FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:

THE LIFE AND TIMES

OF

THE REV. JOHN WESLEY, M.A.

1768.

Age 65

During the year 1768, Charles Wesley, with his brother’s full concurrence, removed his family from Bristol to London, which henceforth was his place of residence.⁠ Whitefield spent the first half of the year in the metropolis. In July, he set out for Scotland; but, about a month after, returned to London to inter his wife, who died on August 9. His health was somewhat feeble; but he continued to itinerate and preach to the utmost of his power. His orphan house in America, and Lady Huntingdon’s college at Trevecca, demanded his attention, and had it. He and Wesley were still warm hearted friends; and yet there seems to have been a shade of coldness come over them. Hence the following, written when the year was closing.

“Tabernacle, December 28, 1768.

“Reverend and very dear Sir,—Pray have you or I committed the unpardonable sin, because we differ in particular cases, and act according to our consciences? I imagine the common salvation is not promoted by keeping at such a distance. Enemies rejoice. Halfway friends especially are pleased.

“You will be glad to hear, that the time for completing the orphan house affair seems to be come. Do you know of a good, judicious, spiritual tutor? Will you, without delay, make the first present of your works to the library? I hope we shall have a nursery for true Christian ministers. I know you will say Amen. Yesterday I was fifty-four years old. God be merciful to me a sinner! Though you are older, I trust you will not get the start of me, by going to heaven, before, reverend and very dear sir, less than the least of all,

“George Whitefield.”

Another letter, of the same kind, was addressed to Wesley, on New Year’s day, by his old friend at Everton.

“Everton, January 1, 1768.

“Dear Sir,—I see no reason why we should keep at a distance, whilst we continue servants of the same Master, and especially when Lot’s herdsmen are so ready to lay their staves on our shoulders. Though my hand has been mute, my heart is kindly affected towards you. I trust we agree in essentials; and, therefore, should leave each other at rest with his circumstantials. I am weary of all disputes, and desire to know nothing but Jesus; to love Him, trust Him, and serve Him; to choose and find Him my only portion. I would have Him my meat, my drink, my clothing, my sun, my shield, my Lord, my God, my all. Amen.

“When I saw you in town, I gave you an invitation to Everton; and I now repeat it, offering you very kindly the use of my house and church. The Lord accompany you in all your journeys! Kind love to your brother. Adieu!

“John Berridge.”

At the close of the year 1767, the Earl of Buchan died triumphing in the faith of Christ. He had been in the habit of hearing Whitefield, the Wesleys, and others, at Bath, and had felt their ministry a blessing. His last words were, “Happy, happy, happy!” The inscription upon his coffin run thus: “His life was honourable, his death blessed; he sought earnestly peace with God,—he found it with unspeakable joy, alone in the merits of Christ Jesus, witnessed by the Holy Spirit to his soul.”⁠ His countess dowager was a woman of deep piety, of elegant taste, and of great genius. She was the mother of a numerous family, and appointed Venn, Berridge, and Wesley her domestic chaplains. This was done through the intervention of Lady Huntingdon,⁠ to whom Wesley addressed the following letter.

“London, January 4, 1768.

“My dear Lady,—I am obliged to your ladyship, and to Lady Buchan, for such a mark of your regard as I did not at all expect. I purpose to return her ladyship thanks by this post.

“That remark is very striking, as well as just;—If it is the Holy Spirit that bears witness, then all speaking against that Witness is one species of blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. And when this is done by those who profess to honour Him, it must in a peculiar manner grieve that blessed Spirit. Yet, I have been surprised to observe how many, who affirm salvation by faith, have lately run into this; running full into Mr. Sandeman’s notion, that faith is merely an assent to the Bible; and not only undervaluing, but even ridiculing, the whole experience of the children of God. I rejoice, that your ladyship is still preserved from that spreading contagion, and also enabled plainly and openly to avow the plain, old, simple, unfashionable gospel.

“Wishing your ladyship many happy years, I remain, my dear lady, your very affectionate servant,

“John Wesley.”

A few months after this, Wesley went to Scotland, where the Countess of Buchan resided, and there wrote, and probably preached, his remarkable sermon, “The Good Steward,” in which, with great emphasis, he lays down the doctrine, that we hold in trust our souls, our bodies, our goods, and all our other talents; and, for the use of them, must render an account at the judgment seat of Christ. This was dealing faithfully with his noble patroness, as well as with others; for the sermon was immediately published in 12mo, 24 pages, with the title, “The Good Steward. A Sermon, by John Wesley, Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Countess Dowager of Buchan.”

Wesley was not the man to be elated by being noticed by the rich, the noble, and the great. He was thankful for their help; but far from being proud of their approbation. Many of his most trusted friends were poor and mean in reference to this world’s goods; but, at the same time, were possessed of riches incomparably superior to all the gold existing. The following letter, addressed to Fletcher of Madeley, though a month or two out of its chronological order, refers to these and to other matters.

“Birmingham, March 20, 1768.

“Dear Sir,—Mr. Eastbrook told me yesterday, that you are sick of the conversation even of them who profess religion,—that you find it quite unprofitable, if not hurtful, to converse with them, three or four hours together, and are sometimes almost determined to shut yourself up, as the less evil of the two.

“I do not wonder at it at all, especially considering with whom you have chiefly conversed for some time past, namely, the hearers of Mr. Madan, or Mr. Bourian, perhaps I might add, of Mr. Whitefield. The conversing with these I have rarely found to be profitable to my soul. Rather it has damped my desires; it has cooled my resolutions, and I have commonly left them with a dry, dissipated spirit.

“And how can you expect it to be otherwise? For do we not naturally catch their spirit with whom we converse? And what spirit can we expect them to be of, considering the preaching they sit under? Some happy exceptions I allow; but, in general, do men gather grapes of thorns? Do they gather constant, universal self denial, the patience of hope, the labour of love, inward and outward self devotion, from the doctrine of absolute decrees, of irresistible grace, of infallible perseverance? Do they gather these fruits from antinomian doctrine? Or from any that borders upon it? Do they gather them from that amorous way of praying to Christ? or that luscious way of preaching His righteousness? I never found it so. On the contrary, I have found, that even the precious doctrine of salvation by faith has need to be guarded with the utmost care, or those who hear it will slight both inward and outward holiness.

“I will go a step farther: I seldom find it profitable for me to converse with any who are not athirst for perfection, and who are not big with earnest expectation of receiving it every moment. Now you find none of these among those we are speaking of; but many, on the contrary, who are in various ways, directly and indirectly, opposing the whole work of God,—that work, I mean, which God is carrying on, throughout this kingdom, by unlearned and plain men; in consequence of which His influence must, in some measure, be withdrawn from them. Again: you have, for some time, conversed a good deal with the genteel Methodists. Now it matters not a straw what doctrine they hear,—whether they frequent the Lock or West Street. They are, almost all, salt which has lost its savour, if ever they had any. They are thoroughly conformed to the maxims, the spirit, the fashions, and customs of the world. Certainly then, ‘Nunquam ad eos homines ibis quin minor homo redibis.’

“But were these or those of ever so excellent a spirit, you conversed with them too long. One had need to be an angel, not a man, to converse three or four hours at once, to any purpose. In the latter part of such conversation, we shall doubtless lose all the profit we had gained before.

“But have you not a remedy for all this in your hands? In order to have truly profitable conversation, may you not select persons clear both of Calvinism and antinomianism? not fond of that luscious way of talking, but standing in awe of Him they love; who are vigorously working out their salvation, and are athirst for full redemption, and every moment expecting it, if not already enjoying it? It is true, these will generally be poor and mean, seldom possessed of either riches or learning, unless there be now and then a rara avis in terris: a Miss March, or Betty Johnson. If you converse with these, humbly and simply, an hour at a time, with prayer before and prayer after, you will not complain of the unprofitableness of conversation, or find any need of turning hermit.

“As to the conference, at Worcester, on lay preaching, do not you observe almost all the lay preachers—(1) Are connected with me? and—(2) Are maintainers of universal redemption? Hinc illæ lacrymæ! These gentlemen do not love me, and do love particular redemption. If these laymen were connected with them, or if they were Calvinists, all would be well. Therefore, I should apprehend you will have two things to do:—1. Urge the argument, the strength of which I believe is in the Second Appeal, and, above all, in the Letter to a Clergyman. 2. Apply to the conscience, ‘You do not love Mr. Wesley enough: you love your opinions too much; otherwise this debate would never have arisen: for it is undeniable, these quacks cure whom we cannot cure, they save sinners all over the nation. God is with them, and works by them, and has done so for near these thirty years. Therefore, the opposing them is neither better nor worse than fighting against God.’

“I am your ever affectionate brother,

“John Wesley.”

One more letter may be introduced, before we turn to Wesley’s journal. At the beginning of 1768, a third son was born to Charles Wesley, and it was naturally the wish of such a father, that one of his three sons might become a minister of Christ,—a wish, however, that was not realised. Wesley alludes to this, and to the yearly collections and other things, in the following to his brother, showing that Charles either seldom attended conference, or, if he did attend, took little interest in its financial matters.

“London, January 15, 1768.

“Dear Brother,—Six or seven hundred pounds is brought to a conference: of which five hundred at least pays the debt.⁠ Then extraordinary demands are answered. How much remains for law? I am now near £300 out of pocket, which I borrowed to pay Mr. Pardon. When I receive some more from Newcastle, I will send it to Bristol; probably very soon.

