It had so happened that Mr. and Mrs. Burrows had been obliged to remove from Wales to the neighborhood of Dudley, and had just arrived at their new home. Hearing that I was lecturing at Dudley, they hastened to the meeting, and got there just in time to hear my opponent mention their names in support of his charge of inconsistency. What could be more natural than that I and my friends should regard this remarkable and happy incident as a gracious interposition of Providence in our behalf?
The conduct of my opponents had a most injurious effect not only on my own mind, but on the minds of my wife and children. We came to look on New Connexion Methodist preachers as some of the worst of men,—as the very essence or embodiment of deceit and malignity; and our respect for Methodist preachers generally, and even for Methodism itself, was greatly abated. The consequence was, we were prepared to move in almost any direction that would take us farther away from our old associates, and we all became, to some extent, anti-Methodistical in our feelings and sentiments.
Exciting meetings like the one at Dudley took place in almost every part of the country. The numbers attending them were so great that no room could hold them, so that I generally had to speak in the open air. And I lectured almost every night, and often through the day as well; and every lecture was followed with discussion. When opponents did not rise to assail me, friends rose to consult me, and our evening meetings often continued till nearly midnight. And I preached three times on a Sunday. And after every meeting there was a crowd of friends anxious to talk with me, or have my counsel about the formation or management of societies. Some had heard strange stories about me, and wanted to know whether they were true or not. Others had had discussions with opponents, and wished to tell me how they had fared. Some had been puzzled with passages of Scripture quoted by opponents, and they wished to know my views of their meaning. Some were sick, and wanted my prayers. Some wanted prescriptions as well as prayers, and I was obliged to be a physician as well as a preacher and reformer. Reports of cures wrought by my means led many to believe I had the gift of healing, and sufferers sought my aid wherever I made my appearance.
While one-half of each day was taken up with talking, another half was taken up with writing. I had hundreds of letters to write, and hundreds upon hundreds of all kinds of letters to read. I had, besides, a new periodical on hand, for which I was expected to provide the principal part of the articles. And special attacks on me or on my views required a constant succession of pamphlets.
In addition to my press of work, I had no small share of anxiety. My wife was greatly tried, and saw no prospect of a speedy end to her trials. When expelled I was living in the preacher's house, and had the preacher's furniture, and many in the circuit considered that I had a right to them, and advised me to keep them, and set the Conference partly at defiance. I however refused to retain possession of property with a doubtful title, and gave all up. And now I had not a chair on which to sit, nor a bed on which to sleep. And the little money I had was wanted for the printers. My friends provided for me in a way, but not in the way to satisfy an anxious mother. One child was taken by one family, and another by another, while I and my wife were accommodated by a third. And one of the children was unkindly treated, and the rest were not content; and no house could be a home to my wife which was not her own; and no condition could make her content while deprived of the company of her children. And I saw her heart was the seat of fearful conflicts.
For several months I went through my arduous and ceaseless labors, and my varied and exhausting trials, without apparent injury to my health. At length, however, continual excitement, intense thought, ceaseless anxiety, the foul air of close and crowded rooms, perpetual travelling, loss of sleep, lack of domestic comforts, unhealthy food, and trials of other kinds without end, so exhausted me, that I found it difficult to rise from my chair, or to steady myself on my feet. To walk was quite a task,—a really painful one. I had a difficulty in putting one foot before the other. It was a labor to drag myself along. A walk of two or three miles quite wearied me. And when I got to my journey's end, my lungs lacked power to utter words; my brain lacked energy to supply thoughts; and lecturing and preaching became a weariness. When I sat down to write, my pen seemed reluctant to touch the paper. My mind shrank back from its task. In my ignorance of the laws of life, I charged myself with idleness, and tried to spur myself on to renewed activity. The attempt was vain. One afternoon I ventured to lie down and treat myself to an after-dinner nap. I slept three hours. I had no engagement that night, and feeling still unaccountably sleepy, I slipped off to bed about eight o'clock. I slept till nearly nine next morning. I slept an hour or two more after dinner. At night I slept about ten hours more. Next day I felt as if my strength was running over. I could do anything. My pen seemed to point to the paper of itself, as if anxious to be writing. Walking was a pleasure. I could preach or lecture without effort. Words, thoughts, and feelings were all at hand to do my bidding. What I had charged on myself as idleness, was strengthlessness, the result of sheer exhaustion.
I had suffered so much from the intolerance of my old colleagues, that I now resolved to be subject to no authority whatever but God and my own conscience. And I kept my resolution. I would neither rule nor be ruled. The extreme of priestly tyranny, from which I had suffered so grievously, had begotten in me the extreme of religious license. I have seen since, that a man may have too much liberty, as well as too little; too little restraint as well as too much; and that a church without authority and discipline must inevitably lose itself in confusion and ruin. We are none of us fit for unlimited liberty: we all need the supervision, and counsels, and admonitions, of our Christian brethren.
After my separation from the Methodist New Connexion I became the pastor of a church in Newcastle, which had left the Connexion on account of my expulsion. The trustees had legal and rightful possession of the large and nice new chapel there, and they and the other officials of the church were both dissatisfied with the doings of Conference, and desirous to secure me as their minister. They were aware of my admiration of the Quakers, and of my leaning towards some of their peculiar views and customs. They were also acquainted with my way of preaching, for I had travelled in that Circuit some years before, and I had preached for them frequently while stationed at Gateshead. They knew my character too, and were acquainted with all my conflicts with the ruling party in the Connexion from which I had been expelled. And though they did not think exactly as I thought on every point, they saw nothing in my views but what they could freely tolerate. They were satisfied that I was conscientious; and they considered my general deportment to be highly exemplary. And they knew I was a hard-working and successful minister. One of the leading members was a printer, and had been consulted by the Annual Committee of the New Connexion in reference to my communications to them about the publication of cheap books by the Book-room. They thought my statements were extravagant; he told them they were very near the truth, if not the truth itself. This gentleman was one of the most eager now to arrange for my settlement as a minister in Newcastle. The officers and members of the church generally were disposed to consult my feelings and meet my views. They did not require me to be a hired or salaried minister. They knew the wants of my family, and they would provide for them. They would appoint a person to baptize children. They were not particular about theological niceties. They had read my writings; they were acquainted with the controversies that had taken place between me and my opponents; and they were satisfied that I was right on every point of importance; and that was enough. And they liked my simple, earnest, practical style of preaching. So everything was comfortably arranged.
We united on the principle laid down in my article on "Toleration, Human Creeds," &c. The Bible was our creed: the Bible was our law-book; though we were still, on the whole, methodistical, both in doctrine and discipline. Numbers of other churches were organized on the same principle, in various parts of the country; and several young preachers left the body to which I had belonged, or were expelled on account of their attachment to me, and became their ministers. And the churches prospered. Numbers of people joined them, both from the world and from other religious communities.
For nearly two years things went on very happily at Newcastle, and the church was very prosperous. I labored to the utmost extent of my powers. I preached twice every Sunday to my own congregation, and once to another congregation at Gateshead, or in the country. I visited the churches also in every part of the land, preaching and lecturing continually.