15. Meeting the Mob 133
15
Meeting the MobAIthough the leaders of early Methodism were of differing doctrinal persuasions, in another matter they were alike: they all met physical opposition with unflinching courage.
This was true first of Howell Harris. In Wales he was attacked by ruffians, hated by clergy, and brought before magistrates. And in 1741, at the town of Bala, the local clergyman opened a barrel of beer on the main street and used it to entice the mob to attack Harris.
The women were as fiendish as the men, for they besmeared him with mire, while their companions belaboured him with their fists and clubs, inflicting such wounds that his path could be marked in the street by the crimson stains of his blood. The enemy continued to persecute him, striking him with sticks and with staves, until overcome with exhaustion he fell to the ground. They still abused him, though prostrate...1
In London, even while he was ministering in the Tabernacle, Harris was violently opposed. More than once the mob came beating on the Tabernacle doors during a service, forced their way in, and attacked the people with staves. Amid these dangers Harris was unmoved, and of one such occasion he reported:
Had bullets been shot at me, I felt I would not move. Mob raged. Voice lifted up, and though by the power going with the words my head almost went to pieces, such was my zeal that I cried, 'I'll preach Christ till to pieces I fall!'2
Perhaps such courage was to be expected from the powerfully masculine Harris, but it was equally evident in the inoffensive John Cennick. Cennick reported an instance in which he and Harris were preaching in the Wiltshire town of Swindon:
The mob fired guns over our heads, holding the muzzles so near to our faces that we were made as black as tinkers with the powder. We were not affrighted, but opened our breasts, telling them we were ready to lay down our lives . . . then they played an engine on us, which they filled out of the stinking ditches. While they played on Brother Harris I preached; and when they turned the engine on me, he preached. . . . The next day they gathered about the home of Mr Lawrence who had received us, and broke all of his windows with stones, cut and wounded four of his family, and knocked down one of his daughters.3
And on another occasion a butcher, hearing Cennick speak of "the blood of Christ," shouted, "If he wants blood I'll give him plenty." He ran to his shop and returned with a pailful. He attempted to throw it over Cennick, but was thwarted by a bystander and in the struggle received most of the contents on himself.
Despite the violence, Cennick knew no lessening of his courage or of his joy and triumph in the Lord.
And of course many instances of the triumphant meeting of violence could be cited from the Journals of John and Charles Wesley. John tells us, for instance, of being attacked by a mob in the town of Walsall. He reported,
To attempt speaking was vain, for the noise on every side was like the roaring of the sea. So they dragged me along till we came to the town where, seeing the door of a large house open, I attempted to go in; but a man catching me by the hair, pulled me back into the middle of the mob. They made no more stop till they had carried me through the main street, from one end of the town to the other.
I continued speaking all this time to those within hearing, feeling no pain or weariness. At the west end of the town, seeing a door half open, I.. . would have gone in, but a gentleman in the shop would not suffer me, saying they would pull the house down to the ground. However, I stood at the door and asked, 'Are you willing to hear me speak?' Many cried out, 'No! No! Knock his brains out! Down with him! Kill him at once!'4
The rioters struck repeatedly at John, and had he fallen to the ground they would have seen to it that he did not rise. Yet, throughout the entire episode he remained fully calm. Numerous instances of this nature could be cited from his Journal.
Charles Wesley was equally courageous in the face of violence. From several instances we notice the following situation:
I had just named my text at St Ives (Isa. 40:1) when an army of rebels broke in on us.... They began in a most outrageous manner, threatening to murder the people... . They broke the sconces, dashed the windows in pieces, tore away the shutters, benches, poor-box, and all but the stone walls. I stood silently looking on, but mine eyes were unto the Lord. . .. They beat and dragged the women about, particularly one of great age, and trampled on them without mercy. The longer they stayed the more they raged. . . . The ruffians fell to quarrelling among themselves, broke the Town-Clerk's (their Captain's) head, and drove one another out of the room.5
Whitefield also experienced this kind of treatment. He tells of a mob "one hundred strong" that invaded the house his people had built at the town of Hampton. They attacked the pastor, Thomas Adams, forced him out of the building, threw him into a pond, and severely injured him. Adams wrote to Whitefield informing him of the assault.
The mob had declared that if Whitefield appeared at Hampton they would make him the prime object of their attack. But he nevertheless hurried to Adams's side. He wrote,
No sooner had I entered the town than I heard the blowing of horns and the ringing of bells for the gathering of the mob. .. . I preached on a large grass platform. 'And seeing the grace of God, he exhorted them with full purpose of heart to cleave unto the Lord.'
I finished my sermon and pronounced the blessing just as the ringleader of the mob broke in upon us. . . .
I went into the house and preached upon the stair case to a large number of serious souls; but these real troublers of Israel soon came in to mock and mob us. But. . . power being given us from above, I leapt down stairs, and all fled away before me. However, they continued making a noise about the house till midnight, abusing the poor people as they went home, and broke one young lady's arm in two places.
Brother Adams they threw a second time into the pool; he received a deep wound in his leg. John C[room]'s life, that second Bunyan, was much threatened. Young W— H— they wheeled in a barrow to the pool side, lamed his brother and grievously hurt several others.