“It is highly probable, one of the three will stand before the Lord. But, so far as I can learn, such a thing has scarce been for these thousand years, as a son, father, grandfather, atavus, tritavus, preaching the gospel, nay, and the genuine gospel, in a line. You know, Mr. White, sometime chairman of the Assembly of Divines, was my grandmother’s father.

“Look upon our little ones at Kingswood as often as you can. A word from you will be a quickening to them. Oh how many talents are we entrusted with. We have need to gird up the loins of our mind, and run faster the small remainder of our race. ‘One thing!’—let us mind one thing only; and nothing great or small, but as it ministers to it! Peace be with you and yours! Adieu!

“John Wesley.”

Wesley’s first journey from London, in 1768, was on the 18th of February, to Chatham. Methodism of some sort had existed here for a considerable time. As early as 1751, the Gentleman’s Magazine relates, that a man and his wife at Chatham, both of them being Methodists, had hanged themselves; and that, in order to prove the man a lunatic, his friends produced, to the coroner’s jury, the New Testament, on a roll of paper, which the man had written with his blood.⁠

Wesley writes: “Thursday, February 18—Having been importunately pressed thereto, I rode through a keen east wind to Chatham. About six in the evening, I preached at the barracks, in what they call the church. It is a large room, in which the chaplain reads prayers, and preaches now and then. It was soon as hot as an oven, through the multitude of people; some hundreds of whom were soldiers; and they were ‘all ear,’ as Mr. Boston says, scarcely allowing themselves to breathe. Even between five and six the next morning, the room was warm enough. I suppose upwards of two hundred soldiers were a part of the audience. Many of these are already warring a good warfare.”

This was Wesley’s first visit to Chatham; but not his last. From the beginning, he had loved soldiers, and, to the end, it was always a pleasure to preach to them.

On March 6, he set out on his long northern journey, which occupied the next five months. A few jottings respecting it may be acceptable.

At Gloucester, a “noisy and mischievous mob” had been “taken in hand and tamed by an honest magistrate.” Cheltenham was “a quiet, comfortable place,” despite the “rector and the anabaptist minister.” At Worcester, the difficulty was, where to preach, no room being large enough to contain the people, and it being too cold for them to stand in the open air. At length, a friend offered the use of his barn, which “was larger than many churches.” “Nothing,” says Wesley, “is wanting here but a commodious house.” Such a house was built four years afterwards,⁠ and lasted till 1812, when good old James M‘Kee Byron and the Worcester Methodists were mad enough to build another costing upwards of £8000, the great bulk of which was left to be paid by their successors.⁠

At Evesham, Wesley preached in the parish church; and was announced, by the vicar, to do the same at Pebworth; but “the squire of the parish” interposed an interdict, and therefore he preached in the open air.

At Birmingham, the tumults, of so many years’ continuance, were “now wholly suppressed by a resolute magistrate.” Here Wesley met “with a venerable monument of antiquity, George Bridgins, in the one hundred and seventh year of his age, still able to walk to preaching, and retaining his senses and understanding tolerably well.”

On Sunday, March 20, Wesley preached at West Bromwich, where a small society of about twenty persons had been kept together by Francis Asbury, a native of a neighbouring parish, but afterwards the Methodist bishop of the United States.

Five years before, at Wolverhampton, the mob had levelled the Methodist meeting-house to the ground, and four young fellows concerned in the outrage had been sent to prison;⁠ but now, says Wesley “all was quiet: only those who could not get into the house made a little noise for a time; and some hundreds attended me to my lodging; but it was with no other intent than to stare.”

Wesley pronounces Newcastle under Lyme “one of the prettiest towns in England.” Though it was extremely cold, the largeness of the congregation constrained him to preach in the open air; “a more attentive or better behaved congregation” he “scarce ever saw.” Sixteen years later, Newcastle had a society of one hundred and nine members, the leaders of whom were John Glynn, William Bayley, Robert Keeling, and Thomas Bamfield.⁠

At Burslem, on March 25, he opened the new chapel; and, at Congleton, had “an elegant, yet earnestly attentive congregation,” the behaviour of the society having won the approbation of all the people in the town, except “the curate, who still refused to give the sacrament to any who would not promise to hear the Methodist preachers no more.”

For nine years past, the Methodists had been wont to meet in a room provided by Dr. Troutbeck, behind his own residence; and here they had been subjected to the same sort of outrages that most towns in the kingdom thought it their duty to commit upon the Methodists. Drums were beaten to disturb their services; dogs were let loose in their congregations; and rotten eggs and filth were often hurled at them in plentiful profusion; but, by their godly behaviour, they had outlived all this, and now had a galleried chapel, capable of containing about four hundred persons.

Wesley spent Sunday, March 27, at Macclesfield, where he preached to “thousands upon thousands.” A few years before, George Pearson and Elizabeth Clulow had opened a preaching house, which would hold forty people, and which, to prevent ejectment, they secured to themselves for forty years. “Ah, George!” said Mrs. Clulow, when they first went into it, “we shall never be able to fill the place; why, it will hold forty folk;” to which Mr. Pearson replied, “I’ll warrant you; hold up your heart.” The result was as George predicted. In a month the room was crammed, and a hole was cut through the chamber floor, so that the preacher might, at the same time, address those above as well as those below. Soon after this, Mr. Ryles gave ground and materials for a chapel, on condition that Mrs. Clulow would pay the workmen their wages for building it. This was done in 1764, and now, in 1768, Methodism in Macclesfield was fairly started.⁠

From Macclesfield, Wesley proceeded to Stockport, Manchester, and New Mills. He writes: “Wednesday, March 30—I rode to a little town called New Mills, and preached in their large new chapel, which has a casement in every window, three inches square! That is the custom of the country!” This well ventilated chapel was built principally by Mr. and Mrs. Beard, the parents of the wife of the late T. Holy, Esq., of Sheffield.⁠

Coming to Liverpool, on April 6, Wesley says: “We had a huge congregation at Liverpool; but some pretty, gay, fluttering things did not behave with so much good manners as the mob at Wigan. The congregations in general were quite well behaved, as well as large, both morning and evening; and I found the society both more numerous and more lively than ever it was before.”

One of these “huge congregations,” after a sermon by Wesley, on Sunday, April 10, were munificent enough to make a collection amounting to £1 4s. 9d.; and the society, which was more numerous and lively than ever, aided by the general congregations, managed to contribute, in their classes and at public collections, from September 1, 1768, to January 16, 1769, the sum of £10 17s. 5d. for the support of the work of God among them.⁠ Such was Liverpool Methodism a hundred years ago!

On April 19, Wesley arrived in Glasgow, and says: “We have few societies in Scotland like this. The greater part of the members not only have found peace with God, but continue to walk in the light of His countenance. That wise and good man, Mr. Gillies, has been of great service to them, encouraging them to abide in the grace of God.” Three years before this, Thomas Taylor had been sent to Glasgow, and, after travelling several hundreds of miles to his appointment, had, as his first congregation, two bakers’ boys and two old women, which congregation, however, kept increasing till it reached about two hundred. Taylor tells us, that for want of means he never kept so many fast days as he did in Glasgow; and, though he ultimately obtained a preaching room, and formed a society, and engaged to pay a precentor fourpence for each service at which he led off the psalms, he found it so difficult to raise the money that he dismissed the psalms and the psalm singer all together. He left behind him, however, a society of seventy members.

One of these was Robert Mackie, who, for thirty years, acted as a faithful classleader; and another was a poor old woman, concerning whom John Pawson, in an unpublished letter, tells the following story. Meeting in the street the minister of the kirk she had been accustomed to attend, she was thus accosted: “Oh, Janet, where have ye been, woman? I have no seen ye at the kirk for long.” “I go,” said Janet, “among the Methodists.” “Among the Methodists!” quoth the minister; “why what gude get ye there, woman?” “Glory to God!” replied Janet, “I do get gude; for God, for Christ’s sake, has forgiven me aw my sins!” “Ah, Janet,” said the minister, “be not highminded, but fear; the devil is a cunning adversary.” “I dunna care a button for the deevil,” answered Janet, “I’ve gotten him under my feet. I ken the deevil can do muckle deal, but there is ane thing he canna do.” “What is that, Janet?” “He canna shed abroad the love of God in my heart; and I am sure I’ve got it there!” “Weel, weel!” replied the good tempered man, “if ye have got there, Janet, hold it fast, and never let it go!”

Wesley’s information was sometimes incorrect. From what he had heard, he expected to find a numerous and lively society at Perth; but, instead of that, he “found not above two believers, and scarce five awakened persons in it.”

At Aberdeen, the society was knit together in peace and love, and the congregations large and deeply attentive; but, among them, were “many rude, stupid creatures, who knew as little of reason as of religion,” and one of whom threw a potato at Wesley.

Having spent a month in Scotland, Wesley reached Berwick on the 18th of May, and proceeded to Newcastle, in the neighbourhood of which he employed the next ten days.

At Sunderland, he had an interview with Elizabeth Hobson, a young woman of twenty-four years of age; and took down, from her own lips, what he properly designates “one of the strangest accounts that he ever read.” The substance of it is to illustrate her assertion, that, from her childhood, when any of her neighbours died, she used to see them, either just at the time of their decease, or a little previous. He says: “The well known character of Elizabeth Hobson excludes all suspicion of fraud, and the nature of the circumstances themselves excludes the possibility of delusion. The reader may believe the narrative if he pleases; or may disbelieve it, without any offence to me. Meantime, let him not be offended if I believe it, till I see better reason to the contrary.” After this follow Elizabeth Hobson’s bewildering statements.

