FOOTNOTES:
1787.
Age 84
Wesley writes:
“1787. Monday, January 1—We began the service at four in the morning, to an unusually large congregation. We had another comfortable opportunity at the new chapel at the usual hour, and a third in the evening at West Street.”
“January 2—I went to Deptford; but it seemed, I was got into a den of lions. Most of the leading men of the society were mad for separating from the Church. I endeavoured to reason with them, but in vain: they had neither sense nor even good manners left. At length, after meeting the whole society, I told them: ‘If you are resolved, you may have your service in church hours; but, remember, from that time, you will see my face no more.’ This struck deep; and, from that hour, I have heard no more of separating from the Church.”
Considering the steps that Wesley had already taken, this is somewhat amusing; as are also the two following letters, written soon after, the first to William Percival, and the second to Samuel Bardsley.
“London, February 17, 1787.
“Dear Billy,—You cannot be too watchful against evil speaking, or too zealous for the poor Church of England. I commend sister Percival for having her child baptized there, and for returning public thanks. By all means, go to church as often as you can, and exhort all the Methodists so to do. They that are enemies to the Church are enemies to me. I am a friend to it, and ever was. By our reading prayers, we prevent our people contracting an hatred for forms of prayer; which would naturally be the case, if we always prayed extempore.
“I am, dear Billy, your affectionate brother,
“John Wesley.”
“Birmingham, March 25, 1787.
“Dear Sammy,—Brother Jackson should advise brother Ridall, not to please the devil by preaching himself to death. I still think, when the Methodists leave the Church of England, God will leave them. Every year more and more of the clergy are convinced of the truth, and grow well affected towards us. It would be contrary to all common sense, as well as to good conscience, to make a separation now.
“I am, dear Sammy, your affectionate brother,
“John Wesley.”
Before proceeding with Wesley’s history, we insert another letter belonging to this period. It is now for the first time published, and refers to John Hutchinson, the founder of Hutchinsonianism.
“London, February 4, 1787.
“My dear Sister,—I think Mr. Hutchinson was a man of strong understanding, but greatly obscured by uncommon pride and sourness of temper. He was the twin soul of Dr. Bentley. Many of his remarks I exceedingly approve of. That upon the sin of Uzzah is highly probable. His writings to me are far more agreeable than those of Dr. Harmer; an exceeding pretty writer, who seems to propose Dr. Blair for his pattern. Both the one and the other are quite too elegant for me. Give me plain, strong Dr. Horne. Your letters (as well as your conversation) are always agreeable to, my dear sister,
“Your affectionate friend and brother,
“J. Wesley.”
Wesley was always ready for all kinds of useful work,—reading, writing, preaching, praying, and begging for the poor. Towards the close of his career, especially, he seems to have commenced almost every year by an effort to relieve the miseries of his destitute fellow creatures. Accordingly, at the opening of 1787, five days were spent in traversing the streets of London to obtain subscriptions for this purpose. About two hundred members of his own London society were in great distress; and he hoped to provide for them and for others, at least, food and clothing. He writes: “I was much disappointed. Six or seven, indeed, of our brethren, gave £10 apiece. If forty or fifty had done this, I could have carried my design into execution. However, much good was done with £200, and many sorrowful hearts made glad.”
Seven years previous to this, Wesley had preached his first sermon at Newark upon Trent. He was now invited to open a new chapel there; and took coach, for that purpose, on February 9, travelled all night, and arrived next day. On Sunday morning, February 11, at nine o’clock, he preached in the “lightsome, cheerful building”; and again at half-past five in the afternoon; when the mayor and several aldermen of the town were present.
This was a kind of service which now frequently fell to Wesley’s lot. On Sunday, February 25, after preaching twice in London, he took the mail coach, and, by travelling all night, arrived at Exeter in about four-and-twenty hours. He then hurried off to Plymouth, and opened a new chapel there. On Sunday morning, March 4, he conducted a service, which lasted from half-past nine to nearly one o’clock; and, in the evening, the throng was such, that, in order to reach the pulpit, he was literally lifted over the people’s heads. At five o’clock next morning, the chapel was again crowded; and, at six, he departed by coach, “leaving,” says he, “such a flame behind us as was never kindled here before.”
Notwithstanding the heavy services of the previous day, he travelled all the way to Exeter in a continuous rain, and again preached “to as many as could possibly squeeze” into the chapel; and says, “I know not, that I ever saw such an impression made on the people of Exeter before.”
After this, he proceeded to Bristol, where “the work of God had much increased, especially among the young men,” but where, out of sixteen hundred members, only five, or ten, or, at the most, a dozen hearers formed the five o’clock morning congregations. Wesley says, he strongly warned them of their indolence; and, during his stay, the congregations were increased to three hundred; but even this was small, considering the prestige of the place, and the fame of the unequalled minister.
Wesley now was suffering considerable anxiety respecting Dr. Coke, who, with his three missionaries, had set sail, five months before, for Newfoundland, but who, unknown to Wesley, had been drifted to the West Indies. Hence the following, addressed to William Black.
“London, February 20, 1787.
“My dear Brother,—After various unfortunate hindrances and delays, Dr. Coke embarked on board a small brig, in the middle of October, and was, by furious winds, twice beat back into the harbour. They set sail a third time, with a crazy, shattered vessel, on the 18th of October. We have not heard anything either from him or of him since. I hope you have heard of him in America.
“You have great reason to be thankful to God for the progress of His work in Nova Scotia. This is far from being the case in Newfoundland, where poor John McGeary appears to be utterly discouraged; not only through want of success, but through want of the conveniences, yea, necessaries of life. Truly, if I could have supposed, that those who made me fair promises would have suffered a preacher to want bread, I should have sent him into other parts, where he would have wanted nothing.
“I hear very different accounts of the state of your provinces. Is there plenty or scarcity in Nova Scotia, and New England? How does it fare with Halifax and Shelburne, in particular? Do the buildings and people increase or decrease? Public accounts I cannot at all depend upon; but upon your word I can depend. Peace be with all your spirits!
“I am, dear Billy, your affectionate friend and brother,
“John Wesley.”
On March 19, Wesley left Bristol for Ireland, preaching on the way at Stroud, Cirencester, Gloucester, and numerous other places. At Birmingham, he administered the sacrament to seven or eight hundred communicants. At Wolverhampton, he opened a new chapel. At Burslem, he held one of the most remarkable lovefeasts he had ever witnessed; for here there had been “such an outpouring of the Spirit as had not been in any other part of the kingdom; particularly in the meetings for prayer. Fifteen or twenty had been justified in a day; some of them the most notorious, abandoned sinners, in all the country.” He “appointed to preach at five in the morning of March 30, but, soon after four, he was saluted by a concert of music, both vocal and instrumental, making the air ring, with a hymn to the tune of Judas Maccabeus. It was,” says he, “a good prelude; so I began almost half an hour before five; yet the house was crowded both above and below.”
He writes: “Saturday, March 31—I went on to Macclesfield, and found a people still alive to God, in spite of swiftly increasing riches. If they continue so, it will be the only instance I have known, in above half a century. I warned them in the strongest terms I could, and believe some of them had ears to hear.”
He arrived in Dublin on Good Friday, April 6. On Easter Sunday he preached in Bethesda chapel, of which his friend, the Rev. Edward Smyth, was chaplain. He writes: “Mr. Smyth read prayers, and gave out the hymns, which were sung by fifteen or twenty fine singers; the rest of the congregation listening with much attention, and as much devotion, as they would have done to an opera. But is this Christian worship? Or ought it ever to be suffered in a Christian church? It was thought we had between seven and eight hundred communicants.”
