PART II. (continued 2)

April 17. At Baldwin Street, we called upon God to confirm His word. Immediately, one that stood by cried out aloud, with the utmost vehemence, even as in the agonies of death. But we continued in prayer, till a new song was put into her mouth, a thanksgiving unto our God. Soon after, two other persons were seized with strong pain, and constrained to roar for the disquietude of their heart. But it was not long before they likewise burst forth into praise to God their Saviour. The last who called upon God, as out of the belly of hell, was a stranger in Bristol; and, in a short space, he also was overwhelmed with joy and love, knowing that God had healed his backslidings.

April 21. At Weavers’ Hall, a young man was suddenly seized with a violent trembling all over, and, in a few minutes, sunk to the ground. But we ceased not calling upon God, till He raised him up full of peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.

April 24. At Baldwin Street, a young man, after a sharp though short agony, both of body and mind, found his soul filled with peace, knowing in whom he had believed.

April 26. At Newgate, I was led to pray that God would bear witness to His word. Immediately one, and another, and another sunk to the earth; they dropped on every side as thunderstruck. One of them cried aloud. We besought God in her behalf, and He

turned her heaviness into joy. A second being in the same agony, we called upon God for her also; and He spoke peace unto her soul. In the evening, one was so wounded by the sword of the Spirit, that you would have imagined she could not live a moment. But immediately His abundant kindness was shown, and she loudly sang of His righteousness.

April 27. All Newgate rang with the cries of those whom the word of God cut to the heart; two of whom were in a moment filled with joy, to the astonishment of those that beheld them.

April 30. While I was preaching at Newgate, a woman broke out into strong cries and tears. Great drops of sweat ran down her face, and all her bones shook; but both her body and soul were healed in a moment.

May 1. At Baldwin Street, my voice could scarce be heard amidst the groanings of some, and the cries of others calling aloud to Him that is mighty to save; and ten persons then began to say in faith, “My Lord and my God!” A Quaker, who stood by, was very angry, and was biting his lips, and knitting his brows, when he dropped down as thunderstruck. The agony he was in was even terrible to behold. We prayed for him, and he soon lifted up his head with joy, and joined us in thanksgiving. A bystander, John Haydon, a weaver, a man of regular life and conversation, one that constantly attended the public prayers and sacrament, and was zealous for the Church, and against Dissenters, laboured to convince the people that all this was a delusion of the devil; but next day, while reading a sermon on “Salvation by Faith,” he suddenly changed colour, fell off his chair, and began screaming, and beating himself against the ground. The neighbours were alarmed, and flocked together. When I came in, I found him on the floor, the room being full of people, and two or three holding him as well as they could. He immediately fixed his eyes on me, and said, “Ay, this is he I said deceived the people. But God has overtaken me. I said it was a delusion of the devil; but this is no delusion.” Then he roared aloud, “O thou devil! thou cursed devil! yea, thou legion of devils! thou canst not stay in me. Christ will cast thee out. I know His work is begun. Tear me in pieces, if thou wilt; but thou canst not hurt me.” He then beat himself against the ground; his breast heaving, as if in the pangs of death, and great drops of sweat trickling down his face. We all betook ourselves to prayer. His pangs ceased, and both his body and soul were set at liberty. With a clear, strong voice, he cried, “This is the Lord’s doing; and it is marvellous in our eyes. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, from this time forth for evermore.” I called again an hour after. We found his body weak as that of an infant, and his voice lost; but his soul was in peace, full of love, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.[298] The women of our society met at seven, and, during prayer, one of them fell into a violent agony; but soon after began to cry out, with confidence, “My Lord and my God.”

May 12. In the evening, three persons, almost at once, sunk down as dead, having all their sins set in array before them; but, in a short time, they were raised up, and knew that the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world, had taken away their sins.

May 16. While I was declaring at Baptist Mills, “He was wounded for our transgressions,” a middle aged man began violently beating his breast. During our prayer, God put a new song into his mouth.

May 19. At Weavers’ Hall, a woman first, and then a boy, was overwhelmed with sin, and sorrow, and fear. But we cried to God, and their souls were delivered.

May 20. In the evening God spoke to three whose souls were all storm and tempest, and immediately there was a great calm.

May 21. Although the people had seen signs and wonders, yet many would not believe. They could not, indeed, deny the facts; but they could explain them away. Some said, “These were purely natural effects; the people fainted away only because of the heat and closeness of the rooms.” Others were “sure it was all a cheat; they might help it if they would. Else why were these things only in their private societies?” To-day, our Lord answered for Himself; for, while I was preaching, He began to make bare His arm, not in a close room, neither in private, but in the open air, and before more than two thousand witnesses. One, and another, and another were struck to the earth; exceedingly trembling at the presence of His power. Others cried, with a loud and bitter cry, “What must we do to be saved?” And, in less than an hour, seven persons, wholly unknown to me till that time, were rejoicing, and singing, and, with all their might, giving thanks to the God of their salvation. In the evening, at Nicholas Street, I was interrupted, almost as soon as I had begun to speak, by the cries of one who strongly groaned for pardon and peace. Others dropped down as dead. Thomas Maxfield began to roar out, and beat himself against the ground, so that six men could scarcely hold him. Except John Haydon, I never saw one so torn of the evil one. Many others began to cry out to the Saviour of all, insomuch that all the house, and, indeed, all the street for some space, was in an uproar. But we continued in prayer, and the greater part found rest to their souls. I think twenty-nine in all had their heaviness turned into joy this day.

