The leading member in the Methodist church, Richard Wilson, opened the first wine and spirit store at Bramley, and corrupted the whole country round with his wares, doing far more for the devil and sin than the preachers could do for God and holiness. Yet no one seemed to think there was anything dishonorable or diabolical in the business.
At a social party to which I was invited at Leeds, consisting of preachers and leading members of the church, one man, a preacher, got so drunk, that he became a most distressing spectacle. I cannot describe his mishaps. There were others who ought to have committed themselves in the same sad way, for they drank as much, and even more, but they had stronger constitutions, or were better seasoned.
At Liverpool, my first station, every one on whom the preachers called in their pastoral rounds, asked them to drink. Even Dr. Raffles, the popular Congregational minister, had wine and cakes brought out, when I and my superintendent called on him one morning. Wine and cakes, or cakes and spirits, were placed on the table by all who were not too poor to buy such things, and even the poorer members contrived to supply themselves with rum or whisky. And all expected the preachers to drink. And the preachers did drink. Mr. Allin, my superintendent, was not by far the greatest drinker in the Connexion, yet he seldom allowed the poison placed before him to remain untasted. I was so organized, that I never could drink a full glass of either wine or ale without feeling more or less intoxicated, and for spirits I had quite a distaste; so that I was obliged to take intoxicating drinks very sparingly. Yet I conformed, to some extent, to the prevailing custom; and it was not, I fear, through any great goodness of my own, that I did not become a drunkard. Several of my fellow-ministers became drunkards. Mr. Allin himself, after he fell under the influence of that bad rich man at Sheffield became a drunkard, and brought on shocks of paralysis by his excesses. My superintendent at Sheffield drank himself into delirium tremens, and I fear he never got over his bad habits. Mr. Chapman was a notorious sot. I knew him personally, and was compelled, at times, to witness his disgusting habits. Yet he was never expelled, though he was superannuated some forty years or more before his death. His superannuation reduced his income some seventy-five per cent., and made it impossible for him to drink so freely as he had been wont, and so, very probably, helped to prolong his miserable life.
While stationed at Liverpool, I was called away to supply the place of the superintendent preacher in the Chester circuit for a few weeks, who had died very suddenly, under very peculiar circumstances. His name was Dunkerley. I was told by persons likely to know the truth, that he was a very drunken man. On one occasion, while he was over at Liverpool, he fell down in the Theatre Square, and had to be taken up and carried into a neighboring shop. At first it was supposed he had had a fit; but a little further attention to the case revealed the secret that he was drunk. On another occasion, on his return from Liverpool to Chester, he was observed, when he got off the coach, to stagger backwards and fall down. Some friends that were waiting for his arrival, ran and helped him up, and took him to a member's house just by. He was found to be drunk then also. The members spoke to him on the subject, and reproved him sharply, and then put him to bed. The Tuesday night following, the matter was mentioned at the leaders' meeting, when he was present. The leaders told him that such conduct could not be tolerated, and that unless a change took place for the better, the matter would have to be laid before the Quarterly Meeting. The preacher acknowledged his fault, and promised, if they would forgive him that once, that he would do so no more. I believe that from that time he gave up the use of intoxicating drinks for a week or two; but shortly after, having to go to the Welsh side of the Circuit, he began to use them again. At one of the places on that side of the Circuit, the leaders were accustomed to have their meetings in a room in a public-house, near the Chapel, and to lodge the preacher there. Perhaps poor Dunkerley thought it would hardly look right for him to be accommodated at a public-house with a bed, and yet take nothing to drink; so he got some gin. The relish for the gin must have returned upon him with great power when he began to taste it, for he drank very freely. He drank so much, that the publican himself began to feel alarmed for him. A short time after he had gone up stairs to bed, the people of the house heard a noise of an unusual character in his room, and on going to see what was the matter, they found the preacher on his knees, in an apoplectic fit, the blood gushing from his nose and ears. He died the same evening. He died drunk.