At this period, the Dublin society, with the exception of that in London, was the largest in the world, containing upwards of eleven hundred members, being more than there were in the whole of the five Dublin circuits in 1870!
Having spent ten days in Dublin, he set out for the provinces. It would be, substantially, a reiteration of former narratives, to follow him in his wanderings. He met with no persecution; but, on the contrary, with the warmest welcomes. Almost everywhere the work of God was prospering; and the people vied with each other to show him kindness. He writes: “May 29—The old murderer is restrained from hurting me; but it seems he has power over my horses. One of them I was obliged to leave in Dublin, and afterwards another, having bought two to supply their places; the third soon got an ugly swelling in his shoulders, so that we doubted whether we could go on; and a boy at Clones, riding, I suppose galloping, the fourth over stones, the horse fell and nearly lamed himself.” Perhaps Wesley blamed the devil when he ought to have blamed his own long journeys.
It was in one of these Irish tours that, preaching at a certain place in the afternoon, and being expected, in the evening, at a town several miles distant, he desired his chaise to be ready at the close of the service, so that he might start at once. As he left the chapel, the people, as usual, crowded about him, to shake hands with him; among others, a Methodist shoemaker pressed forward, and put into his hand a brown paper parcel, saying with manifest emotion: “Sir, this may be of use to you in your journey.” Wesley thanked him, put the parcel into his pocket, and away he went. After travelling some distance, his curiosity prompted him to examine the nature of Crispin’s present, which he found to be an awl and a strong waxed thread. The road was rugged and lonely; and after a sudden jerk, the horses stopped. “What’s the matter?” asked Wesley. “Matter enough!” replied the coachman; “one of the traces is broken, and we can’t go on.” Wesley bethought him of his awl and thread; they were at once produced; the trace was mended; and so, by the poor shoemaker’s gift, the congregation was saved from being disappointed of their preacher, and Wesley from a tiresome detention in a houseless neighbourhood.
Wesley got back to Dublin on the 21st of June, having preached considerably more than a hundred times during his ten weeks’ tour. A week later, on his birthday, June 28, he wrote: “I had the pleasure of a conversation with Mr. Howard, I think one of the greatest men in Europe. Nothing, but the mighty power of God, can enable him to go through his difficult and dangerous employments.”
The great philanthropist was as much pleased with Wesley, as Wesley was with him. “I was encouraged by him,” said he to Alexander Knox, Esq., “to go on vigorously with my own designs. I saw in him how much a single man might achieve by zeal and perseverance; and I thought, why may not I do as much in my way, as Mr. Wesley has done in his, if I am only as assiduous and persevering? and I determined I would pursue my work with more alacrity than ever.”
Howard, in early life, had heard Wesley preach, in Bedfordshire, and was deeply impressed with his discourse. In 1789, he called at Wesley’s house, in London, to present him with his latest publication, “An Account of the Principal Lazarettos in Europe,” in quarto; but Wesley was not at home. “Present,” said he, “my respects and love to Mr. Wesley; tell him, I had hoped to have seen him once more: perhaps, we may meet again in this world, but, if not, we shall meet I trust in a better.” And away he went on his mission of mercy to Russia, where he fell an honoured victim to his benevolence, on January 20, 1790.
Having held his Irish conference, Wesley preached his farewell sermon, in Dublin, on the 11th of July; and arriving in England on the 12th, he proceeded to Manchester, in the neighbourhood of which he continued until August 6. Here he held his English conference, though, in his journal, he never mentions it. The preachers were specially invited; but, on what principle the invitations were given, it is difficult to state. Thomas Taylor was assistant at Leeds, within fifty miles of Manchester, and moreover was one of the hundred mentioned in Wesley’s deed of declaration; but he was also in favour of the Methodists having the sacraments from the hands of their own preachers; in other words, he was in favour of separation from the Established Church; and, perhaps, this was one of the reasons why he was not invited to the conference at Manchester. At all events, he writes:
“Mr. Wesley has sent his special summons to each preacher whom he wishes to attend conference, and has expressly forbidden any one else to go. I am unbidden, and think I am ill used. After labouring, with some degree of success, for more than twenty-four years, and without a crime having ever been alleged against, me, I am debarred of a privilege granted to others who were converted under me, and whom I took into society. This is a flagrant injustice. Besides, I am a member of the legal conference. I’ll venture to go, let consequences be what they may. If I am thrown overboard, I will swim as well as I can, believing the Lord will take me up.”
Mr. Taylor’s complaint was not without reason. He went; but says, he had little satisfaction, for much of the time was spent in trying to supersede the hymn-book published by Robert Spence.
The original edition of the minutes of the Manchester conference is now before us, 12mo, 20 pages; but there is not a single syllable on what was the great question of the day, separation from the Church. And yet this was a question again and again introduced. Two years before, Wesley had ordained Pawson for Scotland, and, ever since, had addressed him as “reverend,” Pawson wearing gown and bands, and administering the sacraments to the Scottish Methodists. Now that Pawson was brought back to England, he had to doff his canonicals, and had his letters from Wesley inscribed with “Mr.,” instead of “Rev.” He loudly remonstrated; but got no redress; and at length, like a good Christian, more anxious to save souls than to wear sacerdotal robes, submitted to obey orders which were strangely inconsistent with Wesley’s ordaining acts, and went on his way rejoicing. Pawson writes as follows, to his bosom friend, Charles Atmore.
“Thorner, August 8, 1787.
“My very dear Brother,—Our conference ended on last Saturday. There were many preachers, and abundance of people, I think more than I ever saw at any conference before. Almost the whole time was taken up with temporal affairs. Mr. Wesley was in great haste, as he and Dr. Coke were going to Guernsey and Jersey. There has been a general revival of the work of God. Mr. Wesley seems more determined to abide in the Church than ever. He talked about it again and again, in the public conference, in the society, etc.; and in such a hot, fiery spirit, as I did not like to see. He talked of fighting with a flail, and of putting all out of society who do not go to church. We are to be just what we were before we came to Scotland,—no sacraments, no gowns, no nothing at all of any kind whatsoever. With much entreaty, I got him to ordain Mr. McAllum and Suter. Two more were ordained, one for the West Indies, and one for Nova Scotia.
“Charles Wesley, the Sunday before the conference opened, spoke, to the society in London, to this effect: ‘I told you, forty years ago, that, from among yourselves, grievous wolves would arise, who would rend and tear the flock. You now see my words fulfilled. These self created bishops, and self made priests, are the very men. But I charge you all, in the presence of God, never receive the sacrament from any of them.’ So you see, he has discharged the people from receiving the sacrament of his own brother; for who but he is the self created bishop? O cursed prejudice! O furious bigotry! How does the fire from hell burn in that poor miserable man’s breast!
“Perhaps, if I live till next conference, I may petition to return to Scotland, as there seems to be no prospect of doing anything, but just in the old way, while Mr. Wesley lives. Solomon says, there is no new thing under the sun; but here we see something, which, I believe, was never seen in the Christian church before,—that men, approved of God and their brethren, and that for many years, should be regularly ordained, and act in the capacity of ministers, and yet should be deposed from that office by one single man, and that without any crime committed, great or small, real or pretended. Even the pope himself never acted such a part as this. What an astonishing degree of power does our aged father and friend exercise! However, I am satisfied, and have nothing but love in my heart toward the good old man. But really it will not bear the light at all. Most affectionately yours,
“John Pawson.”
This was pretty strong to come from a man like Pawson; but it furnishes a glimpse of the proceedings of the conference of 1787, concerning which so little has been written, and shows the awkward position into which Wesley had put himself by his ordinations of men from whom he now withdrew the authority that he had previously given.