June 15. At Wapping (London), many of those that heard began to call upon God with strong cries and tears. Some sunk down, and there remained no strength in them; others exceedingly trembled and quaked; some were torn with a kind of convulsive motion in every part of their bodies; and that so violently, that often four or five persons could not hold one of them. I have seen many hysterical and many epileptic fits; but none of them were like these, in many respects. One woman was greatly offended, being sure they might help it if they would; but she also dropped down in as violent an agony as the rest. Twenty-six of those who had been thus affected were filled with peace and joy.

June 16. At Fetter Lane, some fell prostrate on the ground; others burst out into loud praise and thanksgiving; and many openly testified, there had been no such day as this since January the first preceding.

June 22. In the society (Bristol) one before me dropped down as dead, and presently a second, and a third. Five others sunk down in half an hour, most of whom were in violent agonies. In their trouble, we called upon the Lord, and He gave us an answer of peace. All, except one, went away rejoicing and praising God.

June 23. This evening another was seized with strong pangs; but in a short time her soul was delivered.

June 24. In the evening, a girl and four or five other persons were deeply convinced of sin; and, with sighs and groans, called upon God for deliverance.

June 25. About ten in the morning J—— e C—— r, as she was sitting at her work, was suddenly seized with grievous terrors of mind, attended with strong trembling; but, at the society in the evening, God turned her heaviness into joy. Five or six others were also cut to the heart this day; and, soon after, found Him whose hands made whole.

June 26. Three persons terribly felt the wrath of God abiding on them at the society this evening. But, upon prayer being made on their behalf, He was pleased soon to lift up the light of His countenance upon them.

June 30. At Weavers’ Hall, seven or eight persons were constrained to roar aloud; but they were all relieved upon prayer, and sang praises unto our God, and unto the Lamb that liveth for ever and ever.

July 1. A young woman sunk down at Rose Green in a violent agony both of body and mind: as did five or six persons, in the evening, at the new room, at whose cries many were greatly offended. The same offence was given in the morning by one at Weavers’ Hall; and by eight or nine others at Gloucester Lane in the evening.

Here we pause. On June 25, Whitefield wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“Honoured Sir,—I cannot think it right in you to give so much encouragement to those convulsions which people have been thrown into, under your ministry. Was I to do so, how many would cry out every night? I think it is tempting God to require such signs. That there is something of God in it, I doubt not. But the devil, I believe, interposes. I think it will encourage the French Prophets, take people from the written word, and make them depend on visions, convulsions, etc., more than on the promises and precepts of the gospel.”[299]

Twelve days after, Whitefield was in Bristol, and Wesley wrote as follows:—

“July 7. I had an opportunity to talk with Mr. Whitefield of those outward signs which had so often accompanied the work of God. I found his objections were chiefly grounded on gross misrepresentations of matters of fact. But next day he had an opportunity of informing himself better; for, in the application of his sermon, four persons sunk down close to him, almost in the same moment. One of them lay without either sense or motion. A second trembled exceedingly. The third had strong convulsions all over his body, but made no noise, unless by groans. The fourth, equally convulsed, called upon God, with strong cries and tears. From this time, I trust, we shall all suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth Him.”

This was an important crisis. Without expressing any opinion respecting these “signs,” as Wesley calls them, we cannot but admire Wesley’s wish and hope that God may be allowed to work His own work in His own way. Of all men living, Wesley was one of the least likely to desire novelties like these; but he was wise enough, and reverent enough, not to interpose when God was working, and to say, that, unless the work was done after a certain fashion, he should object to its being done at all. Some, in modern times, have been in danger of doing this. Sinners have been undeniably converted; but because they have not been converted at the times, or in the places, or by the instrumentalities which men have chosen to commend, they have objected to such conversions, and tacitly desired not to have them multiplied. This was not Wesley’s way. He was one of the greatest sticklers for church order and religious decorum; but he was not the man to protest, that, unless God’s work was carried on in accordance with his own predilections, he should object to it altogether. His words are golden ones, and worth remembering by all his followers:—“From this time, I trust, we shall all suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth Him.”

Whitefield’s objections were silenced. He came, he saw, and he was conquered. He writes, under date of July 7:—

“I had a useful conference about many things with my honoured friend Mr. John Wesley. I found that Bristol had great reason to bless God for his ministry. The congregations I observed to be much more serious and affected than when I left them; and their loud and repeated Amens, which they put up to every petition, as well as the exemplariness of their conversation in common life, plainly show that they have not received the grace of God in vain. Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but how is it that ye cannot discern the signs of these times? That good, great good, is done is evident. What is it but little less than blasphemy against the Holy Ghost to impute this great work to delusion, and to the power of the devil?”[300]

We resume Wesley’s notices of what he designates the “signs” of the work of God.

July 23. On several evenings this week many were deeply convinced; but none were delivered from that painful conviction. I fear we have grieved the Spirit of the jealous God, by questioning His work; and that, therefore, He is withdrawn from us for a season. But He will return and abundantly pardon.

July 30. Two more were in strong pain, both their souls and bodies being well-nigh torn asunder. But, though we cried unto God, there was no answer. One of them cried aloud, though not articulately, for twelve or fourteen hours; when her soul was set at liberty. She was a servant, and her master forbid her returning to his service, saying, he would have none in his house who had received the Holy Ghost.

August 5. Six persons at the new room were deeply convinced of sin; three of whom were a little comforted by prayer.

August 11. In the evening two were seized with strong pangs, as were four the next evening, and the same number at Gloucester Lane on Monday; one of whom was greatly comforted.

August 14. Three at the new room this evening were cut to the heart; but their wound was not as yet healed.

A fortnight after this, Charles Wesley came to Bristol, and John removed to London. The work still progressed at Bristol. In one instance, a woman screamed for mercy, so as to drown Charles’s voice. On another occasion, he “heard on all sides the sighing of them that were in captivity.” “The Lord added to the church daily.”

