1749.
1749
Age 46
IN 1749, Wesley spent four months in London and its vicinity, nearly four in Ireland, ten weeks in Bristol, Wales, and the surrounding neighbourhood, and two months in his tour to the north of England.
His brother employed the year principally in Bristol, Wales, and London, and in visiting intermediate towns and villages.
Whitefield was five months in London, more than five in Bristol and the west of England, and about two were occupied in a visit to Newcastle and the north. In London, besides preaching in the Tabernacle and other places, he acted as the chaplain of the Countess of Huntingdon, and, in her mansion, continued to publish the gospel’s glad tidings to the noble and the rich. Of his seventy-eight published letters, written during 1749, nearly half are addressed to titled ladies. Horace Walpole, in a letter, dated March 23, 1749, remarks: “Methodism in the metropolis is more fashionable than anything but brag; the women play very deep at both; as deep, it is much suspected, as the matrons of Rome did at the mysteries of the Bona Dea. If gracious Anne were alive, she would make an admirable defendress of the new faith, and would build fifty more churches for female proselytes.”[49]
In another letter, dated the 3rd of May, he writes:—“If you ever think of returning to England, you must prepare yourself with Methodism. This sect increases as fast as almost any religious nonsense ever did. Lady Frances Shirley has chosen this way of bestowing the dregs of her beauty; and Mr. Lyttelton is very near making the same sacrifice of the dregs of all those various characters he has worn. The Methodists love your big sinners, as proper subjects to work upon; and, indeed, they have a plentiful harvest. Flagrancy was never more in fashion; drinking is at the highest wine mark; and gaming is joined with it so violently, that, at the last Newmarket meeting, a bank bill was thrown down, and nobody immediately claiming it, they agreed to give it to a man standing by.”[50]
Whitefield wrote: “I am a debtor to all, and intend to be at the head of no party. I believe my particular province is, to go about and preach the gospel to all. My being obliged to keep up a large correspondence in America, and the necessity I am under of going thither myself, entirely prevent my taking care of any societies. I profess to be of a catholic spirit. I have no party to be at the head of, and, through God’s grace, will have none; but, as much as in me lies, strengthen the hands of all, of every denomination, that preach Jesus Christ in sincerity.”[51]
His wife arrived from America at the end of June; and, a few weeks afterwards, he set out for the north of England. In Grimshaw’s church, at Haworth, he had a thousand communicants; and, in the churchyard, about six thousand hearers. In Leeds, his congregation consisted of above ten thousand. On his way to Newcastle, Charles Wesley met him, and, returning with him, introduced him to the Orphan House pulpit. Under the date of October 8, Charles writes “The Lord is reviving His work as at the beginning. Multitudes are daily added to His church. George Whitefield, my brother, and I, are one; a threefold cord, which shall no more be broken. The week before last, I waited on our friend George at our house in Newcastle, and gave him full possession of our pulpit and people’s hearts, as full as was in my power to give. The Lord united all our hearts. I attended his successful ministry for some days. He was never more blessed, or better satisfied. Whole troops of the Dissenters he mowed down. They also are so reconciled to us, as you cannot conceive. The world is confounded. The hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. At Leeds, we met my brother, who gave honest George the right hand of fellowship, and attended him everywhere to our societies. Some at London will be alarmed at the news; but it is the Lord’s doing, as they will by-and-by acknowledge.”[52]
Rightly or wrongly, we thus find Whitefield disassociated from all churches and all societies,—the friend of all, the enemy of none,—an evangelist, not a pastor, making it the one business of his life to spread gospel truth, and to convert sinners from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God.
Wesley intended to visit Rotterdam at the beginning of 1749; but was prevented by a request that he would write an answer to Dr. Middleton’s book against the fathers. He says: “I spent almost twenty days in that unpleasing employment.”
In the middle of the month of February, he and his brother, and Charles Perronet, set out from London for Mr. Gwynne’s, in Wales, for the purpose of making final arrangements for Charles’s marriage. John’s proposal was to give his brother security for the payment of £100 per annum out of the profits of their publications. This was accepted as satisfactory, and Mr. Gwynne and Mr. Perronet were to act as the trustees. Miss Sally Gwynne promised to let Charles continue his vegetable diet and his travelling; and, though Mrs. Gwynne wished to stipulate that he should not go again to Ireland, this, at her daughter’s request, was not enforced. It is a fact, however, that, for some reason, Charles Wesley never visited Ireland after he became the son-in-law of Mrs. Gwynne.
Having completed the negotiations for his brother’s marriage, Wesley hurried off to Bristol; and, at Kingswood, collected together seventeen of his preachers, whom he divided into two classes, for the purpose of reading lectures to them every day, during Lent, as he had formerly done to his pupils at Oxford. To one class, he read Bishop Pearson on the Creed; to the other, Aldrich’s Logic; and to both, “Rules for Action and Utterance.” About a month seems to have been spent in this ministerial training. Who were Wesley’s favoured pupils? This is a question we cannot answer; but, from the books selected, we learn that Wesley’s object was—(1) To teach theology; (2) the science of reasoning; (3) the art of elocution. Leisure hours were occupied in making preparations for the “Christian Library,” and in preaching in the surrounding neighbourhood. Once a week, also, he spent an hour with the assembled children of the four Kingswood schools; namely, the boys boarded in the new house, the girls boarded in the old, the boys in the day-school taught by James Harding, and the girls taught in the day-school by Sarah Dimmock.[53]
Lent terminated on the 26th of March, and, a week afterwards, he returned to Wales for the purpose of performing his brother’s marriage. This took place on the 8th of April, and was, in all respects, a happy one, though there was a considerable disparity in age, Charles being forty, and his bride only twenty-three. Her father was a respected magistrate; her mother an heiress of £30,000. The change from her father’s mansion to a small house in Bristol was great; but she loved her husband, and was never known to regret the comforts she had left behind her. She became the mother of eight children: five died in infancy; three survived their parents, and, by their distinguished talent, added lustre even to the name of Wesley. She died on December 28, 1822, at the age of ninety-six. Her long life was an unbroken scene of devoted piety in its loveliest forms; and her death equally calm and beautiful.
Two days after his brother’s marriage, Wesley set out for Ireland, where he landed at three o’clock on Sunday morning, April 16, and, on the same day, preached thrice to the Dublin Methodists. Having spent a fortnight in the city, where the members had increased from four hundred to four hundred and forty-nine, he started off on a visit to the provincial societies. At Edinberry, he had “an exceedingly well behaved congregation,” including “many Quakers,” and took the appropriate text, “They shall be all taught of God.” At Athlone, his audience comprised seven or eight of the officers, and many of the soldiers of the regiment to which John Nelson had been attached. Great numbers of papists also attended, maugre the labour of their priests. Several sinners were converted, including a man, who, for many years, had been “eminent for cursing, swearing, drinking, and all kinds of fashionable wickedness.” At Limerick, Wesley preached to about two thousand people, not one of whom either laughed, or looked about, or minded anything except the sermon. Here the society had taken a lease of an old abbey, and had turned it into a Methodist meeting-house. He met a class of soldiers, eight of whom were Scotch Highlanders; and was introduced to a gentlewoman of unspotted character, who, for two years, had fancied herself forsaken of God, and possessed with devils; and who blasphemed and cursed, and vehemently desired and yet was afraid to die. Of the Limerick society, he writes: “The more I converse with this people, the more I am amazed. That God hath wrought a great work among them, is manifest; and yet the main of them, believers and unbelievers, are not able to give a rational account of the plainest principles of religion. It is plain, God begins His work at the heart; then ‘the inspiration of the Highest giveth understanding.’”