Never, however, had Methodism been so prosperous as now. The increase of members, in the United Kingdom, during the present year, was nearly four thousand; and in America, 6849. Letters, dated August, 1787, contain most marvellous intelligence. It was computed that, in Brunswick county, Virginia, not fewer than seven thousand persons were under deep conviction of their sin and danger; and as many as fifty in a day were savingly converted. At a recent quarterly meeting, six thousand were assembled, and hundreds were crying for mercy, including some of the principal inhabitants of the land, and not a few who had been persecutors.
The Manchester conference concluded on Saturday, August 4, and, on the following day, besides meeting the select society, Wesley preached twice, and, with the assistance of his brother clergymen, administered the sacrament to twelve or thirteen hundred communicants. There are two other incidents, in connection with this conference, too interesting to be omitted.
At this period, the grandfather of the present Sir Robert Peel was thirty-seven years of age, and one of the most successful men in Lancashire. The leisure of his youthful days had been spent in reading and study, and, before he attained to his majority, a great portion of his time had been devoted to the improvement of machinery. At the age of twenty-three, he embarked in the cotton trade, and, by his industry and perseverance, had already become a man of wealth, though his riches fell immensely short of the two millions which, it is said, he left behind him at his death in 1830. Wesley writes: “1787, July 27—I was invited to breakfast at Bury, by Mr. Peel, a calico printer; who, a few years ago, began with £500, and is now supposed to have gained £50,000. Oh, what a miracle if he lose not his soul!” The invitation was accepted, and, long after this, when the calico printer had become a baronet, and had entered parliament, Wesley’s visit was one of the pleasing reminiscences of his remarkable career. To the end of life, he cherished a warm affection for the Methodists. “My lads,” said he, when some of his Methodist workmen applied to him for the site of Tamworth chapel, “My lads, do not build your chapel too large, for people like to go to a little chapel well filled better than to a larger one comparatively empty. I often go to your chapels in Manchester, Liverpool, and London, and have no wish to find myself alone in a large pew, and pointed at as Sir Robert Peel. I have left most of my works in Lancashire under the management of Methodists, and they serve me excellently well. When I resided there, I asked Mr. Wesley, at one of his conferences, to come and breakfast with me; and he agreed, on condition that he might bring some of his children with him. Of course, I consented, and he came accompanied by six-and-thirty of his itinerant preachers.” This was a curious episode in the history both of Wesley and the founder of the distinguished family that bears his name.
No man in the nation took a greater interest in the institution of Sunday-schools than Wesley. “I am glad,” said he, to Richard Rodda, in a letter dated January 17, 1787, “I am glad you have taken in hand that blessed work of setting up Sunday-schools in Chester. It seems, these will be one great means of reviving religion throughout the nation. I wonder Satan has not sent out some able champion against them.”
It was three years since Raikes had first called attention to the importance of Sunday-schools in the Gloucester Journal; and already these “nurseries for Christians” had begun to dot and to adorn the country. That at Chester altogether originated with the Chester Methodists, though the rules were submitted to the bishop of the diocese, and had his entire approval. It contained nearly seven hundred children, who were taken to church once every Sunday. “We had no intention,” said Richard Rodda, “as some persons represented, to make disciples to Methodism, but to train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, that they might become useful members of civil and religious society.”
Some idea may be formed of the popularity of this new institution of the Christian church, from the fact that, in 1785, a Sunday-school society was formed, which, within two years, was the means of establishing more than two hundred schools; and that it was calculated, in 1787, that the number of children then taught in Sunday-schools exceeded two hundred thousand.
As already stated, more than once, there were a few which existed long before Raikes’ school at Gloucester,—as, for instance, Miss Hannah Ball’s, at Wycombe, founded in 1769. There was also another at Little Lever, the birthplace of Oliver Heywood, four miles from Bolton, in Lancashire. Here James Hey resided, a poor man who obtained a living by winding bobbins for weavers. About the year 1775, James got the use of a room in a cottage, to which, twice every Sunday, he summoned the boys and girls of the neighbourhood, to teach them reading, his substitute for a bell being an old brass mortar and pestle. Mr. Adam Crompton, the paper manufacturer, sent him a supply of books; three branch establishments were formed; subscriptions were given; and a shilling per Sunday paid to each teacher for his Sunday services.
In June 1785, a Methodist school was started in the old Ridgway Gates chapel, Bolton, chiefly through the instrumentality of George Eskrick, who was its principal manager as long as he lived. One of the scholars present, the first Sunday, was Peter Haslam, eleven years of age, afterwards a most devout and useful itinerant preacher,—the first fruits of others who, in the same institution, received their first trainings for the Christian ministry. In the course of a few years, the number of scholars, attending the Bolton Sunday-school, was 2,000; and the average number, for the first thirty years of its existence, was 1800. Children came to it, several miles, from all the country round about. Reading and writing were taught. Each class was spoken to separately every Sunday on religious subjects. The masters were devoted to their work, and all gave their services gratuitously. The change in the manners and morals of the children was marvellous; and about a hundred of them sang like seraphs. No wonder, that such a school attracted the attention of Wesley. Hence, on the very day when he and six-and-thirty of his itinerants breakfasted with the father of the Peels, he wrote:
“From Mr. Peel’s we went to Bolton. Here are eight hundred poor children, taught in our Sunday-schools, by about eighty masters, who receive no pay but what they are to receive from their Great Master. About a hundred of them, part boys and part girls, are taught to sing; and they sang so true, that, all singing together, there seemed to be but one voice. The house was throughly filled, while I explained and applied the first commandment. What is all morality or religion without this? A mere castle in the air. In the evening, many of the children still hovering round the house, I desired forty or fifty to come in and sing, ‘Vital spark of heavenly flame.’ Although some of them were silent, not being able to sing for tears, yet the harmony was such as I believe could not be equalled in the king’s chapel.”
This was not bounce, nor was it the random garrulity of an aged man. Nine months afterwards, Wesley came again, and wrote:
“This I must avow, there is not such another set of singers in any of the Methodist congregations in the three kingdoms as there is at Bolton. There cannot be; for we have near a hundred such trebles,—boys and girls, selected out of our Sunday-schools, and accurately taught—as are not to be found together in any chapel, cathedral, or music room within the four seas. Besides, the spirit with which they all sing, and the beauty of many of them, so suits the melody, that I defy any to exceed it; except the singing of angels in our Father’s house.”
Good singing is a good thing, and, like most other good things, is far from being common. Had this been the only result of Bolton Sunday-school, the school would have existed to good purpose. But hear Wesley’s description, written “Sunday, April 20, 1788,” and let Methodist Sunday-school teachers now conscientiously and diligently endeavour to make their establishments resemble that at Bolton then.
“At eight, and at one, the house was throughly filled. About three, I met between 900 and a thousand of the children belonging to our Sunday-schools. I never saw such a sight before. They were all exactly clean, as well as plain, in their apparel. All were serious and well behaved. Many, both boys and girls, had as beautiful faces as, I believe, England or Europe can afford. When they all sung together, and none of them out of tune, the melody was beyond that of any theatre; and, what is the best of all, many of them truly fear God, and some rejoice in His salvation. These are a pattern to all the town. Their usual diversion is to visit the poor that are sick, (sometimes six, or eight, or ten together,) to exhort, comfort, and pray with them. Frequently ten or more of them get together to sing and pray by themselves; sometimes thirty or forty; and are so earnestly engaged, alternately singing, praying, and crying, that they know not how to part.”