In London, numbers had been converted under the ministry of Charles Wesley, Whitefield, and others; but there is no evidence to show that there had been any “convulsions” like those at Bristol. It is also a curious fact, that, though Wesley’s preaching on Kennington Common, in Moorfields, and in other places in the metropolis, was crowned with great success, there were hardly any instances of paralysing paroxysms analogous to those already mentioned. When he returned to Bristol, in October, we find a renewal of such cases.

October 11. A woman showed the agony of her soul by crying aloud to God for help. She continued in great torment all night; but, while we were praying for her in the morning, God delivered her out of her distress.

October 12. I was under some concern, with regard to one or two persons, who were tormented in an unaccountable manner; and seemed to be indeed lunatic, as well as sore vexed.

October 23. I was pressed to visit a young woman at Kingswood. I found her on the bed, two or three persons holding her. Anguish, horror, and despair, above all description, appeared in her pale face. The thousand distortions of her whole body showed how the dogs of hell were gnawing at her heart. The shrieks intermixed were scarce to be endured. She screamed out, “I am damned, damned; lost for ever! Six days ago you might have helped me. But it is past. I am the devil’s now, I have given myself to him: his I am, him I must serve, with him I must go to hell; I will be his, I will serve him, I will go with him to hell; I cannot be saved, I will not be saved. I must, I will, I will be damned!” She then begun praying to the devil. We began,—“Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!” She immediately sank down as asleep; but, as soon as we left off, broke out again, with inexpressible vehemence: “Stony hearts, break! I am a warning to you. Break, break, poor stony hearts! I am damned, that you may be saved. You need not be damned, though I must.” She then fixed her eyes on the corner of the ceiling, and said, “There he is. Come, good devil, come. You said you would dash my brains out: come, do it quickly. I am yours, I will be yours.” We interrupted her by calling again upon God; on which she sunk down as before: and another young woman began to roar out as loud as she had done. My brother now came in, it being about nine o’clock. We continued in prayer till past eleven; when God, in a moment, spoke peace into the soul, first of the first tormented, and then of the other. And they both joined in singing praise to Him who had “stilled the enemy and the avenger.”

October 25. I was sent for to one in Bristol, who was taken ill the evening before. She lay on the ground furiously gnashing her teeth, and after awhile roared aloud. It was not easy for three or four persons to hold her, especially when the name of Jesus was named. We prayed; the violence of her symptoms ceased, though without a complete deliverance. In the evening, I was sent for to her again. She began screaming before I came into the room; then broke out into a horrid laughter, mixed with blasphemy. One, who apprehended a preternatural agent to be concerned in this, asking, “How didst thou dare to enter into a Christian?” was answered, “She is not a Christian—she is mine.” This was followed by fresh trembling, cursing, and blaspheming. My brother coming in, she cried out, “Preacher! Field preacher! I don’t love field preaching.” This was repeated two hours together, with spitting, and all the expressions of strong aversion. We left her at twelve, and called again at noon next day. And now it was, that God showed He heareth prayer. All her pangs ceased in a moment: she was filled with peace, and knew that the son of wickedness was departed from her.

October 27. I was sent for to Kingswood again, to one of those who had been so ill before. A violent rain began just as I set out. Just at that time, the woman (then three miles off) cried out, “Yonder comes Wesley, galloping as fast as he can.” When I was come, she burst into a horrid laughter, and said, “No power, no power; no faith, no faith. She is mine; her soul is mine. I have her, and will not let her go.” We begged of God to increase our faith. Meanwhile, her pangs increased more and more; so that one would have imagined, by the violence of the throes, her body must have been shattered to pieces. One, who was clearly convinced this was no natural disorder, said, “I think Satan is let loose. I fear he will not stop here,” and added, “I command thee in the name of the Lord Jesus, to tell if thou hast commission to torment any other soul.” It was immediately answered, “I have. L——y C——r and S——h J——s.” We betook ourselves to prayer again; and ceased not, till she began, with a clear voice, and composed, cheerful look, to sing, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”

The reader must be told that L——y C——r and S——h J——s lived at some distance, and, at the time, were in perfect health. The day after, they were affected in the same way as the poor creature just delivered. Wesley writes:—

October 28. I called at Mrs. J——s’, in Kingswood. L——y C——r and S——h J——s were there. It was scarce a quarter of an hour before the former fell into a strange agony; and, presently after, the latter. The violent convulsions all over their bodies were such as words cannot describe. Their cries and groans were too horrid to be borne; till one of them, in a tone not to be expressed, said, “Where is your faith now? Come, go to prayers. I will pray with you.” We took the advice, and poured out our souls before God, till L——y C——r’s agonies so increased, that it seemed she was in the pangs of death. But, in a moment, God spoke; and both her body and soul were healed. We continued in prayer till past midnight, when S——h J——s’ voice was also changed, and she began to call upon God. This she did for the greatest part of the night. In the morning, we renewed our prayers, while she was crying continually, “I burn! I burn! O what shall I do? I have a fire within me. I cannot bear it. Lord Jesus! help! Amen, Lord Jesus!”

A few other cases occurred in 1739; and, notably, one on November 30, when seven persons were grievously tormented, and Wesley and his friends continued in prayer from the time of evening service till nine o’clock next morning, that is, for about fifteen hours, a case almost unparalelled in the history of the church of Christ.

