It was during this northern visit, that Wesley opened the first Methodist chapel in Sunderland. He writes: “Saturday, June 9—“I rode to Sunderland, and preached in the shell of their house. The people are hungry for the word, and receive it with all gladness.” Hitherto, the Sunderland Methodists had worshipped in a small room at the top of Swine Alley; and then in a house in Ettrick’s Garth, where, for the first time, they had space enough to set up a lilliputian pulpit, which, with the benches of the place, was threatened to be sold by auction for an arrear of rent, amounting to about £3, and was only saved by the prompt interference of Charles Askell, one of the first leaders, who advanced the sum out of his own pocket, though, by doing so, he deprived himself of the means of setting up housekeeping with Ann Lightfoot, whom he was about to marry, and who, with her mother, resided in a small cottage (Wesley’s home in Sunderland), in Playhouse Lane, maintaining themselves by sewing and by knitting.[358]
Wesley spent a month at Newcastle and in the immediate neighbourhood. At Chester-le-street, he “preached in Mr. Tinker’s yard, to a crowded audience,” says Lloyd’s Evening Post; “and after that made an oration at the meeting-house.” At Morpeth, he had a congregation of “officers, gentlemen, and common people, in the market-place, such as was never seen there before.” At North and at South Shields, the lions were become lambs. At Swalwell, he preached in a Dissenters’ chapel, with him a thing of rare occurrence. He held the quarterly meeting of the stewards, and found that there were in the Newcastle circuit about eighteen hundred members. In Newcastle itself, he not only preached in the Orphan House, but frequently out of doors, where his congregations were twice as large as the Orphan House could hold. He writes: “What marvel the devil does not love field preaching! Neither do I. I love a commodious room, a soft cushion, and a handsome pulpit. But where is my zeal, if I do not trample all these under foot, in order to save one more soul!” It was on one of these occasions, when preaching on the Exchange steps, that some of his congregation began to pelt him with mud and rotten eggs; but, at length, a fishwoman, big, burly, and drunken, and the terror of the neighbourhood in which she lived, ran up the steps, and threw one of her arms round Wesley’s neck, and shook the fist of the other in the face of Wesley’s cowardly assailants, and cried, “If ony yen o’ ye lift up another hand to touch ma canny man, ayl floor ye direckly.” The fishwife’s menace was quite enough, and Wesley was allowed to conclude in peace.[359]
On the 2nd of July, Wesley left Newcastle for London. On his way, he preached at Hartlepool, all the inhabitants of the town being present, either in the street or the adjoining houses, though “a queer, dirty, clumsy man, a country wit, took a great deal of pains to disturb the congregation.” At Stockton, in the midst of his service in the market-place, the press-gang came and seized his travelling companions, Joseph Jones and William Alwood, but afterwards released them, the mob, however, having, in the meanwhile, broken the lieutenant’s head and so stoned both him and his men, that, to save themselves from further injury, they ignominiously decamped. At Hutton-Rudby, he found that they had just built a preaching house. At Stokesley, he preached on the green; at Guisborough, in a meadow; at Robinhood’s Bay, on the quay; and at Scarborough, in the street. Thence, he went to York, Pocklington, and Hull. He writes: “I had a fine congregation at Hull. For once, the rich have the gospel preached.” On his way back to York, he preached in Mr. Hilton’s yard, at Beverley. At Tadcaster, distant thunder did not lessen the number of his congregation. At Otley, he preached to an immense multitude at the foot of a high mountain. At Guiseley, he was entertained at Mr. Marshal’s, “the Capua of Yorkshire.” At Keighley, he found “a loving, earnest, well established people.” He then proceeded to Colne, Heptonstall, and Haworth. At the last mentioned place, Mr. Milner read prayers, and Wesley preached, standing on a scaffold close to the church, and the congregation standing in the churchyard. After the service, “the communicants alone filled the church.” At a place near Huddersfield, he preached to “the wildest congregation he had seen in Yorkshire;” at Halifax, “the preaching house was like an oven”; at Bradford, he preached, not in the house, but at its door, “as it could not contain one half of the congregation”; at Morley, “a flame had suddenly broken out, where it was least of all expected, and was spreading wider and wider”; and at Birstal, the congregation nearly filled a field. At Sheffield, he was “desired to visit Mr. Dodge, curate of the new church, and found him on the brink of eternity, rejoicing in God his Saviour.” At Rotherham, he conversed with eleven persons who believed themselves to be entirely sanctified. At Gainsborough, he preached to “a rude, wild multitude, in Sir Nevil Hickman’s great hall,” and was thanked by Sir Nevil for his sermon. At North Scarle, he had a great multitude to hear him; but, though he “spoke as plainly as he could, on the first principles of religion, many seemed to understand him no more than if he was talking Greek.”
