The life and times of the Rev. John Wesley, M.A., founder of the Methodists. Vol. 2 (of 3)

by L. Tyerman

1766.

1766
Age 63

THE following is Wesley’s first entry in his Journal for 1766. “January 1.—A large congregation met in the Foundery at four o’clock, and ushered in the new year with the voice of praise and thanksgiving. In the evening we met as usual in Spitalfields to renew our covenant with God. This is always a refreshing season, at which some prisoners are set at liberty.”

Wesley was still suffering from the fall of his horse, and, to some extent, was crippled; but, on January 13, he set out on his accustomed Norfolk visit.

On reaching Yarmouth, he wrote: “The word of God was increasing here, when poor Benjamin Worship was converted to Calvinism. Immediately, he declared open war, tore the society in pieces, took all he could to himself, wholly quitted the Church, and raised such a scandal as will not soon be removed.” This was an early rupture. It was hardly six years ago since Howel Harris had come to Yarmouth, with his regiment of volunteers, and, in martial costume, begun to preach the gospel of the Prince of Peace. Among others then converted was this selfsame Benjamin Worship, a young solicitor, who became classleader and local preacher; and now tore the infant society in pieces, organised a society of his own, obtained a small chapel in one of the rows, preached for about two years, and then had the mortification to see the whole collapse. John Simpson, a draper, succeeded Worship among the few forsaken Methodists; but, strangely enough, he also turned Calvinist, took possession of the meeting-house, and so divided the small society that only eight poor members were left remaining; and, before the year 1780, Methodism in Yarmouth was utterly defunct. Shortly after, a new society was formed; and, in 1783, a chapel was built, and was opened by Wesley, who says: “Often this poor society has been well-nigh shattered in pieces: first by Benjamin Worship, then a furious Calvinist, tearing away near half of them; next by John Simpson, turning antinomian, and scattering most that were left. It has pleased God, contrary to all human probability, to raise a new society out of the rest; nay, and to give them courage to build a new preaching house, which is well finished, and contains about five hundred persons.”

Wesley returned to London on January 24, and, finding the London society £610 in debt, three meetings were held, at which more than the whole was readily subscribed. The number of members had been reduced from 2800 to 2200. “Such,” says Wesley, “is the fruit of George Bell’s enthusiasm, and Thomas Maxfield’s gratitude.”

Whitefield was now in London, his health greatly enfeebled, often well-nigh breathless, but still struggling to preach three or four times a week.[635] Wesley writes: “January 31—Mr. Whitefield called upon me. He breathes nothing but peace and love. Bigotry cannot stand before him, but hides its head wherever he comes.”

From this period, there was a closer union between Whitefield and Wesley than there had been for the last quarter of a century. They had occasionally exchanged letters; and, sometimes, preached in each other’s pulpits; but there had been no hearty cooperation. Wesley’s plan of union among the evangelical clergymen of the Church of England had failed; he now entered into an alliance with Whitefield and the Countess of Huntingdon. In the month of October, 1765, her ladyship’s chapel at Bath had been opened by Whitefield, who had been succeeded by Messrs. Madan, Romaine, and Fletcher. About the same time, Charles Wesley named his third daughter Selina, as a mark of respect to the countess;[636] and, on August 21, 1766, wrote: “This morning I and my brother spent two blessed hours with George Whitefield. The threefold cord, we trust, will never more be broken. On Tuesday next, my brother is to preach in Lady Huntingdon’s chapel at Bath. That and all her chapels are now put into the hands of us three.”[637]

This was an important meeting. Wesley had just held his conference at Leeds, and had started on his usual autumnal tour, when he received, from Lady Huntingdon, a letter requesting him to come at once to London. Accordingly, he writes: “August 18—I turned off from the road I had designed to take, and on the 20th reached London. It was at the earnest request of ——, whose heart God has turned again, without any expectation of mine, that I came hither so suddenly; and if no other good result from it but our firm union with Mr. Whitefield, it is an abundant recompense for my labour. My brother and I conferred with him every day; and let the honourable men do what they please, we resolved, by the grace of God, to go on, hand in hand, through honour and dishonour.”

Wesley went direct, from this conference in London, to preach in her ladyship’s chapel in Bath. This was a remarkable event. Up to the present, the chapels of the Countess of Huntingdon had been almost as hermetically closed against him as the churches of the Church of England. Now, for a little season, it began to be otherwise. Wesley says: “1766, August 26—Many were not a little surprised at seeing me in the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel, at Bath. The congregation was not only large, but serious; and I fully delivered my own soul. So I am in no concern, whether I preach there again, or no. I have no choice concerning it.“

Notwithstanding his avowed indifference, Wesley wrote to her ladyship, offering to preach in her chapel weekly during his intended stay in Bristol; and, in answer, she addressed to him the following important letter.

“September 14, 1766.

“My dear Sir,—I am most highly obliged by your kind offer of serving the chapel at Bath during your stay at Bristol: I mean on Sundays. It is an important time, being the height of the season, when the great of this world are only within reach of the sound of the gospel from that quarter. The mornings are their time; the evenings, the inhabitants’ chiefly.”

Her ladyship then proceeds to speak of the new alliance with Whitefield and herself.

“I do trust, that this union, which is commenced, will be for the furtherance of our faith, and mutual love to each other. It is for the interest of the best of causes, that we should all be found, first faithful to the Lord, and then to each other. I find something wanting, and that is, a meeting now and then agreed upon, that you, your brother, Mr. Whitefield, and I should, at regular times, be glad to communicate our observations upon the general state of the work. Light might follow, and would be a kind of guide to me, as I am connected with many.

“Pray, when you have leisure, let me hear from you, and believe me most faithfully your affectionate friend,

“S. Huntingdon.”[638]

Such was the proposed quadruple alliance, between the three great evangelists of the age and a noble Christian lady, who, had she been a man, would have aspired to be a bishop. The alliance, as will be seen hereafter, was not of long duration; but that probably was owing, not to the unfaithfulness of any of the four, but rather to Whitefield’s death; and the envious cabals of the Calvinistic clergy, by whom the countess was surrounded, and some of whom, as Southey says, “abounded as much with bigotry and intolerance as with zeal.”

Wesley fulfilled his promise, and, during the month of October, preached several times in the chapel of the countess at Bath; and, on one occasion, administered the sacrament of the Lord’s supper. At this period, the chapel was attended by not a few of the nobility: as Lord Camden, then lord chancellor of England, Lord Northington, Earl Chatham and family, Lord Rockingham, Lady Malpas, Lord and Lady Powys, Lord and Lady Buchan, the Duke of Bedford and family, Dr. Barnard, bishop of Londonderry, and last, but not least, Horace Walpole, who, in a letter to John Chute, Esq., dated “Bath, October 10, 1766,” gives the following lively, if not strictly accurate, description of what he saw and heard.

“I have been at one opera—Mr. Wesley’s. They have boys and girls, with charming voices, that sing hymns in parts to Scotch ballad tunes; but, indeed, so long, that one would think they were already in eternity, and knew not how much time they had before them. The chapel is very neat, with true gothic windows. I was glad to see that luxury is creeping in upon them before persecution.” [Here follows a description of the chapel.] “Wesley is a clean, elderly man, fresh coloured, his hair smoothly combed, but with a little soupcon of curl at the ends. Wondrous clever, but as evidently an actor as Garrick. He spoke his sermon, but so fast, and with so little accent, that I am sure he has often uttered it, for it was like a lesson. There were parts and eloquence in it; but, towards the end, he exalted his voice, and acted very ugly enthusiasm, decried learning, and told stories, like Latimer, of the fool of his college, who said, ‘I thanks God for everything.’ Except a few from curiosity, and some honourable women, the congregation was very mean.”[639]

Considering the many years during which Wesley had been accustomed to preach at Bath, it may seem strange to some, that he should now be preaching, not in his own chapel, but in another’s. The truth is, though so much time and labour had been bestowed on Bath, by himself, his brother, and their preachers, the results were exceeding small. They had a preaching place in Avon Street; but it was mean, and surrounded by a population not the most respectable. They had a society; but it was dwindling instead of growing. In 1757, the members were fifty-five in number; in 1762, they were thirty-one; in 1767, they were twelve. In a letter to Miss Bishop, in the last mentioned year, Wesley says: “We have had a society in Bath for about thirty years; sometimes larger and sometimes smaller. It was very small this autumn, consisting of only eleven or twelve persons, of whom Michael Hemmings was leader. I spoke to these one by one, added nine or ten more, divided them into two classes, and appointed half of them to meet with Joseph Harris.”[640]

But leaving the quadruple alliance already mentioned, we must return to Wesley’s gospel wanderings.

On the 10th of March, he set out, from London, on his long journey to the north. Coming, as usual, to Bristol, he wrote: “I rode to Kingswood, and having told my whole mind to the masters and servants, spoke to the children in a far stronger manner than ever I did before. I will kill or cure. I will have one or the other: a Christian school, or none at all.”