These are strange and mysterious facts; and, what adds to the strangeness, is that, excepting the cases in London, on June 15, 16, and September 17, 18, all of them occurred in Bristol and its immediate neighbourhood. During the space of time which these extracts cover, Wesley preached at Bath, Kennington Common, Moorfields, Blackheath, Gloucester, Bradford, Wells, Oxford, and in several towns in Wales, and other places; but scenes like those above described were never witnessed except in Bristol. It is also a curious circumstance, that, though the preaching of Charles Wesley and of Whitefield was quite as faithful as the preaching of Wesley himself, and was far more impassioned, yet no such “signs” seem to have been attendant on their ministry as were attendant on his. Similar effects sometimes followed the preaching of Cennick, during Wesley’s absence in London, but these occurred also either at Kingswood or in Bristol. Writing to Wesley under date of September 12, 1739, he says:—

“On Monday night, I was preaching at the school on the forgiveness of sins, when numbers cried out with a loud and bitter cry. Indeed, it seemed that the devil and the powers of darkness were come among us. My mouth was stopped. The cries were terrifying. It was pitch dark; it rained much; and the wind blew vehemently. Large flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder mingled with the screams and exclamations of the people. The hurry and confusion cannot be expressed. The whole place seemed to resemble the habitation of apostate spirits; many raving up and down, and crying, ‘The devil will have me; I am his servant! I am damned! My sins can never be pardoned! I am gone, gone for ever!’ A young man was in such horrors, that seven or eight persons could scarce hold him. He roared like a dragon: ‘Ten thousand devils, millions, millions of devils are about me!’ This continued three hours, and what a power reigned amongst us! Some cried out with a hollow voice, ‘Mr. Cennick! Bring Mr. Cennick!’ I came to all that desired me. They then spurned me with all their strength, grinding their teeth, and expressing all the fury that heart can conceive. Their eyes were staring and their faces swollen, and several have since told me, that when I drew near, they felt fresh rage, and longed to tear me in pieces. I never saw the like, nor even the shadow of it before. Yet I was not in the least afraid, as I knew God was on our side.”[301]

Such are the facts; nothing has been distorted, and nothing kept back. They were occasionally repeated after the year 1739, but not often. A few cases subsequently occurred in Bristol, and also in London, and in Newcastle; but nearly all related in Wesley’s Journals are contained in the extracts already given.

What shall be said concerning them? For a hundred and thirty years, they have been sneered at by Wesley’s enemies, and have also puzzled Wesley’s friends. No such results attended Whitefield’s ministry, and Whitefield himself regarded them with suspicion and dislike. Charles Wesley, at Newcastle, in 1743, did his utmost to discourage them. He writes:—

“Many, no doubt, were, at our first preaching, struck down, both soul and body, into the depth of distress. Their outward affections were easy to be imitated. Many counterfeits I have already detected. The first night I preached here, half my words were lost through their outcries. Last night, before I began, I gave public notice that whosoever cried, so as to drown my voice, should be carried to the farthest corner of the room. But my porters had no employment the whole night; yet the Lord was with us, mightily convincing of sin and of righteousness. I am more and more convinced, the fits were a device of Satan to stop the course of the gospel.”[302]

Samuel Wesley was in great doubt respecting them, and, in a letter dated September 3, 1739, asks:—“Did these agitations ever begin during the use of any collects of the Church? or during the preaching of any sermon that had before been preached within consecrated walls without effect? or during the inculcating any other doctrine besides that of your new birth?”[303]

The Rev. Ralph Erskine wrote to Wesley thus: “Some of the instances you give seem to be exemplified, in the outward manner, by the cases of Paul and the gaoler, as also Peter’s hearers (Acts ii.). The last instance you give of some struggling as in the agonies of death, is to me somewhat more inexplicable, if it do not resemble the child of whom it is said, that ‘when he was yet a coming, the devil threw him down and tore him.’ I make no question, Satan, so far as he gets power, may exert himself on such occasions, partly to mar and hinder the beginning of the good work, in the persons that are touched with the sharp arrows of conviction; and partly also to prevent the success of the gospel on others. However, the merciful issue of these conflicts, in the conversion of the persons thus affected, is the main thing.”

Erskine proceeds to state, that they have something, in Scotland, analogous to what had occurred in Bristol. Sometimes a whole congregation, in a flood of tears, would cry out at once, so as to drown the voice of the minister.[304]

The Rev. William Hales, D.D., in his “Methodism Inspected,” accounts for these paroxysms on “natural grounds; the sympathetic nature of all violent emotions being well known to those who have studied the physical and moral constitution of man.”

Southey writes:—

“A powerful doctrine, preached with passionate sincerity, produced a powerful effect upon weak minds, ardent feelings, and disordered fancies. There are passions which are as infectious as the plague, and fear itself is not more so than fanaticism. When once these bodily affections were declared to be the throes of the new birth, a free licence was proclaimed for every kind of extravagance; and when the preacher encouraged them to throw off all restraint, and abandon themselves before the congregation to these mixed sensations of mind and body, the consequences were what might be anticipated.”

Southey forgets that “powerful doctrine” was preached, with as much “passionate sincerity,” by Whitefield and by Charles Wesley, as by Wesley himself; but without the same effects. Besides, it is untrue that Wesley ever “encouraged” the affected people “to abandon themselves to these mixed sensations of mind and body.”

The Rev. R. Watson writes:—

“That cases of real enthusiasm occurred at this and subsequent periods, is indeed allowed. There are always nervous, dreamy, and excitable people to be found; and the emotion produced among these would often be communicated by natural sympathy. No one could be blamed for this, unless he had encouraged the excitement for its own sake, or taught the people to regard it as a sign of grace, which most assuredly Mr. Wesley never did. Nor is it correct to represent these effects, genuine and fictitious together, as peculiar to Methodism. Great and rapid results were produced in the first ages of Christianity, but not without ‘outcries,’ and strong corporeal as well as mental emotions. Like effects often accompanied the preaching of eminent men at the Reformation; and many of the Puritan and Nonconformist ministers had similar successes in our own country. In Scotland, and also among the grave Presbyterians of New England, previous to the rise of Methodism, the ministry of faithful men had been attended by very similar circumstances; and, on a smaller scale, the same results have followed the ministry of modern missionaries of different religious societies in various parts of the world. It may be laid down as a principle established by fact, that whenever a zealous and faithful ministry is raised up, after a long, spiritual dearth, the early effects of that ministry are not only powerful, but often attended with extraordinary circumstances; nor are such extraordinary circumstances necessarily extravagancies because they are not common. It is neither irrational nor unscriptural to suppose, that times of great national darkness and depravity should require a strong remedy; and that the attention of the people should be roused by circumstances which could not fail to be noticed by the most unthinking. We do not attach primary importance to secondary circumstances; but they are not to be wholly disregarded. The Lord was not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small voice; yet that still small voice might not have been heard, except by minds roused from their inattention by the shaking of the earth and the sounding of the storm.”

