to a great extent, suspicion had taken the place of confidence, and that Methodism was in danger from “false brethren.”

On Sunday, March 15, Wesley set out from London, on his long northern journey, which, with his tour to Ireland, occupied his time for seven months. All the way to Manchester, which he reached on March 26, he encountered a continued succession of storms of wind and snow, but was not deterred from preaching, even in the open air.

At Manchester, he went, on Good Friday, to the cathedral, where his old friend, Mr. Clayton, read the prayers “more distinctly, solemnly, and gracefully” than he had ever heard them read. He spent three days in a searching examination of the members of the Manchester society, and found reason to believe, “that there was not one disorderly walker therein.”

At Birstal, he preached out of doors, and was surprised to find, that those of the congregation who were a hundred and forty yards distant, distinctly heard him. At Leeds, he preached in the new chapel. At Wakefield, in the church, and writes: “Who would have expected to see me preaching in Wakefield church, to so attentive a congregation, a few years ago, when all the people were as roaring lions; and the honest man did not dare to let me preach in his yard, lest the mob should pull down his houses?”

At Sheffield, he preached “in the shell of the new house”; and says, “All is peace here now, since the trial at York, at which the magistrates were sentenced to rebuild the house which the mob had pulled down.”

At Epworth, he found his coarse, ignorant, wicked brother-in-law, Richard Ellison, who had farmed his own estate, reduced to poverty. All his cows were dead, and all his horses, excepting one. For two years past, all his meadow land had been flooded; his money and means were gone; and Wesley recommended him to Ebenezer Blackwell, as a fitting object to be relieved out of the funds disposed of by Mr. Butterfield.[171] Nine years afterwards, Charles Wesley buried him.

On landing at Hull, the quay was covered with people, inquiring, “Which is he? Which is he?” But, for the present, they only stared, inquired, and laughed. At night he preached, “a huge multitude, rich and poor, horse and foot, with several coaches,” being gathered together at Mighton-Car. Thousands gave serious attention; “but many behaved as if possessed by Moloch. Clods and stones flew on every side.” A gentlewoman invited Wesley and his wife into her carriage, in which were six persons, besides herself, already. Wesley writes: “There were nine of us in the coach, three on each side, and three in the middle. The mob closely attended us, throwing in at the windows whatever came next to hand; but a large gentlewoman, who sat in my lap, screened me, so that nothing came near me.” On arriving at his lodgings, the windows were smashed, and, till midnight, he and his host were, more or less, saluted with oaths, curses, stones, and brickbats. This was a rough reception, and Wesley did not repeat his visit for seven years.

From Hull, Wesley and his wife proceeded to Pocklington, where he had been announced to preach, though there was no society, and scarcely a converted person in the town. The room, which had been provided for the preaching, was five yards square, which Wesley reasonably enough thought too small. A yard was looked at, but it was plentifully furnished with stones, and Wesley’s experience taught him that these might be dangerous artillery in the hands of the “devil’s drunken companions.” At last, a gentleman offered a large commodious barn, in which Wesley had the most blessed season of refreshing that he had had since his leaving London.

At York, a magistrate had stuck up in public places, and distributed in private houses, part of Lavington’s Papists and Methodists Compared; and hence, as soon as Wesley and his spouse passed through the city gates, they were saluted with bitter curses.

At Osmotherley, he visited a scoffer at all religion, who was either raving mad, or possessed of the devil. The woman told him, that the devil had appeared and talked to her for some time, the day before, and had leaped upon, and grievously tormented her ever since. Wesley says: “We prayed with her. Her agonies ceased. She fell asleep, and awoke in the morning calm and easy.” Osmotherley tradition says, that the name of this maniac was Elizabeth Whitfield.

Wesley reached Newcastle, the centre of his northern peregrinations, on April 30. At Sunderland, he “found one of the liveliest societies in the north of England. This,” says he, “is the effect of their being so much under the law, as to scruple, one and all, the buying even milk on a Sunday.” He preached at Alemouth, and made this remarkable entry in his Journal: “How plain an evidence have we here, that even our outward work, even the societies, are not of man’s building! With all our labour and skill, we cannot, in nine years’ time, form a society in this place; even though there is none that opposes, poor or rich; nay, though the two richest men in the town, and the only gentlemen there, have done all which was in their power to further it.”