We have already stated that, the day after Wesley closed his conference at Manchester, he preached twice, and, assisted by others, administered the Lord’s supper to twelve or thirteen hundred persons. The next day, August 6, he secured the whole of the coach, that ran between Manchester and Birmingham, for himself and his friends. Six packed themselves within, and eight arranged themselves without, and off they all set at midnight; but even the presence of fourteen Methodist preachers was not an insurance against accident. No doubt, many a hymn was sung as they whisked away through beautiful Cheshire scenery, the stars shining approvingly, and the fields all round wrapped in solemn silence; but, a little before three in the morning, when approaching Congleton, the coach broke down beneath its unwonted burden, and had to be abandoned for another. In about an hour, number two was crippled like number one; while one of the horses was so knocked up as to be scarcely able to go at all. This Methodist monopoly of the Birmingham stage coach issued, not in a moonlight pleasure trip, but in a series of disasters which men so pious and so good had not expected. The distance was not great; but nineteen hours were spent in getting over it. The party arrived at Birmingham at 7 p.m.; Wesley found a congregation waiting; he stepped out of the coach into the chapel, and began preaching without delay. “And such,” says he, “was the goodness of God, that I found no more weariness when I had done than if I had rested all the day.”
This was marvellous, in the case of an old man, above eighty; but, notwithstanding this, he was off again, before five o’clock next morning; travelled nearly eleven hours; and, at night, preached in the new chapel at Gloucester. But even this was not all. The morning after, he set out again at two o’clock, travelled till half-past four in the afternoon, and preached at Salisbury in the evening. Next morning at four, he took chaise to Southampton, where, on August 9 and 10, he preached thrice.
Here the Methodists worshipped in an auction room; and then in a loft, used by a bricklayer in stowing away his scaffolding, and which acquired imperishable fame as the spiritual birthplace of Elizabeth Wallbridge, the “Dairyman’s Daughter.”
Wesley, accompanied by Dr. Coke and Joseph Bradford, was now on his way to the Channel islands; where Methodism had been introduced as early as the year 1783, by certain Methodist soldiers, who wrote to England for a preacher. Robert Carr Brackenbury, a gentleman of fortune, rented a house in the town of St. Heliers, Jersey; and he and his attendant, Alexander Kilham, preached throughout the island, amid violent persecution, but with great success. At the conference of 1786, Adam Clarke was sent; and now there were, in the three islands of Jersey, Guernsey, and Alderney, Methodist societies containing three hundred members.
On Saturday, August 11, Wesley and his friends started from Southampton for Guernsey, but, before the day was ended, had to put into Yarmouth harbour, in the Isle of Wight, where they were detained till Monday, but improved their detention by preaching four times in the market house. On Monday the storm had abated, and they again set out; but, in the afternoon, were glad to seek shelter at Swanage, where Wesley found a small society, and preached in the presbyterian chapel. Again they went on board, and hoped to reach Guernsey on Tuesday afternoon; but the storm obliged them to steer for the isle of Alderney, in the bay of which they narrowly escaped being dashed to pieces. Having slept in a five bedded room, and preached upon the beach, they again set sail for Guernsey, where they at last arrived, and were warmly welcomed by Mr. De Jersey. Here five days were spent, during which Wesley preached seven sermons, and dined at the governor’s.
On Monday, August 20, they landed in Jersey, where they were detained by storms and hurricanes till the 28th. During the eight days, Wesley preached a dozen sermons, Mr. Brackenbury acting as his interpreter.
On the 28th, he returned to Guernsey, where, by stress of weather, he was obliged to stay till September 6, but still employed himself as actively as ever. He then sailed for Penzance, in Cornwall, and arrived in safety.
Wesley’s labours in the Channel islands were greatly blessed; but his voyages were adventurous, and, more than once, extremely dangerous. They were also rich in religious incidents. On one occasion, two of the sailors, who were aloft, swore most dreadfully; and, greatly to the surprise of his companions, Wesley seemed not to notice them. At length, the sailors still swearing, Wesley looked up to them, and said: “Swear louder, and then perhaps God Almighty will hear you.” The ironical reproof stopped the blasphemy.
Another incident is worth relating. Wesley writes in his journal: “September 6—We went on board with a fair, moderate wind; but we had just entered the ship when the wind died away. We cried to God for help; and it presently sprung up, exactly fair, and did not cease till it brought us into Penzance bay.” This is all; but Adam Clarke, who was present, gives further details. Wesley was reading in the cabin; but, hearing the noise and bustle occasioned by putting about the vessel, to stand on her different tacks, he looked out of the cabin door, and asked what was matter. Being told, he quietly remarked, “Then let us go to prayer.” Coke, Bradford, and Clarke having prayed, Wesley began: “Almighty and everlasting God, Thou hast sway everywhere, and all things serve the purposes of Thy will: Thou holdest the winds in Thy hands, and sittest upon the waterfloods, and reignest a King for ever: command these winds and these waves that they obey Thee; and take us speedily and safely to the haven whither we would be!” The power of his petition was felt by all: he rose from his knees, made no remark, and resumed his reading. Clarke went on deck, and, to his surprise, found the vessel standing her right course, with a steady breeze, which brought them safe to Cornwall.
Wesley was more than satisfied with his trip to these lovely islands. “Here,” says he, “is an open door: high and low, rich and poor, receive the word gladly; so that I could not regret being detained by contrary winds several days longer than we intended.”
Wesley’s landing in Cornwall was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He writes: “We appeared to our friends here as men risen from the dead. Great was their rejoicing over us; and great was the power of God in the midst of the congregation.” On Saturday, September 8, he preached twice, out of doors, to large congregations; and, the day following, thrice, besides meeting a society in a chapel “exactly round, and composed wholly of brazen slags, which,” says Wesley, “I suppose will last as long as the earth.”
On September 14, he got to Bristol, where he spent the next three weeks. First of all, “with the assistance of two of his friends, he had to answer abundance of letters,” the accumulation of the last five weeks. Then, he had to visit the “country societies” round about, and, among others, that at Castle Carey, where the mob had thrown the first preacher, that visited the place, into a horse pond. On October 8, he returned to London, where he employed the next few days “in answering letters, and preparing matter for the magazine.” One or two of the letters, belonging to this period, may be inserted here.
The first was addressed to William Black, in Nova Scotia, who was considerably troubled with a recent importation from Scotland, in the form of a presbyterian minister, who was more a Socinian than a Calvinist.
“Near Bath, September 26, 1787.
“My dear Brother,—You have great reason to praise God for the great things that He hath done, and to expect still greater things than these. Your grand difficulty, now, will be to guard your flock against that accomplished seducer. When you mentioned a person came from Scotland, I took it for granted that he was a Calvinist. But I find it is not so well; for I take a Socinian to be far worse than even a predestinarian. Nevertheless, I advise you and all our preachers, never oppose him openly. Doing thus would only give the unawakened world an advantage against you all. I advise you farther, never speak severely, much less contemptuously, of him in any mixed company. You must use no weapons in opposing him, but only those of truth and love. Your wisdom is: (1) Strongly to inculcate the doctrines which he denies; but without taking any notice of him, or seeming to know that any one does deny them. (2) To advise all our brethren (but not in public) never to hear him, at the peril of their souls. And (3) narrowly to inquire whether any one is staggered, and to set such an one right as soon as possible. Thus, by the blessing of God, even those that are lame will not be turned out of the way. Peace be with your spirit!
“I am, dear Billy, your affectionate friend and brother,
“John Wesley.”