From Bristol, Wesley made his way to Stroud and Cheltenham. The latter town, like Bath, was a place of fashion and of pleasure, and, therefore, not a friendly soil for Methodism. Wesley had preached here twenty-two years before, “to a company,” he says, “who seemed to understand just as much of the matter as if he had been talking Greek.” He now tried again, out of doors, in the midst of a piercing wind, and none, rich or poor, went away till his sermon was concluded. Three years afterwards, the Methodist itinerants began to visit Cheltenham; and, among others converted, was Miss Penelope Newman,[641] who soon became the leader of two classes, and a select band,[642] and who, for years, was one of Wesley’s correspondents. Before her conversion, she kept a bookshop; afterwards, she devoted herself wholly to the work of God, making visits to adjacent towns and villages, and, like Sarah Crosby and others, occasionally giving public exhortations.[643] For long years, the meeting place of the Methodists at Cheltenham was a small house in Pitville Street, which was alternately occupied by them and by the baptists;[644] and such was the slow progress of Methodism in this place of fashionable resort, that it was not until the year 1813 that the Methodists obtained a chapel of their own, and even then there were only twenty in society.[645]

Leaving Cheltenham, Wesley proceeded to Evesham, where the mob, encouraged by the magistrate, made noise enough; but as they used neither stones nor dirt, Wesley says, “We were well contented.”

After preaching at Birmingham, Wesley, on March 20, paid his first visit to Burton on Trent, where Thomas Hanby had introduced Methodism by preaching in the house of a shoemaker, the mob smashing poor Crispin’s windows, and the preacher having to hide himself from his murderous enemies beneath the cutting board.[646]

Proceeding to Nottingham, Wesley preached in the octagon chapel, which had just been built at the cost of £128 2s. 7d. No wonder that he says, “it was filled with serious hearers.” Up to the present, the Nottingham Methodists had held their meetings in the house of Matthew Bagshaw, who, to accommodate the people, fixed, in the floor of his chamber, a large trap door, which, when lifted up, converted Matthew’s dormitory into a sort of gallery; and the preacher, standing in the aperture, with his head just through the floor, was thus enabled to preach to the female part of his congregation in the room below, and, at the same time, to the men occupying the room above.

From Nottingham, Wesley made his way to Sheffield. Here two Methodist meeting-houses had been demolished by Sheffield mobs; but a third was now erected in Mulberry Street, fifty-four feet long, and six-and-thirty wide, and in this Wesley preached on March 26. He writes: “We had a numerous congregation. There has been much disturbance here this winter; but to-night all was peace.” The disturbance mentioned was occasioned by a buffoon general leading on a mob of empty headed young fellows from sixteen to twenty years of age. Often were the cloaks and gowns of females cut into tatters with knives or scissors. Sometimes the chief, dressed as a harlequin, would enter the chapel, concealing, beneath his clothing, cats, or cocks and hens, whose mewings, cacklings, and crowings, were not calculated to improve the devotion of the people. When expelled from the interior of the building, he would contrive to climb the roof, where, in front of a large skylight nearly over the pulpit, he was wont to mimic the action of the preacher down below. The chapel windows were smashed, and when shutters were put up, these were pelted with bricks, stones, and sticks. For some reason, the captain and his gang were quiet at the time Wesley preached; but their annoyances and persecutions were continued for three months longer; at the end of which the poor wretch was bathing in the Don, and, after besporting himself in the dingy river for a considerable time, exclaimed, with an air of mockery and mirth, “Another dip, and then for a bit more sport with the Methodists!” In he plunged; down he sunk; and, sticking in the mud, was drowned, before his associates could get him out.[647]

From Sheffield, Wesley proceeded to Eyam, Stockport, and Manchester. Here, as in London and Bristol and other places, there was a large decrease in the number professing Christian perfection. The fifty at Manchester had dwindled down to one third of that number.

Why was this? The reader must imagine an answer for himself; we profess only to furnish facts. Whitefield, of course, was an opponent of Wesley’s doctrine; perhaps because he scarcely understood it. In a letter dated “June 2, 1766,” he writes: “That monstrous doctrine of sinless perfection, for a while, turns some of its deluded votaries into temporary monsters.”[648] Charles Wesley was almost equally incredulous. Wesley addressing him on July 9, 1766, remarks: “That perfection which I believe, I can boldly preach; because, I think, I see five hundred witnesses of it. Of that perfection which you preach, you think you do not see any witness at all. I wonder you do not, in this article, fall in plumb with Mr. Whitefield. For do not you, as well as he, ask, ‘Where are the perfect ones?’ I verily believe there are none. I cordially assent to his opinion, that there is no perfection here such as you describe; at least, I never met with an instance of it, and I doubt I never shall. Therefore, I still think, to set perfection so high is effectually to renounce it.”[649]

Thus was Wesley between two fires; Whitefield setting the doctrine too low, and Charles Wesley setting it too high; and both of them ready to ridicule what Wesley called its witnesses. There can be no question, that some of those witnesses injured the doctrine instead of helping it. Wesley himself, on June 28 of this very year, writes to “Mrs. R.,” probably Sarah Ryan, finding fault with her in reference to this matter. “You appear,” says he, “to be above instruction from man. You appear to think that none understands the doctrine of sanctification like you. Nay, you sometimes speak as if none understood it beside you. You appear to undervalue the experience of almost every one, in comparison of your own. I am afraid, also, you are in danger of enthusiasm. We know there are Divine dreams and impressions; but how easily may you be deceived herein! It has also been frequently said, with some appearance of truth, that you endeavour to monopolize the affections of all that fall into your hands; that you destroy the nearest and dearest connection they had before, and make them quite cool and indifferent to their most intimate friends.”[650]

If such superciliousness, fanaticism, and selfishness appeared to be budding in a witness like Sarah Ryan, is it surprising that men like Whitefield should stand in doubt? Wesley, in this matter, almost stood alone, with the exception of his friend Fletcher, who wrote to him the following hitherto unpublished letter.

“Madeley, February 17, 1766.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—As this is the time that you generally plan your journeys, and you did not make Shropshire in your way last year, I beg leave to put you in mind, that Christ and you have some friends here, who would be glad to hear the word from your mouth, and treasure it up in honest and simple hearts. Could not you so order matters as to let us have you at Madeley one Sunday? If this should be impracticable, call some week day; this would be better than to pass us by altogether. The Lord, in mercy, gives me more love to these few sheep, and to the brethren in general, than I ever had, which makes my waiting upon them to be freedom; I hope it will be soon perfect freedom.

“I think we must define exactly what we mean by the perfection which is attainable here. In so doing we may, through mercy, obviate the scoffs of the carnal, and the misapprehension of the spiritual world, at least, in part. The light, that I now see the thing in, is this: as the body is not capable of perfection on this side the grave, all those powers of the soul whose exertion depends, in part, on the frame and well being of the body, or the happy flow of the animal spirits, will not, cannot be perfected here. Of this sort are, I apprehend: (1) the understanding; (2) the memory; (3) the passionate affections, or the affections as they work, by means of the animal spirits, on the animal frame. These are no doubt susceptible of admirable impressions, and very high improvements; but still, ‘corpus affiget humi Divinæ particulam auræ,’ more or less.

“The one power, then, that I see can be perfected here, because it is altogether independent from the body, is the will, and, of course, the affections so far as they work on the will.

“I have had, for some time, a desire to execute the plan of a work, which appears to me likely to be useful, if God gives me wisdom to go through with it, and my friend’s help and direction. It should be by way of dialogues, not between fine gentlemen, like Theron and Aspasio; but, between a minister and one of his parishioners. Six dialogues upon these subjects: the doctrine of the fall; salvation by faith alone; the new birth; the inspiration of the Spirit; the necessity of feeling His operations; the assurance of salvation: each point proved by Scripture, reason, experience, and the authority of the church, with the most common objections answered. The second part would contain another set of dialogues, between the minister and other parishioners of different characters—(1) an infidel; (2) a formalist; (3) a moralist; (4) a worldling; (5) a railer at godly ministers and people; with proper answers to their respective objections. I bespeak your direction and corrections if I should execute this plan; and, that you may be better able to judge whether I am to set about it in earnest, or lay it aside, I shall prepare a dialogue for your perusal, by way of specimen.

“The gentleman from West Bromwich, which was at my house when you were here, has a hopeful son, seriously inclined, between fourteen and fifteen, who waits to be bound apprentice to some chemist or druggist, if one is to be found wanting an apprentice. Do you know of none in the circle of your acquaintance?

“Brother Mather is so kind as to strengthen my hands in the neighbourhood. I trust he will be an instrument of much good.

“I recommend myself to your prayers and direction; and, wishing that the Lord may renew and increase your bodily and spiritual strength daily,

“I remain, dear sir, your unworthy servant,

“John Fletcher.“

To this, Wesley replied as follows.

“Lewisham, February 28, 1766.

“What I mean by perfection, I have defined both in the first, and in the farther thoughts upon that subject. ‘Pure love, rejoicing evermore, praying always, in everything giving thanks.’ And I incline to think, the account you give will amount to the very same thing. But we may observe, that, naturally speaking, the animal frame will affect more or less every power of the soul; seeing, at present, the soul can no more love than it can think any otherwise than by the help of bodily organs. If, therefore, we either think, speak, or love aright, it must be by power from on high. And if our affections or will continue right, it must be by a continued miracle. Have we reason to believe, or have we not, that God will continually sustain the stone in the air?

“Allow yourself compass enough, and I do not doubt the work you speak of will be of use. But, I think, you will want to close the whole with a dialogue on Christian perfection. Unity and holiness are the two things I want among the Methodists. Who will rise up with me against all open or secret opposers of one or the other? Such are, in truth, all prudent, all delicate, all fashionable, all half hearted Methodists. My soul is weary because of these murderers of the work of God. O let us go through with our work. Why should we not give totum pro toto? I hope you will always love and pray for, dear sir, your affectionate brother and servant,

“John Wesley.”[651]

This was strong language; but Wesley was a firm believer in the doctrine that he preached, and hence he was in earnest. There was a serious reaction in reference to Christian perfection, and he was exceedingly distressed. In May, 1766, he writes to Sarah Crosby: “A general faintness, in this respect, is fallen upon the whole kingdom. Sometimes, I seem almost weary of striving against the stream both of preachers and people.”[652] Wesley, however, continued striving, for, rightly or wrongly, he regarded the doctrine of Christian perfection as indispensable to a continuance of the work of God. Hence, the following, addressed to Mr. Merryweather, of Yarm.