At Wickham, he met with a remarkable case. Mrs. Armstrong, before whose house he preached, was an old lady of more than fourscore years of age. From childhood, the Bible had been her companion; but recently, on mounting her spectacles, she was not able to see a word. She took them off; looked again; and could read as well as her daughter could. “From that hour, she could not only read without spectacles, but sew, or thread the finest needle, with the same ease as when she was thirty.”

At Barnard Castle, the mob was numerous and loud. The rabble fetched out the fire engine to play upon the congregation; but John Monkhouse, great grandfather of the late Rev. Thomas Monkhouse, seized the pipe, and diverted the stream from Wesley, so that, as he remarks, “not a drop fell on him.”[172]

From Barnard Castle, Wesley made his way to Whitehaven, intending to embark for Ireland; but the master of the ship set sail without him. Upon this, he made an excursion into Lancashire and the west of Yorkshire. He spent two days with his clerical friend, the Rev. Mr. Milner, at Chipping, and preached in the parish church to “such a congregation as was never seen there before.”

At Heptonstall, “an attorney endeavoured to interrupt, by relating low and threadbare stories; but the people cut him short” in his harangue, “by carrying him quietly away.”

At Todmorden, Wesley found the clergyman “slowly recovering from a violent fit of the palsy, with which he was struck immediately after he had been preaching a violent sermon against the Methodists.” The following items appear in the Todmorden circuit book. “1752, June 9.—Received of Mr. Grimshaw towards the maintenance of Mr. Wesley and others, in all, six shillings.” As further curiosities of Methodism we give other extracts from the same book for 1752. “April 20.—For William Darney, _foreside_ of his _waistcoat_, 7_s._” “For trimming for his coat, 9_s._ 11½_d._” “To him for his wife, 20_s._” “May 5.—For friends at quarterly meeting, 1_s._ 3_d._” “June 9.—Paid to James Heanworth for Mr. Wesley and others, in all, 12_s._ 2_d._” “August 14.—Paid to William Marshall when in a strait, 5_s._” “December 14.—For writing paper, ½_d._”

At Mellar Barn, Wesley’s bedroom served “both for a bedchamber and a cellar. The closeness was more troublesome at first than the coolness; but he let in a little fresh air, by breaking a pane of paper in the window; and then slept sound till morning.”

As a specimen of Wesley’s itinerant troubles, we give the following extract from his Journal.

“1752, June 15.—I had many little trials in this journey, of a kind I had not known before. I had borrowed a young, strong mare when I set out from Manchester; but she fell lame before I got to Grimsby. I procured another, but was dismounted again between Newcastle and Berwick. At my return to Manchester I took my own; but she had lamed herself in the pasture. I thought, nevertheless, to ride her four of five miles to-day; but she was gone out of the ground, and we could hear nothing of her. However, I comforted myself that I had another at Manchester, which I had lately bought; but when I came thither, I found one had borrowed her, and rode her away to Chester.”

By some means, he rode to Chester on June 20, where “a poor alehouse keeper seemed disgusted, spoke a harmless word, and run away with speed.” While preaching “in the square,” “a man screamed and hallooed as loud as he could, but none regarded him. A few of the rabble, most of them drunk, laboured much to make a disturbance; but the far greater part of the congregation, the gentry in particular, were seriously and deeply attentive.” A few days afterwards, however, the mob made the Methodist meeting-house a heap of ruins. On July 10, Wesley and his wife got back to Whitehaven.

In the midst of these labours and journeyings, Wesley wrote as follows, to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell.

“NEWCASTLE, _May 23, 1752_.

“DEAR SIR,—I want your advice. T. Butts sends me word that, after our printers’ bills are paid, the money remaining, received by the sale of the books, does not amount to £100 a year. It seems, therefore, absolutely necessary to determine one of these three things:—either to lessen the expense of printing, which I see no way of doing, unless by printing myself; or to increase the income from the books, and how this can be done I know not; or to give up those eighty-six copies, which are specified in my brother’s deed, to himself, to manage them as he pleases.

“The people in all these parts are much alive to God, being generally plain, and simple of heart. Here I should spend the greatest part of my life, if I were to follow my own inclinations. But I am not to do my own will, but the will of Him that sent me.

