In dress Mr. Wesley was the pattern of neatness and simplicity, wearing a narrow plaited stock, and coat with small upright collar, with no silk or velvet on any part of his apparel. This, added to a head as white as snow, gave to the beholder an idea of something primitive and apostolic.
The following description of him is given by one who, though not a Methodist, could properly appreciate true greatness: "Very lately I had an opportunity for some days together to observe Mr. Wesley with attention. I endeavored to consider him not so much with the eye of a friend as with the impartiality of a philosopher. I must declare every hour I spent in his company afforded me fresh reasons for esteem and veneration. So fine an old man I never saw. The happiness of his mind beamed forth in his countenance. Every look showed how fully he enjoyed the remembrance of a life well spent. Wherever he was he diffused a portion of his own felicity. Easy and affable in his demeanor, he accommodated himself to every sort of company, and showed how happily the most finished courtesy may be blended with the most perfect piety."
In social life Mr. Wesley was a finished Christian gentleman, and this was seen in the perfect ease with which he accommodated himself to both high and low, rich and poor. He was placid, benevolent, full of rich anecdotes, wit, and wisdom. In all these his conversation was not often equaled. He was never trifling, but always cheerful. Such interviews were always concluded by a verse or two of some hymn, adapted to what had been said, and prayer.
There was no evidence of fret. He used to say, "I dare no more fret than curse or swear." "His sprightliness among his friends never left him, and was as conspicuous at eighty-seven as at seventeen." He was at home everywhere, in the mansion or in the cottage, and was equally courteous to all. The young drew to him and he to them. "I reverence the young," he said, "because they may be useful after I am dead." Bradburn, one of his most intimate friends, said: "His modesty prevented him saying much concerning his own religious feelings. In public he hardly ever spoke of the state of his own soul; but in 1781 he told me that his experience might, almost at any time, be expressed in the following lines:
"'O Thou who camest from above,
The pure celestial fire to impart,
Kindle a flame of sacred love
On the mean altar of my heart.
"'There let it for thy glory burn,
With inextinguishable blaze;
And trembling to its source return,
With humble prayer and fervent praise.'"
This may not be sufficiently definite for some, but it is quite as much so as genuine Christian modesty would approve. But it is evident that he always possessed the "pure, celestial fire," and that its "inextinguishable blaze" bore him on to deeds of heroic daring unparalleled in modern times.
CHAPTER XIII.
WESLEY AS A PREACHER.