“February 8, 1766.

“My dear Brother,—Where Christian perfection is not strongly and explicitly preached, there is seldom any remarkable blessing from God; and consequently little addition to the society, and little life in the members of it. Therefore, if Jacob Rowell is grown faint, and says but little about it, do you supply his lack of service. Speak and spare not. Let not regard for any man induce you to betray the truth of God. Till you press the believers to expect full salvation now, you must not look for any revival.

“It is certain, God does, at some times, without any cause known to us, shower down His grace in an extraordinary manner; and He does, in some instances, delay to give either justifying or sanctifying grace, for reasons which are not discovered to us. These are some of those secrets of His government, which it hath pleased Him to reserve in His own breast. I hope you and your wife keep all you have, and gasp for more.

“I am your affectionate brother,

“John Wesley.”[653]

We must again pursue Wesley in his journeyings.

Leaving Manchester, he came, on April 2, to Chester, whither the Gilbert family had removed from Kendal, and where he remained five days, preaching from the texts following: Romans viii. 32-34; John v. 8, 9; John xvii. 3; Matthew ix. 5; and Isaiah xxxv. 8.[654]

On April 7, he reached Warrington, where a society was already formed, and where he had “a large congregation,” at noonday, “of rich and poor, learned and unlearned.” He says: “I never spoke more plain; nor have I ever seen a congregation listen with more attention.” One of the members at this period was William Young, who, for about twenty years together, preached at Warrington every Monday night, extended his labours to many parts of Lancashire and Cheshire, and who died in 1823, uttering, as his last words on earth: “Come Lord Jesus; glory! glory! angels, angels, coming, coming to take me to Abraham’s bosom.”[655]

At Liverpool, Wesley examined the new trust deed of Pitt Street chapel, to which he objected, as follows: “1. It takes up three large skins of parchment, and so could not cost less than six guineas; whereas our own deed, transcribed by a friend, would not have cost six shillings. 2. It is verbose beyond all sense and reason; and withal so ambiguously worded, that one passage only might find matter for a suit of ten or twelve years in chancery. 3. It everywhere calls the house a meeting-house, a name which I particularly object to. 4. It leaves no power either to the assistant or me, so much as to place or displace a steward. 5. Neither I, nor all the conference, have power to send the same preacher two years together. To crown all,—6. If a preacher is not appointed at the conference, the trustees and the congregation are to choose one by most votes! Can any one wonder I dislike this deed, which tears the Methodist discipline up by the roots?”

On April 11, Wesley preached at Wigan, “to a large number of serious, well behaved people, mixed with a few as stupidly insolent creatures as he ever saw.” He then made his way to Brinsley, Bolton, Middleton, Chapel-en-le-Frith, Rotherham, Doncaster, Awkborough, Barrow, Grimsby, Louth, Horncastle, and other Lincolnshire towns and villages. He writes: “John Hill has done more mischief at Horncastle than a man of far greater talents can do good. By that unhappy division of the society, he has opened the mouths of all the gainsayers; and, to complete the scandal, he and six-and-twenty more have been dipped!” He adds: “I do not choose to preach above twice or thrice in a day; but when I am called to do more, it is all one: I find strength according to my need.”

On April 28, he got to York; and, the day after, preached in the new chapel at Thirsk; “almost equal,” he says, “to that at Yarm; and why not quite, seeing they had the model before their eyes, and had nothing to do but to copy after it? Is it not an amazing weakness, that, when they have the most beautiful pattern before them, all builders will affect to mend something?” This was a hard rap at good old Mr. Wells, who built the chapel;[656] but architects and builders who spoil chapels to gratify their own vain ambition have no right to wish or to expect tender treatment from those who suffer by their preposterous folly.

On reaching Newcastle, he spent nearly three weeks, partly in comparative rest, and partly in preaching, and in visiting neighbouring societies. He writes: “I know not to what it is owing, that I have felt more weariness this spring than I had done before for many years; unless to my fall at Christmas, which perhaps weakened the springs of my whole machine more than I was sensible of.”

On the 19th of May, he set out, with his wife and daughter,[657] for Scotland, preaching at Placey, Morpeth, Felton, Alnwick, Belford, and Berwick on the way. The next five weeks were employed in the towns and villages across the Tweed. The following are extracts from his Journal.

“Saturday, May 24.—I went to the room at Preston Pans; and I had it all to myself; neither man, woman, nor child offered to look me in the face; so I ordered a chair to be placed in the street. Then forty or fifty crept together; but they were mere stocks and stones; no more concerned than if I had talked Greek.”

“Monday, May 26: Edinburgh.—I spent some hours at the meeting of the National Assembly. I am very far from being of Mr. Whitefield’s mind, who greatly commends the solemnity of this meeting. I have seen few less solemn. I was extremely shocked at the behaviour of many of the members. Had any preacher behaved so at our conference, he would have had no more place among us.”

“Thursday, June 5: Dundee.—I took occasion to repeat most of the plausible objections which had been made to us in Scotland. I then showed our reasons for the things which had been objected to us; and all seemed to be thoroughly satisfied. The sum of what I spoke was this: I love plain dealing. Do not you? I will use it now. Bear with me. I hang out no false colours; but show you all I am, all I intend, all I do. I am a member of the Church of England; but I love good men of every church. My ground is the Bible; yea, I am a Bible bigot. I follow it in all things, both great and small. Therefore—1. I always use a short private prayer, when I attend the public service of God. Do not you? Why do you not? Is not this according to the Bible? 2. I stand, whenever I sing the praise of God in public. Does not the Bible give you plain precedents for this? 3. I always kneel before the Lord my Maker, when I pray in public. 4. I generally in public use the Lord’s prayer, because Christ has taught me, when I pray, to say, ——. I advise every preacher connected with me, whether in England or Scotland, herein to tread in my steps.”

“Sunday, June 8.—Knowing no reason why we should make God’s day the shortest of the seven, I desired Joseph Thompson to preach, at Aberdeen, at five. At eight, I preached myself. In the afternoon, I heard a strong, close sermon, at Old Aberdeen; and afterwards preached in the college kirk, to a very genteel, and yet serious congregation. I then opened and enforced the way of holiness, at New Aberdeen.”

“Sunday, June 15: Edinburgh.—Our room was very warm in the afternoon, through the multitude of people; a great number of whom were people of fashion, with many ministers. I spoke to them with the utmost plainness, and, I believe, not in vain. It is scarce possible to speak too plain in England; but it is scarce possible to speak plain enough in Scotland. If you do not, you lose all your labour, you plough upon the sand.”

“Wednesday, June 18: Glasgow.—What a difference there is between the society here, and that at Dundee. There are about sixty members there, and scarce more than six scriptural believers. Here are seventy-four members, and near thirty among them lively, zealous believers; one of whom was justified thirty years ago, and another of them two-and-forty; and several of them have been for many years rejoicing in God their Saviour.”

“Monday, June 23.—At Thorny Hill, I met with Mr. Knox’s ‘History of the Church of Scotland.’ And could any man wonder, if the members of it were more fierce, sour, and bitter of spirit, than some of them were? For what a pattern have they before them! I know it is commonly said, ‘The work to be done needed such a spirit.’ Not so! the work of God does not, cannot, need the work of the devil to forward it. A calm, even spirit goes through rough work far better than a furious one. Although, therefore, God did use, at the time of the Reformation, some sour, overbearing, passionate men, yet He did not use them because they were such, but notwithstanding they were so. And there is no doubt, He would have used them much more, had they been of an humbler and milder spirit.”

Wesley terminated his Scottish tour at Dumfries, and, in reaching Solway Frith, had a somewhat dangerous adventure. He writes: “June 24.—Designing to call at an inn by the frith side, we were directed to leave the main road, and go straight to the house which we saw before us. In ten minutes, Duncan Wright was embogged: however, the horse plunged on, and got through. I was inclined to turn back; but Duncan telling me I need only go a little to the left, I did so, and sunk at once to my horse’s shoulders. He sprung up twice, and twice sank again, each time deeper than before. At the third plunge, he threw me on one side, and we both made shift to scramble out. I was covered with fine, soft mud, from my feet to the crown of my head; yet, blessed be God, not hurt at all.”

Wesley was again in England; and, after visiting Whitehaven, rode, on June 30, more than seventy miles, through a rough, mountainous region, on his way to Barnard castle, where he says: “At six, I preached in an open space, adjoining to the preaching house. As the militia were in town, the far greater part of them attended, with a large congregation from town and country. It rained most of the time I was speaking; but, I believe, hardly six persons went away.”

On July 2, he preached in Weardale, and says: “Here a poor woman was brought to us, who had been disordered several years, and was now raving mad. She cursed and blasphemed in a terrible manner, and could not stand or sit still for a moment. However, her husband held her by main strength, although she shrieked in the most dreadful manner; but, in a quarter of an hour, she left off shrieking, and sat motionless and silent, till she began crying to God, which she continued to do, almost without intermission, till we left her.”

After spending three days at Newcastle, and in its neighbourhood, Wesley started for the south. At Yarm, on July 9, he held the quarterly meeting, and remarks: “The societies in this circuit increase; that is, among the poor; for the rich, generally speaking, ‘care for none of these things.’”