It was this man's place that I went to supply. I do not wonder now that Dunkerley and several other preachers in the New Connexion were drunkards, when I take into consideration the customs and habits of the people of the Connexion in those days. I never met with anything in any society, that I recollect, more at variance with the principles of Christian temperance, and more likely to lead both preachers and people into drunkenness and profligacy, than the habits and customs of many of the members of the New Connexion in the Chester circuit. In the first place they were all users of intoxicating drinks, and all those that were in tolerable circumstances regularly kept spirits as well as milder, weaker kinds of intoxicating drinks in their houses. In the next place a preacher could never call at the houses of those people, whatever the time of day, without being urged to drink of either the stronger or weaker kinds of intoxicating drinks. And he could hardly refuse to drink without seeming to slight the kindness of the people, and running the risk of giving offence. In the third place they were very much addicted to extravagant social parties, pleasure jaunts, &c. They were worse than the people of Leeds in this respect; unless they were worse than usual while I was there. All the time that I was in Chester, there was not a single week or day when they had not either some dinner-party or tea-party, or both, or else some pleasure jaunt on the water or on land. And those pleasure parties and feasts were always occasions of extravagant eating and drinking. Besides abundance of flesh and game, and other luxuries, there was always an overwhelming supply of intoxicating drinks, and great quantities were consumed. I have seen men on those occasions drink five, six, eight, or even ten glasses of wine or spirits, besides drinking ale, or porter, or wine at meals. I recollect very distinctly seeing a person, and that a preacher, drink, in addition to what he consumed over his meal, ten glasses of Port wine between dinner and tea, after which he went to preach.
Religious society was not quite so corrupt in the principal towns of the Hanley circuit, where I was next stationed, as at Liverpool and Chester, yet there was a fearful amount of respectable intemperance there. There was no end to the feasting. And as I, though so young, was very popular, I was always expected to be present. The luxuries in which I indulged brought on indigestion. Indigestion, and close study, and hard work in the pulpit, brought on a most wearisome languor and depression. To help me, one rich friend sent me a bottle of Sherry wine. Another sent me Elderberry wine. These made me worse. It was well this mistaken kindness did not ruin me. But I was preserved, thank God, both from death and drunkenness.
For two years more I was in the midst of these awful temptations to intemperance, and a witness to their deadly effects on several of my brethren. I felt that I was in danger. And I saw that the church was suffering. I looked round for a remedy.
Just then there came rumors of a temperance society, and of attempts at a temperance reformation. One of our young preachers had joined this new society, and had labelled his whisky and brandy medicine. He left his beer, and porter, and wine, unlabelled, and drank them as freely as before. The people who told me of this, ridiculed the man, and ridiculed the movement for temperance reform. I was rather pleased with the news, though news of a more thorough movement might have pleased me better. But the beginnings of things are small. The movement soon became radical enough, and I kept pace with it.
In 1832 I gave up the use of ardent spirits, and became a member of the old-fashioned temperance society. In 1833 I gave up the use of intoxicating drinks of all kinds, and joined the teetotal society. In 1834 I gave up the use of tobacco. A few months later I gave up tea and coffee, and took water as my usual drink.
These changes in my way of life gave great offence to many in the church to which I belonged, and led them to speak of me, and act towards me, in a way that was anything but kind and agreeable. This was especially the case with regard to my disuse of intoxicating drinks, and my advocacy of teetotalism. I might have been borne with perhaps if I had become a drunkard; for drunkards were in some cases tolerated; but a teetotaler was not to be endured. Some called me a fool, and some a madman, and one man pronounced me no better than a suicide and a murderer. "You will be dead," said he, "in twelve months, if you persist in your miserable course, and what will become of your wife and children? And what account can you give of the people you are leading to untimely death by your example?" One person at Chester, at whose house I had visited some years before, when supplying the place of the deceased minister, would neither invite me to his house, nor speak to me in the street, except in the way of insult, now that I had become a teetotaler. He said no one should ever sit at his table who would not take a glass of wine. And I never did sit at his table after. He invited my colleagues, and he invited the old superannuated minister, whose character I cannot describe, but he never invited me.