“I am, dear sir, your ever affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[173]

Wesley set sail, from Whitehaven, for Dublin, on July 13, and, after a passage of four days, arrived in safety. The new chapel was ready, and he describes it as “nearly of the same size and form” as that at Newcastle, with the exception, that on three sides it had deep galleries. The society consisted of about four hundred and twenty members, many of whom “were much shaken, chiefly by various opinions, which some even of his own preachers had propagated.”

The following extract from a letter, written three days after his arrival in Dublin, may be acceptable:—

“DUBLIN, _July 20, 1752_.

“DEAR SIR,—Finding no ship ready to sail, either at Bristol or Chester, we at length came back to Whitehaven, and embarked on Monday last. It is generally a passage of four-and-twenty hours; but the wind continuing contrary all the way, we did not reach this place till Friday evening. My wife and Jenny were extremely sick, particularly when we had a rolling sea. They are already much better than when they landed.

“Last month, a large mob assaulted the new house here, and did considerable damage. Several of the rioters were committed to Newgate. The bills were found against them all, and they were tried ten days since; but, in spite of the clearest evidence, a packed jury brought them in, Not guilty. I believe, however, the very apprehension and trial of them has struck a terror into their companions. We now enjoy great quietness, and can even walk unmolested through the principal streets in Dublin.”[174]

Shortly after, he wrote as follows to his brother Charles.

“ATHLONE, _August 8, 1752_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—Some of our preachers here have peremptorily affirmed, that you are not so strict as me; that you neither practise, nor enforce, nor approve of, the rules of the bands. I suppose, they mean those which condemn needless self indulgence, and recommend the means of grace, fasting in particular; which is well-nigh forgotten throughout this nation. I think it would be of use, if you wrote without delay, and explain yourself at large.

“They have, likewise, openly affirmed, that you agree with Mr. Whitefield touching perseverance, at least, if not predestination too. Is it not highly expedient, that you should write explicitly and strongly on this head likewise?

“Perhaps the occasion of this latter affirmation was, that both you and I have often granted an absolute, unconditional election of some, together with a conditional election of all men. I did incline to this scheme for many years; but of late I have doubted it more and more: First, because all the texts which I used to think supported it, I now think, prove either more or less; either absolute reprobation and election, or neither. Secondly, because I find this opinion serves all the ill purposes of absolute predestination; particularly that of supporting infallible perseverance. Talk with any that holds it, and so you will find.

“On Friday and Saturday next is our little conference at Limerick. We join in love.”[175]

No one reading Charles Wesley’s hymns will, for a moment, entertain the accusation, that he sympathised with the Calvinian tenets of his friend Whitefield; and yet, remembering, that he and the Countess of Huntingdon were now living in terms of the most intimate friendship; and, that he was frequently preaching and administering the sacrament in her ladyship’s house, it is not surprising, that such a report should have become current. As to the other point, that Charles Wesley did not approve of and enforce some of the rules of the society, we incline to think, that this was true; and that there was already an amount of shyness between the brothers, which soon afterwards threatened to become something serious.

The Limerick conference (the first in Ireland) was held on the 14th and 15th days of August. Oddly enough, there are in existence two manuscripts, written by preachers present at the conference, and containing its minutes and appointments. One of them, in my own possession, was given by an aunt of Philip Guier, to the Rev. Samuel Wood, who published a copy of it in the _Irish Methodist Magazine_ for 1807. The other manuscript is in the handwriting of Jacob Rowell, and is now possessed by Mr. John Steele, of Chester. It is from Rowell’s manuscript that the editor of the new edition of the minutes, published in 1862, printed the minutes of the Limerick conference contained in that volume.

From these important documents we learn, that there was a general decay of the societies in Ireland, partly occasioned by the teaching of antinomian and Calvinian doctrines; partly by the want of discipline; and partly by the misbehaviour of preachers. All the itinerants present (ten in number) declared, that they did not believe in the doctrine of absolute predestination; but three of them added: “We believe there are some persons absolutely elected; but we believe, likewise, that Christ died for all; that God willeth not the death of any man; and that thousands are saved that are not absolutely elected. We believe, further, that those who are thus elected cannot finally fall; but we believe other believers may fall, and that those who were once justified may perish everlastingly.”