Having employed seventeen days in Limerick, Wesley, on the 29th of May, set out for Cork; but, on the way, Charles Skelton met him, with the tidings that, in consequence of the late riots (which will be noticed presently), it was now impossible to preach in that city. Wesley was not to be deterred; but he had no sooner entered than “the streets, and doors, and windows were full of people.” Prudently enough, instead of staying, he rode on to Bandon, a town entirely inhabited by Protestants, where he had, by far, the largest congregations he had seen in Ireland. Here he met a clergyman, who had come twelve miles purposely to talk with him. All, however, was not smooth sailing even at Bandon. Dr. B—— averred (1) That both John and Charles Wesley had been expelled from the university of Oxford. (2) That there was not a Methodist left in Ireland, except in Cork and Bandon, all the rest having been rooted out, by order of the government. (3) That neither were there any Methodists left in England. And (4) that Methodism was all Jesuitism at the bottom. Wesley took the opportunity of replying to these slanderous falsehoods; and then proceeded to Blarney, where he found another rumour, that the Methodists placed all religion in wearing long whiskers. At Brough, he preached to “some stocks and stones”; and then got back to Limerick, whose society he pronounced the liveliest people he had found in Ireland.
Here he “spent four, comfortable days,” when, having appointed himself to preach at Nenagh, he was obliged to leave; and, for want of better accommodation, was glad to ride on horseback behind “an honest man,” who overtook him as he trudged on foot. At Gloster, he preached “in the stately saloon” of a beautiful mansion, built by an English gentleman. At Ferbane, where he meant to dine, he stopped at two different inns, but found that “they cared not to entertain heretics.” Again reaching Athlone, he preached in the new built chapel, and, towards the close of his discourse, cried out, “Which of you will give yourself, soul and body, to God?” Mrs. Glass responded, with a cry that almost shook the house, “I will, I will.” Two others followed, and the scene became most exciting. Numbers began to cry aloud for mercy, and, in four days, more found peace with God than had done in sixteen months before. At Portarlington, a town chiefly inhabited by French, he met a clergyman, who was a defender of the Methodists, and formed a society of above a hundred persons.
More than nine weeks were occupied in this excursion. On the 5th of July, Wesley got back to Dublin, and, a fortnight afterwards, returned to England; but, before leaving Ireland, we must recur to Cork.
For some time, Methodism, in Cork, met with no serious opposition; but, at length, by the secret plottings of the clergy, the town corporation was moved, and a ballad singer of the name of Butler was engaged to be the leader of a mob. This despicable fellow, dressed in a parson’s gown and bands, with a Bible in one hand and a bundle of ballads in the other, sang and vended, in the streets, doggerel rhymes, stuffed with the vilest lies respecting the Methodists; and, by this means, inflamed the populace against them. On the 3rd of May, Butler and his ragged retinue assembled at the Methodist meeting-house, and pelted the congregation with dirt. On the day following, stones, as well as mire, were thrown; and both men and women were attacked with clubs and swords, and many were most seriously wounded. On the 5th of May, the mob was greater than ever; the mayor, who saw numbers of the people covered with sludge and blood, refused to interfere; and the two sheriffs of the city, entering the chapel, drove the congregation among the rioters, and nailed up the doors. John Stockdale was beaten, bruised, and gashed; and his wife thrown to the ground, and almost murderously abused. For ten days ensuing, Butler and his rabble assembled before the house of Daniel Sullivan,[54] a baker; beat and abused his customers; then broke his windows and spoiled his goods, the mayor of the city being an indifferent spectator. Not content with this, for another fortnight, the rioters daily gathered at the front of Sullivan’s shattered dwelling, and threatened to pull it down. He applied to the mayor for protection. His worship answered, “It is your own fault for entertaining those preachers.” Upon this, the mob set up a loud huzza, and threw stones faster than ever. Sullivan said, “This is fine usage under a protestant government; if I had a priest saying mass in my house, it would not be touched.” The mayor replied, “The priests are tolerated, but you are not;” and the crowd, thus encouraged, continued throwing stones till midnight. On May 31, the day that Wesley passed through Cork, Butler and his friends assembled at the chapel, and beat, and bruised, and cut the congregation most fearfully. The rioters burst open the chapel doors; tore up the pews, the benches, and the floor, and burnt them in the open street. Other outrages were perpetrated almost daily during the month of June. Butler and his gang of ruffians went from street to street, and from house to house, abusing, threatening, and maltreating the Methodists at their pleasure. Some of the women narrowly escaped with life. Butler, addressing Thomas Burnet, said, “You are a heretic dog; your soul will burn in hell.” Burnet meekly asked, “Why do you use me thus?” Upon which Butler struck him with a stone, and rendered him incapable of working for upwards of a week; and, at the same time, without the least provocation, hit his wife, and so hurt her that she was obliged to take to her bed. Ann Cooshea and her family were called heretic bitches; and then a huge stone was thrown at her head with such force as to render her insensible. Ann Wright was told, by the same inhuman wretches, that they would make her house hotter than hell; her goods were dashed to pieces; while she herself was pelted with all kinds of missiles, and had to quit her shop, and flee for her very life. Margaret Griffin had her clothes torn to tatters; was cut in the mouth; and beaten and abused to such a degree, that she was covered with gore, and spat blood for several days. Jacob Connor was fearfully wounded, and, had not a gentleman interposed, would probably have been killed. Ann Hughes, besides being called most abusive names, was dragged by Butler along the ground; had her clothing rent in pieces; and was stabbed and slashed in both her arms by the sword of the ferocious brute. Butler and his troop came to Mary Fuller’s shop, brandishing a dagger, and swearing he would cleave her skull. He then made a stroke at her head, which must have killed her, had not Henry Dunkle diverted the felon’s aim. Dunkle was seized; had his shirt and clothes torn to tatters; and narrowly escaped an untimely death, by the interference of neighbours. Mary Fuller fled for life, and had her goods hacked to pieces. Margaret Tremnell was violently struck with a club on her arm and back; stones were hurled into her shop; and her property was partly destroyed by the swords of Butler’s mob, and partly thrown into the street.
For two months, these horrible outrages were continued; and, at the end of that period, Wesley writes:—“It was not for those who had any regard, either to their persons or goods, to oppose Mr. Butler after this. So the poor people patiently suffered, till long after this, whatever he and his mob were pleased to inflict upon them.”
Of these subsequent sufferings details are wanting. We only know that, on the 19th of August, twenty-eight depositions respecting Nicholas Butler and his crew were laid before the grand jury of the Cork assizes, and were all thrown out. At the same time, the same jurists made a memorable presentment, “which,” says Wesley, “is worthy to be preserved in the annals of Ireland, to all succeeding generations,” to wit, that Charles Wesley, and seven other Methodist preachers therein named, together with Daniel Sullivan, the honest baker, were all persons of ill fame, vagabonds, and common disturbers of his majesty’s peace, and ought to be transported.
This, of course, gave Butler greater licence than ever. His fiendish persecutions had received a sort of semi-official sanction, and were carried on with the greatest gusto. Even as late as February, 1750, ten months after the outrages first commenced, we find him and his friends entering the house of William Jewell, breaking his windows, beating his wife, and swearing that they would blow out his brains if he offered the least resistance. Mary Philips was abused in the grossest terms, was struck on the head, and narrowly escaped an untimely death. Elizabeth Gardelet, a soldier’s wife, was met by Butler and his rabble; and, without any provocation, the brute struck her with both his fists, and beat her head against a wall. On escaping from him, he pursued her and struck her in the face. Running into a school-yard for shelter, he vociferated, “You whore, you stand on consecrated ground;” threw her across the lane; knocked her down backwards; and otherwise so ill treated her as to occasion her miscarriage.
