Chapter III · OXFORD METHODISM, ETC. (continued 2)

Samuel, on Christmas-day, 1734, wrote as follows:—“You are not at liberty to resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. You are solemnly engaged to do it before God, and His high-priest, and His Church. Are you not ordained? Did you not deliberately and openly promise to instruct, to teach, to admonish, to exhort those committed to your charge? Did you equivocate then with so vile a reservation, as to purpose in your heart that you would never have a charge? It is not a college, it is not an university; it is the order of the Church, according to which you were called.”[127]

This was touching Wesley in a tender place. On conscientious grounds, he had already refused to apply for the Epworth living; and yet here his brother Samuel maintains that on conscientious grounds, he is bound not to bury himself at Oxford, but to undertake a cure of souls, either at Epworth or somewhere else. His faith is plighted. Before God and His Church he has sworn to be, not a tutor, but a minister of Christ. What was the effect of this? In December, 1734, Wesley refused to apply for his father’s living; and yet, ten months afterwards, he left Oxford and set sail to Georgia. What occurred during this brief interval?

In January, 1735, Wesley wrote to Samuel, saying:—“I do not, nor ever did, resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. There are four cures belonging to our college, and consistent with a fellowship. I do not know but I may take one of them at Michaelmas. Not that I am clearly assured that I should be false to my engagement, were I only to instruct and exhort the pupils committed to my charge. But of that I should think more. I desire your full thoughts upon the whole, as well as your prayers.”[128]

To this Samuel replied, February 8, 1735:—“The order of the Church stakes you down, and the more you struggle you will be held the faster. If there be such a thing as truth, I insist upon it, you must, when opportunity offers, either perform that promise, or repent of it.”[129]

In answer, five days afterwards, John remarked:—“Your last argument is either ignoratio elenchi, or implies these two propositions: 1. ‘You resolve against any parochial cure of souls.’ 2. ‘The priest who does not undertake the first parochial cure that offers is perjured.’ Let us add a third: ‘The tutor who, being in orders, never accepts of a parish is perjured.’ And then I deny all three.”[130]

Samuel’s reply was as follows:—“An ordained tutor, who accepts not a cure, is perjured; alter the term into ‘who resolves not to accept,’ and I will maintain it, unless you can prove either of these two: (1) there is no such obligation at taking orders; (2) this obligation is dispensed with. Both which I utterly deny.”[131]

On the 4th of March John replied:—“I had rather dispute with you, if I must dispute, than with any man living; because it may be done with so little expense of time and words. You think I engaged myself at my ordination to undertake the cure of a parish. I think I did not. However, I own I am not the proper judge of the oath I then took; accordingly, the post after I received yours, I referred it to ‘the high-priest of God,’ before whom I contracted that engagement, proposing this single question to him,—Whether I had, at my ordination, engaged myself to undertake the cure of a parish or no. His answer runs in these words: ‘It doth not seem to me that, at your ordination, you engaged yourself to undertake the cure of any parish, provided you can, as a clergyman, better serve God and His Church in your present or some other station.’ Now, that I can, as a clergyman, better serve God and His Church in my present station, I have all reasonable evidence.”[132]

Wesley’s father died within two months after this; and yet, during this short interval, Wesley seems to have been induced to lay aside his scruples and to apply for the Epworth living. He applied, but he was not successful. This is a bold assertion to be made in the teeth of statements directly opposite; statements made and repeated and re-repeated, without dispute, for more than the last seventy years: but before the reader rejects it, let him ponder the significance of the following letter, written by Wesley’s friend, Broughton, and published, for the first time, in the Wesleyan Times, of October 28, 1861:—