Wesley has been censured and ridiculed for this credulity. Southey says, “he invalidated his own authority by listening to the most absurd tales and recording them as authenticated facts.” Did Wesley deserve this? The reader must not forget the undeniable, though mysterious, supernatural noises in the Epworth rectory. He must also bear in mind, that one of the most striking features in Wesley’s religious character was his deep rooted, intense, powerful, and impelling conviction of the dread realities of an unseen world. This great conviction took possession of the man; he loved it, cherished it, tried to instil it into all his helpers and all his people; and, without it, he would never have undertaken the Herculean labour, and endured the almost unparalleled opprobrium, that he did. Besides, his own justification of himself is more easily sneered at than answered. He writes:⁠—

“With my latest breath, will I bear my testimony against giving up to infidels one great proof of the invisible world; I mean, that of witchcraft and apparitions, confirmed by the testimony of all ages. The English, in general, and, indeed, most of the men of learning in Europe, have given up all accounts of witches and apparitions, as mere old wives’ fables. I am sorry for it; and I willingly take this opportunity of entering my solemn protest against this violent compliment, which so many that believe the Bible pay to those who do not believe it. I owe them no such service. I take knowledge, these are at the bottom of the outcry which has been raised, and with such insolence spread throughout the nation, in direct opposition not only to the Bible, but to the suffrage of the wisest and best of men in all ages and nations. They well know (whether Christians know it, or not) that the giving up witchcraft is, in effect, giving up the Bible; and they know, on the other hand, that if but one account of the intercourse of men with separate spirits be admitted, their whole castle in the air—​deism, atheism, materialism—​falls to the ground. I know no reason, therefore, why we should suffer even this weapon to be wrested out of our hands. Indeed, there are numerous arguments besides this, which abundantly confute their vain imaginations. But we need not be hooted out of one; neither reason nor religion requires this. One of the capital objections to all these accounts is, ‘Did you ever see an apparition yourself?’ No, nor did I ever see a murder; yet I believe there is such a thing. The testimony of unexceptionable witnesses fully convinces me both of the one and the other.”⁠

At the same time, it is only fair to add that, though Wesley was a firm believer in witches and apparitions, he was not the fanatic which some had been before him; hence, in 1769, he writes: “I read Mr. Glanvill’s ‘Sadducismus Triumphatus;’ but some of his relations I cannot receive, and much less his way of accounting for them. All his talk of ‘aerial and astral spirits,’ I take to be stark nonsense. Indeed, supposing the facts true, I wonder a man of sense should attempt to account for them at all. For who can explain the things of the invisible world, but the inhabitants of it?”

Before proceeding further in Wesley’s history, extracts from two or three of his letters, belonging to this period, may be inserted here.

Separation from the Church, and the doctrine of Christian perfection, were points still far from being settled. Hence the following to his brother.

“Edinburgh, May 14, 1768.

“Dear Brother,—I am at my wits’ end with regard to two things—​the Church, and Christian perfection. Unless both you and I stand in the gap in good earnest, the Methodists will drop them both. Talking will not avail. We must do, or be borne away. Will you set shoulder to shoulder? If so, think deeply upon the matter, and tell me what can be done. ‘Age, vir esto! nervos intendas tuos.’ Peace be with you and yours! Adieu!

“John Wesley.”

A month later, Wesley recurs to the same subject, and congratulates his brother on the results of his removing to London.

“June 14, 1768.

“Dear Brother,—I rejoice to hear, from various persons, so good an account of the work of God in London. You did not come thither without the Lord, and you find your labour is not in vain. I doubt not but you will see more and more fruit, while you converse chiefly with them that are athirst for God. I find a wonderful difference in myself when I am among these, and when I am among fashionable Methodists. On this account, the north of England suits me best, where so many are groaning after full redemption.

“But what shall we do? I think it is high time, that you and I, at least, should come to a point. Shall we go on in asserting perfection against all the world? Or shall we quietly let it drop? We really must do one or the other; and, I apprehend, the sooner the better. What shall we jointly and explicitly maintain, and recommend to all our preachers, concerning the nature, the time (now or by-and-by), and the manner of it? instantaneous or not? I am weary of intestine war; of preachers quoting one of us against the other. At length, let us fix something for good and all, either the same as formerly, or different from it.—Ερρωσο.

“John Wesley.”

Dr. Erskine’s attack on Wesley has been already mentioned (see Vol. II., p. 530). During Wesley’s visit to Scotland, he sought an interview with his opponent, and refers to their points of difference in the following interesting letter to the Rev. Mr. Plendelieth, of Edinburgh.

“May 23, 1768.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—Some years ago, it was reported that I recommended the use of a crucifix, to a man under sentence of death. I traced this up to its author, Dr. Stennett, an anabaptist teacher. He was charged with it. He answered, ‘Why I saw a crucifix in his cell (a picture of Christ on the cross), and I knew Mr. Wesley used to visit him, so I supposed he had brought it.’ This is the whole of the matter. Dr. Stennett himself I never saw; nor did I ever see such a picture in the cell; and I believe the whole tale is pure invention.

“I had, for some time, given up the thought of an interview with Mr. Erskine, when I fell into the company of Dr. Oswald. He said, ‘Sir, you do not know Mr. Erskine. I know him perfectly well. Send and desire an hour’s conversation with him, and I am sure he will understand you better.’ I am glad I did send. I have done my part, and am now entirely satisfied. I am likewise glad, that Mr. Erskine has spoken his mind. I will answer with all simplicity, in full confidence of satisfying you, and all impartial men.

“He objects, (1) That I attack predestination as subversive of all religion, and yet suffer my followers, in Scotland, to remain in that opinion.

“Much of this is true. I did attack predestination eight-and-twenty years ago; and I do not believe now any predestination which implies irrespective reprobation. But I do not believe, it is necessarily subversive of all religion. I think hot disputes are much more so. Therefore, I never willingly dispute with any one about it; and I advise all my friends, not in Scotland only, but all over England and Ireland, to avoid all contention on the head, and let every man remain in his own opinion. Can any man of candour blame me for this? Is there anything unfair or disingenuous about it?

“He objects, (2) That I ‘assert the attainment of sinless perfection by all that are born of God.’ I am sorry, that Mr. Erskine should affirm this again. I need give no other answer than I gave before, in the seventh page of the little tract I sent him two years ago. I do not maintain this. I do not believe it. I believe Christian perfection is not attained by any of the children of God, till they are what the apostle John terms fathers; and this I expressly declare in that sermon which Mr. Erskine so largely quotes.

“He objects, (3) That I ‘deny the imputation of Christ’s active obedience.’ Since I believed justification by faith, which I have done upwards of thirty years, I have constantly maintained, that we are pardoned and accepted wholly for the sake of what Christ hath both done and suffered for us. Two or three years ago, Mr. Madan’s sister showed him what she had wrote down of a sermon which I had preached on this subject. He entreated me to write down the whole and print it, saying, it would satisfy all my opponents. I was not so sanguine as to expect this: I understood mankind too well. However, I complied with his request; a few were satisfied; the rest continued just as they were before.

“As long as Mr. Erskine continues in the mind expressed in his Theological Essays, there is no danger, that he and I should agree, any more than light and darkness. I love and reverence him; but not his doctrine. I dread every approach to antinomianism. I have seen the fruit of it, over the three kingdoms. I never said, that Mr. Erskine and I were agreed. I will make our disagreement as public as ever he pleases: only I must withal specify the particulars. If he will fight with me, it must be on this ground; and then let him do what he will, and what he can.

“Retaining a due sense of your friendly offices, and praying for a blessing on all your labours, I remain, reverend and dear sir, your affectionate brother and servant,

“John Wesley.”

These were mutterings before the storm,—skirmishes before the battle,—a prelude to the great Calvinian controversy of 1770 and onwards.

We abruptly turn to another matter. Wesley was a man who believed in the importance of making preparations for dying, in more respects than one. He writes on the last day of the year 1786: “From these words, ‘Set thy house in order,’ I strongly exhorted all who had not done it already, to settle their temporal affairs without delay. It is a strange madness which still possesses many, that are in other respects men of understanding, who put this off from day to day, till death comes in an hour when they looked not for it.”

Wesley acted upon his own advice. He was without money; but he had books, etc.: and to prevent quarrels after he was dead, he made more wills than one respecting their disposal. One executed in 1768 was, of course, different from his last, executed in 1789; and, as something more than a curiosity, we subjoin a verbatim copy, made from the original in Wesley’s own handwriting.

“In the name of God. Amen! I, John Wesley, Clerk, revoking all other, appoint this to be my last Will and Testament.

“I bequeath to my brother Charles Wesley, (but in case of his demise to the School in Kingswood,) my Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, and German books (except those, in any language, in the study at Kingswood School, which I bequeath to the said School; and those in my studies at Bristol, Newcastle upon Tyne, and Dublin, which I desire may remain there for the use of the Travelling Preachers); and all my gowns, cassocks, and bands. To James Morgan, I bequeath my watch; to my faithful Housekeeper, Ann Smith, Mrs. Lefevre’s ring; to Mr. Peter Jaco, my bureau at London; to him, to the Rev. William Ley, and to each Travelling Preacher, who has them not already, a set of my Sermons, Appeals, Journals, the Notes on the New Testament, and the book on Original Sin; to the Rev. Mr. James Roquet, all my manuscripts; to my dear friend, Mary Bosanquet, the set of my Works; to my dear daughter, Jane Smith, the ‘Christian Library,’ now in my study at London.