Several depositions, to this effect, were laid before the grand jury of the Lent assizes; but, like those at the assizes preceding, were all rejected. A true bill, however, was found against Daniel Sullivan for discharging a pistol, without a ball, over the heads of Butler and his mob, while they were pelting him with stones. Several of the preachers, presented as vagabonds in autumn, appeared at these assizes, and were ordered into the dock of common criminals. Butler was the first witness against them. The judge, looking at him with a suspicious eye, asked what his calling was. The worthless fellow hung down his head, and sheepishly replied, “I sing ballads, my lord.” The judge lifted up his hands in surprise, and said, “Here are six gentlemen,” (so he was pleased to style them,) “indicted as vagabonds, and the first accuser is a vagabond by profession.” A second witness, being called, was asked the same question. He impudently answered, “I am an anti-swaddler, my lord.” The judge resented the insolence, and ordered the buffoon out of court. Then turning to the jury, he reprimanded the corporation and others, for suffering such a vagrant as Butler to be the ringleader of a rabble, who had committed such atrocious outrages upon so many of the peaceable and respectable inhabitants of the city; and declared that it was an insult to the court to bring such a case before him. The abettors of this infamous persecution were put to shame, and Butler was discarded; but the riots, as we shall see in the next chapter, were still continued.
One of the rabble was, shortly afterwards, buried in a coffin made of two of the benches which he had stolen from the Methodist meeting-house; while the notorious Butler, in the first instance, went to Waterford, where, in another riot, he lost an arm;[55] and then fled to Dublin, where he dragged out the remainder of his life in well deserved misery, and was actually saved from starving by the charity of the Dublin Methodists.[56]
To these abominable outrages we are indebted for several of Wesley’s tracts, published at this period; as his “Short Address to the Inhabitants of Ireland”; his “Letter to a Roman Catholic”; his “Roman Catechism”; and others, which will be noticed more fully hereafter.
We now return to England. In the month of April, a letter was published in the Bath Journal, alleging that many Methodists of eminence had been publicly charged with the crimes of fornication and adultery, and that one of their preachers had preached the lawfulness of polygamy. Wesley replied to this infamous accusation while in Ireland, and, of course, denied the reported slander.[57]
On August 28, he set out on a two months’ journey to the north of England, during which occurred one of the most painful episodes in his eventful life. But before proceeding further, some account must be given of two of the chief actors in this humiliating scene.
John Bennet was born at Chinley, in Derbyshire; received a good education; was fond of books; and, at the age of seventeen, was placed under the care of Dr. Latham, near Derby, with a view of his studying for the office of the Christian ministry. Before long, however, he engaged himself as clerk to a magistrate; and, at twenty-two, embarked in the business of carrier between Sheffield and Macclesfield, employing a number of horses for conveying goods across mountains, over which carts and wagons had never passed.[58] In 1739, he went to Sheffield races; heard David Taylor preach; sold his racehorse; brought Taylor into Derbyshire; and was converted. He soon relinquished all secular pursuits, and began to preach himself; his “round,” as it was called, extending to Macclesfield, Burslem, Chester, Whitehaven, Bolton, and Manchester.[59] In 1742, he first met with Wesley; and, a year later, became one of his itinerants, and attended the first Methodist conference in 1744.[60] On October 3, 1749, he was married to Grace Murray. Meanwhile, he had introduced Methodism into Stockport and the city of Chester; had been mobbed in Manchester; and had formed a society in Rochdale.[61] At the conference following his marriage, he was appointed to the Cheshire circuit, and was desired to furnish a plan for conducting quarterly meetings; and to pay a special visit to Wednesbury and Newcastle, for the purpose of teaching the Methodists of these circuits “the nature and method” of such meetings.[62] Soon after, he began to grumble, and wrote to Whitefield complaining of Wesley’s discipline and doctrine. Whitefield replied, on June 29, 1750, as follows:—
“I am utterly unconcerned in the discipline of Mr. Wesley’s societies. I can be no competent judge of their affairs. If you and the rest of the preachers were to meet together more frequently, and tell each other your grievances and opinions, it might be of service. This may be done in a very friendly way; and, thereby, many uneasinesses might be prevented. After all, those that will live in peace must agree to disagree in many things with their fellow labourers, and not let little things part or disunite them. I know not well what you mean about gospel privileges. If you mean lovefeasts, bands, etc., these I think are prudential means, and, therefore, prudence should be exercised in the use of them. I am of your opinion, that too much familiarity in these things is hurtful. But it is hard to keep a medium, where a multitude is concerned. As ill effects are discovered, they should be corrected and avoided. The question and answer you refer to, I do not like. I know nothing of Christ’s righteousness being imputed to all mankind. It is enough to say with the Scriptures, ‘that it is imputed to all believers.’ Another seven years’ experience will teach some to handle the word of life in a better manner. You would do well to read more; but whether it would be best for you to pursue, or re-assume, your old studies, unless you are determined to settle, I cannot tell. Reading a Latin author, a little every day, could do you no hurt. It has been my judgment, that it would be best for many of the present preachers to have a tutor, and retire for a while, and be content with preaching now and then, till they were a little more improved. Otherwise, I fear many who now make a temporary figure, for want of a proper foundation, will run themselves out of breath, will grow weary of the work, and leave it. This is the plan I purpose to pursue abroad. Look to Jesus, and let not little things disappoint and move you. If this be your foible, beware, and pray that Satan may not get an advantage over you. He will be always striving to vex and unhinge you. The Lord be with you and yours, and give Mrs. Bennet faith and courage in her approaching hour!”[63]
Besides being in other respects of some importance, Whitefield’s letter will help the reader to understand Bennet’s subsequent career. It was not nine months since his marriage with Grace Murray; and, eighteen months after this, he stood up in the Bolton chapel, and said, “I have no longer any connection with Mr. Wesley. He denies the perseverance of the saints, and asserts sinless perfection. All of you, who are of my mind, follow me.” The society did so; for, out of a hundred and twenty-seven members, only nineteen remained faithful. He then went to Stockport, where, after preaching, he met the society, told them what he had done at Bolton, and added, “You must take either me or Mr. Wesley.” They all joined him, but one, Molly Williamson. He promised to preach to them every fortnight; but, within a year, utterly forsook them.[64]
Here we have the first Methodist agitator. Bennet pursued his divisive career. On December 30, 1751, Thomas Mitchell preached at Bolton, after which Bennet met the shattered society, spoke bitterly of Wesley, and said he was a pope, and preached nothing but popery. Spreading out his hands, he cried, “Popery! popery! popery! I have not been in connection with him these three years, neither will I be any more.” Thomas Mitchell said, “The spirit in which you now speak is not of God; neither are you fit for the pulpit, while you are of such a spirit”; upon which a woman struck Mitchell in the face. The congregation was now in uproar, and Mitchell quietly retired. The day following, however, Bennet went to the quarterly meeting, and repeated to all the stewards of the circuit what he had said, on the previous evening, to the Bolton society. “His mind,” says Thomas Mitchell, “was wholly set against Mr. Wesley, and against the whole Methodist doctrine and discipline; and he had so infused his own spirit into the people in many places, that I had hard work among them. But the Lord kept my soul in peace and love. Glory be unto His holy name!”[65]
Such was John Bennet, the first Methodist reformer,—a man of respectable social position, and a classical scholar; but a man not overstocked with honesty and honour, a man of energy, but somewhat conceited, a hard worker, and, we hope, devout, but also suspicious, testy, and vindictive,—a man whose early labours were greatly blessed, but who, in 1754, settled at Warburton, a small village of four or five hundred inhabitants, situated about six miles eastward of the town of Warrington; where, in a chapel erected for his use, he continued to preach Calvinistic doctrines for the next five years, when he was seized with jaundice, and, after an illness of thirty-six weeks, finished his course on May 24, 1759, aged forty-five.[66] His wife, who had no little experience, says she never saw any saint’s death to equal his. Addressing him, she said, “Thou art not afraid of dying?” “No,” he answered, “I am assured, beyond a doubt, that I shall be with Christ. I long to be dissolved. Come, Lord Jesus! Loose me from the prison of this clay!” She asked again, “Canst thou now stake thy soul on the doctrines thou hast preached?” “Yes,” said he, “ten thousand souls. It is the everlasting truth. Stick by it.” He then prayed for his wife, his children, and the church, after which he said, “I long to be gone. I am full. My cup runneth over. Sing, sing, yea, shout for joy”; and with the words, “Sing, sing, sing,” upon his lips, he died.