Hearing that two or three clergymen were in town, one of whom was a Justice of the Peace, I went to them. But instead of redressing, they laid the cause of all the grievances at my door. But by the help of God I shall still persist in preaching myself and in encouraging those who I believe are truly moved by the Holy Ghost.6
Whitefield's entire evangelistic life was an evidence of his physical courage. He met this kind of treatment on numerous occasions in both Wales and England, and we shall later see him meeting it also in Ireland.
Our hearts go out, however, to the poor Methodist people and their children who almost daily suffered the violence of evil opposers. Whitefield had a growing work at Exeter, and a man who was not one of its members wrote a report of an attack upon its people. He stated,
The rioters violently entered the Methodist meeting-house, interrupted the minister with obscene language, and fell upon him in a most furious manner with blows and kicks. They treated every man they could lay their hands upon with such abuse and indignity as is not to be expressed.
But what is more than all was their abominable treatment of the poor women. Some were stripped quite naked. Others, notwithstanding their most piercing cries for mercy were forcibly held by some of the wicked ruffians, while others turned their petticoats over their heads and forced them to remain in that condition .. . the poor creatures being afterward dragged through the [sewer].... Towards the close of the evening one of the mob forced a woman up into the gallery, and attempted other outrages, three different times. After many struggles, she freed herself, leaped over the gallery and so made her escape. . . .
The riot continued for several hours. The mob had their full swing. It is true no one was actually murdered, but the whole Society were put into great danger and fear of their lives.7
Moreover, this kind of treatment was experienced in all branches of the revival. Harris's people, Whitefield's people, Wesley's peopie, and the Moravians all suffered at the hands of the mob, and in 1743 Whitefield decided the time had come to take the rioters to court.
First, he called his preachers to gather in London for a time of consultation and prayer. He also sent out a request to all his Societies, urging the people to be much in prayer about the matter. Then he launched charges against the men who had been active in the riot against Thomas Adams and his Society.
The defense, using two lawyers and several witnesses, argued: (1) that the Methodists were known everywhere to be fanatics; (2) that the accused had acted for the welfare of the community in opposing them; (3) that the Methodists began the tumult by attacking the accused, who in turn merely defended themselves.
The prosecution called five witnesses, three of whom were not Methodists. The outcome of the trial was that the jury brought in all defendants guilty of the whole information lodged against them. It was a complete victory for the Methodists.
Whitefield then had the right to prefer damages against the rioters. But having shown these men that they were subject to England's courts of law, he chose to forgive them and let the matter drop.
This victory was strategic in the life of early Methodism. Had the rioting continued unchecked, the work would have suffered. But now the perpetrators knew they were not able, as they had assumed, to escape all punishment, and although the violence did not cease, from this point onward it was increasingly curtailed.
In the opening months of 1744, however, Whitefield recognized that he must soon return to America. He was being blamed—though falsely—for fanaticism that had broken out in the Awakening, and he had no choice but to deal with it personally.
But as he prepared to leave, he faced the question of whom he should appoint to lead the work in his absence. He thought, of course, of Howell Harris, but Harris was busy with his own work in Wales. Whitefield's next choice was John Cennick. Cennick possessed outstanding abilities as a preacher and was invariably gracious in his dealings with other men. But Whitefield had reason to ask himself if Cennick could handle the questions that might arise among the exhorters and if he could exercise a strong enough leadership of the large movement. Whitefield had doubts on these matters, but Cennick was the best man available, and therefore the evangelist asked him to accept the care of the Tabernacle and the oversight of Whitefieldian Methodism until he himself should return.
Whitefield was to sail from Plymouth, and his wife was to accompany him on this trip to America. But upon reaching the port, since war had broken out with France they were informed the vessel would not sail till a naval convoy arrived. As matters turned out, they were left waiting for six weeks.
The six weeks began with a brutal attack in which Whitefield was nearly murdered. An officer from a man-of-war came at night to his place of lodging, seeking an interview. Whitefield had retired, but he had the landlady show the man up to his room. They began to converse, but, Whitefield reports,
He suddenly rose up, uttering the most abusive language, calling me dog, rogue, villain, &c, and beat me most unmercifully with his gold-headed cane. But my hostess and her daughter hearing me cry murder,rushed into the room and seized him by the collar; however, he disengaged himself from them, and repeated his blows upon me.8
A second attacker also appeared, but before the two men could injure Whitefield any further, the noise of the assault aroused people in the homes round about, and their presence frightened the assailants away. These men undoubtedly intended to murder Whitefield. Certain authors who reveal little knowledge of his life accuse him of cowardice on account of this affair, stating he had to be rescued by two women. They fail to realize that Whitefield reported the assault in a letter to an elderly Christian woman with whom he corresponded, to whom it would be natural for him to praise the landlady and her daughter and to demean himself. The constant courage that governed his ministry speaks for itself.
While he was waiting for the vessel to sail, Whitefield preached three times daily. "I preached to many thousands," he said in a letter. "A calling, inviting, persuasive gift was vouchsafed me. ... I am continually engaged in preaching, and in talking privately with many, very many, awakened souls." Although he had never before been in Plymouth, when the six weeks were ended he left behind him a strong Society that had sprung from his labors, and another also at "the Dock" two miles distant. To this end, he had employed his time of waiting for the convoy to arrive.
Accordingly, by August 7 the vessels were ready, and Whitefield and Elizabeth embarked. She was now to experience her first overseas journey, and he was to enter a difficult situation and to endeavor to heal the wounds that had developed in the Great Awakening in America.