The Yarm circuit, at this period, extended as far south as Ripon, a distance of thirty miles, where some of the Methodists had been subjected to harsh and unlawful usage. This led Wesley to address the following characteristic letter to the Rev. Mr. Wanley, dean of Ripon; who, though a magistrate, had for many years refused to administer justice in the case of persecuted Methodists.[658]

“Yarm, July 9, 1766.

“Reverend Sir,—The regard which I owe to a fellow Christian, and much more to a clergyman and a magistrate, constrains me to trouble you with a few lines, though I have no personal acquaintance with you. Ralph Bell has just been giving me an account of the late affair at Ripon. What he desires is—(1) to have the loss he has sustained repaired; and (2) liberty of conscience; that liberty which every man may claim as his right, by the law of God and nature, and to which every Englishman, in particular, has a right by the laws of his country. I well know the advantage these laws give us in the present case: I say us, because I make the case my own, as I think it my bounden duty to do. I have had many suits in the King’s Bench, and, blessed be God, I never lost one yet. But I would far rather put an amicable end to any dispute, where it can be done. Not that I am afraid of being overborne by the expense: if I am not, I know them that are able to bear it. But I love peace. I love my neighbour as myself, and would not willingly bring loss or trouble upon any man. Be so good as to impute to this motive my interfering in this matter.

“I am, reverend sir, your servant for Christ’s sake,

“John Wesley.”[659]

Wesley was a man of peace; but he was not a man to relinquish lightly the lawful rights of himself and his people. With all the generosity of a great leader, he was as ready to fight for the poorest of his followers as for himself. A man unknown to fame, like Ralph Bell, of Ripon, was as sure to secure his sympathy as the most illustrious disciple that he had.

From Yarm, Wesley proceeded to the small village of Hutton Rudby, where there was the largest society in the Yarm circuit, and where only two out of the sixteen, who professed to be entirely sanctified two or three years before, had “lost the direct witness of that salvation.” At Stokesley, he preached in the new chapel; and went from there to Guisborough, Whitby, Robinhood’s Bay, Scarborough, Pickering, and Malton. In the two last mentioned towns, societies had been formed by John Manners, three years before; the members at Pickering numbering fifteen, and at Malton nineteen. Mr. Hebdon, a clergyman, commanded the churchwardens and constables to pull Mr. Manners down, and threatened that he would, in the week following, banish all the Methodists from the town and neighbourhood. It so happened, however, that, in going from an entertainment a few nights after, the vindictive parson fell from his horse, and broke his neck.[660]

From Malton, Wesley proceeded to Beverley, Hull, Pocklington, and York. Here an odd incident occurred. Wesley simply writes: “York, Sunday, July 20, 1766.—After preaching at eight, I went to St. Saviour-gate church. Towards the close of the prayers, the rector sent the sexton to tell me the pulpit was at my service. I preached on the conclusion of the gospel for the day, ‘Not every one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord,’ etc. I did not see one person laugh or smile, though we had an elegant congregation.”

Wesley says no one laughed or smiled, a fact worth noting, for there was enough in the event to make men smile against their wish. The truth is, the rector, the Rev. Mr. Cordeux, in his simplicity, made a great mistake. On previous occasions, he had felt it to be his duty to warn his congregation against hearing “that vagabond Wesley preach”; and now he himself invited Wesley to preach to the very congregation who had been warned against him. The explanation of the affair is this: Wesley, after preaching in his own chapel at Peasholm Green, went in his canonicals to Mr. Cordeux’s church. Mr. Cordeux saw that he was a clergyman, and, without knowing who he was, offered him his pulpit. After service, he asked his clerk if he knew who the stranger was. The clerk replied, “Sir, he is the vagabond Wesley, against whom you warned us.” “Aye, indeed!” said the astonished rector, “we are trapped; but never mind, we have had a good sermon.” The Dean of York heard of the affair, and threatened to lay a complaint before the archbishop; but Mr. Cordeux outstripped the dean, and told the story to the archbishop before the dean could reach him. “You did right,” replied his grace; and so the matter ended, with the exception, that when Wesley came again, Mr. Cordeux made him a second offer of his pulpit, and Wesley preached upon the eight beatitudes.[661]

From York, Wesley went to Tadcaster and Pateley Bridge. At the latter place he had the largest congregation he had seen since he left Newcastle. “As it rained,” says he, “I desired the men to put on their hats; but, in two or three minutes, they pulled them off again, and seemed to mind nothing but how they might ‘know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.’” This devout behaviour was widely different to the rough treatment of Thomas Lee, fourteen years before, when his head was broken with a stone, and he himself rolled in the common sewer, and then thrown into the river.

On leaving Pateley, Wesley wended his way to Skipton, Addingham, Baildon, and Bradford. “At Bradford,” he writes, “there was so huge a multitude, and the rain so damped my voice, that many, in the skirts of the congregation, could not hear distinctly. They have just built a preaching house, fifty-four feet square, the largest octagon we have in England; and it is the first of the kind where the roof is built with common sense, rising only a third of its breadth; yet, it is as firm as any in England; nor does it at all hurt the walls. Why then does any roof rise higher? Only through want of skill, or want of honesty, in the builder.”

The first Methodist meeting-house in Bradford was the second floor of a large building near the cockpit, and which subsequently became the meeting place of the followers of Joanna Southcote, and then of the Swedenborgians, and then, in succession, was used as a barrack room, a paint shop, a school, a vagrants’ refuge, a warehouse, a printing office, and a joiner’s shop. Here the Methodists worshipped till about the year 1760, when the floor gave way, and they removed to Mr. Garnett’s barn. Then they erected the octagon chapel, so eulogised by Wesley, the first subscription to which, obtained by Richard Fawcett, amounted to the munificent sum of twopence,[662] and the entire cost of which was £997 8s. 9d.[663]

From Bradford, Wesley made a tour to Colne, Padiham, Bacup, Heptonstall, Ewood, and Halifax. John Nelson had preached the first Methodist sermon in the last mentioned town, his pulpit being a washing tub turned upside down; and, among others who had been converted, was the celebrated Titus Knight, originally a poor collier, but ultimately one of Wesley’s itinerants, then an able Dissenting minister, and the father of a son who became vicar of this important town in Yorkshire. Another, who equally deserves notice, was a female, who suffered total blindness for nearly fourscore years, and who, when she joined the Methodists, had only three halfpence a day to live upon; and yet, out of that poor pittance, insisted upon giving a weekly contribution in her class, and assisted in paying the debts of Titus Knight.[664]

Grimshaw of Haworth was dead, and so was his son at Ewood; but Haworth church was still open; and, besides this, there was the small Methodist chapel, which had been built by Grimshaw, and which served the Methodists till 1828.[665] Grimshaw’s successor was the Rev. John Richardson, a native of Crosby, in Westmoreland, a man of polished manners, of unaffected piety, and of a mild and amiable disposition, and who died at Haworth a few weeks after Wesley died in London.[666]

Wesley had witnessed many a glorious scene in Grimshaw’s old churchyard; but never a more glorious one than awaited him on Sunday, August 3, 1766. He writes: “When the prayers at Haworth were ended, I preached from a little scaffold on the south side of the church. The communicants alone (a sight which has not been seen since Mr. Grimshaw’s death) filled the church. In the afternoon, the congregation was supposed to be the largest which had ever been there; but strength was given me in proportion; so that I believe all could hear.” He continues:

“Monday, August 4.—At one, I preached at Bingley, but with a heavy heart, finding so many of the Methodists here, as well as at Haworth, perverted by the anabaptists. I see clearer and clearer, none will keep to us, unless they keep to the Church. Whoever separate from the Church will separate from the Methodists.“

It will thus be seen that separation from the Church was still one of the ghosts that haunted Wesley’s path; and, hence, it will be found that this was one of the great topics discussed at his approaching conference, which was commenced in Leeds eight days after.

But before reviewing the proceedings of the conference, it is of some importance to understand the relation in which Wesley, at this time, stood towards his brother Charles. For many years, his brother had ceased to itinerate, and had confined his labours almost exclusively to London and Bristol; so that the gigantic toil of visiting all the Methodist societies in the United Kingdom fell upon Wesley himself. But, added to this, Charles Wesley was no longer his brother’s warm hearted, confidential counsellor. Charles disliked his brother’s marriage; and he was almost horrified at his brother’s concessions to the preachers who advocated separation from the Church; and, hence, without the thing being openly confessed, there was undoubtedly a sort of silent estrangement between them, very different from the close, genial, trustful, fraternal friendship which existed at the commencement of their Methodist career. The following extracts from Wesley’s letters refer to this.

“Lewisham, February 28, 1766.

“Dear Brother,—We must, we must, you and I at least, be all devoted to God! Then wives, and sons, and daughters, and everything else, will be real, invaluable blessings. Eia age, rumpe moras! Let us this day use all the power we have! If we have enough, well; if not, let us this day expect a fresh supply. How long shall we drag on thus heavily, though God has called us to be the chief conductors of such a work? Alas! what conductors! If I am, in some sense, the head, and you the heart, of the work, may it not be said, ‘The whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint’? Come, in the name of God, let us arise, and shake ourselves from the dust! Let us strengthen each other’s hands in God, and that without delay. Have senes sexagenarii time to lose? Let you and I, and our house, serve the Lord in good earnest. May His peace rest on you and yours! Adieu!

“John Wesley.”[667]

“Whitehaven, June 27, 1766.