Let Wesley’s letter to his brother be read in the light of this extract from the Limerick minutes, and the one will help to explain the other. We have here an instance of Wesley tolerating a difference in doctrine among his preachers, so long as fundamental truths were not impugned. This might be wise or it might not; but the fact itself is a fact worth noticing.

It was resolved, however, that, in future, no man should be received as a fellow labourer unless he thoroughly agreed to both Methodist doctrine and discipline; and that, if any preacher revolted from this agreement, letters should be sent to all the societies, disowning him.

It was, also, decided, that if a man was not able to preach twice a day, he should be only a local preacher; that, of the two, it was better to give up the evening preaching in a place than the morning; that the congregations must constantly kneel in prayer, and stand both in singing and while the text was read, and be serious and silent while the service lasted, and when coming and going away. Persons not having band tickets were not to be permitted to be present at the public meeting of the bands, for this would make the tickets cheap, and would discourage those who had them. Preachers were to be allowed £8, at least, and if possible £10 a year for clothing; and £10 a year were to be allowed for the support of each preacher’s wife. The preachers were to preach frequently and strongly on fasting; and were to practise it every Friday, health permitting. Next to luxury, they were to avoid idleness, and were to spend one hour every day in private prayer.

Six preachers were admitted, one of whom was Philip Guier, concerning whom we must say a word.

It is well known, that a number of Palatines, driven from Germany, had settled in the neighbourhood of Ballingran; and that, though they were in the first instance a sober, well conducted, and moral people, they had, through having no minister of their own, and no German worship, degenerated into an irreligious, drunken, swearing community. Amidst this general degeneracy, Philip Guier breasted the wave, and, like Milton’s Abdiel, proved faithful among the faithless. He was the master of the German school at Ballingran; and it was in his school, that Philip Embury (subsequently the founder of Methodism in the United States, now a young man thirty-two years of age), had been taught to read and write. By means of Guier, also, the devoted Thomas Walsh, of the same age as Embury, had been enlightened, and prepared to receive the truth as it is in Jesus. Philip Guier was made the leader of the infant society at Limerick, and now, in 1752, was appointed to act as a local preacher among the Palatines. He still kept his school, but devoted his spare hours to preaching. The people loved the man, and sent him, if not money, yet flour, oatmeal, bacon, and potatoes, so that Philip, if not rich, was not in want. It is a remarkable fact, that, after the lapse of a hundred years, the name of Philip Guier is as fresh in Ballingran as it ever was; for there, even papists as well as protestants are accustomed to salute the Methodist minister as he jogs along on his circuit horse, and to say, “There goes Philip Guier, who drove the devil out of Ballingran!”[176] Under the date of May 7, 1778, Wesley writes: “Two months ago, good Philip Guier fell asleep, one of the Palatines that came over and settled in Ireland, between sixty and seventy years ago. He was a father both to this” [Newmarket] “and the other German societies, loving and cherishing them as his own children. He retained all his faculties to the last, and after two days’ illness went to God.”

After the conference at Limerick, Wesley proceeded to Cork, where he examined the society, and found about three hundred, who were striving to have a conscience void of offence toward God and man. At Kinsale, he preached in a large, deep hollow, capable of containing two or three thousand people, the soldiers of the fort, with their swords, cutting him a place to stand upon. At Waterford, Thomas Walsh preached in Irish, and Wesley in English, the rabble cursing, shouting, and hallooing most furiously.

At length, after spending twelve weeks in Ireland, during which there were not two dry days together, Wesley set sail for England; and, on October 14, arrived safe at Bristol. Three weeks later, he came to London, and here he continued the remainder of the year, preparing books for the “Christian Library,” on which he had already lost more than £200.

During this interval, Whitefield wrote as follows to Charles Wesley, showing that distrust was creeping in among them:—

“LONDON, _December 22, 1752_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—I have read and pondered your kind letter. The connection between you and your brother has been so close and continued, and your attachment to him so necessary to keep up his interest, that I would not willingly, for the world, do or say anything that may separate such friends. I cannot help thinking, that he is still jealous of me and my proceedings; but, I thank God, I am quite easy about it. I have seen an end of all perfection. God knows how I love and honour you, and your brother, and how often I have preferred your interest to my own. This I shall continue to do. More might be said, were we face to face.

“Yours, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[177]

It is far from pleasant to end the year with a note of discord; but we shall unfortunately have to hear more of this in future years.