Isaac Taylor writes:—

“These disorders resembled, in some of their features, the demoniacal possessions mentioned in the gospel history. The bodily agitations were perhaps as extreme in the one class of instances as in the other; nevertheless, there is no real analogy between the two. The demoniacs were found in this state by Christ where He went preaching; they did not become such while listening to Him. Besides, in no one instance recorded in the Gospels or Acts, did demoniacal possession, or any bodily agitations resembling it, come on as the initial stage of conversion. How then are we to dispose of such cases? Perhaps not at all to our satisfaction, except so far as this, that they serve to render so much the more unambiguous the distinction between themselves and those genuine affections which the apostolic writers describe and exemplify.”

What says Wesley himself? With due deference to the great names quoted, we respect his testimony more than theirs: first, because he was, in sobriety of feeling, in depth of learning, and in clearness of judgment, at least their equal; and secondly, because his opinion was pronounced after being an eye-witness, whilst theirs is founded entirely upon the representations of others, and their own ideas of how things ought to be.

1. The cases were real, not pretended, and often ended in genuine conversion. “You deny,” writes Wesley at the time, “You deny that God does now work these effects; at least, that He works them in this manner. I affirm both; because I have heard these things with my own ears, and have seen them with my own eyes. I have seen very many persons changed, in a moment, from the spirit of fear, horror, despair, to the spirit of love, joy, and peace; and from sinful desire, till then reigning over them, to the pure desire of doing the will of God. I know several persons, in whom this great change was wrought in a dream, or during a strong representation to the eye of their mind, of Christ either on the cross, or in glory. This is the fact; let any judge of it as they please.”[305]

2. Why were these things permitted? Wesley says: “Perhaps it might be because of the hardness of our hearts, unready to receive anything unless we see it with our eyes and hear it with our ears, that God, in tender condescension to our weakness, suffered so many outward signs of the very time when He wrought this inward change to be continually seen and heard among us. But although they saw ‘signs and wonders’ (for so I must term them), yet many would not believe. They could not indeed deny the facts; but they could explain them away.”[306]

3. How were these extraordinary circumstances brought about? Wesley again shall answer. Five years after—when he had heard all that his enemies had to say—when such convulsive agitations no longer happened—and when he had had sufficient time to test the genuineness of these remarkable Bristol and Kingswood conversions, and to form a calm judgment upon the whole, he wrote as follows:—“The extraordinary circumstances that attended the conviction or repentance of the people may be easily accounted for, either on principles of reason or Scripture. First, on principles of reason. For how easy is it to suppose, that a strong, lively, and sudden apprehension of the heinousness of sin, the wrath of God and the bitter pains of eternal death, should affect the body as well as the soul, during the present laws of vital union;—should interrupt or disturb the ordinary circulations, and put nature out of its course? Yea, we may question, whether, while this union subsists, it be possible for the mind to be affected, in so violent a degree, without some or other of those bodily symptoms following. Secondly, it is likewise easy to account for these things on principles of Scripture. For when we take a view of them in this light, we are to add to the consideration of natural causes the agency of those spirits who still excel in strength, and, as far as they have leave from God, will not fail to torment whom they cannot destroy; to tear those that are coming to Christ. It is also remarkable that there is plain Scripture precedent of every symptom which has lately appeared.”[307]

We have nothing more to add. Perhaps the reader will think that more has been said than the thing deserved. We demur to that opinion. The phenomena recorded are among the most remarkable in church history; they are curious and mysterious; they have given rise to endless critiques, both friendly and otherwise, and, for such reasons, merit the space we have devoted to them. Dr. Hales’ doctrine of “the sympathetic nature of all violent emotions,” though true, is not sufficient to account for many of the instances related. Southey’s opinion is flippant, and is based upon false assumptions. Watson’s is of great importance, and, as contained at greater length in his Life of Wesley, is the most elaborate discussion of the subject that has yet been written. Isaac Taylor’s, to some extent, coincides with Wesley’s; which, upon the whole, is the clearest, fullest, and the best.

Other events, belonging to the year 1739, must now be noticed.

Kingswood, so often mentioned, was formerly a royal chase, containing between three and four thousand acres; but, previous to the rise of Methodism, it had been gradually appropriated by the several lords whose estates encircled it. The deer had disappeared, and the greater part of the wood also; coal mines had been discovered, and it was now inhabited by a race of people, as lawless as the foresters, their forefathers, but far more brutal; and differing as much from the people of the surrounding country in dialect as in appearance. They had no place of worship; for Kingswood then belonged to the parish of St. Philip, and was, at least, three miles distant from the parish church.[308] The people were famous for neither fearing God nor regarding man; and so ignorant of sacred things that they seemed but one remove from the beasts that perish. They were utterly without desire of instruction, as well as without the means of it. The place resounded with cursing and blasphemy. It was filled with clamour and bitterness, wrath and envyings, idle diversions, drunkenness, and uncleanness;[309] a hell upon earth. Only fifteen weeks before Whitefield’s first visit, the colliers had risen with clubs and firearms, and gone from pit to pit threatening the lives of all the workmen who would not join them in defeating the ends of justice, in reference to a riot that had occurred a short time previously. At White Hill, four mines were filled up; and carts, reels, and ropes belonging to others were cut and burned. The soldiers were called out, and the swarthy rioters ran away.[310]