“Dear Brother,—I think you and I have abundantly too little intercourse with each other. Are we not old acquaintance? Have we not known each other for half a century? and are we not jointly engaged in such a work as probably no two other men upon earth are? Why then do we keep at such a distance? It is a mere device of Satan. But surely, we ought not, at this time of day, to be ignorant of his devices. Let us, therefore, make full use of the little time that remains. We, at least, should think aloud, and use to the uttermost the light and grace on each bestowed, and insist everywhere on full redemption, receivable now by faith alone! consequently to be looked for now. You are made, as it were, for this very thing. Just here you are in your element. In connection I beat you; but in strong, short, pointed sentences, you beat me. Go on, in what God has peculiarly called you to. Press the instantaneous blessings; then I shall have more time for my peculiar calling, enforcing the gradual work.

“We must have a thorough reform of the preachers. I wish you would come to Leeds, with John Jones, in the machine. It comes in two days; and, after staying two days, you might return. I would willingly bear your expenses up and down. I believe it would help, not hurt, your health. My love to Sally.

“John Wesley.”[668]

Did Charles Wesley go to the conference at Leeds? It is probable he did; indeed, almost certain. Hence, in a letter to his wife at Bristol, written just about the date when the conference closed, he says: “My brother, I presume, will look upon you on Wednesday sennight, in his flight to the Land’s End. He is an astonishing youth! and may be saluted, like the eastern monarchs, ‘O king, live for ever!’”[669] It would thus seem, that Charles Wesley had seen his brother; and if so, it must have been at Leeds. The settling of this point is of considerable importance, inasmuch as at no conference did Wesley enter so elaborately into the three great questions of the day,—separation from the Church, his own administrative power, and what he calls, in the foregoing letter, “a thorough reform of the preachers.”

On the first of these points, the question is asked,—

“Are we not Dissenters? Answer.—We are irregular: 1. By calling sinners to repentance, in all places of God’s dominion. 2. By frequently using extemporary prayer. Yet we are not Dissenters in the only sense which our law acknowledges; namely, persons who believe it is sinful to attend the service of the Church; for we do attend it at all opportunities. We will not, dare not, separate from the Church, for the reasons given several years ago. We are not seceders, nor do we bear any resemblance to them. We set out upon quite opposite principles. The seceders laid the very foundation of their work, in judging and condemning others; we laid the foundation of our work, in judging and condemning ourselves. They begin everywhere, with showing their hearers, how fallen the Church and ministers are; we begin everywhere, with showing our hearers, how fallen they are themselves.

“And as we are not Dissenters from the Church now, so we will do nothing willingly, which tends to a separation from it. Therefore, let every assistant so order his circuit, that no preacher may be hindered from attending the church more than two Sundays in a month. Never make light of going to church, either by word or deed.

“But some may say, ‘Our own service is public worship.’ Yes, in a sense; but not such as supersedes the church service. We never designed it should. We have a hundred times professed the contrary. It presupposes public prayer, like the sermons at the university. Therefore, I have over and over advised, use no long prayer, either before or after the sermon. Therefore, I myself frequently use only a collect, and never enlarge in prayer, unless at intercession, or on a watchnight, or on some extraordinary occasion.

“If it were designed to be instead of church service, it would be essentially defective; for it seldom has the four grand parts of public prayer; deprecation, petition, intercession, and thanksgiving. Neither is it, even on the Lord’s day, concluded with the Lord’s supper.

“The hour for it on that day, unless where there is some peculiar reason for a variation, should be five in the morning, as well as five in the evening. Why should we make God’s day the shortest of the seven?

“But if the people put ours in the place of the church service, we hurt them that stay with us, and ruin them that leave us: for then they will go nowhere, but lounge the sabbath away without any public worship at all. I advise therefore all the Methodists in England and Ireland, who have been brought up in the Church, constantly to attend the service of the Church, at least every Lord’s day.”

This is a remarkable utterance—Wesley’s own. Methodists are urged to attend the service of the Church of England. Why? Because Methodist service was defective. But why was it defective? Not by accident, but of set purpose. It was meant to be a mere supplement to the more perfect devotional service of the church. Was this right? We doubt it. Wesley was no advocate for short prayers, resembling collects, except upon the ground that they were understood to be a sort of supplementary prayers following the more elaborated prayers of the Church of England. Those who quote Wesley, as recommending short prayers in all public worship, mistake his meaning. Wesley might be wrong,—we think he was,—in advising and sanctioning such abbreviated and imperfect devotion as was evidently practised in the public worship of the early Methodists; but he adduced a reason,—an inadequate reason,—for it; and, under the altered circumstances of the present age, would have been the last to approve of many of the short prayers which some ill instructed Methodists are now so fond of praising.

The second point on which Wesley expressed himself was one of vast importance. He was the autocrat of Methodists. As was natural, some of his preachers, and probably not a few of the people, reasonably or unreasonably, objected to this, and wished to share in Methodist legislation and politics. Hence it was, that Wesley found it desirable to defend his authority, as he did, at the conference in Leeds. He writes:

“But what power is this, which you exercise over all the Methodists in Great Britain and Ireland? Answer. 1. In November, 1738, several persons came to me in London, and desired me to advise and pray with them. I said, ‘If you will meet on Thursday night, I will help you as well as I can.’ More and more then desired to meet with them, till they were increased to many hundreds. The case was afterwards the same at Bristol, Kingswood, Newcastle, and many other parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland. It may be observed, the desire was on their part, not mine. My desire was to live and die in retirement. But I did not see that I could refuse them my help, and be guiltless before God.

“Here commenced my power; namely, a power to appoint when, and where, and how they should meet; and to remove those, whose life showed they had no desire to flee from the wrath to come. And this power remained the same, whether the people meeting together were twelve, twelve hundred, or twelve thousand.

“In a few days, some of them said, ‘Sir, we will not sit under you for nothing. We will subscribe quarterly.’ I said, ‘I will have nothing, for I want nothing. My fellowship supplies me with all, and more than I want.’ One replied, ‘Nay, but you want £115 to pay for the lease of the Foundery; and likewise a large sum of money will be wanting, to put it into repair.‘ On this consideration, I suffered them to subscribe; and, when the society met, I asked, ‘Who will take the trouble of receiving this money, and paying it where it is needful?’ One said, ‘I will do it, and keep the account for you.’ So here was the first steward. Afterwards I desired one or two more to help me as stewards, and, in process of time, a greater number. Let it be remarked, it was I myself, not the people, who chose these stewards, and appointed to each the distinct work wherein he was to help me, as long as I desired. And, herein, I began to exercise another sort of power; namely, that of appointing and removing stewards.

“After a time, T. Maxfield, T. Richards, and T. Westall severally desired to serve me as sons, and to labour when and where I should direct. Observe, these likewise desired me, not I them. But I durst not refuse their assistance. And here commenced my power, to appoint each of these, when, where, and how to labour; that is, while he chose to continue with me; for each had a power to go away when he pleased; as I had, also, to go away from them, or any of them, if I saw sufficient cause. The case continued the same when the number of preachers increased. I had just the same power still, to appoint when, and where, and how each should help me, and to tell any, if I saw cause, ‘I do not desire your help any longer.’ On these terms, and no other, we joined at first; and on these we continue joined. But they do me no favour, in being directed by me. I have nothing from it but trouble and care, and often a burden I scarce know how to bear.

“In 1744, I wrote to several clergymen, and to all who then served me as sons in the gospel, desiring them to meet me in London, to give me their advice, concerning the best method of carrying on the work of God. They did not desire this meeting, but I did. And when their number increased, so that it was neither needful nor convenient to invite them all, for several years, I wrote to those with whom I desired to confer, and these only met me at the place appointed; till, at length, I gave a general permission, that all who desired it might come. Observe, I myself sent for these, of my own free choice; and I sent for them to advise, not govern me. Neither did I, at any of those times, divest myself of any part of that power above described, which the providence of God had cast upon me, without any design or choice of mine.

“What is that power? It is a power of admitting into, and excluding from, the societies under my care; of choosing and removing stewards; of receiving or not receiving helpers; of appointing them when, where, and how to help me; and of desiring any of them to meet me, when I see good. And as it was merely in obedience to the providence of God, and for the good of the people, that I at first accepted this power, so it is on the same considerations, not for profit, honour, or pleasure, that I use it at this day.

“But several gentlemen are much offended at my having so much power. My answer to them is this: I did not seek any part of this power. It came upon me unawares. But when it was come, not daring to bury that talent, I used it to the best of my judgment. Yet, I never was fond of it. I always did, and do now, bear it as my burden; the burden which God lays upon me; but if you can tell me any one, or any five men, to whom I may transfer this burden, who can and will do just what I do now, I will heartily thank both them and you.

“But some of your helpers say, ‘This is shackling free born Englishmen,’ and demand a free conference; that is, a meeting of all the preachers, wherein all things shall be determined by most votes. I answer, it is possible, after my death, something of this kind may take place; but not while I live. To me the preachers have engaged themselves to submit, to serve me as sons in the gospel. But they are not thus engaged to any man, or number of men, besides. To me the people in general will submit; but they will not yet submit to any other. It is nonsense then to call my using this power, ‘shackling free born Englishmen.’ None needs to submit to it, unless he will; so there is no shackling in the case. Every preacher and every member may leave me when he pleases; but, while he chooses to stay, it is on the same terms that he joined me at first.

“‘But this is arbitrary power: this is no less than making yourself a pope.’ If by arbitrary power you mean a power which I exercise singly, without any colleagues therein, this is certainly true; but I see no hurt in it. Arbitrary, in this sense, is a very harmless word. If you mean unjust, unreasonable, or tyrannical, then it is not true.