“I bequeath all my Books, which are for sale, with the sole right of reprinting them, (after paying my brother’s Rent Charge upon them,) to Mr. Melchias Teulon, Hatter, Mr. John Horton, Silkdyer, and Mr. John Collinson, Hatter, in Trust, the one moiety for the keeping the Children of Travelling Preachers at the School (to be chosen by the Assistants at the Yearly Conference), the other moiety for the continual relief of the Poor of the United Society in London. Only I bequeath to Christiana Simpson, at Aberdeen, the Books which shall remain with her, at the time of my decease.

“Lastly, I bequeath the residue of my Books and Goods to my wife, Mary Wesley. And I appoint the said Melchias Teulon, John Horton, and John Collinson, Executors of this my last Will and Testament.

“Witness my hand and seal,⁠ this 27th day of April, 1768,

“John Wesley.

“Witnesses:

 “William Smith.

 “Thomas Simpson.”

A man’s will is a document in which he generally makes mention of his best beloved friends. On this ground, a few notes appended to Wesley’s will of 1768 may be useful.

1. Wesley’s principal bequest, in 1768, was to Kingswood school, and to the poor of the society in London. In 1789, this bequest was made to “the general fund of the Methodist conference, in carrying on the work of God by itinerant preachers.”

2. James Roquet was made the trustee of Wesley’s manuscripts in 1768; but, having died during the interim, Dr. Coke, Dr. Whitehead, and Henry Moore were appointed in 1789 to take his place.

3. In 1768, he bequeathed all his gowns, cassocks, and bands to his brother; in 1789, to the clergymen preaching in City Road chapel, London.

4. In 1768, James Morgan was to have his watch; but, in 1789, James Morgan was dead, and Joseph Bradford got it.

5. In 1768, Mrs. Martha Hall had no bequest, for her bad husband was then living; in 1789, he was dead, and hence her legacy of £40.

6. In 1768, there was a legacy for his wife; in 1789, his wife was in her grave.

7. Wesley makes mention of his “dear daughter, Jane Smith.” This lady was really his wife’s daughter, who was now married to Mr. William Smith, of Newcastle upon Tyne, one of the witnesses.

8. James Roquet, to whom Wesley bequeathed his manuscripts, was the son of a French Protestant refugee, was educated in the Merchant Taylors’ school in London, was converted under Whitefield’s ministry, graduated at St. John’s college, Oxford, became master in Wesley’s school at Kingswood, obtained episcopal ordination, and was now curate of St. Werburgh, Bristol.

9. The Rev. William Ley, to whom Wesley bequeathed a set of his publications, was, from the year 1760 to 1763, an itinerant preacher. He was then episcopally ordained, and was now the curate of Lakenheath, but likely to be dismissed by the vicar, to whom his Methodistic preaching and procedure were offensive.⁠

10. Of one of the executors of Wesley’s will, John Collinson, we can give no particulars.

11. The second, Mr. Teulon, was born at Bromley, in 1734; and was sent to school at Nottingham. At fourteen, he was put apprentice to his uncle, Mr. Wagner, of Pall Mall, hatter to King George II. He was converted under the ministry of Romaine, joined the Methodists, and, in 1761, married Miss Mecham, the daughter of one of the earliest Methodists in London. For four years, he was Wesley’s London steward, and was leader of a class. He was a man of some literary taste, and had read most of the best English authors. He died in 1806, respected and beloved by all who knew him.⁠

12. The third executor, John Horton, was a member of the common council of London, sensible, well read, serious without gloom, cheerful without levity, and polite without ceremony. The unhappy differences after Wesley’s death induced him to leave the Methodists, and he went to reside at Bristol.⁠ He retained his warm attachment, however, to “the old ship,” as he was accustomed to designate Wesley’s system; again attended the Methodist preaching, and, only a few months before his death, when his son was preparing for the university, declared to Henry Moore, that he would “rather see his son a Methodist preacher, than archbishop of Canterbury.” He died in peace about the year 1802.⁠

We left Wesley at Newcastle. On the 31st of May, he set out for Weardale, Teesdale, and Swaledale, where he spent the next four days. At Richmond, he preached in the market place, the Yorkshire militia forming a considerable part of his congregation,—“a rude rabble rout, without sense, decency, or good manners.” At Barnardcastle, the Durham militia was a perfect contrast, officers and soldiers all behaving well. Wesley’s visit to the “dales” circuit was a pleasant one. He writes: “I have not found so deep and lively a work in any other part of the kingdom as runs through the whole circuit, particularly in the vales that wind between these horrid mountains.”

Returning to Newcastle, Wesley visited South Shields, and preached to more than could hear him. Here the poor Methodists were often beaten, rolled in the mud and in the snow, and sometimes narrowly escaped with life: but, continuing faithful, God honoured them; a cockpit was turned into a Methodist chapel,⁠ and Methodism was firmly anchored.

On the 13th of June, Wesley left Newcastle for the south, and spent the next six weeks in visiting his societies in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire.

The Rev. Thomas Adam, rector of Wintringham, one of the evangelical clergymen of the period, has been already mentioned. Like some others, this unquestionably pious man had become a determined opponent of the Methodists, and hence the following letter, addressed to him by Wesley.

“Swinfleet, July 19, 1768.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—One of Wintringham informed me yesterday, that you said no sensible and well meaning man could hear, and much less join, the Methodists; because they all acted under a lie, professing themselves members of the Church of England, while they licensed themselves as Dissenters. You are a little misinformed. The greater part of the Methodist preachers are not licensed at all; and several of them that are, are not licensed as Dissenters.

“We are, in truth, so far from being enemies to the Church, rather bigots to it. I dare not, like Mr. Venn, leave the parish church where I am, to go to an Independent meeting. I dare not advise others to go thither, rather than to church. I advise all, over whom I have any influence, steadily to keep to the Church. Meantime, I advise them to see, that the kingdom of God is within them; that their hearts be full of love to God and man; and to look upon all, of whatever opinion, who are like minded, as their ‘brother, and sister, and mother.’ O sir! what art of men or devils is this, which makes you so studiously stand aloof from those who are thus minded? I cannot but say to you, as I did to Mr. Walker, ‘The Methodists do not want you; but you want them.’ You want the life, the spirit, the power, which they have; not of themselves, but by the free grace of God; else how could it be, that so good a man, and so good a preacher, should have so little fruit of his labour, his unwearied labour, for so many years? Have your parishioners the life of religion in their souls? Have they so much as the form of it? Are the people of Wintringham, in general, any better than those of Winterton, or Horton? Alas! sir, what is it that hinders your reaping the fruit of so much pains and so many prayers?

“Is it not possible this may be the very thing, your setting yourself against those whom God owns, by the continual conviction and conversion of sinners? I fear, as long as you in anywise oppose these, your rod will not blossom, neither will you see the desire of your soul, in the prosperity of the souls committed to your charge.

“I am, dear sir, your affectionate brother,

“John Wesley.”

In his journey southwards, Wesley visited, for the second time, his friend Fletcher, at Madeley,—a man, in many respects, the opposite of Mr. Adam of Wintringham, and especially in his feelings towards the Methodists. So far from shunning them, or being ashamed of them, he, as far as possible, identified himself with them; and, at the very last conference before he died, entreated Wesley to make Madeley a circuit town, and to put John Fletcher down as a supernumerary preacher there. He made his kitchen a Methodist chapel, in which Wesley’s itinerants and his own curate regularly preached; while his study was the place in which were penned the ablest defences of Wesley’s doctrines that were ever committed to the public press.

From Madeley, Wesley went to Shrewsbury, where, as early as 1744, there was a poor woman, who had been converted in London under the preaching of the Methodists, and who now obtained a living, by mending her neighbours’ stockings. While thus employed, at their respective houses, she would relate to them her religious experience, read to them a sermon, and then engage in prayer. By this means, she had already formed a society of sixteen or eighteen persons; and the Rev. Job Orton, the well known author, a native of Shrewsbury, and at this time its presbyterian minister, declared that this poor stocking-mending Methodist was not only of “an excellent and serious spirit,” but had had more success in converting sinners than he had had by all his preaching.⁠

Leaving Shrewsbury, Wesley rode right through Wales to Pembroke, where he “read prayers, preached, and administered the sacrament to a serious congregation at St. Daniels;” and so tried to remove some misunderstandings among the Methodists, that he “left the people full of good desires, and in tolerable good humour with each other.” Here Methodism had been begun seven years before, when Thomas Taylor traversed mountains, forded rivers, and plunged through bogs, with an empty purse and an empty stomach, seeking to save sinners with a zeal and a spirit of self denial worthy of the noblest missionary that ever lived.⁠

At Neath, where the minister of the parish was just dead, the churchwardens announced, that Wesley would preach in the parish church. He did so, but says: “I was greatly disgusted at the manner of singing. 1. Twelve or fourteen persons kept it to themselves, and quite shut out the congregation. 2. These repeated the same words, contrary to all sense and reason, six, or eight, or ten times over. 3. According to the shocking custom of modern music, different persons sung different words at one and the same moment; an intolerable insult on common sense, and utterly incompatible with any devotion.”

After more than five months of laborious travelling, Wesley came to Bristol on Saturday the 13th of August, between eleven and twelve o’clock at night. His conference had to open two days afterwards; but the first news he heard was, that his wife was dangerously ill in London. He had about forty-eight hours before he must meet his preachers, twenty-four of which were sabbatical. The distance to London and back again was two hundred and twenty-eight miles; the roads not the best; and the mode of travelling a perfect contrast to what exists at present. Wesley was an aged man, of more than sixty-five; for nearly six months he had been travelling and preaching incessantly, and might now fairly wish for a few hours’ rest. But no sooner did he hear of his wife’s affliction, than, notwithstanding her unloving heart and life, he started off to London, which, by travelling most of the sabbath day, he reached at one o’clock on Monday morning; when, finding that the fever was abated and the danger gone, he set out again within an hour, and, by hard driving, arrived in Bristol on Monday afternoon. Next morning he opened his annual conference, and closed it the following Friday, exclaiming, “Oh! what can we do for more labourers? We can only cry to the Lord of the harvest.”