Grace Murray, his wife and widow, was the daughter of Robert and Grace Norman, of Newcastle upon Tyne, and was born January 28, 1716. In early childhood, she was religiously disposed, read the Bible, and gave all her pence to relieve the poor. Between eight and nine she was sent to a dancing school, lost her religious impressions, and became an admired companion of the gay and frivolous. At sixteen, she commenced sweethearting, and, at eighteen, was pressed by her attentive swain to marry; but, being averse to this, she removed to London to her sister. Here she became a servant, and, as far as her circumstances permitted, was swallowed up in worldly pleasures and diversions. At the age of twenty, she married a sailor of the name of Alexander Murray, who, three or four days after the marriage ceremony, went to sea, and was absent for ten or eleven months. Her husband, however, though a sailor, was related to a Scottish family of some importance, who, being concerned in the rebellion of 1715, had forfeited their estate, and suffered other loss and inconvenience. Her first affliction was the death of an infant child, fourteen months of age. This made her serious, and she began to attend the ministry of Whitefield and the Wesleys. She became a penitent; and, while reading Romans v., found peace with God, through faith in Christ. Her husband, returning from a voyage, and finding she had become a Methodist, swore that she should not hear the Methodists again. Grace told him, that if she yielded to him in this, she should lose her soul. He stamped and raved and swore: “You shall leave them or me.” She answered: “I love you above any one else on earth; but I will leave you and all that I have, sooner than I will leave Christ.” He threatened to send her to the mad house in West Gardens. She replied: “I am ready to go not only to prison, but to death. I know in whom I have believed, and am confident He would give me strength to confess Him in the flames.” Her husband said: “If you are resolved to go on thus, I will leave you; I will go as far as ships can sail.” She answered: “I cannot help it; I could lay down my life for you; but I cannot destroy my soul. If you are resolved to go, you must go; I give you up to God.”
In process of time, Murray softened, and he himself became a penitent, desiring nothing so much as to know Jesus Christ and Him crucified. In August, 1741, he sailed for Virginia, and, in the same month of the year following, the ship returned with the tidings that he had been drowned at sea.
In October, Grace Murray returned to her mother’s, at Newcastle, a young, fascinating widow of twenty-six. She was no sooner settled, than John Brydon fell in love with her, and, though there was no engagement, it was commonly supposed they were about to marry. Meanwhile, she was appointed leader of several classes, and made excursions to Horsley, Tanfield, and neighbouring villages, speaking to the people, and praying with the societies. Thomas Meyrick, one of the preachers, being ill, she, at Wesley’s desire, removed to the Orphan House to take care of him; but a feminine squabble between her and sister Jackson soon led to her returning to her mother’s.
In the spring of 1743, she came back to London; and then returned to Newcastle in the autumn following, where she devoted herself altogether to the service of the church. Her home was the Orphan House. Part of every week she spent with her classes and the sick; the rest in visiting the country societies. She and sister Jackson had renewed quarrels, which, at the end of a year, led to her again retiring from what ought to have been a holy and happy family. In the meantime, John Brydon married another woman, and soon became careless about religious matters. “This,” says Grace Murray, “shocked me exceedingly. I was afraid his blood would be upon my head, because I did not marry him.” She fell into deep despondency; saw nothing but hell before her; wished she had been a beast or creeping thing; was tempted to dash out her brains. “I was got to such a pass,” she says, “that no preaching did me any good; so wise, that I thought I knew all before the preacher spoke. The Holy Spirit was grieved. My state daily grew worse and worse; and I was even ready to disbelieve in the Bible itself.” For about two years, she continued in this mournful and distressed condition, when she was again enabled to rejoice in God her Saviour, and again became an inmate of the Orphan House. Here, during the autumn of 1745 and the spring of 1746, besides her usual employment in town and country, she had to nurse John Haughton, William Sheppard, and Thomas Westall, all of whom were seriously attacked by fever. In 1747, she had to render the same service to John Wheatley, Edward Dunstan, and Eleazer Webster, who were all ill in the house together. John Bennet, also, was seized with fever, and for twenty-six weeks was tended by her with the greatest care. Such was the life she lived until the autumn of 1748, when she and the other Orphan House sisters again had quarrels, and, for this and another reason to be mentioned shortly, she left the family for ever.
In October, 1749, she became the wife of John Bennet, and, of course, was with him in all his disreputable railings against Wesley. To some extent, she sympathised with the action that her husband took, and also embraced his Calvinistic creed. She was left a widow with five sons, the eldest not eight years old; and, ever after, lived a life of religious retirement. She rose early, prayed much, watched the education of her children, observed great order in her domestic matters, read largely, entertained gospel ministers, visited the sick, and had weekly meetings for prayer and Christian fellowship, chiefly conducted by herself. Having seen those of her children, who were spared, settled in life, she removed to Chapel-en-le-frith, where she again joined the Methodists, and had a class-meeting in her house. Her diary, begun in 1792 and continued for eight years afterwards, when her eyesight failed her, is rich and beautiful. She died on February 23, 1803, aged eighty-seven, after a widowhood of nearly four and forty years. Her last words were: “Glory be to Thee, my God; peace Thou givest.” Dr. Bunting, at that time one of the circuit preachers, preached her funeral sermon, from a text of her own choosing: “I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”[67]
We now reluctantly proceed to dwell on matters of extreme delicacy, and which, under ordinary circumstances, ought not to be introduced; but the case before us is exceptional. John Wesley’s courtship with Grace Murray has been noticed by all his biographers; but, as Mr. Jackson observes:—“all the circumstances of the case have never been disclosed, and the affair is still involved in considerable mystery.”[68] In its ultimate effects, it was one of the great events in Wesley’s history. Curiosity has been excited, but never satisfied. What is the truth respecting it? Who was the faithless one? What were the tricks employed? Who were the censurable parties? Did Wesley act discreetly, or did he act dishonourably? Does the transaction stain the character of the great reformer, or is he innocent and injured? These are questions of some importance, and must serve as an apology for the introduction of details usually omitted in the biographical memoirs of illustrious men.
It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley contemplated marriage early in the year 1748. In the month of August following, his brother was seized, at Newcastle, with what seems to have been a bilious attack, and which, to some extent, disabled him, though, during its six days’ continuance, he managed to preach at Biddick, at Pelton, at Spen, at Horsley, and at Newcastle. Grace Murray attended him during his sickness. When he was somewhat recovered, he proposed to marry her. She seemed amazed, and said, “This is too great a blessing for me; I can’t tell how to believe it. This is all I could have wished for under heaven!” From that time, Wesley regarded her as his affianced bride.
In a week or ten days after making his proposal of marriage, Wesley was obliged to leave Newcastle for the south. The night before he started, he told Grace Murray that he was fully convinced God intended her to be his wife; and that, though they must part at present, he hoped when they again met, they would part no more. The young widow begged they might not separate so soon, saying it was more than she could bear. Upon this, Wesley took her with him through Yorkshire and Derbyshire, where, he says, “she was unspeakably useful both to him and to the societies.” Here they parted, Grace Murray being left with Bennet, and Wesley making his way to London.