“As to the other branch of the charge, it carries no face of truth. The pope affirms, that every Christian must do all he bids, and believe all he says, under pain of damnation. I never affirmed anything that bears the most distant resemblance to this. Therefore, all talk of this kind is highly injurious to me, who bear this burden merely for your sakes. And it is exceedingly mischievous to the people, tending to confound their understandings, and to fill their hearts with evil surmisings, and unkind tempers towards me; to whom they really owe more, for exercising this very power, than for all my preaching put together. Because, preaching twice or thrice a day is no burden to me at all; but the care of all the preachers, and all the people, is a burden indeed!”

This was bold speaking. Hampson and others have accused Wesley of being “fond of power.” They say, “his temper was despotic, and that, during the last ten or fifteen years of his supremacy, he was the most absolute of monarchs. His will was the law. He never thought his authority secure, but when exerted to the utmost. The love of power was the chief misery of his life; the source of infinite disgusts; and the most frequent cause of the defections of his friends.”[670] Perhaps John Hampson was scarcely an impartial witness, inasmuch as Wesley’s power had checked his own ambition; but, at all events, the reader has, in the above lengthened extract, Wesley’s vindication of himself. No doubt his power was great,—almost unexampled among protestants; but he assigns reasons for it, and, unless he is suspected of insincerity,—a thing of which he was almost incapable,—all must give him credit for being actuated by high and conscientious motives. The wisdom of acting as he did is a fair subject for discussion; but the purity of his intentions can hardly be disputed.

Before passing to the third matter, “a thorough reform of the preachers,” it is desirable to know Wesley’s opinion of the people. He adds:

“I cannot but know more of the state of the Methodist preachers and people than any other person. The world says, ‘The Methodists are no better than other people.’ This is not true. Yet it is nearer the truth than we are willing to imagine. Personal religion is amazingly superficial amongst us. How little faith there is amongst us, how little communion with God! How little living in heaven, walking in eternity, deadness to every creature! How much love of the world! desire of pleasure, of ease, of praise, of getting money! How little brotherly love! What continual judging one another! What gossiping, evil speaking, talebearing! What want of moral honesty! What servants, journeymen, labourers, carpenters, bricklayers do as they would be done by? Which of them does as much work as he can? Set him down for a knave that does not. Who does as he would be done by, in buying and selling, particularly in selling horses? Write him knave that does not; and the Methodist knave is the worst of all knaves. Family religion is shamefully wanting, and almost in every branch. And the Methodists in general will be little better, till we take quite another course with them; for what avails preaching alone, though we could preach like angels!”

This is not a flattering picture of the first Methodists; but it is drawn by the man who knew them, and who, as he himself says, “was not prejudiced against them.” In such facts, Wesley found a reason for the castigation which he now administered to the preachers. The preachers preached; but he tells them plainly, they must do something more than this, otherwise “the Methodists will be little better than other people.” He continues: “We must instruct them from house to house”; and then follows an extract, from Baxter’s “Reformed Pastor,” on private instruction.

“Great as this labour is,” says Wesley, “it is absolutely necessary; for, after all our preaching, many of our people are almost as ignorant as if they had never heard the gospel. I study to speak as plainly as I can; yet, I frequently meet with those who have been my hearers for many years, who know not whether Christ be God or man; or that infants have any original sin. And how few are there, that know the nature of repentance, faith, and holiness! Most of them have a sort of confidence, that Christ will justify and save them, while the world has their hearts, and they live to themselves. And I have found, by experience, that one of these has learned more from an hour’s close discourse, than from ten years’ public preaching. O brethren, if we would generally set this work on foot in all our societies, and prosecute it skilfully and zealously, what glory would redound to God thereby! If the common ignorance were thus banished, and our vanity and idleness turned into the study of the way of life, and every shop and every house busied in speaking of the word and works of God, surely God would dwell in our habitations, and make them His delight. And this is necessary to the welfare of our people; many of whom neither believe nor repent to this day. Look round about, and see how many of them are still in apparent danger of damnation! And how can you walk, and talk, and be merry with such people, when you know their case? What cause have we to bleed before the Lord this day, that have so long neglected this great and good work! that have been preachers so many years, and have done so little, by personal instructions, for the saving of men’s souls! If we had but set on this work sooner, how many more might have been brought to Christ! And how much holier and happier might we have made our societies before now! And why might we not have done it sooner? There were many hindrances in the way; and so there are still, and always will be. But the greatest hindrance was in ourselves, in our dulness, and littleness of faith and love.

“But it is objected, ‘This course will take up so much time, that we shall have no time to follow our studies.’ I answer: (1) Gaining knowledge is a good thing; but saving souls is a better. (2) By this very thing, you will gain the most excellent knowledge of God and eternity. (3) You will have abundant time for gaining other knowledge too, if you spend all your mornings therein. Only sleep not more than you need; talk not more than you need; and never be idle, nor triflingly employed. (4) If you can do but one, either follow your studies, or instruct the ignorant, let your studies alone. I would throw by all the libraries in the world, rather than be guilty of the perdition of one soul.

“1. Let every preacher take an exact catalogue of those in society, from one end of each town to the other. 2. Go to each house, and give, with suitable exhortation and direction, the ‘Instructions for Children.’ 3. Be sure to deal gently with them, and take off all discouragements as effectually as you can. 4. Let your dealing with those you begin with be so gentle, winning, and convincing, that the report of it may move others to desire your coming.

“Perhaps in doing this it may be well, (1) After a few loving words spoken to all in the house, to take each person single into another room, where you may deal closely with them, about their sin, and misery, and duty. (2) Hear what the children have learned by heart. (3) Choose some of the weightiest points, and try, by further questions, how far they understand them. (4) Often, with the question, suggest the answer. (5) Before you leave them, engage the head of each family to call all his family every Sunday, before they go to bed, and hear what they can rehearse, and so continue until they have learned all ‘The Instructions’ perfectly.

“Let us, in every town, and wherever it is practicable, set upon this method in good earnest, and we shall soon find why the people are not better, namely, because we are not more knowing and more holy.”

Such was Wesley’s great remedy for removing evil from among the Methodists,—not only visiting, but privately, and personally instructing, the people, and especially their children; and such, in his estimation, were the two great causes of the evil existing. The people were far from perfect; because preachers were defective in knowledge and in holiness. He proceeds to ask:

“Why are we not more knowing? Because we are idle. We forget the very first rule, ‘Be diligent; never be unemployed a moment. Never be triflingly employed. Never while away time, neither spend any more time at any place than is strictly necessary.’ I fear there is altogether a fault in this matter; and, that few of us are clear. Which of you spends as many hours a day in God’s work, as you did formerly in man’s work? We talk, talk,—or read history, or what comes next to hand. We must, absolutely must, cure this evil, or give up the whole work. But how? (1) Spend all the morning, or at least five hours in twenty-four, in reading the most useful books, and that regularly and constantly. ‘But I read only the Bible.’ Then you ought to teach others to read only the Bible, and, by parity of reason, to hear only the Bible. But if so, you need preach no more. Just so said George Bell; and what is the fruit? Why now he neither reads the Bible, nor anything else. This is rank enthusiasm. If you need no book but the Bible, you are got above St. Paul. He wanted others too. ‘But I have no taste for reading.’ Contract a taste for it by use, or return to your trade. ‘But different men have different tastes.’ Therefore some may read less than others; but none should read less than this. ‘But I have no books.’ I will give each of you, as fast as you will read them, books to the value of £5; and I desire the assistants will take care, that all the large societies provide the Christian Library for the use of the preachers. (2) In the afternoon, follow Mr. Baxter’s plan. Then you will have no time to spare; none for learning Latin, or Greek, or Hebrew: you will have work enough for all your time. Then, likewise, no preacher will stay with us, who is as salt that has lost its savour; for, to such, this employment would be mere drudgery. The sum is, go into every house, in course, and teach every one therein, young and old, if they belong to us, to be Christians inwardly and outwardly. Make every particular plain to their understanding. Fix it in their memory. Write it on their heart. Read, explain, and enforce the rules of the society; the ‘Instructions for Children’; the fourth volume of sermons; and Philip Henry’s method of family prayer. Over and above, where there are ten children in a society, spend, at least, an hour with them twice a week; and do this, not in a dull, dry, formal manner, but in earnest, with your might. ‘But I have no gift for this.’ Gift or no gift, you are to do it, else you are not called to be a Methodist preacher. Do it as you can, till you can do it as you would. Pray earnestly for the gift; particularly studying the children’s tracts.”

Such was Wesley’s plan to increase the preachers’ knowledge: at least five hours a day spent in reading the most useful books; and every afternoon devoted to private intercourse with the people and their children.

His next aim was to increase their holiness; hence the question,—

“Why are not we more holy? breathing the whole spirit of missionaries? Answer.—Because we are enthusiasts; looking for the end, without using the means. In order to be thoroughly convinced of this, we need only consider the first minutes, and each examine himself upon each article. To touch only upon two or three instances. Do you rise at four? or even at five, when you do not preach? Do you fast once a week? once a month? Do you know the obligation or benefit of it? Do you recommend the five o’clock hour for private prayer? Do you observe it? Do not you find that any time is no time?”

None but a man like Wesley would have dared to use faithful dealing like this; and none but men like Wesley’s itinerants would have quietly submitted to such a castigation. He was evidently determined to kill or to cure; or, to employ his own expression, to “have a thorough reform of the preachers.” For the first time, we have a list of the questions proposed to every preacher on probation before his being received into full connexion.