One of the chief points discussed at the present conference was, whether the itinerant preachers should be allowed to engage in trade. This was a question at once delicate and difficult. In the first place, many of them had wives and children, the provision for whose maintenance was of the most slender kind. Secondly, the men were not ordained, and had no clerical status whatever. So far there seemed to be no difficulty. But, in the third place, though not ordained, the preachers were regarded by Wesley as occupying, to all practical intents and purposes, the same position as the regular ministers of the Church of England; and, hence, he considered it as unseemly and as improper for his itinerants to be engaged in trade as it would be for the clergy of the Established Church. “God,” says he, “has called us to supply their lack of service to the sheep that are without shepherds, and to spend and be spent therein. Every travelling preacher solemnly professes to have nothing else to do; and receives his little allowance for this very end, that he may not need to do anything else,—that he may not be entangled in the things of this life, but may give himself wholly to these things.”

The result was, the few preachers who had resorted to some kind of trade, for the purpose of eking out the insufficient maintenance for their families were advised to give up their business as soon as possible, and especially hawking drops (which their wives might sell at home), for it had “a bad appearance, and did not suit the dignity of their calling.”

The increase of members during the year was 430. Wesley was not satisfied with this. Hence the question:

“In many places the work of God seems to stand still. What can be done to revive and enlarge it?”

“Answer—1. Much good has been done by the books which have been published; and more would be, if they were spread more effectually.

“2. Let there be more field preaching; without this, the work of God will hardly increase in any place.

“3. Let the preaching at five in the morning be constantly kept up, wherever you can have twenty hearers. This is the glory of the Methodists! Whenever this is dropped, they will dwindle away into nothing. Rising early is equally good for soul and body. It helps the nerves better than a thousand medicines; and, in particular, preserves the sight, and prevents lowness of spirits, more than can be well imagined.

“4. As soon as there are four men or women believers in any place, put them into a band. In every place where there are bands, meet them constantly, and encourage them to speak without reserve.

“5. Be conscientiously exact in the whole Methodist discipline. One part of our discipline has been generally neglected, namely, the changing of the stewards. This has been attended with many ill consequences; many stewards have been ready to ride over the preachers head. Let every assistant, at the next quarterly meeting, change one steward at least, in every society, if there be therein any other man that can keep an account.

“6. Beware of formality in singing, or it will creep in upon us unawares. Is it not creeping in already, by those complex tunes which it is scarce possible to sing with devotion? Such is, ‘Praise the Lord, ye blessed ones!’ Such the long quavering Hallelujah, annexed to the Morning Song tune, which I defy any man living to sing devoutly. The repeating the same word so often, especially while another repeats different words, shocks all common sense, brings in dead formality, and has no more of religion in it than a Lancashire hornpipe. Do not suffer the people to sing too slow. This naturally tends to formality, and is brought in by those who have very strong or very weak voices. Why should not the assistant see, that they be taught to sing in every large society?

“7. Let a quarterly fast be observed in all our societies.

“8. Which of us ‘fasts every Friday in the year’? Which of us fasts at all? Does not this show the present temper of our minds soft and unnerved? How then can we advance the work of God, though we may preach loud and long enough? Here is the root of the evil. Hence, the work of God droops; few are convinced, few justified, few of our brethren sanctified! Hence, more and more doubt if we are to be sanctified at all till death. That we may all speak the same thing, I ask once for all, ‘Shall we defend this perfection or give it up’? You all agree to defend it, meaning thereby, as we did from the beginning, salvation from all sin, by the love of God and our neighbour filling our heart. You are all agreed, we may be saved from all sin before death. The substance then is settled. But as to the circumstance, is the change instantaneous or gradual? It is both one and the other. But should we in preaching insist upon both one and the other? Certainly. But how far from entire sanctification are we still! The religion of the Methodists, in general, is not internal: at least, not deep, universal, uniform: but superficial, partial, uneven. And what pains do we take to make it otherwise? Do we visit from house to house, according to the plan laid down in the minutes? Only spend half the time in this visiting, which you spend in talking uselessly, and you will have time enough. Do this, particularly in confirming and building up believers. Then, and not till then, the work of the Lord will prosper in your hands. Unless, also, we can take care of the rising generation, the present revival of religion will be res unius ætatis, it will last only the age of a man. Spend an hour a week with the children, in every large town, whether you like it or not. Talk with them every time you see any at home. Pray in earnest for them. Diligently instruct and vehemently exhort all parents at their own houses. Read carefully the life of Mr. Brainerd. Let us be followers of him, as he was of Christ; in absolute self devotion, in total deadness to the world, and in fervent love to God and man. We want nothing but this. Then the world and the devil must fall under our feet. Lastly, let us keep to the Church. They that leave the Church leave the Methodists. The clergy cannot separate us from our brethren; the Dissenting ministers can and do. Therefore, carefully avoid whatever has a tendency to separate men from the Church. In particular, preaching at any hour which hinders them from going to it. Let every assistant look to this. Let all the servants in our preaching houses go to church on Sunday morning at least. Let every preacher likewise go always on Sunday morning, and, when he can, in the afternoon. God will bless those who go on week days too, as often as they have opportunity.”

Wesley’s means, then, to promote a revival of the work of God, were a diffusion of Methodist literature, field and morning preaching, the enforcement of Methodist discipline, good singing, quarterly fasts, the preaching of the doctrine of Christian perfection, house to house visitation, attention to the young, continued union with the Established Church, and, above all and more than all, more inward and outward religion among the preachers.

Before leaving the conference of 1768, we insert a letter, which, so far as we are aware, has not before been published, except in the “Methodist Pocket Book” for 1799. It was addressed to James Morgan, one of Wesley’s itinerant preachers, well read, and popular, but who had sunk into a state of nervousness, and had settled down in the city of Dublin.

“St. Just, near the Land’s End, September 3, 1768.

“Dear Jemmy,—I have been thinking much of you; and why should I not tell you all I think, and all I fear, concerning you?

“I think all that you said at the conference upon the subject of the late debates was right. And it amounted to no more than this: ‘the general rule is, they who are in the favour of God know they are so. But there may be some exceptions. Some may fear and love God, and yet not be clearly conscious of His favour; at least, they may not dare to affirm that their sins are forgiven.’ If you put the case thus, I think no man in his senses will be tempted to contradict you; for none can doubt, but whoever loves God is in the favour of God. But is not this a little misstating the case? I do not conceive the question turned here; but you said, or was imagined to say, ‘all penitents are in God’s favour’; or, ‘all who mourn after God are in the favour of God.’ And this was what many disliked; because they thought it was unscriptural and unsafe, as well as contrary to what we had always taught. That this is contrary to what we had always taught, is certain; as all our hymns, as well as other writings, testify: so that (whether it be true or not), it is, without any question, a new doctrine among the Methodists. We have always taught, that a penitent mourned, or was pained, on this very account, because he felt he was not in the favour of God, but had the wrath of God abiding on him. Hence we supposed the language of his heart to be, ‘Lost and undone for aid I cry’; and we believed he was really ‘lost and undone,’ till God did

“And I still apprehend this to be the scriptural doctrine, confirmed, not by a few detached texts, but by the whole tenor of Scripture, and, more particularly, of the Epistle to the Romans. But if so, the contrary to it must be unsafe, for that general reason, because it is unscriptural; to which one may add the particular reason, that it naturally tends to lull mourners to sleep; to make them say, ‘Peace, peace’ to their souls, when there is no peace.

“But it may be asked, ‘Will not this discourage mourners?’ Yes, it will discourage them from stopping where they are; it will discourage them from resting, before they have the witness in themselves, before Christ is revealed in them. But it will encourage them to seek in the gospel way; to ask till they receive pardon and peace. And we are to encourage them, not by telling them they are in the favour of God, though they do not know it; (such a word as this we would never utter in a congregation, at the peril of our souls;) but by assuring them, ‘Every one that seeketh findeth, every one that asketh receiveth.’

“I am afraid you have not been sufficiently wary in this; but have given occasion to them that sought occasion. But this is not all. I doubt you did not ‘see God’s hand in Shimei’s tongue.’ ‘Unto you it was given to suffer’ a little of what you extremely wanted,—obloquy and evil report. But you did not acknowledge either the gift or the Giver. You saw only T. Olivers, not God. O Jemmy, you do not know yourself. You cannot bear to be continually steeped in the esteem and praise of men. Therefore, I tremble at your stay at Dublin; it is the most dangerous place for you under heaven! All I can say is, God can preserve you in the fiery furnace, and I hope He will.

“I am, dear Jemmy, yours affectionately,

“John Wesley.”

A letter has been already inserted in which Wesley congratulates his brother on the reports he had received respecting the success of his ministry in London. This was somewhat premature, for, in reality, instead of there being an increase in the London circuit, there was a decrease of seventy members; and there was a serious intention to abandon the chapel in Spitalfields. Hence the following letter “to the stewards of the Foundery.”

“Pembroke, August 6, 1768.

