A Dandy Gets an Answer
The woman looked up at him gratefully, and answered that she lived nearby, across the fields. The minister patted the children on their heads and blessed them. As he mounted his horse again he saw his companion riding toward him. As Taylor approached he said anxiously, "Mr. Wesley, did I see you give away the food for our day's journey? How shall we feed ourselves?"
"Well," the minister said, with a twinkle in his eye, "the season has produced a wonderful crop of blackberries. If the cottagers do not offer us hospitality, nature will."
A DANDY GETS AN ANSWER
In Somerset, not far from Bristol, the ancient town of Bath attracted dandies and ladies of London. Here it was that the Romans, long before, had built public baths over natural springs.
Now the place was in a constant hubbub. There were sedan-chair bearers and mincing aristocrats. These went to gambling tables and dancing rooms. They fought duels with swords and pistols.
Hairdressers strutted importantly from house to house during the mornings. They had to arrange enormous piles of hair, stuffed with ribbons, feathers and jewels, that sometimes made the ladies seven or eight feet tall. Wigmakers carried whitened curled wigs to the men. And dressmakers ran about with dolls dressed to show the latest styles to the women. Of the men who dictated the fashions of Bath, the finest "macaroni" of them all was Beau Nash.
But the work of the town had to be done, and the people who did it, as well as the farmers in the country nearby, were as poor ee
as lean street dogs. This was a time when farmers were hungrier than they had been a century before. Their common grazing lands had been taken from them by law and given to private owners.
They could no longer find enough food for their cattle. And they still had to use wooden plows. Nowhere was the contrast between rich and poor, between idleness and drudgery, greater than in Bath.
John Wesley came to Bath to preach. In an open field, outside of town, he stood in the sunshine. A huge crowd of people, many ragged and unwashed but some neatly dressed, was waiting to hear him. It was an orderly crowd, though a little restless here and there. Word had gone about that Beau Nash would not permit a meeting of Methodists to be held.
Wesley began to preach, in his calm and powerful voice. The sound of French horns and horses' hoofs interrupted him. A procession of carriages and horsemen dashed into the crowd, scattering the people right and left. It drew up with a flourish in front of the little preacher. He stopped speaking and waited quietly as a man in a three-cornered white hat, dressed in satin and laces, stepped out of a carriage.
The man strode like a king to the front of the crowd, and asked arrogantly, "By what authority do you preach here?"
"By the authority of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who ordained me a minister of the Church of England," quietly replied the sober man in black.
"I say you are breaking the law. Besides, your preaching frightens people out of their wits."
"Did you ever hear me preach?"
"No," replied the dandy.
"How, then, can you judge of what you never heard>"
"Sir, by common report."
"Common report is not enough. Give me leave, sir, to ask — is your name Nash?"
"My name is Nash," the man said.
"Then, sir, I dare not judge you by common report."
Nash bit his lip as his friends standing near snickered behind their gloves. He turned on his heel furiously. "I desire to know what these people come here for?"
Before the preacher could reply, an old woman spoke up clearly, so that she could be heard far back in the crowd.
"Sir, leave him to me. You, Mr. Nash, take care of your body. We take care of our souls, and for the food of our souls we come here."
'The crowd muttered approvingly, turning threatening eyes on the fine ladies and gentlemen who had come to witness the dismissal of the parson. Beau Nash strode to his carriage and flung himself inside without a word. John Wesley calmly took up his preaching where he had stopped. The sound of the carriages and horses died away. The crowd was quieted and listened to the little preacher with attention and great respect.
John Wesley's interest in children drew him to stay at a school whenever possible. Once Mr. Wesley visited a school kept by a friend, a Mr. Bush. As he was seated at tea in the parlor, two of the boys got into a fight in the yard. Mrs. Bush ran out and grasped them by the jackets, pulling them into the house. Mr.
Wesley stood looking at them, teacup in hand. The boys grew quiet, heads ducked down, feet shuffling on the carpet.
Mr. Wesley went over to them and talked to them kindly.
He asked them to be friends and to shake hands. The children clasped hands, but would not look at each other. Then John Wesley lee
went to the table. He took a piece of buttered bread, folded it together, and asked the boys to share it.
"Now," he said, "you have broken bread together."
He gave them each a cup of tea, then put his hands on their heads and blessed them. The boys became friends. Next morning Mr. Wesley led the children in prayers. He called the two boys to him. He put his arms about their shoulders and gave them his blessing.
Everywhere there was much talk of this fearless minister.
People seldom went to church, and when they did, they had to listen to long, dull sermons preached by indifferent ministers.
These sermons meant nothing to those who heard them. But here was a man whose words seemed aimed at everyone present. He made them all believe that their lives had meaning to God and to themselves. More and more people came to hear him, even to dawn services. [hey came to the services conducted by Charles also.
John Wesley continued to travel. He went on long journeys, sometimes on foot, but usually on horseback. These journeys took him to all parts of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. They made him the one man of that century who really knew the British
Isles and its people.
Many English ministers were shocked by the new way of preaching, and wrote to John Wesley to tell him so. In answer to a letter from the Reverend James Hervey, in which he asked
Wesley where his parish was, John Wesley wrote:
"T look upon all the world as my parish."
At about this time Samuel, the oldest Wesley brother, died.
Samuel had never been sympathetic to the Methodist religious
movement. But John and Charles grieved for their brother. They also worried about their sisters, for the girls had all made unhappy marriages, except Anne and Kezia, who had died. But old Mrs.
Wesley remained strong, and interested in her sons' work.
John's preaching took him away from London and his mother more than he liked. But he enjoyed his trips. They held good things and bad for him. One of the good things that meant much to him was the love given him by children. As John Wesley rode into a town his eyes brightened at sight of children running to greet him. He waved to them from his horse as they shouted, "Here comes our Mr. Wesley!"
And then he dismounted to stand among them and start singing. John and Charles had fine voices, and liked to sing. The hymns written by Charles and set to the music of popular tunes went out to village homes with the children. Their voices rose high and clear and crept into houses, drawing their elders into the streets and to meetings.
One old man asked the minister sourly, "Mr. Wesley, those rascals are like young demons. How can you get them singing like that?"
"To me they sound like angels in our Father's house," answered the minister with a smile.
The old man shrugged and grunted, "Sometimes they nearly push you over."
"In truth they do," John Wesley laughed. "Before preaching they only run around me and before me. But after preaching a whole troop of boys and girls will close me in, and will not be content until I shake the hands of each of them."
The man looked at Wesley in astonishment, as if thinking:
What a strange thing! Everywhere the parson goes with his hymns, the children follow.
John Wesley told people: "Cleanliness is next to godliness."
He said also: "Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can."
Mr. Wesley had a custom of gathering children together in London to have tea with him. He had a great round teapot that, as one visitor said, "must hold a gallon." Before sitting down to tea and bread and butter, Wesley would join the children in singing a blessing:
"Be present at our table, Lord, Be here and everywhere adored; These creatures bless and grant that we May feast in paradise with thee." ie.