“Have you faith in Christ? Are you going on to perfection? Do you expect to be perfected in love, in this life? Are you groaning after it? Are you resolved to devote yourself wholly to God and His work? Do you know the Methodist doctrine? Have you read the sermons, and the Notes on the New Testament? Do you know the Methodist plan? Have you read the Plain Account, and the Appeals? Do you know the rules of the society, and of the bands? and do you keep them? Do you take no snuff? Tobacco? Drams? Do you constantly attend the church and sacrament? Have you read the Minutes, and are you willing to conform to them? Have you considered the twelve rules of a helper; especially the first, tenth, and twelfth; and will you keep them for conscience sake? Are you determined to employ all your time in the work of God? Will you preach every morning and evening; endeavouring not to speak too loud, or too long; not lolling with your elbows? Have you read the ‘Rules of Action and Utterance’? Will you meet the society, the bands, the select society, and the leaders of bands and classes in every place? Will you diligently and earnestly instruct the children, and visit from house to house? Will you recommend fasting, both by precept and example?”

These questions,—with the exception of those concerning attendance at church and sacrament, the reading of the “Rules of Action and Utterance,” the meeting of the societies, etc., and an important modification of that concerning preaching every morning and every night,—are still put to all candidates for the Methodist ministry, and are expected to be answered affirmatively before such candidates are admitted to ordination. If answered sincerely and truly, the Methodist ministry, in diligence, in piety, and in success, would have no superiors.

Much space has been occupied with the proceedings of the conference of 1766, but they were far too important to be omitted, or materially abridged. Other matters claimed attention at that conference, though inferior to the foregoing. For instance, it was ascertained, that the debts on the Methodist chapels, throughout the kingdom, amounted to £11,383. “We shall be ruined,” writes Wesley, “if we go on thus.” It was resolved, that the obnoxious trust deed at Liverpool, which has been already mentioned, should be substituted by another; that no classes should meet in chapels; that the rules of the society should be given to every one when taken on trial; that the rules relating to ruffles, lace, snuff, and tobacco, should be calmly but vigorously enforced; and, that the sermons on wandering thoughts, indwelling sin, the Lord our Righteousness, and the Scripture way of salvation, should be carefully distributed.[671] This was one of the most important conferences that Wesley ever held. Considering the plain dealing that had been employed, it is as gratifying as it is a matter of surprise, to find Wesley saying: “Tuesday, August 12—Our conference began, and ended on Friday evening. A happier conference we never had, nor a more profitable one. It was both begun and ended in love, and with a solemn sense of the presence of God.”

On the day that Wesley opened his conference at Leeds, his house at Windmill Hill, London, was entered by burglars, and a quantity of linen and wearing apparel stolen.[672] On the 20th of August, he reached London himself; and, on the 25th, set out for Bath, Bristol, and Cornwall.

On his way to the west of England, Wesley opened the new chapel at Shaftesbury. He says: “August 29, 1766—I preached in the new house, filled within and without, to the no small astonishment, it seemed, of most of the hearers.”[673]

The next day, August 30, he writes: “We rode to Stallbridge, long the seat of war, by a senseless, insolent mob, encouraged by their betters, so called, to outrage their quiet neighbours. For what? Why, they were mad; they were Methodists. So, to bring them to their senses, they would beat their brains out. They broke their windows, leaving not one whole pane of glass, spoiled their goods, and assaulted their persons with dirt, and rotten eggs, and stones, whenever they appeared in the street. But no magistrate, though they applied to several, would show them either mercy or justice. At length they wrote to me. I ordered a lawyer to write to the rioters. He did so; but they set him at nought. We then moved the court of King’s Bench. By various artifices they got the trial put off, from one assizes to another, for eighteen months. But it fell so much the heavier on themselves, when they were found guilty; and, from that time, finding there is law for Methodists, they have suffered them to be at peace. I preached near the main street without the least disturbance, to a large and attentive congregation.”

At Ashburton, many of Wesley’s congregation “behaved with decency; but the rest with such stupid rudeness as he had not seen, for a long time, in any part of England.”

At Plymouth, “at the close of his sermon, a large stone was thrown in at one of the windows, and fell at his feet.”

At Truro, he says: “I was in hopes, when Mr. Walker died, the enmity in those who were called his people would have died also; but it is not so; they still look upon us as rank heretics, and will have no fellowship with us.”

At Helstone, he “preached to an exceeding large and serious congregation.” He writes: “What a surprising change is wrought here, within a few years, where a Methodist preacher could hardly go through the street without a shower of stones!”

Methodism was introduced into Helstone by Mr. Hitchens, one of Wesley’s first preachers; and the first class was led by Mrs. Triggs, the daughter of a clergyman, and a woman of superior mind and character.[674] Once, while the Helstone Methodists were assembled in their preaching room, one of them unaccountably observed, “We will not hold our meeting here to-night, but at the house of ——.” For a time, the others objected; but, at last, yielded, and went to the house which had been mentioned. Strangely enough, before the adjourned meeting was concluded, a fire broke out, and, in its progress, seized on a large quantity of gunpowder, by the explosion of which the old Methodist meeting room was blown to atoms.[675]

Another anecdote, relating to Helstone, deserves notice. “I was born,” said old Peter Martin, “at Helstone in 1742. My wife is ninety-four years old, and our united ages amount to one hundred and ninety-one years. I have been sexton of Helstone parish sixty-five years. I first heard Mr. Wesley preach in the street, near our market house, seventy-four years ago. I had an adventure with him while I was ostler at the London Inn. One day, he came, and obtained my master’s leave for me to drive him to St. Ives. On arriving at Hayle, we found the sands, between that place and St. Ives, overflown by the rising tide. Mr. Wesley was resolved to go on; for he said he had to preach at St. Ives at a certain hour, and must be there. Looking out of the carriage window, he called, ‘Take the sea! take the sea!’ In a moment, I dashed into the waves, and was quickly involved in a world of waters. The horses were swimming, and the wheels of the carriage not unfrequently sunk into deep hollows in the sands. I expected every moment to be drowned, but heard Mr. Wesley’s voice, and saw his long white hair dripping with salt water. ‘What is your name, driver?’ he calmly asked. I answered, ‘Peter.’ ‘Peter,’ said he, ‘Peter, fear not; thou shalt not sink.’ With vigorous whipping I again urged on the flagging horses, and at last got safely over. Mr. Wesley’s first care was to see me comfortably lodged at the tavern; and then, totally unmindful of himself, and drenched as he was with the dashing waves, he proceeded to the chapel, and preached according to his appointment.”[676]

Having spent a fortnight among the Cornish Methodists, everywhere preaching to large and attentive congregations, Wesley returned, on September 23, to Bristol. Here, and at Bath, and in the surrounding country, he employed the next four weeks; and, on October 25, came to London, and wrote: “How pleasing would it be to play between London and Bristol, and preach always to such congregations as these! But what account then should I give of my stewardship when I can ‘be no longer steward’?”

In the autumn of this year, he received two letters from Captain Scott, who was stationed with his regiment at Northampton.[677] Here Mr. Blackwell and Mr. Glasbrook had been preaching, the regimental riding house serving as the place of meeting. Large crowds flocked to hear, and numbers were converted. Captain Scott urged Wesley to send an additional preacher to the Bedford circuit, who might take Northampton and the surrounding villages. “The Lord,” says he, “has opened you a door in Northampton at last, and will perhaps condescend to make us, unworthy creatures, instruments of assisting you. I therefore wish you were well established there before we leave. As persons of all ranks go to hear, I hope you will send a preacher that will be acceptable to them; for the work, being in its infancy, might be injured, if one was sent they did not like.” Wesley was not the man to neglect an opening like this; and, accordingly, on November 10, set out. On his way, however, he found that James Glasbrook had made arrangements for his preaching every day in Bedfordshire, and, hence, he was obliged to send Richard Blackwell to Northampton to supply his place. In this way, principally by means of soldiers, Methodism was planted in this important town, and here, as elsewhere, began to fulfil its mission.

With the exception of his usual Kentish tour, the rest of the year was spent in London. Here he preached on family religion, which he calls “the grand desideratum among the Methodists.” He also delivered one or more discourses, as he had previously done in Bristol, on the education of children, “wherein,” says he, “we are shamefully wanting.” Some of the Bristol people answered, by saying, “Oh, he has no children of his own!” But the London Methodists were convinced of their defects. He also commenced a course of sermons on Christian perfection, “if haply,” says he, “that thirst after it might return, which was so general a few years ago. Since that time, how deeply have we grieved the Holy Spirit of God! Yet two or three have lately received His pure love: and a few more are brought to the birth.”

Every one must be struck with Wesley’s almost unequalled labours,—labours prosecuted, not for honour, inasmuch as, for the present, at all events, they only brought him contempt and ridicule; nor for fortune, inasmuch as he took nothing from the people among whom he laboured, except, occasionally when his purse was empty, a few pence or shillings to pay his turnpike gates or his ostler’s bill. Indeed, money, like all his other talents, he devoted entirely to the work of God. He sometimes had it; but he never kept it. “Hundreds and thousands,” says Thomas Olivers, “are for ever draining Mr. Wesley’s pocket to the last shilling, as those about him are eye witnesses.”[678]

A remarkable instance of this occurred in the year 1766. Two years before, when at Durham, he met with Miss Lewen, a young lady of about two-and-twenty, with a yearly income of £600, at her own disposal. Some months previously, she had found peace with God, and had joined the Methodists. A friendship sprung up. Her father treated Wesley with the utmost civility, and said, he had done his daughter more good than all the physicians had; and wished her to go to London, where she might have the benefit of his advice, and also communion with his people. She went, and made her abode with Miss Bosanquet, Sarah Crosby, and Sarah Ryan, at their orphanage at Leytonstone. Her health was exceedingly infirm, suffering as she did from a heart disease. In October, 1766, after a few days’ illness, she expired; some of her last words being, “Oh now I know I shall be with Christ for ever! Yes, I shall be with Thee, O Lord, for ever! Oh for ever! for ever! for ever! Yes! I shall be with Thee for ever!”[679] Wesley went to visit her, but found her dead; and, after describing her last moments, writes: “So died Margaret Lewen! a pattern to all young women of fortune in England: a real Bible Christian.”