The next has not before been published. Jonathan Crowther and Duncan McAllum had been appointed to succeed Edward Burbeck and Joshua Keighley, in Scotland. On arriving, they found the former “dying of fever in a lousy bed”; and the latter already dead and buried. Their journey had been adventurous and dangerous; their circuit (Inverness) was large; and their allowances next to nothing; for Crowther received only fifty shillings for the whole year’s labour; and forty of these he spent in removing to Dunbar. He wrote to Wesley: “No man is fit for Inverness circuit, unless his flesh be brass, his bones iron, and his heart harder than a stoic’s.” After giving an account of the death of Burbeck and Keighley, he adds: “I too shall probably be sacrificed in this miserable corner; and, if I were doing good, I should be content (if I had them) to sacrifice seven lives every year; but to live in misery, and to die in banishment, for next to nothing, is afflicting indeed.”
Poor Crowther was downhearted, and no wonder. Wesley’s reply was characteristic.
“Near Bath, September 25, 1787.
“Dear Jonathan,—The sum of the matter is, you want money; and money you shall have, if I can beg, borrow, or anything but steal. I say, therefore, ‘Dwell in the land, and be doing good, and, verily, thou shalt be fed.’ I should be sorry for the death of Mr. Burbeck, but that I know God does all things well; and, if His work prospers in your hands, this will make your labours light. Our preachers now find, in the north of Scotland, what they formerly found all over England; yet they went on; and when I had only blackberries to eat in Cornwall, still God gave me strength sufficient for my work. I am, etc.,
“John Wesley.”
“P.S.—To Mr. Atlay:
Pay to Jonathan Crowther, or his order, Five Guineas.
“John Wesley.”
The next two letters refer to a case of discipline in the Channel islands, in which Wesley displayed greater liberality than some of his itinerants. The first was written to Robert Carr Brackenbury, the second to Adam Clarke.
“London, October 20, 1787.
“Dear Sir,—Mr. —— is undoubtedly a good young man; and has a tolerably good understanding. But he thinks it better than it is; and, in consequence, is apt to put himself in your or my place. For these fifty years, if any one said, ‘If you do not put such an one out of society, I will go out of it’; I have said, ‘Pray go; I, not you, are to judge who shall stay.’ I, therefore, greatly approve of your purpose, to give Mr. W—— a full hearing in the presence of all the preachers. I have often repented of judging too severely; but very seldom of being too merciful. As the point is undoubtedly of very great importance, it deserved serious consideration; and I am glad you took the pains to consider it, and discussed it so admirably well, according to Scripture and sound reason.
“I ever am, dear sir, your affectionate friend and brother,
“John Wesley.”
“London, December 8, 1787.
“... Brother de Queteville and you do not mind what I say. I do not wonder at him, (he does not know me,) but I do at you. His natural temper is stern; yours is not. Therefore, I expect you to regard me, whether he does or no. We have no such custom among our societies, nor ever had, as for a man to acknowledge his fault before a whole society. There shall be no such custom while I live. If he acknowledge it before the preachers it is enough.
“John Wesley.”
In the month of May of the present year, there was instituted, in London, a society for the suppression of the slave trade, of which the chief members were Granville Sharp, William Dillwyn, Thomas Clarkson, and William Wilberforce. In this, as in other great beneficent movements, Wesley was one of the pioneers. Thirteen years previously, he had published his “Thoughts upon Slavery”; and, at the commencement of the present year, had inserted a long letter, on the same subject, in his Arminian Magazine. The formation of an antislavery society was to him a joy; and he, at once, wrote to the committee, expressing his satisfaction. He desired to warn them, that they must expect great difficulties and great opposition; for those interested in the system of slavery were a powerful body, and would employ hireling writers, who would have neither justice nor mercy. As for himself, he would do all he could to promote the object of their institution. He would reprint a new and large edition of his “Thoughts on Slavery,” and circulate it among his friends in England and Ireland, to whom he would add a few words in favour of their design. He then concluded in these words: “I commend you to Him, who is able to carry you through all opposition, and support you under all discouragements.”
On the 30th of October, 1787, he sent a second letter, which was read to the society, and in which he said, that he had now read the publications which the committee had sent him, and that he took, if possible, a still deeper interest in their cause. He exhorted them to more than ordinary diligence and perseverance; to be prepared for opposition; to be cautious about the manner of procuring information and evidence, that no stain might fall upon their character; and to take care that the question should be argued as well upon the consideration of interest as of humanity and justice, the former of which he feared would have more weight than the latter.
Wesley fulfilled his promise to render help. Hence the following to Mr. Thomas Funnell, Lewes, Sussex.
“November 24, 1787.
“My dear Brother,—Whatever assistance I can give those generous men, who join to oppose that execrable trade, I certainly shall give. I have printed a large edition of the ‘Thoughts on Slavery,’ and dispersed them to every part of England. But there will be vehement opposition made, both by slave merchants and slave holders; and they are mighty men: but our comfort is, He that dwelleth on high is mightier.
“I am, your affectionate brother,
“John Wesley.”
Thus began a struggle, which lasted six-and-forty years, and terminated in the Emancipation Act, which took effect on August 1, 1834. Wesley died four years after the fight commenced; Wilberforce just as the victory was being won, for he expired while the resolutions, preparatory to the bill, were being passed in the House of Commons.
The last three months of the year 1787 were spent in London, and in the usual journeys through the surrounding counties. On October 15, he began what he calls his “little tour through Oxfordshire,” and preached twice a day, besides travelling. At this time, Joseph Entwisle and Richard Reece were in the “Oxfordshire” circuit. The former, a young man of twenty, while riding with Wesley, had the misfortune to have a horse whose pace was swifter than its steps were sure. The nag fell with suddenness, the young preacher made a summersault over the head of the prostrate animal, and alighted on his feet unhurt. “Well done!” cried Wesley, delighted with the agility of his youthful friend, and, no doubt, remembering many of his own marvellous escapes,—“Well done, Joseph! I could not have done better than that myself.”
Richard Reece also used to relate an anecdote respecting Wesley’s visit to this, his first circuit, in 1787. Wesley was accompanied by Thomas Rankin, and the two came to Oxford, where Wesley had to preach in the chapel in New Inn Hall Lane. The front gallery was filled with gownsmen, who, whatever other accomplishments they had acquired, still lacked the politeness of gentlemen, for, as soon as Wesley began to read his text, the beardless boys, in gowns and college caps, began to cheer. Up jumped Rankin, his Scotch blood boiling, and, with stentorian voice, cried: “In the name of God, gentlemen, what can ye mean, to interrupt and insult a servant of the Lord, about to preach salvation?” Wesley, more used to such behaviour than his impetuous friend, calmly said, “Sit down, Tommy, sit down”; and then quietly proceeded with his discourse.
In his excursion through Kent, Wesley preached both morning and evening, every day. In Hertfordshire, he met Simeon from Cambridge.
“Sir,” said young Simeon, “Sir, I understand you are called an Arminian; now I am sometimes called a Calvinist, and therefore, I suppose, we are to draw daggers. But, before I begin to combat, with your permission, I will ask you a few questions, not from impertinent curiosity, but for real instruction. Pray sir, do you feel yourself a depraved creature, so depraved that you would never have thought of turning to God, if God had not put it into your heart?”
“Yes,” said the veteran, “I do indeed.”
“And do you utterly despair of recommending yourself to God by anything that you can do; and look for salvation solely through the blood and righteousness of Christ?”
“Yes, solely through Christ.”
“But, sir, supposing you were first saved by Christ, are you not somehow or other to save yourself afterwards, by your good works?”
“No; I must be saved by Christ, from first to last.”
“Allowing, then, that you were first turned by the grace of God, are you not in some way or other to keep yourself by your own power?”
“No.”
“What, then? are you to be upheld every hour and every moment by God, as much as an infant in its mother’s arms?”