Kingswood was Whitefield’s first field-pulpit, for here, on February 17, 1739, he began his glorious career of out-door preaching. Within six weeks after this, the day before Wesley came to Bristol, Whitefield dined with the colliers, who contributed upwards of £20 towards the erection of a school. Four days after this, the miners prepared him another hospitable entertainment, after which he laid the foundation stone, knelt upon it, and offered prayer, to which the colliers said, “Amen.”[311]

On the same day, Whitefield took his departure from Bristol, leaving Wesley as his successor; and, with the exception of a visit of a week’s duration in the month of July following, he was not at Kingswood again during the next two years. Whitefield began the school at Kingswood: the colliers gave upwards of £20; Whitefield collected £40 in subscriptions; and, on two subsequent occasions, he made collections for the same purpose, once when he preached his farewell sermon at Bristol, on July 13, before embarking for America; and once in Moorfields, when the sum of £24 9s. was contributed.[312] This was all. The rest devolved on Wesley. He alone was responsible for the payment of the debts incurred; and, for many months, wherever he went, he begged subscriptions for the colliers’ school. The school itself consisted of one large room, with four smaller ones for the teacher’s residence, and was not completed till the spring of 1740.[313] The object was to teach the children of the poor, first religion, and then to read, write, and cast accounts; but Wesley also expected to have “scholars of all ages, some of them grey-headed,” who were to be taught, separate from the children, “either early in the morning, or late at night,” so that their work might not be hindered by their education.[314]

Within six weeks after Whitefield laid the first stone of Kingswood school, Wesley took possession of a piece of ground in the Horse Fair, Bristol, and began to build a room large enough to contain the societies of Nicholas Street and Baldwin Street. This was done without the least apprehension or design of his being personally engaged, either in the expense of the work, or in the direction of it; he having appointed eleven trustees, by whom he supposed the burdens would be borne. He soon found that he had made a great mistake. In a short time, a debt was contracted of more than £150, whereas the subscriptions of the trustees and of the two societies were not a quarter of that amount. This debt devolved upon him. He had no money, nor any human prospect or probability of procuring any; but he knew “the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof,” and he dared to trust Him. Besides this, Whitefield and other friends in London most strongly objected to the building being the property of trustees, on the ground that Wesley would be under their control; and, unless his preaching pleased them, they might eject him from the house he himself had built. Whitefield declared that, unless the trustship was destroyed, neither he nor his friends would contribute anything towards the expenses. Wesley yielded; the trustees were summoned; all agreed to the alteration; the deed was cancelled; and Wesley became the sole proprietor.

This, though insignificant at the time, was a matter of great importance; for, in this manner, nearly all the chapels, erected in the early part of his career, were vested in himself,—a thing involving serious responsibility, which, however, was honourably fulfilled; for trusts were afterwards created; and, by his “Deed of Declaration,” all his interests in his chapels were transferred to his Legal Conference.

Thus we find Wesley, with no income whatever, except the small amount arising out of his Oxford fellowship, involved in what, to a poor man, were two serious undertakings. But even this was not all the burden that he took upon himself. He spent the beginning of November in London; and whilst there, two gentlemen, then unknown to him, came again and again, urging him to preach in a place called the Foundery, near Moorfields. With much reluctance he consented. He writes:—“Sunday, November 11, I preached at eight to five or six thousand, on the spirit of bondage and the spirit of adoption; and, at five in the evening, to seven or eight thousand, in the place which had been the king’s foundery for cannon.”[315] He was then pressed to take the place into his own hands. He did so. The purchase-money was £115; but the place being “a vast, uncouth heap of ruins,” a large sum additional to this had to be expended in needful repairs, in building two galleries for men and women hearers respectively, and in enlarging a room for the society to almost thrice its present size. To meet this large expenditure, Ball, Watkins, and other friends lent him the purchase-money; and offered to pay subscriptions, some four, some six, and some ten shillings a year towards the liquidation of the debt. In three years, these subscriptions amounted to about £480, leaving however a balance of nearly £300, for which Wesley was still responsible.[316] From this it would seem that the entire cost of the old Foundery was about £800.

This was the first Methodist meeting-house of which the metropolis could boast, and a brief description of it may not be out of place.

It stood in the locality called “Windmill Hill,” now known by the name of Windmill Street, a street that runs parallel with City Road, and abuts on the north-west corner of Finsbury Square. The building was placed on the east side of the street, some sixteen or eighteen yards from Providence Row; and measured about forty yards in front, from north to south, and about thirty-three yards in depth, from east to west. There were two front doors, one leading to the chapel, and the other to the preacher’s house, school, and bandroom. A bell was hung in a plain belfry, and was rung every morning at five o’clock for early service, and every evening at nine for family worship; as well as at sundry other times. The chapel, which would accommodate some fifteen hundred people, was without pews; but, on the ground floor, immediately before the pulpit, were about a dozen seats with back rails, appropriated to female worshippers. Under the front gallery were the free seats for women; and, under the side galleries, the free seats for men. The front gallery was used exclusively by females, and the side galleries by males. “From the beginning,” says Wesley, “the men and women sat apart, as they always did in the primitive church; and none were suffered to call any place their own, but the first comers sat down first. They had no pews; and all the benches for rich and poor were of the same construction.”[317]

The bandroom was behind the chapel, on the ground floor, some eighty feet long and twenty feet wide, and accommodated about three hundred persons. Here the classes met; here, in winter, the five o’clock morning service was conducted; and here were held, at two o’clock, on Wednesdays and Fridays, weekly meetings for prayer and intercession. The north end of the room was used for a school, and was fitted up with desks; and at the south end was “The Book Room” for the sale of Wesley’s publications.

