From that time until his death Morgan Llwyd ceased to play any part in politics. He had always been studiously inclined. In 1653 had been written his great classic, Llyfr y Tri Aderyn (Book of the Three Birds). In the closing years of his life, the mystic tendencies which had always been strong in him got the better of everything else. He translated the writings of Jacob Behmen; and tramped about the hills and valleys of Wales, preaching to the peasantry in their own homes. His influence was immense; and without founding school, or sect, or party, he left a name and an inspiration which remained fresh and potent for generations.
Morgan Llwyd did not survive to see the Restoration; and well was it for him that he did not, for it would have filled him with the most poignant anguish. Most of all would he have been grieved by the manifest signs of joy with which the event was greeted in Wales. The dream of a moral, a religious, an educated, and a democratic Wales was shattered for the time being; it was not to be revived for another hundred years and more. Once again the country sank back into its intellectual torpor, its superstition, and its immorality. The old order was restored:—"The squire dispensed justice, the parson preached loyalty, the bard in remote Nannau praised the life of Charles the First and bewailed his death, and the peasant was told that the world was put right again." In many parts of the land Parliamentarians were pitilessly persecuted. In Merionethshire, where the influence of Morgan Llwyd had been most strong, and where Maes-y-Garnedd, the home of Colonel John Jones, stood in the shadow of the mountains, a sturdy spirit of independence had already been fostered. Determined not to remain at home to be oppressed, a large number of them left Bala in 1682, and sailed for the Quaker colony of Pennsylvania. There, from time to time, they were joined by other Welsh people. To the district which they occupied they gave the name of "Meirion," and they became the ancestors of many of the most distinguished citizens of Philadelphia.
CHAPTER XII
THE REVIVAL
In the making of modern Wales two men stand out pre-eminent, and without rivals—King Henry VIII, and the Revivalist Howel Harris. The former gave to Wales the opportunity of playing an equal part with England in the life of the Empire. The latter roused Wales from its mediæval lethargy into clear realization and appreciation of the opportunity which lay within its grasp. In the darkest hour of its history, in 1916, the British Empire entrusted its fortunes to the care of a Welshman. That Welshman had been made possible by Henry VIII: he was produced by Howel Harris.
Enough has been said already to prove that Nonconformity did not appear in Wales for the first time in the eighteenth century. The Act of Uniformity of 1662 occasioned the ejection from their livings of some two thousand clergy, more than a hundred of whom are said to have been Welsh. Yet in spite of that, and in spite of the persecution made possible by the Clarendon Code, Dissent continued to exist. The Toleration Act of King William made matters easier; but even then Nonconformity did not thrive. There was nothing peculiarly Welsh about any of the sects; they were merely branches in Wales of bodies English or Continental in origin, thought, and outlook. Long before the time of the Methodist Revival these sects had ceased to be missionary enterprises. They had lost all their evangelical ardour, and were occupied mainly with rancorous disputations about recondite points of theology. For the moral and religious condition into which Wales had fallen, they were almost as much to blame as the Established Church. Even if we accept the most favourable accounts, the condition of the people must have been extremely bad. Few of the lower classes knew how to read. In many churches whole months would elapse without any sermon at all; while in others the parson would read a learned English discourse to a sparse congregation knowing nothing but Welsh. Wesley declared that the people were "as little versed in the principles of Christianity as a Creek or Cherokee Indian." That the people were completely indifferent to any religious impulse, and that they lived, for the most part, the life of mere animals, is proved by an overwhelming mass of evidence. Of course too much must not be made of the testimony of extreme Puritans, who were scandalized by what they considered desecration of the Sabbath, and by such things as wrestling, dancing, cock-fighting, and drinking. But when all allowance has been made for this prejudice, a terrible indictment can still be drawn up; for the vast majority of the people must have been totally illiterate, extremely superstitious, and without a thought save for the gratification of their bodily needs and desires. North Wales was almost wholly Anglican, there being not more than ten small Nonconformist congregations. In the South Dissenters were more numerous. But at the highest computation we cannot put the total number of Nonconformists in Wales at more than an eighth of the total population.
The awakening came with Howel Harris, a man, like Luther, of tempestuous passions, strong character, wide vision, and magnetic personality. A clear hint had already been given by the Rev. Griffith Jones, Vicar of Llanddowror, of the method which would have to be employed for the regeneration of Wales. In spite of every discouragement from his fellow clergymen, he had begun the practice of preaching, in a popular style, in the open air, at fairs and wakes and wherever people were gathered together for dissipation. Griffith Jones, however, was an educator rather than a revivalist, and as such we shall have more to say about him in another place. Of the Revival itself he was a precursor, rather than a leading figure.