Is it unfair to suspect some dishonourable collusion here? Let us see. A year before, John Bennet, for twenty-six weeks, was an invalid in the Orphan House, at Newcastle, and was nursed by widow Murray. From that time, they carried on an epistolary correspondence. Meanwhile, Wesley had proposed marriage, and his proposal had been ardently accepted. Grace Murray was so deeply smitten, that she was unable to bear the thought of Wesley leaving her. To satisfy and give her pleasure, he, perhaps indiscreetly, took her with him; but, on reaching John Bennet’s circuit, he was permitted to proceed alone, and she contentedly remained with a man whom she had nursed in sickness for half a year, and with whom she had corresponded ever since. Added to all this, no sooner had Wesley left the loving couple, than they both wrote to him; Bennet desiring his consent to marry her; and she declaring that she believed it was the will of God she should. Wesley was “utterly amazed, but wrote a mild answer to both, supposing they were married already.” Further correspondence followed. For six months, immediately succeeding, she coquetted between the two. When she heard from Wesley, she resolved to live and to die with him. When Bennet wrote, she replied to him in the tenderest terms. In February, 1749, she sent to Bennet the intelligence, that Wesley had requested her to accompany him to Ireland; that, if he loved her, he must meet her at Sheffield; and that, if he failed in this, she could not answer for results. Bennet determined to go to Sheffield; but, at the last moment, was prevented by the death of a relative. The widow, therefore, went on to Bristol without seeing him. Here there were mutual explanations. She related to Wesley what had passed between Bennet and herself, and seemed to think, that the contract was binding. Wesley, on the other hand, reminded her of what had passed between himself and her; and she professed herself quite convinced, that her engagement with Bennet was not binding; and, accordingly, she and Wesley went off to Ireland.
Here they passed several months together. “She examined all the women in the smaller societies, and the believers in every place. She settled all the women bands, visited the sick, prayed with the mourners, more and more of whom received remission of sins, during her conversation or prayer.” To Wesley himself “she was both a servant and a friend, as well as a fellow labourer in the gospel. She provided everything he wanted; and told him, with all faithfulness and freedom, if she thought anything amiss in his behaviour. The more they conversed together, the more he loved her; and, at Dublin, they contracted by a contract de præsenti. All this while she neither wrote to Bennet, nor he to her.”
At the end of July, they returned to Bristol. Here she heard some idle tales concerning Wesley and Molly Francis. Jealousy took possession of her, and she addressed a loving letter to forsaken Bennet, and received an answer, that he would meet her in her journey to the north.
In August, she came with Wesley to London. Here a friend advised her to abandon the thought of marrying Wesley, on the ground, that the London Methodists would never treat her with the respect which Wesley’s wife ought to have; and, that she had not sufficient humility and meekness to bear the slights that would be cast upon her.
On August 28, they started for Newcastle; and, at Epworth, John Bennet met them. Wesley began to “speak to him freely.” Bennet told him, that Grace Murray had sent to him all the letters which Wesley had sent to her. This decided Wesley. He judged it right, that she and Bennet should marry without delay, and wrote her a line accordingly. On receiving it, she ran to Wesley “in an agony of tears, and begged him not to talk so, unless he designed to kill her.” Immediately after, Bennet came to Wesley, and “claimed her as his right”; and Wesley again “determined to give her up.” Four or five days were spent at Epworth. Wesley had fully made up his mind to let John Bennet have her, though he felt the deepest anguish from what he calls “a piercing conviction of his irreparable loss.” While thus suffering, a message was brought him, that “sister Murray was exceeding ill.” He went to her. She cried, “How can you think I love any one better than I love you! I love you a thousand times better than I ever loved John Bennet in my life. But I am afraid, if I don’t marry him, he’ll run mad.” At night, Bennet came to visit her, and, at his urgent request, she again promised to be his wife. Next morning she told Wesley what had passed; and he was more perplexed than ever.
On September 4, they proceeded to Newcastle, resting on the way at Sykehouse, and at Osmotherley. For several days, Wesley was unable to decide how to act; but on September 6, he asked her, “Which will you choose?” Again and again she declared, “I am determined, by conscience as well as by inclination, to live and die with you.” Accordingly, the day following, he wrote a long letter to Bennet, remonstrating with him on his unjust, unkind, and treacherous behaviour. This was sent by the hand of William Shent, but was not delivered. She also wrote to Bennet to the same effect.
She now urged Wesley to marry her immediately. To this he objected, because he wished—(1) To satisfy John Bennet; (2) to procure his brother’s consent; (3) to send an account of his reasons for marrying to all his preachers and societies, and to desire their prayers. She said she would not be willing to wait longer than a year. He answered, “Perhaps less time will suffice.” She seemed satisfied, and every day and almost every hour assured him of the most intense and inviolable affection; and declared God had now united them for ever.
She was not without enemies, and Wesley took the opportunity of inquiring their reasons for disliking her. Sister Lyddell’s reason was, because Grace had had the impudence to ride into Newcastle with him. Mr. Williams accused her of not lending his wife her saddle; and Mrs. Williams of buying a holland shift. Nancy and Peggy Watson were angry, because she had bought a joseph before she wanted it. Ann Matteson complained of her being proud and insolent; and Betty Graham of her spending ten shillings upon an apron. Wesley regarded all this as the fruit of vexatious jealousy.
On September 20 they went, with Christopher Hopper, to Hineley Hill. Hopper was made their confidant. In his presence, they renewed the contract they had made in Dublin; after which he was despatched to Chinley, in Derbyshire, to try to satisfy John Bennet. Wesley himself went forward to Whitehaven; his betrothed being left behind to examine the women bands in Allandale.
Meanwhile, Wesley had written to his brother Charles at Bristol. Charles was shocked at the thought of his brother marrying at all, and especially of his marrying a woman who had been a domestic servant; and believed, that it would break up all their societies, and put a stop to the work of God. Instead of replying to his brother’s letter, Charles hurried down to Leeds, and thence posted to Newcastle, where Jeannie Keith informed him that, in consequence of his brother’s contemplated marriage, the town was in an uproar, and all the societies ready to fall in pieces. He hastened to Whitehaven, and told his brother, that all their preachers would leave them, and all their societies disperse, if he married so mean a woman. Wesley weighed the reasons alleged against his marrying. He acknowledges that, at the age of seven and twenty, he was persuaded that “it was unlawful for a priest to marry”; and that, soon after, he was brought to think that there was some degree of taint upon the mind, necessarily attending the marriage bed. Further inquiry, however, had led him to alter his opinions. The meanness of Grace Murray’s origin was no objection, for he had regarded her, not for her birth, but for her qualifications. She was remarkably neat; nicely frugal, yet not sordid; gifted with a large amount of common sense; indefatigably patient, and inexpressibly tender; quick, cleanly, and skilful; of an engaging behaviour, and of a mild, sprightly, cheerful, and yet serious temper; while, lastly, her gifts for usefulness were such as he had not seen equalled. His conclusions were: (1) “have scriptural reason to marry. (2) I know no person so proper as this.”
Next morning his brother left him, and proceeded to Hineley Hill. Meeting the intended bride, he kissed her, and said, “Grace Murray, you have broken my heart.” By some means, he persuaded her to ride behind him to Newcastle, where John Bennet was awaiting their arrival. She fell at her lover’s feet, acknowledged she had used him ill, and begged he would forgive her. Within a week, the two were made man and wife in St. Andrew’s church.
Whitefield was at Leeds, and, by Joseph Cownley, wrote to Wesley, desiring him to come to him. Wesley went, and was told by Whitefield, that his brother refused to leave Newcastle till John Bennet and Grace Murray had been united in marriage bonds. Perceiving Wesley’s trouble, Whitefield wept and prayed over him, and did all he could to comfort him. The day after, Charles and the newly married couple came. Charles, with characteristic impetuosity, accosted his brother, saying, “I renounce all intercourse with you, but what I would have with a heathen man or a publican.” Whitefield and John Nelson burst into tears; prayed, cried, and entreated, till the storm passed over. The brothers, unable to speak, fell on each other’s neck. John Bennet was introduced; but, instead of upbraiding, Wesley kissed him. Wesley and his brother had a private interview, and, on hearing explanations, Charles was utterly amazed, exonerated him from blame, and declared that all the culpability was hers.
Thus the matter ended. Wesley patiently submitted; but this was, unquestionably, one of the greatest trials of his life. In a long hymn of thirty-one six lined stanzas, he poured forth the sorrows of his heart.[69] Four days after the marriage, he wrote as follows, to Mr. Thomas Bigg, of Newcastle:—
“Leeds, October 7, 1749.