“My dear Brethren,—The thing you mention is of no small concern, and ought not to be determined hastily. Indeed, it would be easy to answer, if we considered only how to save money; but we are to consider also how to save souls. Now, I doubt whether we should act wisely in this respect were we to give up the chapel in Spitalfields. We have no other preaching place in or near that populous quarter of the town; and a quarter which, upon one account, I prefer before almost any other; namely, that the people in general are more simple, and less confused by any other preachers. I think, therefore, it would not be well to give up this, if we could gain a thousand pounds thereby. I should look upon it as selling the souls of men for money; which God will give us in due time without this. That many who live near the Foundery would be glad of it I allow, because it would save them trouble. But neither can I put the saving of trouble in competition with the saving of souls.

“I am, my dear brethren, your affectionate brother,

“John Wesley.”

Poor Spitalfields! Noble Wesley! Let the fashionable Methodists of the present generation ponder such sentiments as these, and hesitate before they abandon their old chapels, because surrounded by none but the abject and the poor, and because keeping them open involves expense and trouble.

It is a remarkable fact, that almost in the very year in which Methodism was founded in America, it was instituted in Newfoundland. For nine years, Laurence Coughlan was one of Wesley’s itinerants. In 1764, he was ordained by Erasmus, the Greek bishop, and was put away from the Methodist connexion. In 1766,⁠ he was reordained by the Bishop of London, and was sent to Newfoundland by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts. It is true, he went as a clergyman of the Church of England, but he took his Methodism with him, and established classes, in which the present Methodism of Newfoundland had its origin. In a letter to Wesley, he writes:

“I am, and do confess myself, a Methodist. The name I love, and hope I ever shall. The plan which you first taught me, as to doctrine and discipline, I have followed. We have the sacrament once a month, and have about two hundred communicants. This is more than all the other missionaries in the land have: nor do I know of any who attend our sacrament, who have not the fear of God; and some are happy in His love. There are some also whose mouths the Lord hath opened to give a word of exhortation; and I hope He will raise up many more.”

It would be a pleasant task to trace the steps of Mr. Coughlan in Newfoundland; but suffice it to remark that he returned to England, and shortly after, while conversing with Wesley in his study, was seized with paralysis, and suddenly removed to his rest in heaven.⁠

Coughlan was one of those in London, who professed to receive the blessing of Christian perfection; but, like many others, imbibed fantastic notions respecting it. Soon after the conference of 1768, Wesley wrote to him as follows.

“Dear Laurence,—By a various train of providences you have been led to the very place where God intended you should be; and you have reason to praise Him, that He has not suffered your labour there to be in vain. In a short time, how little will it signify, whether we had lived in the Summer Islands, or beneath

‘The rage of Arctos and eternal frost!’

“How soon will this dream of life be at an end! And when we are once landed in eternity, it will be all one, whether we spent our time on earth in a palace, or had not where to lay our head.

“You never learned, either from my conversation, or preaching, or writings, that ‘holiness consisted in a glow of joy.’ I constantly told you quite the contrary: I told you it was the love of God and our neighbour; the image of God stamped on the heart; the life of God in the soul of man; the mind that was in Christ, enabling us to walk as Christ also walked. If Mr. Maxfield, or you, took it to be anything else, it was your own fault, not mine; and, whenever you waked out of that dream, you ought not to have laid the blame of it upon me. Perhaps you thought you had received what you had not. But pray do not measure all men by yourself; do not imagine you are the universal standard. If you deceived yourself, you should not infer that all others do. Many think they are justified, and are not; but we cannot infer, that none are justified. So neither, if many think they are ‘perfected in love,’ and are not, will it follow that none are so. Blessed be God, though we set a hundred enthusiasts aside, we are still ‘encompassed with a cloud of witnesses,’ who have testified, and do testify, in life and in death, that perfection which I have taught these forty years! This perfection cannot be a delusion, unless the Bible be a delusion too; I mean, loving God with all our hearts, and our neighbour as ourselves. I pin down all its opposers to this definition of it. No evasion! No shifting the question! Where is the delusion of this? Either you received this love, or you did not. If you did, dare you call it a delusion? If you received anything else, it does not at all affect the question. O Laurence, if sister Coughlan and you ever did enjoy this, humble yourselves before God for casting it away; if you did not, God grant you may!

“Yours, etc.,

“John Wesley.”

Wesley had been incessantly travelling for nearly the last six months; but no sooner were the sessions of the Bristol conference ended, than he started off to Cornwall, where he spent the interval between August 26 and September 18. On his way, he preached to a serious congregation at Taunton, and asks, “Shall we have fruit here also?” Wesley might well ask this. For many a long year, he had been accustomed to preach at Taunton, and had been received either with stupid indifference or active contempt. As early as 1744, he attempted to preach in the yard of the Three Cups inn; but had no sooner named his text, than the mayor came, in all his full blown dignity, and ordered the proclamation to be read, and silenced the preacher.⁠ Almost a quarter of a century had elapsed since then; and now there was a small society, of which one of the members was Thomas Dingle, who for sixty-three years was a chief supporter of the Taunton society, and one of its brightest ornaments.

Wesley’s labours in Cornwall were Herculean. Though now in the sixty-sixth year of his age, for eight days together he preached, “mostly in the open air, three or four times a day,” and says, “I hardly felt any weariness, first or last.” He was also not without adventures. At Polperro, his bedroom was filled with pilchards and conger eels, which made him glad to accept the offer of another. At Plymouth, on his return, a “silly man talked without ceasing” during the sermon, till Wesley desired the people “to open to the right and left, and let him look his garrulous disturber fairly in the face,” upon which the noisy prater “pulled off his hat, and quietly went away.” Between Charlton and Lympsham, the rivers were so swollen, that Wesley’s horse had to swim, and Wesley himself had to be taken to his lodgings on an “honest man’s shoulders.”

Reaching Bristol on September 24, Wesley spent the next few days in visiting the neighbouring towns and villages. At Frome, he found the liveliest society that there was in the Wiltshire circuit: a fact which greatly surprised him, because the town was made up of a strange medley “of men of all opinions,—anabaptists, quakers, presbyterians, Arians, antinomians, Moravians, and what not.” He adds: “if any hold to the truth, in the midst of all these, surely the power must be of God.”

The Frome Methodists, however, were not untrained recruits, but veteran soldiers, who had stood the brunt of many a furious and fiery fight. Twenty-two years before this, Methodism had been started in their town, by a poor Bristol pedlar, who dealt in rags and small ware, singing to the people Wesley’s hymns. Since then, a vagabond barber——​a tool in the hands of the parish priest——​had dragged two Methodist women to prison. Mrs. Seagram had been fined £20 for permitting her house to be used as a preaching place; and, not being able to pay the fine, had had all her stock in trade and her household goods sold by public auction, while she and her two fatherless children were turned penniless out of doors. In one instance, the mob rushed into the preaching room, seized the benches, and made a bonfire of them. Methodism in Frome had outlived all this; and, despite the sectarianism of the town, it was destined still to live and prosper.

On October 24, Wesley set out for London, and employed the first week in November in a preaching tour through the three counties of Hertford, Bedford, and Northampton. At Hertford, a chapel had been built by Mr. Andrews, who afterwards, in 1777, gave to Wesley’s new chapel in City Road the pulpit which has been used in Methodism’s cathedral from that time to this.⁠

The second week in November was spent in a similar visitation of the societies in Oxfordshire. He writes: “I was desired to preach at Oxford. The room was throughly filled, and not with curious, but deeply serious hearers. Many of these desired, that our travelling preachers would take them in their turn; with which I willingly complied.” Oxford had been Methodism’s cradle, but the infant had long been absent. Henceforth, Methodism was one of Oxford’s institutions; though, for long, long years, it was a thing of feebleness and of small dimensions. The “Oxfordshire” circuit extended over the greater part of Berkshire, Wiltshire, and Buckinghamshire; and, even as late as 1787, there were throughout the circuit only four Methodist chapels, namely, at Oxford, Wycombe, Wallingford, and Witney. At Aylesbury, the Methodists preached in the baptists’ chapel; at Newbury, in an ironfounder’s shop; and at all the other places, in private houses. The small chapel in Oxford was in New-Inn-Hall Lane;⁠ and the Oxford home of the two unmarried preachers, Joseph Entwisle and Richard Reece, was a garret in the house of a journeyman shoemaker, for which the society paid sixpence a week as rent; and which had to serve them as dining room, sitting room, bedroom, and study,⁠ all in one.

The third week in November was occupied in meeting the London classes; and the fourth in a tour in Kent. The rest of the year was chiefly spent in town.

Wesley was fervent, but not fanatical; he loved earnestness in religious worship, but not disorder. Hence the following letter to Mr. Merryweather, of Yarm.

“Lewisham, December 10, 1768.

“My dear Brother,—The matter is short: all things in Divine worship must ‘be done decently and in order.’ Two must never pray at the same time, nor one interrupt another. Either Alice Brammah must take advice, or the society must be warned to keep away from her. These are the very things which were the beginning of poor George Bell’s fall.

“I am, your affectionate brother,

John Wesley.”

We have already seen that, by an enormous effort, in the month of August, Wesley hurried from Bristol to London to visit his afflicted wife. On his return he wrote her as follows.

“My Love,—I can make allowance for faintness, and weakness, and pain. I remember when it was my own case, at this very place, and when you spared no pains in nursing and waiting upon me, till it pleased God to make you the chief instrument in restoring my strength. I am glad you have the advice of a skilful physician; but you must not be surprised or discouraged if you do not recover your strength so soon as one might wish, especially at this time of the year. What is chiefly to be desired is, that God may sanctify all His dispensations to you, and that all may be the means of your being more entirely devoted to Him, whose favour is better than strength, or health, or life itself.