Howel Harris was born in 1714, at Trevecka in Breconshire. He was educated at the Llwynllwyd Grammar School, and was intended for the Church. But the death of his father made it necessary that he should earn his own living; and for some years he became a schoolmaster. During this period he studied hard, and, what is of more importance in his case, pondered over the evil condition of the people among whom he dwelt. An intense desire was awakened within him to save souls. In 1735 he matriculated at St. Mary Hall, Oxford; but his sojourn at the University was only a few weeks in duration, and he returned to his own home more eager than ever to preach the Gospel. He was not ordained, neither was he a licensed preacher of any Nonconformist body. On the contrary he was then, and remained all through life, a member of the Church of England. But he began to go on preaching tours into every part of Wales; and this work he continued, without intermission, for the next sixteen years. The life was a strenuous, and even a dangerous, one. On one occasion he writes: "It is now nine weeks since I began to go round South and North Wales, and this week I came home. I have visited in that time thirteen counties, and travelled most of 150 miles every week and discoursed twice every day—sometimes three or four times a day. In this last journey I have not taken off my clothes for seven nights, travelling from one morning to the next evening without any rest above 100 miles, discoursing at midnight, or very early, on the mountains in order to avoid persecution." The closing words have a very modest sound; but it must not be thought that Harris fled from danger; on the contrary it would be nearer the truth to say that he wantonly incurred it. The "persecution" of which he speaks was no figurative expression, but a hard and stern reality. Indeed this period of his life is one of the most wonderful romances of modern times.
Innumerable examples could be given of the things which Harris endured at the hands of his opponents; and it must be confessed that his own aggressiveness, and the unseasonable moment selected by him for delivering his message, make one feel that his sufferings were, at times, almost deserved. On one occasion a Justice of the Peace, one Marmaduke Gwynn by name, came to hear him, armed with a copy of the Riot Act, but was so impressed with what he heard that he invited him to be a guest at his house. Sometimes his success was complete. "Yesterday," he writes, "was a glorious day: I was at a great feast, and chose to oppose the devil on his own ground; and we discoursed within a few yards of a public house, where diversion was to be. I never tasted more power. I believe some were cut through; many wept, and one fainted; others felt a great trembling, and all were filled with awe." His enemies did not hesitate to issue false reports about him. "Last night and to-day," he says, "I met with no opposition; many are deterred from coming to hear by a report passing for truth, that I really correspond with the King of Spain, and that £40 are offered for taking me." At Llanbrynmair he finds the people living "like brutes, knowing nothing"; yet so convincing was the message which he delivered, that he left behind him there the nucleus of one of the first and strongest Methodist congregations. On the road from Cemmaes he was roughly hustled and beaten, and followed by a gang of men who cried, "Down with the Roundheads." A woman threw mud at him, calling him a "damned devil"; and he was hounded out of the parish with dogs. At Machynlleth he was beset by an infuriated rabble, headed by an attorney's clerk with mouth "so full of the language of hell as if his name had been legion"; and with him a gentleman and a clergyman whose language was, apparently, in no wise different from that of the clerk! Some years later this same clerk relented; but the parson, to the end of his days, never ceased to allude to the new preachers, in his sermons, as "those wicked Methodists." At Crickhowell Harris was so roughly handled that he was obliged to seek refuge in a friend's house, his clothes torn, his face covered with blood, his head cut in thirteen places, and his body bruised. South Wales seems to have been decidedly more wicked than the North, and Glamorgan worst of all. An attempt to shoot Harris was made at Swansea and Llandilo; and at Carmarthen a man drew a sword, with the intention of killing him. But the North was bad enough. At Bala (so soon afterwards to become the Oxford of Welsh Nonconformity) he had a very unpleasant time on his second visit to the place. The Vicar raised a great club which he was carrying, and threatened to strike him with it. Not content with that, the reverend man caused a barrel of beer to be placed in the open street, where all comers might freely drink, in order that their will to harm the Revivalist might be strengthened, and their valour enhanced at the cost of their discretion. Nevertheless, in spite of all persecution, the whole country was soon ablaze with the Revival; and people came in hundreds and thousands to hear the preachers. Howel Harris was not alone in the field. About the same time, and quite independently of him, Daniel Rowlands, the eloquent curate of Llangeitho, had begun to preach, and a warm friendship was struck between the two men. Griffith Jones gave the new movement encouraging recognition; and Whitefield who, by his intense ardour and matchless eloquence, was infusing new life into the religion of England extended the right hand of fellowship. In 1740 Harris made an invaluable convert in the person of William Williams of Pantycelyn, in all probability the greatest hymn writer the world has ever seen, a man who gave imperishable expression to the theology, the ethics, and the ideals of the Revival. Williams was ordained by the Bishop of St. David's; and became curate to that charming and picturesque Welsh historian, Theophilus Evans. But the learned author of Drych y Prif Oesoedd had no liking for his curate's superabundant zeal; and when restraint was put upon his preaching, Williams joined the Methodists.