“My dear Brother,—Since I was six years old, I never met with such a severe trial as for some days past. For ten years, God has been preparing a fellow labourer for me, by a wonderful train of providences. Last year I was convinced of it; therefore I delayed not, but, as I thought, made all sure beyond a danger of disappointment. But we were soon after torn asunder by a whirlwind. In a few months, the storm was over; I then used more precaution than before, and fondly told myself that the day of evil would return no more. But it too soon returned. The waves rose again since I came out of London. I fasted and prayed, and strove all I could; but the sons of Zeruiah were too hard for me. The whole world fought against me; but above all, my own familiar friend. Then was the word fulfilled, ‘Son of man, behold! I take from thee the desire of thine eyes at a stroke; yet shalt thou not lament, neither shall thy tears run down.’
“The fatal, irrecoverable stroke was struck on Tuesday last. Yesterday I saw my friend (that was), and him to whom she is sacrificed. I believe you never saw such a scene. But ‘why should a living man complain? a man for the punishment of his sins?’
“I am, yours affectionately,
“John Wesley.”[70]
Wesley was not without friends to sympathise with him. Vincent Perronet, in a letter to Charles Wesley, wrote:—
“Yours came to hand to-day. I leave you to guess how such news must affect a person whose very soul is one with yours and our friend. Let me conjure you to soothe his sorrows. Pour nothing but oil and wine into his wounds. Indulge no views, no designs, but what tend to the honour of God, the promoting the kingdom of His dear Son, and the healing of our wounded friend. How would the Philistines rejoice, could they hear that Saul and Jonathan were in danger from their own swords!”[71]
Wesley had an interview with Grace Bennet three days after her dishonourable marriage; but, for thirty-nine years afterwards, they never met again. In 1788, when her son was officiating at a chapel in Moorfields, she came to visit him, and expressed a wish to see her distinguished and too faithful lover. Wesley went; the meeting was affecting, but soon over; and he was never heard to mention even her name afterwards.[72]
This has been a painful exposure. Perhaps the writer will be blamed for giving details usually too delicate to be put in print; but it must be borne in mind, that the whole of what is here related has been already published. Besides, up to a recent period, this episode in Wesley’s history has been a puzzle to all his biographers. It has never been explained. Mystery has enwrapped it. Readers have been left in doubt who were the parties to be blamed. Now there can be no great difficulty in pronouncing judgment. John Wesley was a dupe. Grace Murray was a flirt. John Bennet was a cheat. Charles Wesley was a sincere, but irritated, impetuous, and officious friend. Fancy wonders what would have been the result, if Grace Murray had become John Wesley’s wife; and probability suggests that one result would have been, that Mrs. Vazeille would not have had the opportunity of tormenting him as her second husband. But would he have been happy? We doubt it. Joseph Cownley was not far wrong, when, being interrogated by John Bennet, he replied, “If Grace Murray consult her ambition, she will marry Mr. Wesley; if she consult her love, she will marry you.”[73] Ambition properly controlled is not an evil; but ambition in a wife, unmixed with love, inevitably engenders discontent and misery. Besides, it is fair to ask the question, would Wesley’s marrying Grace Murray have been satisfactory to his friends? Wesley was a scholar, an author, and a minister of high repute; his friends included not only thousands of the labouring classes, but a fair sprinkling of brother clergymen, and a few who were men of wealth and position. Was it likely that such friends would look with approbation upon a marriage which was a mesalliance? Was not such a marriage calculated to injure Wesley’s influence with the general public? Was it not likely to give an advantage to his enemies? Was it not probable, that it would create disaffection among his preachers, and among his societies? Does not lowliness like to see leadership maintain its dignity? Charles Wesley was culpable for the impetuosity of his interference, and for some of the means he used to effect his purpose; but his alarm was reasonable, and his interposition needed. The fact is, though his brother doubtless loved Grace Murray, she was not worthy of his love. It was a huge imprudence to make her his travelling companion, first in the northern counties, and then, for months, in the sister island. All must admit this. His conduct throughout was honest and honourable, though, at the same time, foolish, and unworthy of his character and position. Without doubt, she was talented, talkative, and bewitching; her services also, as a female itinerant, were popular, and, in a certain sense, successful; but Wesley’s opinion of her character and piety was far higher than our own. The woman who, after a few years of high religious profession, could, for so long a period, sink into almost sceptical depression, and yet, all the while, meet her bands and go through all the other Methodistic duties prescribed for her, as though nought had happened,—the woman who was almost constantly in hot water with her neighbours, and with the other Orphan House sisters; and who so infamously coquetted with the greatest reformer of the age, and with one of his most educated and able helpers,—was not the perfect saint that Wesley pictured her. She was a woman of energy, of dauntless resolution, and of a certain sort of religious zeal; and, late in life, she seems to have been a loving, lovely Christian; but, at the period of her dualistic courtship, she was uneducated, vain, fickle, selfish, and presuming. Her husband wanted her, and got her; and we hope, and doubt not, that their married life was happy; but even Bennet was deserving of a more worthy wife; for, though his treatment of Wesley was, in the first instance, treacherous, and afterwards abusive, he was almost the only one of Wesley’s itinerants who was a man of education and of property; and, both before his marriage and after it, was an earnest, zealous, brave, and useful preacher. But now we bid adieu to Wesley’s flirting sweetheart, and his rival lover; and, with deep regret, begrudge the space we have felt it right to give them.
Wesley’s fortitude was one of his greatest virtues. Terrible had been his disappointment and his trial; and yet, on Friday, October 6, the day after the stormy salutation of his brother, and his painful interview with Bennet and his bride, we find him preaching once at Birstal, and twice at Leeds. He then made a brief eight days’ visit to Newcastle, where, he writes, “at a meeting of the select society such a flame broke out as was never there before. We felt such a love to each other as we could not express; such a spirit of supplication, and such a glad acquiescence in all the providences of God, and confidence that He would withhold from us no good thing.” This was the more remarkable, as, only ten days before, his irritated brother had so severely censured him among the Newcastle Methodists, that the Orphan House was full of anger and confusion. Sister Proctor said, she would leave the house immediately. John Whitford, in the fourth year of his itinerancy, declared that he would no longer be a helper. Matthew Errington dreamed that the Orphan House was all in flames; another dreamer saw Wesley himself in hell; while Jeannie Keith oracularly pronounced him one of the children of Satanas.[74] The fire was fierce, but, for want of fuel, was soon extinguished.
Strangely enough, on leaving Newcastle, Wesley went, at the request of John Bennet, to Rochdale. His home was at Bankhouse, the residence of Mr. Healey, the grandfather of the Messrs. Healey, of Liverpool.[75] On entering the town, he found the streets lined with a vast multitude of people, shouting, cursing, blaspheming, and gnashing on him with their teeth; but, notwithstanding this, he preached, taking as his text, “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts.”
From Rochdale, he went to Bolton, and soon found that the Rochdale lions were lambs, in comparison with those at Bolton. Edward Perronet was thrown down and rolled in mud and mire. Stones were hurled, and windows broken. John Bennet was made a captive, and was hemmed in on every side; but “laid hold of the opportunity to tell them the terrors of the Lord.” Wesley preached thrice, and with such effect, that, before he left, he and his party “could walk through every street of the town; and none molested or opened his mouth, unless to thank or bless them.”
Leaving Bolton, Wesley proceeded to Bristol, and thence to London, which he reached on November 10. Here he received a letter from Johannes de Koker, of Rotterdam, telling him, that he was about to translate and publish his “Plain Account,” and his “Character of a Methodist”; and advising him to “avoid, more than he would a mad dog or a venomous serpent, the multiplying of dogmas, and disputations about things unnecessary”; for these had “been the two stratagems of Satan, by which he had caused the church, insensibly and by degrees, to err from evangelical simplicity and purity.”