On Sunday, August 5, he reached Everton, “faint and weary”; attended the morning and afternoon services in Mr. Berridge’s church, where several “cried out aloud, not from sorrow or fear, but love and joy.” At night, he preached in Mr. Hicks’s church, at Wrestlingworth, and “two or three fell to the ground, and were extremely convulsed; while one or two were filled with strong consolation.” He “talked with Ann Thorn, and two others, who had been several times in trances”; and Berridge took him to Alice Miller, a girl fifteen years of age, whom he found “sitting on a stool, and leaning against a wall, with her eyes open and fixed upward.” He made a motion as if about to strike her, but her eyes remained unmoved. Tears stole down her cheeks; her face was stamped with reverence and love; her lips were open, but not a word was uttered. In about half an hour, her countenance changed into the form of fear, pity, and distress; she burst into a flood of tears, and cried, “They will all be damned!” In five minutes, her smiles returned; this was followed by an exhibition of distress, when she again exclaimed, “They will go to hell! Cry aloud! Spare not!” After remaining in this state for some hours, “her senses returned.” Wesley asked, “Where have you been?” She answered, “With my Saviour.” “Why did you cry?” “Not for myself, but for the world; for I saw they were on the brink of hell.” This is a strange story, which Wesley leaves, as he leaves many more, without comment. On August 7, he got back to London.
Before proceeding farther, the following extract from a letter, which Berridge wrote to Wesley three weeks before his visit, will not be out of place, and will furnish the reader with “an idea of the wonderful work and scenes witnessed at Everton, and in the surrounding country.”
“July 16, 1759.
“Dear Sir,—Mr. Hicks and myself have been preaching in the fields for this month past, and the power of the Lord is wonderfully present with the word. Near twenty towns have received the gospel in a greater or less degree; and we continually receive fresh invitations, whenever we go out. The word is everywhere like a hammer, breaking the rock in pieces. People fall down, cry out most bitterly, and struggle so vehemently, that five or six men can scarce hold them. It is wonderful to see how the fear of the Lord falls even upon unawakened sinners. When we enter a new village, the people stare, and laugh, and rail abundantly; but when we have preached night and morning, and they have heard the outcries of wounded sinners, they seem as much alarmed as if the French were at their doors. As soon as three or four receive convictions in a village, they are desired to meet together two or three nights in a week, which they readily comply with. At first, they only sing; afterwards they join reading and prayer to singing; and the presence of the Lord is greatly with them. Let me mention two instances. At Orwell, ten people were broken down in one night, only by hearing a few people sing hymns. At Grandchester, a mile from Cambridge, seventeen people were seized with strong convictions last week, only by hearing hymns sung. When societies get a little strength and courage, they begin to read and pray, and then the Lord magnifies His love as well as power amongst them by releasing souls out of bondage.
“Of late, there has been a wonderful outpouring of the spirit of love among believers; insomuch, that they have fainted under it, fallen down, and lain upon the ground, as dead, for some hours; their bodies being so weakened by these transports of joy, that they have not been able to endure hard labour for days afterwards.
“I would not have you publish the account of A. T. It might only prejudice people against the Lord’s work in this place. I find our friends in town begin to be in great pain about the work. They are very slow of heart to believe what they do not see with their own eyes. Give my love to Mr. Grimshaw, and John Nelson; and believe me your affectionate servant for Christ’s sake,
“John Berridge.”[360]