“London, April 15, 1735.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—The same evening I received the favour of yours, I waited on St. John, promising myself a kind reception. He rejoiced with me to hear that your father was yet alive; but did not close readily with me in attempting what, if crowned with success, might prove a means of making our declining friend end his days in peace. What shall we say for so sudden, so unwished for a change? Oh, put not your trust in princes! St. John disowns his giving me any encouragement to promise you hopes of success. Did I then write you an untruth? If his charge be just, I did; but his words were, ‘though he had solicited the Bishop of London and Sir Robert on behalf of another, not for Epworth, yet he would be glad to serve Mr. Wesley.’ But where is the obstacle? Why, my lord of London, who is usually consulted by the minister of state on such occasions, spoke some disadvantageous things of you once in the presence of St. John. But I could not but observe to our friend that the misrepresented strictness of life, which gave occasion for these disadvantageous things to be spoken of you, was so far from being an objection to your being favoured by a Christian bishop, that I humbly hoped it would turn to your good account, inasmuch as over exactness of behaviour was the sign of a tender and well regulated mind. But I cannot here help thinking, ‘Tros Tyriusve illi nullo discrimine agetur.’ St. John thinks the Bishop of Oxford can be your friend. Yes, I told him, my lord might give you a favourable word, if asked; but I did not think the interest in his lordship was so prevalent as to make him bestir himself on your behalf. However, if you judge it proper to write to the bishop, I will wait upon him, and do the best I can to serve my dear friend.

“Could your father’s book be presented to the queen soon? It might do good. Do you know any great man about the court? The king is not so difficult (I hope), if one could get a hearty friend to espouse you. My interest in the speaker is not powerful enough to bring about so desired a work; yet if there was any other great man to befriend you, a serviceable hint might be dropped. I doubt not but our good and loving God will order this and everything else for your great and best good. This is the wish and prayer of, dear sir,

“Yours most sincerely, “J. Broughton.”

Broughton was now curate at the Tower, in London.[133] Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, was a politician of great ability and power. Sir Robert Walpole was prime minister. The Bishop of London was the celebrated Edmund Gibson. The Epworth living was a gift of the crown. Bear these facts in mind, and the above epistle will be easily interpreted.

Wesley’s objections to leave Oxford being overcome, probably by the hard facts and logic of his brother Samuel, he took steps to become his father’s successor. Broughton, who was evidently a man of influence and position, was employed to secure the help of Bolingbroke; and Bolingbroke had promised to use his endeavours to serve Wesley; but, on being pressed to fulfil his promise, shrank from doing so, on the ground that he had heard Gibson speak disparagingly of Wesley in Walpole’s presence; and, as the next presentation of the Epworth living was, ipso facto, at the disposal of these two dignitaries, it was almost useless to bring before them Wesley’s wish.

Broughton suggests two other steps to be taken, which might be of service in securing the living: (1) that the good services of the Bishop of Oxford be solicited; and (2) that the dying rector’s “Dissertations on the Book of Job,” dedicated to Queen Caroline, might be presented to her majesty as soon as possible. To adopt the second of these suggestions was impracticable, as the work was only in the course of being printed, and the first opportunity of presenting a copy to the queen did not occur until six months after the rector’s death. Whether the first was carried out we have no means of knowing.

The reader will excuse these lengthy observations, on the ground that they help to clear up what has always been a somewhat painfully mysterious chapter in Wesley’s history. It is not true that he could not be induced to apply for his father’s living. Indirectly, at least, he did apply, but failed; and, remembering this, the wonder is not so great that a few months afterwards he embarked for Georgia.[134]

Little more remains to be said before accompanying Wesley on his mission.

It was in the midst of this correspondence respecting the Epworth rectory, that George Whitefield was introduced to Wesley’s acquaintance, and became one of the Oxford Methodists.[135] Three years before, Whitefield had been admitted a servitor of Pembroke College, and had begun to pray and sing psalms five times every day. He longed to be acquainted with the Methodists, and often watched them passing, through ridiculing crowds, to receive the sacrament at St. Mary’s; but he was a poor youth, the servitor of other students, and shrunk from obtruding himself upon their notice. At length, a woman, in one of the workhouses, attempted to cut her throat; and Whitefield sent an apple-seller, attached to Pembroke College, to inform Charles Wesley of her condition; and this led Charles to invite him to breakfast next morning. He was now introduced to the rest of the Methodists, and adopted all their rules. The master of his college threatened to expel him. Some of the students shot at him their shafts of ridicule; others threw dirt at him; and others took away their pay from him. Being in great distress about his soul, he lay whole days prostrate on the ground, in silent or vocal prayer; he chose the worst sort of food; he fasted twice a week; he wore woollen gloves, a patched gown, and dirty shoes; and, as a penitent, thought it unbecoming to have his hair powdered. Like all his brother Methodists, he observed Lent with the greatest severity, eating no flesh during the six weeks, except on Saturdays and Sundays. On the other days, his only food was coarse bread, and sage tea without sugar. Abstinence and inward conflicts brought on illness; but, after about seven weeks, he was enabled to lay hold on Christ by a living faith, was filled with peace and joy, and became probably by far the most happy member of the Oxford brotherhood.[136]

Mention has been already made of the first of Wesley’s publications,—his “Forms of Prayer,” printed in 1733. In 1735 he issued three others.