“I am, dear Molly, your ever affectionate husband,

“John Wesley.”

No sooner was Wesley’s wife convalescent, than, instead of waiting to welcome him to his home in London, she, in one of her insane piques, took her departure to Newcastle. The following letter to his brother refers to this, and also to his preparing an edition of Young’s “Night Thoughts,” and to other matters.

“London, December 17, 1768.

“Dear Brother,—I thank you for your reproof. There is reason in what you say. If there was not evil, there was the appearance of evil.

“Matters have not been well carried on at Liverpool; but ‘what cannot be cured must be endured.’

“Why, you simpleton, you are cutting me out a month’s work. Nay, but I have no leisure nor inclination to write a book. I intend only: (1) to leave out what I most dislike; (2) to mark what I most approve of; (3) to prefix a short preface. And I shall run the hazard of printing it at Bristol. There you yourself can read the proof sheets.

“You do well with regard to my sister Emily. What farther is wanting I will supply. I hear nothing from our friend at Newcastle. I am now a mere fellow of a college again. Adieu!

“John Wesley.”

Wesley was still troubled on account of the chapel debts. Nearly £6000 had been contributed; but there was still a debt of £7728 upon the chapels in the United Kingdom undefrayed.⁠ This gave rise to the following letter.

“London, December, 1768.

“My dear Brother,—Last year, Mr. H⁠—— was much persuaded that, by means of the yearly subscription, our whole debt of above £11,000 would be paid within two years. Many of our brethren were more sanguine still. They were persuaded that, by generously exerting themselves, and giving a large sum at once, it would be paid in one year. I did not expect this; but I would not contradict, because I would not discourage them. The event was as I foresaw. By the noble effort which many of our brethren made, most of the pressing debts are already discharged, amounting in the whole to near £7000. But a debt of about £7000 remains upon us still. What can be done with regard to this? I will tell you what occurs to my mind. Many of our brethren chose to subscribe yearly ten, five, three, two guineas, or less. I doubt not but these will cheerfully pay the residue of their subscription, and perhaps some of them will add a little thereto, as they see the great occasion there is for it. A few delayed subscribing, because they wanted to see the event; supposing the design to be impracticable, and that ‘nothing good would come out of it,’ As it now appears that great good has come out of it, that many burdens are already removed, I cannot but earnestly exhort all these now to set their shoulders to the work. Now, at least, let them exert themselves, for my sake, for the gospel’s sake, and for the sake of their still afflicted brethren, who groan under a load which they cannot well bear, and yet cannot remove without our assistance. Several generously contributed at once, in hope of paying the whole debt. Of them nothing more can be required, but their prayers that others may be as openhearted as themselves. Nevertheless, if of their own free goodwill they see good to add a little to their former benefactions—​this, as well as the former, is lent unto the Lord, and what they lay out shall be paid them again. Ought I not to add, that there were some of our brethren who did not answer my expectation? I knew they were able to assist largely; and I flattered myself they were not less willing than able, as they owed me their own souls also, and this was the first favour of the kind which I had requested of them. Let me be excused from saying any more of what is past. Let them now drop all excuses and objections, and show they love me and their brethren, and the work of God, not in word only, but in deed and in truth. Let me have joy over you, my brethren, in particular. You have a measure of this world’s goods, and you see your brother hath need. I have need of your help, inasmuch as the burdens of my brethren are my own. Do not pass by on the other side; but come and help as God has enabled you. Do all you can to lighten the labour, and strengthen the hands, of your affectionate brother,

“John Wesley.”

Wesley was a great reader, as well as a great writer; and, during the year 1768, his journal is enriched with an unusual number of his critical remarks. A few may be given as specimens of others.

“January 11.—This week I spent my scraps of time in reading Mr. Wodrow’s ‘History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland.’ It would transcend belief, but that the vouchers are too authentic to admit of any exception. O what a blessed governor was that goodnatured man, so called, King Charles the Second! Bloody Queen Mary was a lamb, a mere dove, in comparison of him!”

“April 29.—I read over an extremely sensible book, but one that surprised me much: ‘An Inquiry into the Proofs of the Charges commonly advanced against Mary Queen of Scotland.’ By means of original papers, the author has made it clear: (1) That she was altogether innocent of the murder of Lord Darnley, and no way privy to it. (2) That she married Lord Bothwell (then near seventy years old, herself but four-and-twenty), from the pressing instance of the nobility in a body, who, at the same time, assured her he was innocent of the king’s murder. (3) That Murray, Morton, and Lethington, themselves contrived that murder, in order to charge it upon her; as well as forged those vile letters and sonnets which they palmed upon the world for hers. ‘But how then can we account for the quite contrary story, which has been almost universally received?’ Most easily. It was penned and published in French, English, and Latin, (by Queen Elizabeth’s order,) by George Buchanan, who was secretary to Lord Murray and in Queen Elizabeth’s pay; so he was sure to throw dirt enough. Nor was she at liberty to answer for herself. ‘But what then was Queen Elizabeth?’ As just and merciful as Nero, and as good a Christian as Mahomet.”

“May 20.—I went on reading that fine book, Bishop Butler’s ‘Analogy.’ But I doubt it is too hard for most of those for whom it is chiefly intended. Freethinkers, so called, are seldom close thinkers. They will not be at the pains of reading such a book as this. One that would profit them must dilute his sense, or they will neither swallow nor digest it.”

“November 19.—I read Dr. Nowell’s answer to Mr. Hill, concerning the expulsion of the students at Oxford. He has said all that could be said for that stretch of power; and he says quite enough, to clear the Church of England from the charge of predestination: a doctrine which he proves to be utterly inconsistent with the Common Prayer, the Communion Service, the Office of Baptism, the articles, the homilies, and the other writings of those that compiled them.”

The last extract refers to a matter too nearly allied to Methodism to be passed without further notice.

“On the 12th of March, 1768, six students belonging to Edmund hall, Oxford, were expelled the university, for holding Methodistical tenets, and taking upon them to pray, read or expound the Scriptures, and sing hymns in private houses. The principal of the hall, Dr. Dixon, defended their doctrines from the thirty-nine articles of the Established Church, and spoke in the highest terms of their piety and the exemplariness of their lives; but sentence was pronounced against them. Dr. Nowell, one of the heads of houses present, observed, that as these six gentlemen were expelled for having too much religion, it would be very proper to inquire into the conduct of some who had too little.”⁠

The expelled students were Benjamin Kay, Thomas Jones, Thomas Grove, Erasmus Middleton, Joseph Shipman, and James Mathews. The junta of expellers were Drs. Durell, Randolph, Fothergill, Nowell, and Atterbury.⁠ The charges brought against the young culprits were: 1. That they had held or frequented illicit conventicles, where some of them, though not in orders, had preached and prayed extempore, particularly in the house of a staymaker, a woman who herself officiated and taught. 2. That some of them had been bred up to the lowest trades and occupations, for one had been a weaver and kept a taphouse, a second had been a barber, a third a draper; and further all were wholly illiterate, and incapable of performing the statutable exercises of the university; and were maintained at the charge of persons suspected of enthusiasm. 3. That they were attached to the sect called Methodists, and held their doctrines, namely, “that faith without works is sufficient for salvation; that there is no necessity for good works; that the immediate impulse of the Spirit is to be waited for; that once a child of God always a child of God; and the like.” 4. That one of them, before his entrance into the university, had preached, and, in defiance of his father’s authority, had connected himself with the Methodists. 5. That some of them had behaved very irreverently and disrespectfully to their tutor, and had industriously sought to cavil with and to vex him.⁠

It is right to add, that none of these young men had been connected with Wesley. Mr. Jones, the barber, had, for some time resided, with the Rev. John Newton, and, under his instruction, had made considerable progress in the Greek and Hebrew languages. Mr. Kay was of a respectable family, and an excellent scholar, and had an exhibition paid by the Ironmongers’ Company. Mr. Mathews had been instructed by Fletcher of Madeley. Mr. Middleton had been under the tutelage of the Rev. Thomas Haweis. Of Mr. Grove and Mr. Shipman we know nothing, except that the latter, after his expulsion, was admitted to the college of the Countess of Huntingdon, at Trevecca.

This act of Oxford tyranny, as might be expected, created great commotion; and numbers of tracts and pamphlets, pro and con, were published. Among others, Whitefield rushed into the battle, in a “Letter to the Rev. Dr. Durell,” 8vo, 50 pages, and defended the expelled with great vigour and effect; as also did Dr. Horne, afterwards bishop of Norwich. Macgowan published his “Shaver,” in which he shaved the collegiate rulers with no gentle hand, and, in the process, must have made them smart. Sir Richard Hill, a young man of thirty-six, who for some time past had been using his utmost endeavours to improve Oxford morality, issued his “Pietas Oxoniensis,” 8vo, 85 pages, in which he belaboured the junta with unsparing severity. Several replies were written in justification of the Oxford bull; and, after an immense expenditure of time, and not a little display of angry temper, this execrable act of the Oxford authorities was allowed to repose in silence. It is a fact, however, far too serious to be forgotten, that while Oxford university, in past days, has tolerated in its students the most notorious wickedness, and while, at the present day, it tolerates German scepticism and Romish heresy, it once, in one of its paroxysms of pious zeal, ignominiously expelled six young men, whose only crimes were, that some of them had been ignobly bred, and all had sung, and prayed, and read the Scriptures in private houses.