Wesley’s serious accident, by the falling of his horse in Southwark, at the end of 1765, has been already mentioned. A few months after, Miss Lewen gave him a chaise and a pair of horses,[680] which, as occasion required, he began to use. She also left him a legacy of £1000, and “a sum of money,” says Lloyd’s Evening Post, “to build a chapel, under his direction.” The latter statement is a doubtful one; but it is a fact that, in a codicil, she bequeathed to Miss Bosanquet’s orphanage £2000, and wished to make it ten or twelve; but Miss Bosanquet prevailed upon her to let her take the codicil and burn it.[681] Considerable unpleasantness ensued; but, on August 11, 1767, Wesley writes: “I came to a friendly conclusion with Mr. Lewen. He agreed to pay the legacies on the 2nd of November, and we relinquished the residue of the estate. So the harpy lawyers are happily disappointed, and the design of the dying saint, in some measure, answered.”

By Miss Lewen’s will Wesley became the owner of £1000, probably the largest sum that he ever had in his possession. The money, however, was soon gone. In reference to it, Wesley says: “I am God’s steward for the poor;”[682] and among the poor it was speedily distributed. His own sister, Mrs. Hall, deserted by her worthless husband, applied for a portion, but applied too late. Hence the following characteristic letter, written within two years after Miss Lewen’s death.

“Kingswood, October 6, 1768.

“Dear Patty,—You do not consider, money never stays with me: it would burn me if it did. I throw it out of my hands as soon as possible, lest it should find a way into my heart. Therefore, you should have spoken to me while I was in London, and before Miss Lewen’s money flew away. However, I know not, but I may still spare you £5, provided you will not say, ‘I will never ask you again,’ because this is more than you can tell; and you must not promise more than you can perform.

“Oh how busy are mankind! and about what trifles! Things that pass away as a dream! Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, but to love and serve God.

“I am, dear Patty, your ever affectionate,

“John Wesley.”[683]

It is pleasant to be loved; it is painful to be hated and despised. Wesley had as great a share of both hatred and affection as most who have ever lived. For more than thirty years, he had been the butt of malice, as well as the object of Christian sympathy and love. He was the cynosure towards which both loving and malignant eyes were turned. This state of things still continued. Much has been already said concerning Methodist persecution; much yet remains unsaid.

In 1766, a translation of Formey’s Ecclesiastical History, in two volumes, was given to the public, and had attached to it an appendix, containing “an account of Mr. Wesley and his sect.” The translator tries to write fairly, but still speaks of Wesley’s doctrines as issuing “in spiritual pride,” and as having a dangerous influence on “virtuous practice.”

The Gospel Magazine, also, deemed it its pious duty to publish “A Dialogue between the Foundery and the Tabernacle, occasioned by the late publication of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’s sermon upon ‘Imputed Righteousness.’” The Tabernacle, of course, bombards the Foundery, and thinks that it wins a glorious victory. Wesley “writes neither with the wisdom of the scholar, the judgment of the divine, the ability of the critic, nor with a becoming mildness and moderation. His principles also are very erroneous.”

Laurence Sterne, clever but self conceited, pretentiously generous, but sensually selfish, published his “Yorick’s Sermons and Meditations,” and adorned them by describing Methodist preachers as “illiterate mechanics, much fitter to make a pulpit than to get into one.”

The Rev. John Tottie, D.D., archdeacon of Worcester, and chaplain in ordinary to his majesty, at the request of the clergy, issued “Two Charges, delivered in the diocese of Worcester, in the years 1763 and 1766: one against the Papists, and the other against the Methodists”; the reverend archdeacon advancing the postulatum, that “the tenets and practices of the Methodist teachers are conformable to those of the papists, and have a direct tendency to lead men into popery.”

Not only Churchmen, but Dissenters, mustered to the battle. A shilling pamphlet was published, with the title, “The Causes and Reasons of the present Declension among the Congregational Churches in London and the Country; interspersed with reflections on Methodism and Sandemanianism.” Methodism was growing; congregationalism was declining. Why? The writer attributes the declension to “the encroachments of the Methodists and the Sandemanians”; and strongly censures the congregationalists for their “departure from the Bible, for the sake of following the inventions of men, the cant of fanatics, and the nostrums of systematic divines.”

Poetry likes to live among flowers, and in scenes of sublimity and beauty; in 1766, it found a fresh well of inspiration, and made the old Foundery its Helicon. The newspapers were enriched with poetical effusions, like “A Modern Summer’s Evening,” in which

“Methodists to church repair,

Porters, tinkers, crowds, in shoals,

Pious cobblers mend, with prayer,

More their own than neighbours’ souls.”[684]

Besides these, the public were amused by the publication of “The Methodist and Mimic,” a tale in Hudibrastic verse; by Peter Paragraph; inscribed to Samuel Foote, Esq., who doubtless nursed the bantling with natural affection.

There was also “The New Bath Guide; or, Memoirs of the B—r—d Family, in a series of poetical Epistles;” the whole of which are rakish, vile productions, and that on Methodism so pollutingly obscene, that it would be criminal to quote it.

And then, to crown the whole, there was “The Methodist. A poem. By the author of the ‘Powers of the Pen,’ and the ‘Curate.’” Two extracts may be given as fair specimens of the whole. After portraying Whitefield, the illustrious poet describes Wesley thus.

“A second agent, like the first,

Who on demoniac milk was nursed,

Had Moorfields trusted to his care,

For Satan keeps an office there.

Lean is the saint, and lank, to show

That flesh and blood to heaven can’t go;

His hair, like candles, hangs—a sign

How bright his inward candles shine.”

Wesley’s itinerants afford the poetic author wondrous amusement. A very few of his sketchy couplets must suffice.

“Salvation now is all the cant;

Salvation is the only want:

Of the new birth they prate, and prate,

While midwifery is out of date.

Every mechanic will commence

Orator, without mood or tense.

The bricklayer throws his trowel by,

And now builds mansions in the sky.

The cobbler, touched with holy pride,

Flings his old shoes and lasts aside,

And now devoutly sets about

Cobbling of souls that ne’er wear out.

The baker, now a preacher grown,

Finds man lives not by bread alone,

And now his customers he feeds

With prayers, with sermons, groans, and creeds.

Weavers, inspired, their shuttles leave,

Sermons and flimsy hymns to weave.

Barbers unreaped will leave the chin,

To trim and shave the man within.

The gardener, weary of his trade,

Tired of the mattock and the spade,

Changed to Apollo in a trice,

Waters the plants of paradise.

The fishermen no longer set

For fish the meshes of their net;

But catch, like Peter, men of sin,

For catching is to take them in.”

All the rest is in keeping with this, except that some of the lines are not only ribald, but obscene.

This was the sort of jeering which Wesley had to meet,—jeering which he was often powerless to prosecute, and which it was beneath his dignity to answer. Besides this, he was too much occupied with his own great work to turn aside to chastise all the curs that availed themselves of the liberty to snarl and bark at him. His societies were now so numerous and important, that it was a gigantic task to visit them, and regulate their multifarious affairs once a year. In addition, he was bringing out his Notes on the Old Testament, a work, in itself, quite sufficient for the time and energies of any ordinary man; and, further, he had to enforce and to defend his doctrine of Christian perfection, a doctrine imperfectly understood, and bitterly assailed. Hence the publication of a small 12mo volume of 162 pages, entitled, “A Plain Account of Christian Perfection, as believed and taught by the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, from the year 1725, to the year 1765.” “What I purpose,” says he, “is to give a plain and distinct account of the steps by which I was led, during a course of many years, to embrace the doctrine of Christian perfection.” The book is really historical, rather than doctrinal, and is intended to show, that Wesley’s present views were substantially the views which he had held for the last forty years. This was unquestionably true, with the one exception of his now teaching, that Christian perfection is attainable in an instant, and by faith only. When did Wesley begin to teach this? He says, in 1741; but the only evidence he adduces, in support of his affirmation, is the hymn, then published, beginning with the line,

“Lord, I believe a rest remains;”

and containing the following stanzas.

“Oh that I now the rest might know,

Believe and enter in!

Now, Saviour, now, the power bestow,

And let me cease from sin!

Remove this hardness from my heart,

This unbelief remove;

To me the rest of faith impart,

The sabbath of Thy love!”

The question here raised is not whether Wesley’s doctrine be true, or whether it be false; but simply when he began to preach it. He says, from the beginning; Dr. Whitehead says otherwise. He writes: “Though Mr. Wesley had so long held the doctrine of Christian perfection, he had not always held, that this state of mind might be attained in one moment; much less, that a person might attain it in his novitiate; nor do I know, that there were any professors of it before 1760, except when death was approaching.”[685]

Who will decide this question? It is full of interest, and is not without importance.