Wesley was again involved in trouble with the Moravians. In a collection of tracts, they printed all the passages they could glean from his various writings, that were calculated to prejudice the Lutherans against the Methodists. In the London Daily Post, they ostentatiously announced to the English public, that the Methodists and Moravians were not the same; and sent to the editor of that journal, “the declaration of Louis, late bishop and trustee of the Brethren’s church.” Wesley writes: “the Methodists, so called, heartily thank brother Louis for his declaration; as they count it no honour to be in any connection either with him or his brethren.” He then adds: “but why is he ashamed of his name? The Count’s name is Ludwig, not Louis; no more than mine is Jean or Giovanni.”
It was probably this scrimmage which led to the publication, in 1749, either by Wesley or his friends, of a small 12mo pamphlet of twelve pages, with the title, “Hymns composed for the use of the Brethren. By the Right Reverend and Most Illustrious C. Z. Published for the benefit of all mankind. In the year 1749.”[76] Neither printer nor compiler’s name is given; but there is an address “to the reader,” as follows: “The following hymns are copied from a collection printed, some months since, for James Hutton, in Fetter Lane, London. You will easily observe, that they have no affinity at all to that old book called the Bible: the illustrious author soaring as far above this, as above the beggarly elements of reason and common sense.”[77]
Zinzendorf’s worst wisher could have published nothing more calculated to create disgust against him, as the Moravian hymnist, than this. The sufferings of the Lord Jesus are represented as “shining from the Moravian handmaid.” The believer is “a little bee, resting from the hurry and flurry of earth on the breast of Jesus.” The wounded side of the blessed Saviour is “God’s side-hole, sparkling with an everlasting blaze,” and to which prayer is offered; the poet licks it, like rock salt, and finds no relish to equal it; and, as a snail creeps into its house, so he creeps into it. To multiply such ideas would be criminal. We content ourselves with giving a single verse, intended to be a description of the Moravian church:
“The daughters reverence do,
Christess, and praise thee too
Thou happy Kyria, daughter of Abijah,
Ve-Ruach Elohah, sister of Jehovah.
Manness of the man Jeshuah,
Out of the Pleura hosannah.”[78]
Is it surprising, that Wesley “counted it no honour” to be connected with a man who could write such profane balderdash as this? or with a church, which was insane enough, in the service of sacred song, to sing it?
The conference of 1749 was held in London, on the 16th of November and following days. The chief subject discussed seems to have been, the possibility of joining all the societies in the kingdom in a general union; and the desirability of investing the stewards of the London society with power to consult together for the good of all.
The conference being ended, Wesley retired to his friend Perronet’s, at Shoreham, that he might be at leisure to employ his pen. Here he spent about a fortnight; then a week at Lewisham; and about another week at Newington.
We conclude, as before, with a list of Wesley’s publications during 1749.
1. “Excerpta ex Ovidio, Virgilio, Horatio, Juvenali, Persio, et Martiali. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 242 pages.
2. “Caii Sallustii Crispi Bellum Catilinarium et Jugurthinum. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 110 pages.
3. “Cornelii Nepotis excellentium Imperatorum Vitæ. In Usum Juventutis Christianæ. Edidit Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ Presbyter.” 12mo, 100 pages.
4. “A Short Latin Grammar.” 12mo, 48 pages.
5. “A Short Account of the School in Kingswood, near Bristol.” 12mo, 8 pages.
6. “Directions concerning Pronunciation and Gesture.” 12mo, 12 pages.
This last publication was intended, “in usum juventutis Christianæ”; but it was also meant for his helpers, and may still be profitably studied by numbers of Wesley’s ministerial successors. “A good pronunciation is nothing but a natural, easy, and graceful variation of the voice, suitable to the nature and importance of the sentiments we deliver.” “The first business of a speaker is so to speak, that he may be heard and understood with ease.” Persons with weak voices are recommended to strengthen them, by “reading or speaking something aloud, for at least half an hour every morning.” “The chief faults of speaking are—1. The speaking too loud. 2. The speaking too low, which is more disagreeable than the former. 3. The speaking in a thick cluttering manner, mumbling and swallowing words and syllables, to cure which defect, Demosthenes repeated orations every day with pebbles in his mouth. 4. The speaking too fast, a common fault, but not a little one. 5. The speaking too slow. 6. The speaking with an irregular, desultory and uneven voice. But, 7. The greatest and most common fault of all, is, the speaking with a tone—in some instances womanish and squeaking; in others singing or canting; in others high, swelling, and theatrical; in others awful and solemn; and in others, odd, whimsical, and whining.” In reference to gesture, Wesley remarks, that it is more difficult for a man to find out the faults of his own gesture than those of his pronunciation; because he may hear his own voice, but cannot see his own face. He recommends the use of a large looking glass, after the example of Demosthenes; or, what is better still, to have some excellent pattern constantly in view. Directions are given concerning the motions of the body, of the head, the face, the eyes, the mouth, the hands. The mouth must never be turned awry; neither must a speaker bite or lick his lips, shrug his shoulders, or lean upon his elbow. He must never clap his hands, nor thump the pulpit. The hands should seldom be lifted higher than the eyes; and should not be in perpetual motion, for this the ancients called “the babbling of the hands.”
Wesley’s tract is small and unpretending; but it would not be a waste of time if the students at Didsbury, Richmond, and Headingley would occasionally give it their serious attention.
7. “An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s Journal, from September 3, 1741, to October 27, 1743.” 12mo, 123 pages.
8. “A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Conyers Middleton, occasioned by his late ‘Free Inquiry.’” 12mo, 102 pages. Middleton was born at Richmond, in Yorkshire, in 1683, and died the year after Wesley wrote his letter. He was a favourite of George I.; was hated by Dr. Bentley, the master of his college; had three wives; was Woodwardian professor, and the university librarian; a writer of great powers, but more an oneht of whose productions are debased by the leaven of infidelity. Of an irritable temper, he was always creating antagonists instead of friends. But for his doubtful opinions and his quarrelsome disposition, he might have adorned as well as acquired a mitre, instead of which he held, at the time of his decease, no preferment but a small living given to him by Sir John Frederick. The work which gave birth to Wesley’s letter had recently been published, and was entitled, “A Free Inquiry into the Miraculous Powers, which are supposed to have subsisted in the Christian Church, from the earliest ages, through several successive centuries.” Middleton’s professed object was to denounce the practice of taking the primitive fathers as exponents of the Christian faith, because this gave to papists an unassailable advantage in the defence of their superstitions and errors. He rightly contends, that “the Bible only is the religion of protestants”; but, in pushing his principle, he was, perhaps wrongly, suspected of wishing to undermine the authority of the Bible itself. The substance of Wesley’s pungent answer may be guessed from the opening paragraph:—
“In your late ‘Inquiry,’ you endeavour to prove, first, that there were no miracles wrought in the primitive church; secondly, that all the primitive fathers were fools or knaves, and most of them both one and the other. And it is easy to observe, the whole tenor of your argument tends to prove, thirdly, that no miracles were wrought by Christ or His apostles; and, fourthly, that these too were fools or knaves, or both. I am not agreed with you on any of these heads. My reasons I shall lay before you, in as free a manner, though not in so smooth or laboured language, as you have laid yours before the world.”
Bishop Warburton, who was no friend to Wesley, pronounced the answer to Middleton “a scholar-like thing”; though, he adds, “perhaps more temper might have been expected from this modern apostle.”[79]
It may be added, that the conclusion of Wesley’s letter was afterwards published, in a separate form, under the title of “A Plain Account of Genuine Christianity.” 12mo, 12 pages.[80]
9. “A Plain Account of the People called Methodists. In a letter to the Rev. Mr. Perronet, vicar of Shoreham.” 12mo, 34 pages. The substance of this pamphlet has been already given in previous chapters; but it may be added here, that Wesley’s “Plain Account” immediately evoked the following: “An Answer to a late pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Plain Account of the People called Methodists.’ Addressed to the Rev. Mr. Wesley. By a Clergyman of the Church of England. London: 1749.” 12mo, 31 pages. The reverend pamphleteer tells Wesley, that he has read his letter to Perronet, and considers “it to be as weak a performance as ever he met with”; and therefore, that he cannot allow “it to pass uncensured”; especially as by this “weak performance” Wesley was “sapping many of the truths and principles of Christianity, like other sectarists, under the specious pretence of greater sanctity and holiness.” If Wesley’s “performance” was “weak,” this of his opponent was feebleness itself.