“Yes, altogether.”
“And is all your hope in the grace and mercy of God, to preserve you unto His heavenly kingdom?”
“Yes, I have no hope but in Him.”
“Then, sir, with your leave, I will put up my dagger again: for this is all my Calvinism; this is my election, my justification, my final perseverance. It is in substance all that I hold, and as I hold it; and, therefore, if you please, instead of searching out terms and phrases to be a ground of contention between us, we will cordially unite in those things wherein we agree.”
Such was the catechetical examination instituted by a young parson of twenty-eight, and submitted to by an old man of eighty-four.
In November, Wesley took another step, which virtually involved a separation from the Church of England. Seventeen years before, in warning his preachers against such a separation, he had not only directed them and the people to attend the services and sacraments of the Church, but to guard against calling preachers “ministers,” and their places of worship “meeting-houses.” “Do not,” said he, “license them as such: the proper form of a petition to the judge or justice is, ‘A. B. desires to have his house in C— licensed for public worship.’” He continued: “Do not license yourself till you are constrained; and then not as a Dissenter, but a Methodist. It is time enough when you are prosecuted, to take the oaths. And by so doing you are licensed.”
Hitherto, Wesley had been opposed to licensing, except in cases of necessity, simply on the ground that this savoured of separation from the Established Church. Now he writes:
“1787, November 3—I had a long conversation with Mr. Clulow,” [his legal adviser,] “on that execrable act called the Conventicle Act. After consulting the Act of Toleration, with that of the fourteenth of Queen Anne, we were both clearly convinced, that it was the safest way to license all our chapels, and all our travelling preachers, not as Dissenters, but simply ‘preachers of the gospel’; and that no justice, or bench of justices, has any authority to refuse licensing either the house or the preachers.”
The “execrable Conventicle Act” was levelled against Dissenters from the Church of England; the Act of Toleration was passed for the relief of such Dissenters; and Wesley, by availing himself of the provisions of that act, ipso facto, conceded the point that the Methodists were Dissenters.
He still, however, persisted in asserting that the Methodists were members of the Church of England; and this involved both him and them in further difficulties. In some instances, the magistrates remarked: “You profess yourselves to be members of the Church of England; therefore, your licences are worthless; nor can you, as members of the Church, receive any benefit from the Act of Toleration.” This was a subtle distinction; and Wesley saw that the Methodists must either profess themselves Dissenters, or be subjected to an indefinite amount of trouble. He was unwilling to alter their relation to the Established Church; and yet he wished them to be saved from this embarrassment. Hence the following, addressed to a member of parliament.
“Dear Sir,—Last month, a few poor people met together in Somersetshire, to pray, and to praise God, in a friend’s house; there was no preaching at all. Two neighbouring justices fined the man of the house £20. I suppose, he was not worth twenty shillings. Upon this, his household goods were distrained, and sold to pay the fine. He appealed to the quarter sessions; but all the justices averred, ‘The Methodists could have no relief from the Act of Toleration, because they went to church; and that, so long as they did so, the Conventicle Act should be executed upon them.’
“Last Sunday, when one of our preachers was beginning to speak to a quiet congregation, a neighbouring justice sent a constable to seize him, though he was licensed; and would not release him till he had paid £20, telling him his licence was good for nothing, ‘because he was a Churchman.’
“Now, sir, what can the Methodists do? They are liable to be ruined by the Conventicle Act, and they have no relief from the Act of Toleration! If this is not oppression, what is? Where then is English liberty? the liberty of Christians, yea, of every rational creature? who, as such, has a right to worship God according to his own conscience. But, waiving the question of right and wrong, what prudence is there in oppressing such a body of loyal subjects? If these good magistrates could drive them, not only out of Somersetshire, but out of England, who would be gainers thereby? Not his majesty, whom we honour and love; not his ministers, whom we love and serve for his sake. Do they wish to throw away so many thousand friends, who are now bound to them by stronger ties than that of interest? If you will speak a word to Mr. Pitt on that head, you will oblige yours, etc.
“John Wesley.”
About the same time, Wesley wrote as follows to a bishop.
“My Lord,—I am a dying man, having already one foot in the grave. Humanly speaking, I cannot long creep upon the earth, being now nearer ninety than eighty years of age. But I cannot die in peace, before I have discharged this office of Christian love to your lordship. I write without ceremony, as neither hoping nor fearing anything from your lordship, or any man living. And I ask, in the name and presence of Him, to whom both you and I are shortly to give an account, why do you trouble those that are quiet in the land; those that fear God and work righteousness? Does your lordship know what the Methodists are? That many thousands of them are zealous members of the Church of England; and strongly attached, not only to his majesty, but to his present ministry? Why should your lordship, setting religion out of the question, throw away such a body of respectable friends? Is it for their religious sentiments? Alas, my lord, is this a time to persecute any man for conscience sake? I beseech you, my lord, do as you would be done to. You are a man of sense; you are a man of learning; nay, I verily believe, (what is of infinitely more value,) you are a man of piety. Then think, and let think. I pray God to bless you with the choicest of His blessings.
“I am, my lord, etc.,
“John Wesley.”
Is it surprising, that the Methodists wished to separate from the Church of England, and that Wesley was led, in fact driven, to take the dissenting steps he did? And yet, to the very last, we find him still adhering to the church of his early choice. Already the Methodists had begun to have service in church hours; but this was far from having his warm approval. Only two days after his consultation with Mr. Clulow, he went to Dorking, where he wrote:
“The congregation was, as usual, large and serious. But there is no increase in the society. So that we have profited nothing by having our service in the church hours, which some imagined would have done wonders. I do not know that it has done more good anywhere in England; in Scotland I believe it has.”
If possible, Wesley was more popular than ever. He writes:
“November 4—The congregation at the new chapel” [City Road] “was far larger than usual; and the number of communicants was so great, that I was obliged to consecrate thrice.” “November 9—A friend offering to bear my expenses, I set out to Nottingham, where I preached a charity sermon for the infirmary, which was the design of my coming. This is not a county infirmary, but is open to all England; yea, to all the world; and everything about it is so neat, so convenient, and so well ordered, that I have seen none like it in the three kingdoms.” “November 25—I preached two charity sermons at West Street, in behalf of our poor children.” “December 16—After preaching at Spitalfields, I hastened to St. John’s, Clerkenwell, and preached a charity sermon for the Finsbury dispensary; as I would gladly countenance every institution of the kind.”
All this was extra work; for Wesley’s chief employment, at the end of every year, was preaching to the London Methodists, and meeting the London classes. Strange to say, the latter was to Wesley an irksome task. Hence he writes:
“1787, November 19—I began the unpleasing work of visiting the classes. I still continue to do this in London and Bristol, as well as in Cork and Dublin. With the other societies, their respective assistants supply my lack of service.”
There were also other things, far from pleasant, requiring his attention. A Laodicean spirit had crept in among the London Methodists, and, in strong terms, he had to warn them of their sin and danger. They were also £300 in debt, and he found it necessary to devise means to make the income equal to the expenditure. His preachers also, and his household, vexed him. He writes:
“1787. Sunday, December 9—I went down at half-hour past five, but found no preacher in the chapel, though we had three or four in the house; so I preached myself. Afterwards, inquiring why none of my family attended the morning preaching, they said it was because they sat up too late. I resolved to put a stop to this; and, therefore, ordered, that (1) every one under my roof should go to bed at nine; that (2) every one might attend the morning preaching; and so they have done ever since.”