In concluding the chapter with the usual list of Wesley’s publications during the current year, there must be noticed:—

1. The continuation of his “Christian Library.” Twelve volumes had been given to the public already; seven more were issued in 1752, containing extracts from the writings of Thomas Manton, Isaac Ambrose, Jeremy Taylor, Ralph Cudworth, Nathaniel Culverwell, John Owen, and others.

2. “Some Account of the Life and Death of Matthew Lee.” 12mo, 24 pages.

3. “Serious Thoughts concerning Godfathers and Godmothers.” 12mo, four pages. The tract was written at Athlone in Ireland, but was hardly worth publishing. Of course, Wesley approves of godfathers and godmothers; but acknowledges that baptism is valid without them.

4. “Predestination calmly Considered.” 12mo, 83 pages. We have already seen, that three of the preachers, present at the Irish conference, expressed their belief, that some persons are absolutely elected, but that thousands are saved who are not elected. It was also rumoured, that Charles Wesley inclined to Whitefield’s predestinarian views. Under such circumstances, Wesley’s “Predestination calmly Considered” was a needed and opportune production. He writes (page 6): “There are some who assert the decree of election, and not the decree of reprobation. They assert, that God hath, by a positive, unconditional decree, chosen some to life and salvation; but not that He hath, by any such decree, devoted the rest of mankind to destruction. These are they to whom I would address myself first.” This is one of Wesley’s most cogent and exhaustive pamphlets, written in a most loving spirit, and yet utterly demolishing the Calvinistic theory. He shows conclusively, that no man can consistently hold the doctrine of election without holding the cognate doctrine of reprobation,—a doctrine wholly opposed to the plainest teachings of holy Scripture, dishonouring to God, overthrowing the scriptural doctrines of a future judgment, and of rewards and punishments, and “naturally leading to the chambers of death.” It is difficult to conceive how any one can read Wesley’s treatise, and still remain a Calvinist. None of his Methodistic friends tried to answer it; but Dr. John Gill, the pastor of a Baptist church in Southwark, published, in the same year, the two following pamphlets:—“The Doctrine of the Saints’ Final Perseverance, asserted and vindicated. In answer to a late pamphlet, called Serious Thoughts on that subject.” 8vo, 59 pages. And, “The Doctrine of Predestination stated and set in the Scripture light; in opposition to Mr. Wesley’s Predestination Calmly Considered. With a reply to the exceptions of the said writer to the Doctrine of the Perseverance of the Saints.” 8vo, 52 pages. In the latter production, Dr. Gill says, that Wesley, in noticing his former one, had “contented himself with low, mean, and impertinent exceptions, not attempting to answer one argument, and yet having the assurance, in the public papers, to call this miserable piece of his, chiefly written on another subject, ‘A full answer to Dr. Gill’s pamphlet on Final Perseverance.’” This, on the part of Dr. Gill, was the wincing whine of a defeated man. It was not worthy of him. Dr. Gill was now fifty-five years of age, and a man of vast learning and research. Before his twentieth year, he had read all the Greek and Latin authors that had fallen in his way, and had so studied Hebrew as to be able to read the Old Testament in the original with pleasure. Besides other works, he was the author of “A Body of Divinity,” in three quarto volumes; and of “An Exposition of the Old and New Testament,” in nine volumes, folio. The university of Aberdeen had conferred upon him the degree of a doctor of divinity, “on account of his great knowledge of the Scriptures, of the oriental languages, and of Jewish antiquities, of his learned defence of the Scriptures against deists and infidels, and the reputation gained by his other works”; but, in terse, powerful, conclusive argument, John Gill was not a match for John Wesley. He was a man of excellent moral character; but he was an ultra Calvinist. He was a man of unwearied diligence, of laborious research, of vast learning; but his immense mass of valuable materials were comparatively useless, for he had neither talent to digest, nor skill to arrange them. We think it was Robert Hall who not inaptly described his voluminous productions as “a continent of mud.” He died in 1771.

5. Another of Wesley’s publications in 1752 was, “A Second Letter to the Author of ‘The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared.’” This was published in the month of January; and, at the same time, was issued, “A Third Letter to the Author of the Enthusiasm of Methodists,” etc. By Vincent Perronet, A.M.; price sixpence.”[178]

Lavington published the second part of his lampooning work in 1749;[179] and part third in 1751. Of