10. “A Serious Answer to Dr. Trapp’s Four Sermons on the Sin, Folly, and Danger of being Righteous Overmuch. Extracted from Mr. Law.” 12mo, 48 pages. This production of the genius, piety, and pen of William Law was as grand a piece of writing as can be found in the English language. It is somewhat remarkable, however, that Wesley, in republishing that part of it which contains Law’s account of the ground of the Christian religion, should have put into the hands of his Methodist readers the author’s mystical views concerning the primeval kingdom of Lucifer and his angels, and the results of their rebellion and ruin. It is true, that Wesley, in a foot note, observes: “This is the theory of Jacob Behmen, but quite incapable of proof;” but then, in the same note, he says that, though the theory “is not supported by Scripture, it is, notwithstanding, probable.”
Of course, by republishing the writings of other men, Wesley made their sentiments his own, except in cases to which he himself makes objection. On this ground, we give the two extracts following. The first will help to exhibit one of the guiding principles of Wesley’s life; the other will show his estimate of the office and the use of human learning.
Addressing the younger clergy, he remarks: “Lay this down as an infallible principle, that an entire, absolute renunciation of all worldly interest, is the only possible foundation of that virtue which your station requires. Without this, all attempts after an exemplary piety are vain. Detest therefore, with the utmost abhorrence, all desires of making your fortunes, either by preferments or rich marriages, and let it be your only ambition to stand at the top of every virtue, as visible guides and patterns, to all that aspire after the perfection of holiness.”
The other extract is not of trifling importance. “Human learning is by no means to be rejected from religion; but if it is considered as a key, or the key, to the mysteries of our redemption, instead of opening to us the kingdom of God, it locks us up in our own darkness. God is an all-speaking, all-working, all-illuminating essence, possessing the depths of every creature according to its nature; and when we turn from all impediments, this Divine essence becomes as certainly the true light of our minds here, as it will be hereafter. This is not enthusiasm, but the words of truth and soberness; and it is the running away from this enthusiasm, that has made so many great scholars as useless to the church as tinkling cymbals, and Christendom a mere Babel of learned confusion.”
11. “The Manners of the Ancient Christians, extracted from a French Author.” 12mo, 24 pages. The French author, from whose works this was taken, was the renowned Claude Fleury, the associate of Bossuet and Fenelon; the preceptor of the Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berry; the friend of Louis XIV.; the author of an Ecclesiastical History, the fruit of thirty years of devoted study; a man of great learning and simplicity, of high integrity, and ardent piety; who died in 1723, at the age of 83.
12. “A Roman Catechism, faithfully drawn out of the allowed writings of the Church of Rome. With a Reply thereto.” 12mo, 79 pages. This was a republication of a work bearing the following title: “A Catechism truly representing the Doctrines and Practices of the Church of Rome, with an Answer thereunto. By a Protestant of the Church of England. London: 1686.” 12mo, 104 pages. On one page is the catechism, and on the opposite page the answer, throughout. Wesley neglects to acknowledge that the pamphlet was not an original production; and it has improperly been placed in the last edition of his collected works.
13. “A Letter to a Roman Catholic.” 12mo, 12 pages. Its object is to mollify the papist, by showing, that he and the protestant equally hold most of the great truths of the Christian religion; and that they therefore ought to live in peace and love. Wesley writes: “O brethren, let us not still fall out by the way! I hope to see you in heaven. And if I practise the religion above described, you dare not say I shall go to hell. You cannot think so. None can persuade you to it. Your own conscience tells you the contrary. Then, if we cannot as yet think alike in all things, at least, we may love alike. Herein we cannot possibly do amiss.”
14. “Minutes of Several Conversations between the Rev. Messrs. John and Charles Wesley and others.” Dublin: 1749.
15. It was also in this, or in a former year, that Wesley published his threepenny tract, entitled, “An Extract of the Life and Death of Mr. John Janeway,” a young man of remarkable piety, who died at the age of twenty-three, in the year 1657.
16. “A Christian Library. Consisting of Extracts and Abridgments of the Choicest Pieces of Practical Divinity which have been published in the English Tongue. In Fifty Volumes. By John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford. Bristol: printed by Felix Farley.”
This work was begun in 1749, and completed in 1755. A prodigious number of books were read. Folios and quartos had to be reduced to 12mo volumes. Some were abridged on horseback, and others at wayside inns and houses where Wesley tarried for a night. During the six years spent in finishing his task, he suffered a long and serious illness; had to provide his school at Kingswood with necessary books; wrote his “Explanatory Notes on the New Testament”; and was laboriously engaged in preaching Christ, and governing his societies. The work was Herculean. Such an enterprise had never before been attempted. It was a noble effort to make the masses—his own societies in particular—acquainted with a galaxy of the noblest men the Christian church has ever had. His design was to leave out whatever might be deemed objectionable or unimportant in sentiment, and superfluous in language; to divest practical theology from logical technicalities and unnecessary digressions; and to separate the rich ore of evangelical truth from the base alloy of Pelagian and Calvinian error. In some instances he failed in doing this. He writes:—“I was obliged to prepare most of these tracts for the press just as I could snatch time for it; not transcribing them; none expected it of me; but only marking the lines with my pen, and altering or adding a few words here or there, as I had mentioned in the preface. Besides, as it was not in my power to attend the press, that care necessarily devolved on others; through whose inattention a hundred passages were left in, which I had scratched out. It is probable too, I myself might overlook some sentences which were not suitable with my own principles. It is certain, the correctors of the press did this in not a few instances.”[81] This was written in 1772, as a reply to the charge, that, in his writings, he had contradicted himself. “If,” says he, “there are a hundred passages in the ‘Christian Library’ which contradict any or all of my doctrines, these are no proofs that I contradict myself. Be it observed once for all, citations from the ‘Christian Library’ prove nothing but the carelessness of the correctors.”[82]
This is an important fact to be borne in mind by those who are possessors of the first edition only. After the attack just mentioned, Wesley read the whole of the ‘Christian Library’ with careful attention, and marked with his pen the passages which he deemed objectionable in sentiment; and, from this corrected copy, the new edition, in thirty vols., octavo, issued in 1819-26, was printed.[83]
Wesley wrote not for pecuniary gain, but for the profit of his people. Three years before the work was finished, he had already been a loser to the amount of £200, no inconsiderable sum for a man like him. Still the publication went on, and, in due time, one of the grandest projects of his life was finished.
The first volume was published in 1749. Two years elapsed before the second was given to the public. In the preface, he affirms his belief, “that there is not in the world a more complete body of divinity, than is now extant in the English tongue, in the writings of the last and present century; and that, were a man to spend fourscore years, with the most indefatigable application, he could go but a little way, toward reading what had been published within the last hundred and fifty years.” His endeavour was “to extract such a collection of divinity as was all true; all agreeable to the oracles of God; all practical, unmixed with controversy; and all intelligible to plain men.”
The opening volume contains—1. The Epistles of the apostolical fathers, Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp, whom he believed to be “endued with the extraordinary assistance of the Holy Spirit,” and whose writings, “though not of equal authority with the holy Scriptures,” he considered to be “worthy of a much greater respect than any composures that have been made since.” 2. The Martyrdoms of Ignatius and Polycarp. 3. An Extract from the Homilies of Macarius, born about the year 301. 4. An Extract of John Arndt’s “True Christianity”; Arndt was an eminent protestant divine, who died in 1621.