Amid all this labour and annoyance, it is amusing to find this venerable man, in the eighty-fifth year of his age, visiting what then answered to the Madame Tussaud’s exhibition of 1871, and evincing a curiosity and a keenness of observation not often equalled by the visitors of the present time. Hence the following.
“December 10—I was desired to see the celebrated waxwork at the museum in Spring Gardens. It exhibits most of the crowned heads in Europe, and shows their characters in their countenance. Sense and majesty appear in the king of Spain; dulness and sottishness in the king of France; infernal subtlety in the late king of Prussia; (as well as in the skeleton Voltaire;) calmness and humanity in the emperor, and king of Portugal; exquisite stupidity in the prince of Orange; and amazing coarseness, with everything that is unamiable, in czarina.
With the exception of contributing to the Arminian Magazine, Wesley’s literary life was ended. He revised former publications, as, for instance, his Notes on the New Testament; and he occasionally published an extract from some other author; but all the original productions of his mind and pen were now published in the magazine. During this present year, he committed to the press a new pocket hymn-book, 24mo, 240 pages; but the work was compiled, not written, and was intended as a substitute for the volume issued in 1785. He also published “Conjectures concerning the Nature of Future Happiness. Translated from the French of Monsieur Bonnet, of Geneva:” 12mo, 12 pages,—a remarkable tract, little known, but full of thought. The following is Wesley’s address “To the Reader.” “Dublin, April 7, 1787. I am happy in communicating to men of sense in this kingdom, and at a very low price, one of the most sensible tracts I ever read.—John Wesley.”
The magazine, as usual, contains six original sermons by Wesley, several of them among the most able and interesting that he ever wrote. That on Temptation is marked by great discrimination and beauty. The one on Dress fearlessly denounces what was then, and still is, a fearfully prevailing evil. Having laid down the principles, that “slovenliness is no part of religion”; and that “there may undoubtedly be a moderate difference of apparel, between persons of different stations”; he proceeds to show, that the natural effects of “adorning ourselves with gold, or pearls, or costly array,” are pride, vanity, anger, and lust; and concludes with one of his most withering addresses to the Methodists then living, and which the Methodists of the present day would do well to ponder.
“Have not many of you grown finer as fast as you have grown richer? As you increased in substance, have you not increased in dress? Witness the profusion of ribbons, gauze, or linen about your heads! What have you profited then by bearing the reproach of Christ? by being called Methodists? Are you not as fashionably dressed as others of your rank that are no Methodists? Do you ask, ‘But may we not as well buy fashionable things as unfashionable?’ I answer, Not if they give you a bold, immodest look, as those huge hats, bonnets, headdresses do. And not, if they cost more. ‘But I can afford it.’ Oh, lay aside for ever that idle nonsensical word! No Christian can afford to waste any part of the substance which God has entrusted him with. How can it be, that, after so many warnings, you persist in the same folly? Is it not hence? There are among you some that neither profit themselves by all they hear, nor are willing that others should; and these, if any of you are almost persuaded to dress as Christians, reason, and rally, and laugh you out of it. O ye pretty triflers, I entreat you not to do the devil’s work any longer. Whatever ye do yourselves, do not harden the hearts of others. And you, that are of a better mind, avoid these tempters with all possible care. You answer, universal custom is against me. Not only the profane, but the religious world, run violently the other way. Look into, I do not say the theatres, but the churches, nay, and the meetings of every denomination (except a few old fashioned quakers, or the people called Moravians); look into the congregations, in London or elsewhere, of those that are styled gospel ministers; look into Northampton chapel, yea, into the Tabernacle, or the chapel in Tottenham Court Road; nay, look into the chapel in West Street, or that in the City Road; look at the very people that sit under the pulpit, or by the side of it,—and are not those that can afford it (I can hardly refrain from doing them the honour of naming their names) as richly, as fashionably adorned, as those of the same rank in other places? This is a melancholy truth. I am ashamed of it; but I know not how to help it. I call heaven and earth to witness this day, that it is not my fault. The trumpet has not given an uncertain sound, for near fifty years last past. O God! Thou knowest I have borne a clear and faithful testimony. In print, in preaching, in meeting the society, I have not shunned to declare the whole counsel of God. I am, therefore, clear of the blood of those that will not hear. It lies upon their own heads. And, yet, I warn you once more, in the name, and in the presence of God, that the number of those that rebel against God is no excuse for their rebellion. He hath expressly told us, Thou shalt not follow the multitude to do evil. I conjure you, all who have any regard for me, show me, before I go hence, that I have not laboured, even in this respect, in vain, for near half a century. Let me see, before I die, a Methodist congregation full as plainly dressed as a quaker congregation. Only be more consistent with yourselves. Let your dress be cheap as well as plain; otherwise, you do but trifle with God and me, and your own souls. I pray, let there be no costly silks among you, how grave soever they may be. Let there be no quaker linen, proverbially so called, for their exquisite fineness; no Brussels lace; no elephantine hats or bonnets, those scandals of female modesty. Be all of a piece, dressed, from head to foot, as persons professing godliness; professing to do everything small and great, with the single view of pleasing God.”
Wesley’s sermon on the Lord’s Supper was written in 1732, and has been already noticed. To the sentiments then avowed, he still adhered.
That on the More Excellent Way is characteristic of himself; and re-enforces his views on early rising, on the manner of transacting business, on food, conversation, amusements, and money. One or two extracts may be given.
“Diversions are of various kinds. Some are almost peculiar to men, as the sports of the field,—hunting, shooting, fishing. Others are indifferently used by persons of both sexes,—as races, masquerades, plays, assemblies, balls, cards, dancing and music; to which may be added, the reading of plays, novels, romances, newspapers, and fashionable poetry. Some diversions, which were formerly in great request, are now fallen into disrepute. The nobility and gentry, (in England at least,) seem totally to disregard the once fashionable diversion of hawking; and the vulgar themselves are no longer diverted by men hacking and hewing each other in pieces at broad sword. The noble game of quarter staff, likewise, is now exercised by very few. Yea, cudgelling has lost its humour, even in Wales itself. Bear baiting is now very seldom seen, and bull baiting not very often. And it seems cock fighting would totally cease in England, were it not for two or three right honourable patrons. It is not needful to say anything more of these foul ‘remains of Gothic barbarity,’ than that they are a reproach, not only to all religion, but even to human nature. One would not pass so severe a censure on the sports of the field. Let those, who have nothing better to do, still run foxes and hares out of breath. Neither need much be said about horse races, till some man of sense will undertake to defend them. It seems a great deal more may be said in defence of seeing a serious tragedy. I could not do it with a clear conscience, at least, not in an English theatre, the sink of all profaneness and debauchery; but possibly others can. I cannot say quite so much for balls, or assemblies; which are more reputable than masquerades, but must be allowed, by all impartial persons, to have exactly the same tendency. So undoubtedly have all public dancings. Of playing at cards, I say the same as seeing of plays. I could not do it with a clear conscience. But I am not obliged to pass any sentence on those that are otherwise minded. I leave them to their own Master; to Him let them stand or fall.
“But supposing these, as well as the reading of plays, novels, newspapers, and the like, to be quite innocent diversions, yet are there not more excellent ways of diverting themselves, for those that love or fear God? Would men of fortune divert themselves in the open air? They may do it, by cultivating and improving their lands, by planting their grounds, by laying out, carrying on, and perfecting their gardens and orchards. At other times, they may visit and converse with the most serious and sensible of their neighbours; or they may visit the sick, the poor, the widows, and fatherless in their afflictions. Do they desire to divert themselves in the house? They may read useful history, pious and elegant poetry, or several branches of natural philosophy. If you have time, you may divert yourselves by music, and perhaps by philosophical experiments. But, above all, when you have once learned the use of prayer, you will find, that this will fill every space of life, be interfused with all your employments, and, wherever you are, whatever you do, embrace you on every side. Then you will be able to say boldly:
On the subject of money, Wesley’s “More Excellent Way,” to the worldly minded, is equally startling, but one which he himself, for fifty years, invariably adopted.