The Countess of Huntingdon was accused of maintaining some or all of these young students at the Oxford university; and perhaps there was a modicum of truth in this. Be that as it may, she soon made her young preachers independent of Oxford help. Trevecca House, in the parish of Talgarth, in Wales, was an ancient structure, supposed to have been erected about the year 1176. This building the countess opened as a college, five months after the expulsions just mentioned,—on the 24th of August, 1768, the anniversary of her ladyship’s birthday. Whitefield preached at the opening; Fletcher was made the president; and, for a few months, Mr. Easterbrook the head master; when Joseph Benson was appointed his successor. Of course, Fletcher was not expected to relinquish his charge at Madeley; but he was to attend the college at Trevecca as often as he conveniently could; to give advice, with regard to the appointment of masters, and the admission or exclusion of students; to oversee their studies and conduct; to assist their piety; and to judge of their qualifications for the ministry.⁠ As is well known, both Fletcher and Benson soon retired, because of the doctrinal differences that sprang up; but Trevecca was still used as a seminary for the training of Calvinistic ministers, till 1792, when the institution was removed to Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire. Wesley from the beginning was in doubt of it, though, perhaps, without reason. In a letter to his brother, dated “May 19, 1768,” he writes: “I am glad Mr. Fletcher has been with you. But if the tutor fails, what will become of our college at Trevecca? Did you ever see anything more queer than their plan of institution? Pray who penned it, man or woman? I am afraid the visitor too will fail.”⁠ Was there a tinge of jealousy in this? We know not. Troubles, it is true, soon sprung up; but the countess made Trevecca her principal place of residence; and within its walls were trained a noble band of earnest, laborious, and useful ministers. The old building is now the residence of a Celtic farmer.⁠ O tempora! O mores!

Excepting the hubbub arising out of the Oxford expulsions, there was not much, in 1768, that was antagonistic to the Methodist movement. A small, paltry pamphlet was published, with the title, “Enthusiasm Reprehended. Three Letters to Mr. John Wesley. With Strictures on his Character, the Reception he met with at Perth, and his Conduct on that occasion.” A 12mo volume, of 212 pages, was also issued, entitled “Sermons to Asses”; and was dedicated to Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, and Madan. Besides these, an eighteenpenny poem was published, entitled “The Hypocrite: a comedy;” in which the writer tries to turn Cibber’s satire on disloyalty into a castigation of enthusiasm.

Wesley’s publications also were fewer than usual, and hardly any of them original. The following belong to this period.

1. “A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Rutherforth.” This has been already noticed in a previous chapter.

2. “A Caution to False Prophets: a Sermon on Matthew vii. 15–20. Particularly recommended to the people called Methodists.” 12mo, 12 pages. In this sermon, Wesley discusses a point which he confesses had puzzled him for many years, namely, whether it is right to hear a minister who is either immoral, or who preaches false doctrine. He still hesitates to pronounce an opinion, and recommends those who were in doubt to “wait upon God in prayer, and then act according to the best light they had.”

3. “Instructions for Members of Religious Societies. Translated from the French.” Under the date of February 26, 1768, Wesley writes: “I translated from the French one of the most useful tracts I ever saw, for those who desire to be ‘fervent in spirit.’ How little does God regard men’s opinions! What a multitude of wrong opinions are embraced by all the members of the Church of Rome! Yet how highly favoured have many of them been!”

4. “An Extract from the Rev. Mr. Law’s Later Works.” Two vols., 12mo, 251 and 204 pages. About a quarter of a century before this, Wesley had published an extract from Law’s “Christian Perfection”; an extract from his “Serious Call”; and an extract from his “Serious Answer to Dr. Trapp.” He now published similar extracts from Law’s answer to “Christianity as old as Creation,” his “Spirit of Prayer,” his “Spirit of Love,” his “Letters,” and his “Address to the Clergy.”

5. “An Extract of the Life of the late Rev. David Brainerd.” 12mo, 274 pages. Just at the time when Methodism was extending its mission to America and Newfoundland, Wesley issued his life of one of the most devoted missionaries that ever lived: a young man who died before he arrived at the age of thirty; but whose piety, for depth and fervour, has seldom been excelled; and whose four years’ mission among the Delaware and other Indians, from 1743 to 1747, would warm the heart and improve the character of all candidates for missionary work.

Besides the above, another publication belongs to the year 1768,—“Free Thoughts on the Present State of Public Affairs,” 12mo, 47 pages. This, strictly speaking, was Wesley’s first political pamphlet. At the general election of 1768, John Wilkes, at the time an outlaw, was returned to parliament by the county of Middlesex; and, shortly after, was arrested and committed to the King’s Bench prison. For nearly a fortnight, crowds collected outside the prison walls, and soldiers were sent to protect the place. A riot followed; the soldiers fired; six of the rioters were killed, and fourteen badly wounded; and the exploit got the name of the “Massacre of St. George’s Fields.” For months, Wilkes’s business occupied the attention of court and cabinet; when the wretched demagogue was sentenced to pay a fine of £1000, to be imprisoned for two-and-twenty months, and afterwards to find security for good behaviour for seven years. While in prison, he was at the zenith of his fame; subscriptions were opened for the payment of his debts; and his likenesses were so multiplied, that portraits of him squinted from the signboards of half the public houses in the kingdom.

It was in the midst of such a state of things, that Wesley wrote the pamphlet already mentioned. He admits that, though “cobblers, tinkers, porters, and hackney coachmen” think themselves wise enough “to instruct both the king and his council,” he himself is “not so deeply learned. Politics were beyond his province; but he would use the privilege of an Englishman to speak his naked thoughts.” “I have,” he writes, “no bias, one way or the other. I have no interest depending. I want no man’s favour, having no hopes, no fears, from any man.” He then proceeds to defend the character of the king; and maintains that, as an outlaw, Wilkes was incapacitated to take a seat in the House of Commons. “Encumbered with no religion, and disappointed in his application for place and power, Wilkes had set up for patriot, vehemently inveighed against evil counsellors and grievances, and was paid in French louis d’or for his agitative services.” Wesley then expresses the opinion that, “supposing things to take their natural course, they must go from bad to worse; the land will become a field of blood; and many thousands of poor Englishmen will sheathe their swords in each other’s bowels, for the diversion of their good neighbours. Then, either a commonwealth will ensue, or else a second Cromwell. One must be; but it cannot be determined which,—King Wilkes, or King Mob.”

FOOTNOTES:

C. Wesley’s Life, vol. ii., p. 242.

Methodist Magazine, 1783, p. 684.

Methodist Magazine, 1857, p. 616.

“Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon,” vol. i., p. 17.

Ibid. vol. ii., p. 427.

Methodist Magazine, 1857, p. 693.

Manuscript letter.

The meaning of this is, that, at least, £500 of what the Methodists have always technically designated “The Yearly Collection,” was, at this period, employed in paying chapel debts. Except that for Kingswood school, this was the only connexional collection that Wesley had; and he strongly insisted that every Methodist should render it support. In an unpublished letter, addressed to Matthew Lowes, and dated March 11, 1762, Wesley writes: “In the enclosed papers, (which you may read in every society, just before you meet the classes,) you will see the design of the general yearly collection, to which every Methodist in England is to contribute something. If there is any who cannot give a halfpenny a year, another will give it for him.”

Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 126.

Gentleman’s Magazine, 1751, p. 179.

Myles’s History.

Methodist Magazine, 1825, p. 122; and 1829, p. 585.

Gentleman’s Magazine, 1763, p. 463.

Burslem old circuit book.

Manuscript.

Methodist Magazine, 1812, p. 534; and 1843, p. 89.

Liverpool old society book.

Wesley’s Works, vol. xiv., p. 276.

Ibid. vol. xii., p. 126.

Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 126. All this confusion arose chiefly out of the half insane ravings of Bell and his friends in 1762. In a long, unpublished letter, dated September 29, 1764, Wesley writes: “I never staggered at all at the reveries of George Bell. I saw instantly, at the beginning and from the beginning, what was right and what was wrong; but I saw withal, ‘I have many things to speak, but you cannot bear them now.’ Hence, many imagined I was imposed upon; and applauded themselves in their greater perspicacity; as they do at this day. ‘But if you knew it,’ says his friend to Gregory Lopez, ‘why did you not tell me?’ I answer with him, ‘I do not speak all I know, but what I judge needful.’ Still, I am persuaded, there is no state under heaven from which it is not possible to fall.”

Methodist Magazine, 1783, p. 681.

Wesley’s seal is a dove, having in its mouth an olive branch, and surrounded with the words “Nuncia Pacis.”

Methodist Magazine, 1805, p. 277.

Ibid. 1808, p. 297.

Theological Magazine, 1802, p. 39.

Methodist Magazine, 1803, p. 215.

Methodist Magazine, 1813, p. 441.

Wesley’s Works, vol. iii., p. 320.

Methodist Magazine, 1815, p. 459.

Taylor’s “Redeeming Grace.”

Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 359.

Methodist Magazine, 1785, p. 491.

Atmore’s “Memorial”; and Methodist Magazine, 1851, p. 869.

Wesley’s Works, vol. iii., p. 324.

Gentleman’s Magazine, 1744, p. 51.

Methodist Magazine, 1825, p. 454.

Wesleyan Times, June 19, 1849.

Entwisle’s Memoir, p. 31.

Methodist Magazine, 1826, p. 464.

Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 127.

Minutes of Conference.

A manuscript circular, signed by Wesley himself.

London Magazine, 1768, p. 125.

Philip’s Life of Whitefield, p. 492.

London Magazine, 1768, p. 214.

Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 281.

Ibid. vol. xii., p. 126.

“Life and Times of Howel Harris,” p. 246.

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