First, “A Sermon on the Trouble and Rest of Good Men, preached at St. Mary’s, Oxford, on Sunday, September 21st, and published at the request of several of the hearers.” London: C. Rivington. 1735. This sermon, in two respects, is remarkable; (1) for its un-Wesleyan theology; (2) for its boldly bearding Methodist persecutors in their head-quarters. The preacher tells his hearers that “perfect holiness is not found on earth; but death will destroy, at once, the whole body of sin, and therewith its companion—pain.” Two years before, in his sermon on “The Circumcision of the Heart,” Wesley had given a beautiful definition of “holiness;” but here he teaches that this holiness is not attainable in life; not until the hour of death; a different doctrine this to that which he afterwards embodied in his “Plain Account of Christian Perfection.” But however much the preacher lacked theological correctness, there was no lack of heroic daring: remembering that, for six years past, he and his associates had been the constant butt of collegiate scorn and ridicule, and that his present congregation, in a great degree, consisted of those who had thought it a privilege to make themselves witty at his expense; one cannot but admire his pluck in telling them, face to face, that, “as at first, he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the Spirit, even so it is now, and so it must be, till all things are fulfilled. Despisers were now multiplied upon the earth, who feared not the Son, neither the Father; but blasphemed the Lord and His Anointed; either reviling the whole of His glorious gospel, or making Him a liar as to some of the blessed truths revealed therein. But in heaven good men are hid from the scourge of the tongue. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the prophets do not revile, or separate them from their company. They are no longer despitefully used, and persecuted; neither do they groan under the hand of the oppressor. In a word, in heaven there is no earthly or sensual, no devilish spirit; none who do not love the Lord their God with all their heart.”

The second of Wesley’s publications, in 1735, was “The Christian’s Pattern; or, a Treatise of the Imitation of Christ. Written originally in Latin by Thomas à Kempis. With a Preface containing an Account of the Usefulness of this Treatise. Compared with the original, and corrected throughout. By John Wesley, M.A.” London: C. Rivington. Of this work he, at the same time, published two editions,—one in 8vo, 319 pages, with five engravings; and the other in 24mo, 344 pages, with a frontispiece.

His third publication was a manuscript written by his father, and was entitled, “Advice to a Young Clergyman. By a Divine of the Church of England.” 12mo, 76 pages.

We now bid adieu to Oxford. We have seen Methodism at its fountain-head; we must hereafter trace it, in its streams of blessing, all the wide world over. The principles and practices of Oxford Methodism may easily be gathered from the present chapter. Nothing has been omitted, nothing exaggerated, and nothing altered. The system was cradled in a storm, and more than once, even at Oxford, was in danger of perishing. At least twice, during Wesley’s absence, it was all but wrecked; and, from names casually mentioned, we incline to think its permanently established converts were much less numerous than its timid, time serving backsliders. At all events, but for the ministry of the two Wesleys, of Whitefield, Ingham, Hervey, and Gambold, the memory of Oxford Methodism might, without public loss, have been buried in oblivion. As it is, no English historian can ignore it. In its results it is one of the greatest facts in church annals. At Oxford, it was far from perfect. It was misty, austere, gloomy, and forbidding; but it was intensely sincere, earnest, and self denying. Its principles and its aims may substantially be summed up in the words of Wesley himself, written forty years afterwards:—

“Two young men, without a name, without friends, without either power or fortune, set out from college with principles totally different from those of the common people, to oppose all the world, learned and unlearned; and to combat popular prejudices of every kind. Their first principle directly attacked all the wickedness; their second, all the bigotry in the world. Thus they attempted a reformation, not of opinions (feathers, trifles not worth naming), but of men’s tempers and lives; of vice in every kind; of everything contrary to justice, mercy, or truth. And for this it was, that they carried their lives in their hands; and that both the great vulgar and the small looked upon them as mad dogs, and treated them as such.”[137]

Let us follow them.