Over the bandroom were apartments for Wesley, in which his mother died;[318] and, at the end of the chapel was a dwelling house for his domestics and assistant preachers; while attached to the whole was a small building used as a coach-house and stable.[319]

Why was the building called the Foundery? Because, for a number of years, it was used by the government in casting cannon. When Wesley bought it, the edifice had been a ruin for about twenty years. In 1716, whilst recasting the injured guns taken from the French in the successful campaigns of Marlborough, a terrible explosion blew off the roof, shook the building, killed several of the workmen, burnt others, and broke the limbs of not a few. This led to an abandonment of the place, and the removal of the royal foundery to Woolwich.[320] The next occupants were Wesley and the Methodists; and the echoes of prayer and praise succeeded the clang of anvils and the roar of furnaces of fire.

When first opened, it was described by Silas Told as “a ruinous place, with an old pantile covering,” the structure to a great extent consisting of “decayed timbers,” and the pulpit being made of “a few rough boards.”[321] It may be interesting, to the curious reader, to add, that a few years ago, the old Foundery bell, used in calling the people to the five o’clock preaching, was still in existence, and was attached to the school at Friar’s Mount, London; that, at the present moment, the old Foundery pulpit is preserved at Richmond, and is used by the Richmond students every week; and that the old Foundery chandelier is now in use in the chapel at Bowes, in Yorkshire.

This was really the cradle of London Methodism. Here Wesley began to preach at the end of 1739. The character of the services held in this rotten, pantile covered building may be learnt from Wesley’s Works. Wesley began the service with a short prayer, then sung a hymn and preached (usually about half an hour), then sung a few verses of another hymn, and concluded with a prayer. His constant theme was, salvation by faith, preceded by repentance, and followed by holiness.[322] The place was rough and the people poor; but the service simple, scriptural, beautiful. No wonder, that such a priest, shut out of the elaborately wrought pulpits of the Established Church, and now cooped up within a pulpit made of “rough deal boards,” should be powerful, popular, and triumphant.

Passing from pulpits to preachers, we must venture here to correct an error, which, from the first, seems to have been current in the Methodist community. All Methodist historians have assumed that Thomas Maxfield was Methodism’s first lay preacher; that is, the first who was allowed to expound the Scriptures without being formally ordained to that holy service. This is a mistake. Thomas Maxfield was not converted until the 21st of May, 1739; and yet, a month after this, we find John Cennick, the converted land surveyor, employed with Wesley’s sanction, in preaching to the Kingswood colliers.

Methodism’s first lay preacher deserves a passing notice. He has never yet had justice done him, and we regret that limited space prevents justice being rendered even here.

John Cennick was the son of Quakers, and, from infancy, was taught to pray every night and morning. At thirteen years of age, he went nine times, from Reading to London, to be apprenticed to a trade, but all to no purpose, except that he was taken on trial by a carpenter, who refused to retain his services when the time was come for his being bound. In 1735, John was convinced of sin, while walking in Cheapside, and, at once, left off song singing, card playing, and attending theatres. Sometimes he wished to go into a popish monastery, to spend his life in devout retirement. At other times, he longed to live in a cave, sleeping on fallen leaves, and feeding on forest fruits. He fasted long and often, and prayed nine times every day. He was afraid of seeing ghosts, and terribly apprehensive lest he should meet the devil. Fancying dry bread too great an indulgence for so great a sinner as himself, he began to feed on potatoes, acorns, crabs, and grass; and often wished he could live upon roots and herbs. At length, on September 6, 1737, he found peace with God, and went on his way rejoicing. Like Howel Harris, he, at once, commenced preaching; and also began to write hymns, a number of which Charles Wesley, in July, 1739, corrected for the press.

We have already seen that, in March, 1739, Wesley and Cennick met at Reading. Shortly after that, Whitefield proposed that Cennick should become the master of the school in Kingswood, whose first stone was laid in the month of May; and, on the 11th of June, off he set on foot, from Reading to Bristol, sleeping all night in an old stable on his way. On arriving there, he found that Wesley had gone to London; but was invited to go to Kingswood to hear a young man (query, Thomas Maxfield?) read a sermon to the colliers. The place for meeting was under a sycamore tree, near the intended school. Four or five hundred colliers were assembled, but the young reader had not arrived. Cennick was requested to take his place; he reluctantly complied, preached a sermon, and says, “The Lord bore witness with my words, insomuch that many believed in that hour.” Cennick preached again on the day following, and on the succeeding sabbath twice.

Meanwhile Howel Harris came; and, on the ensuing Tuesday, Wesley. How did Wesley receive the two lay preachers? Harris went to Wesley’s lodgings. They fell upon their knees; and Harris writes, “He was greatly enlarged in prayer for me, and for all Wales.” Full of holy feeling, the Welsh evangelist crossed the channel, and found wider doors of usefulness than ever. Cennick too was not restrained. He tells us, that many of the people desired Wesley to forbid him; but, so far from doing so, he encouraged him; and, thus encouraged, he preached constantly in Kingswood and the neighbouring villages for the next eighteen months, and sometimes supplied Wesley’s place in Bristol, when he was absent, preaching in other towns.[323]