“If you have a family, seriously consider, before God, how much each member of it wants, in order to have what is needful for life and godliness. And, in general, do not allow them less, nor much more than you allow yourself. This being done, fix your purpose, to gain no more. I charge you, in the name of God, do not increase your substance! As it comes daily or yearly, so let it go: otherwise you lay up treasures upon earth; and this our Lord as flatly forbids, as murder and adultery. By doing it, therefore, you would treasure up to yourselves wrath against the day of wrath, and revelation of the righteous judgment of God. But suppose it were not forbidden, how can you, on principles of reason, spend your money in a way, which God may possibly forgive, instead of spending it in a manner which He will certainly reward? You will have no reward in heaven, for what you lay up: you will, for what you lay out. Every pound you put into the earthly bank is sunk; it brings no interest above. But every pound you give to the poor is put into the bank of heaven; and it will bring glorious interest; yea, and such as will be accumulating to all eternity.”
This was plain speaking; but who will undertake to gainsay it?
The sermon on Christian Courtesy is full of the wisdom of an aged, and widely experienced, saint; while that on Former Times Better than These is equally remarkable, and well worth reading.
The Arminian Magazine for 1787 is enriched, as usual, with letters, poetry, biography, apparition anecdotes, and choice extracts from other writers; but, besides these, there are a few other productions from Wesley’s pen, as his able article “On Allegorical Writings in general, and especially the Parables of our Lord”; and his weighty “Thoughts upon Methodism.” We can only afford space for an extract from the latter. He writes:
“I am not afraid, that the people called Methodists should ever cease to exist either in Europe or America. But I am afraid, lest they should only exist as a dead sect, having the form of religion without the power. And this undoubtedly will be the case, unless they hold fast both the doctrine, spirit, and discipline with which they first set out.”
After describing the rise of Methodism, he proceeds:
“From this short sketch of Methodism, any man of understanding may easily discern, that it is only plain, scriptural religion, guarded by a few prudential regulations. The essence of it is holiness of heart and life; the circumstantials all point to this. And as long as they are joined together in the people called Methodists, no weapon formed against them shall prosper. But, if even the circumstantial parts are despised, the essential will soon be lost. And if ever the essential parts should evaporate, what remains will be dung and dross.
“It nearly concerns us to see how the case stands with us at present. I fear, wherever riches have increased (exceeding few are the exceptions) the essence of religion, the mind that was in Christ, has decreased in the same proportion. Therefore, I do not see how it is possible, in the nature of things, for any revival of true religion to continue long. For religion must necessarily produce both industry and frugality; and these cannot but produce riches. But as riches increase, so will pride, anger, and love of the world in all its branches.
“How then is it possible that Methodism, that is, the religion of the heart, though it flourishes now as a green bay tree, should continue in this state? For the Methodists in every place grow diligent and frugal; consequently, they increase in goods. Hence, they proportionably increase in pride, in the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, and the pride of life. So, although the form of religion remains, the spirit is swiftly vanishing away.
“Is there no way to prevent this? this continual declension of pure religion? We ought not to forbid people to be diligent and frugal; we must exhort all Christians, to gain all they can, and to save all they can: that is, in effect, to grow rich! What way then, I ask again, can we take, that our money may not sink us to the nethermost hell? There is one way, and there is no other under heaven. If those who gain all they can, and save all they can, will likewise give all they can, then the more they gain, the more they will grow in grace, and the more treasure they will lay up in heaven.”
Wesley knew not how to flatter. However painful to himself or to others, when he deemed it needful, he never tried to conceal his thoughts. The above was not likely to win him the applause of prosperous and rich Methodists; but that to him was a matter of indifference. His great anxiety was to perpetuate Methodism,—not merely Methodists.
FOOTNOTES:
Percival was one of the itinerant preachers at Newcastle on Tyne.
Methodist Magazine, 1834, p. 674.
Bardsley’s colleagues in Colne circuit.
Manuscript letter in British Museum.
Dr. Harmer had recently published vols. iii. and iv. of his “Observations on various Passages of Scripture.”
Black’s Memoirs, p. 185.
Memoirs of Burgess.
Life of Henry Moore, p. 271.
Ibid. p. 272.
Manuscript journal.
In his “Short Hymns on Select Passages of the Holy Scriptures,” published in 1762, Charles Wesley wrote, concerning the poor itinerants:
(Hymn on Numbers xvi. 10.) “Wesley Poetry,” vol. ix., p. 79.
Manuscript letter.
Methodist Magazine, 1788, p. 486. It is only fair to add that all was not sunshine in America. At the conference of 1784, the American preachers had recorded a declaration that, “during the life of Mr. Wesley they were ready to obey his commands in matters belonging to church government”; but, in 1787, and thenceforward, this declaration was omitted from their printed minutes. Why? Because Wesley, without consulting them, had changed the time and place of holding their conference, and had appointed Richard Whatcoat to be co-superintendent with Francis Asbury.—(Etheridge’s Life of Coke, p. 173.) Dr. Coke was present, and, in a letter printed four years afterwards, pronounced this an “excommunication” of Wesley, and declared that, in his opinion, it hastened Wesley’s death; for, “from the time he was informed of it, he began to hang down his head, and to think he had lived long enough.”—(“Impartial Statement of the known Inconsistencies of Rev. Dr. Coke.” By William Hammet: 1792.) We gravely doubt the correctness of Dr. Coke’s opinion.
Wesley Banner, 1850, p. 114.
Methodist Magazine, 1846, p. 562.
Ibid.
Ibid. p. 563.
Methodist Magazine, 1836, p. 286. The Rev. David Simpson, also, is said to have commenced Sunday-schools, in Macclesfield, as early as the year 1778.—(Evangelical Magazine, 1842, p. 84.)
Methodist Magazine, 1805, p. 1.
Manuscript letter.
Methodist Magazine, 1788, p. 490.
Smith’s History of Methodism.
Drew’s Life of Coke.
Reynolds’s “Anecdotes of Wesley,” p. 25.
Life of Clarke, vol. i., p. 259.
Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 80.
Black’s Memoirs, p. 200.
Crowther’s manuscript autobiography.
Ibid.
Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 6.
Wesleyan Times, Sept. 28, 1868.
Clarkson’s “Abolition of the Slave Trade,” vol. i., p. 447.
Methodist Magazine, 1827, p. 391.
Entwisle’s Memoir, p. 36.
Wesleyan Times, June 19, 1849.
“Wesley the Worthy,” by Dr. Dobbin, p. 91.
Large Minutes, 1770.
Henry Moore says this letter was written in the autumn of 1790; and that, when the lawyer, at the head of the persecution, boasted that he would drive Methodism out of Somersetshire, Wesley quietly remarked, “Yes, when he can drive God out of it.”—(Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 383.)
This letter is without date. Henry Moore says it was written about 1790. (Wesley’s Life, vol. ii., p. 383.)
Atmore’s “History of Persecution,” p. 420.
The infirmary was built in 1781, on land partly given by the Duke of Newcastle, and partly by the corporation. During the first thirty years of its existence, it afforded assistance to 33,926 persons.
Its republication would enrich the pages of the Methodist Magazine of the present day. One conjecture is, that, after the resurrection, “our eyes may unite in themselves the qualities of microscopes and telescopes, and accommodate themselves exactly to all distances.”