Honour to whom honour is due. We repudiate the wish to take from Maxfield a particle of fame, which of right belongs to him; but there cannot be a doubt that John Cennick was one of Wesley’s lay preachers before Maxfield was. Neither is there aught contradictory to this in Wesley’s writings. It is true, that Wesley, after mentioning that the first society was formed at the end of 1739, goes on to say: “After a time, a young man, Thomas Maxfield, came and desired to help me as a son in the gospel;”[324] but this is not opposed to the fact, that John Cennick had already helped him at Kingswood, Bristol, and other places. Myles thinks that it is probable, that Maxfield, Richards, and Westall were all employed by Wesley in the beginning of the year 1740.[325] Perhaps so; but we have already seen that Cennick was preaching, with the approbation and encouragement of Wesley, as early as the month of June, 1739.[326]

This is not the place to pursue the footsteps of Methodism’s first lay preacher. Suffice it to remark, though his career was comparatively short, in zealous and successful labour it is difficult to equal it. Cennick had his weaknesses; but, in deadness to the world, communion with God, Christian courage, and cheerful patience, he had few superiors. Despite his Calvinism and his differences with Wesley, we admire and love the man. He died in 1755.

Here then was another momentous step taken by the arch-Methodist. Wesley had been bred within a strict ecclesiastical enclosure. He was firm in his attachment to the principles and practices of the English Church, and was far from being indifferent to the prerogatives of its priests; but he was far too wise and reverent a man to say that the salvation of the human family would be too dearly purchased if promoted by a departure from church usages. Christianity, though conserved by church order, does not exist for the sake of it. As a student of church history, Wesley must have known that, again and again, unless order had given way to a higher necessity, the gospel, instead of holding on its way in its brightness and in its purity, would, long ere now, in the hands of idolizers of ancient rules, have been extinguished in the very path where it ought to have shed an unceasing flame. In no man was there a greater combination of docility and courage; and hence, when Wesley met with men like Cennick, full of fervent consciousness of the reality, power, and blessedness of Christ’s religion; and employing a style, terse from intensity of feeling, and copious from the fulness of their theme,—no wonder that, instead of forbidding, he encouraged them to preach the glorious truths, which they not merely understood, but felt.

This was a startling innovation; and, doubtless, horrified the stereotyped ministries and priesthoods existing round about; but the fields were white to the harvest, and the labourers were few; and Wesley could not, durst not, forbid an increase to the staff, because the added workers had not been trained in colleges, and came not in all the priestly paraphernalia of surplices and hoods, gowns and bands. No doubt he would have preferred the employment of clerics like himself; but, in the absence of such, he was driven to adopt the measure which we think the salvation of his system, and, in some respects, its glory.

“I knew your brother well,” said Robinson, the Archbishop of Armagh, when he met Charles Wesley at the Hotwells, Bristol: “I knew your brother well; I could never credit all I heard respecting him and you; but one thing in your conduct I could never account for, your employing laymen.” “My Lord,” said Charles, “the fault is yours and your brethren’s.” “How so?” asked the primate. “Because you hold your peace, and the stones cry out.” “But I am told,” his grace continued, “that they are unlearned men.” “Some are,” said the sprightly poet, “and so the dumb ass rebukes the prophet.” His lordship said no more.[327]

The following letter of Whitefield has not been previously printed so fully as at present. As it was written at the time when Cennick began preaching, it may appropriately be inserted here. Its references to other matters are also deeply interesting.

“London, June 25, 1739.

“Honoured Sir,—I suspend my judgment of Brother Watkins’ and Cennick’s behaviour till I am better acquainted with the circumstances of their proceeding. I think there is a great difference between them and Howel Harris. He has offered himself thrice for holy orders; him therefore and our friends at Cambridge I shall encourage: others I cannot countenance in acting in so public a manner. The consequences of beginning to teach too soon will be exceeding bad—Brother Ingham is of my opinion.

“I hear, honoured sir, you are about to print a sermon on predestination. It shocks me to think of it; what will be the consequences but controversy? If people ask me my opinion, what shall I do? I have a critical part to act, God enable me to behave aright! Silence on both sides will be best. It is noised abroad already, that there is a division between you and me. Oh, my heart within me is grieved!

“Providence to-morrow calls me to Gloucester. If you will be pleased to come next week to London, I think, God willing, to stay a few days at Bristol. Your brother Charles goes to Oxon. I believe we shall be excommunicated soon. May the Lord enable us to stand fast in the faith; and stir up your heart to watch over the soul of, honoured sir,

“Your dutiful son and servant, George Whitefield.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mrs. Grevil’s, a Grocer in Wine Street, Bristol.”

We must proceed to another matter. Wesley writes:—

“In the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten persons came to me in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin, and earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired, I would spend some time with them in prayer, and advise them how to flee from the wrath to come. That we might have more time for this great work, I appointed a day when they might all come together, which, from thenceforward, they did every Thursday, in the evening. To these, and as many more as desired to join with them, (for the number increased daily,) I gave those advices, from time to time, which I judged most needful for them; and we always concluded our meeting with prayer suited to their several necessities. This was the rise of the United Society, first in London, and then in other places.”[328]

In another place, he writes:—

“The first evening about twelve persons came; the next week, thirty or forty. When they were increased to about a hundred, I took down their names and places of abode, intending, as often as it was convenient, to call upon them at their houses. Thus, without any previous plan, began the Methodist Society in England,—a company of people associating together to help each other to work out their own salvation.”[329]

No doubt the whole of this is strictly true; but there are other facts to be remembered.

By the preaching of the two Wesleys and of Whitefield, a large number of persons in London had been converted; and most of these had been incorporated in the Moravian bands. When Wesley went to Bristol, at the end of March, the work in London devolved, to a great extent, on his brother Charles. Disputes soon sprung up. On Easter day, Charles had a conversation with Zinzendorf “about motions, visions, and dreams, and was confirmed in his dislike to them.” On April 28, Whitefield preached in Islington churchyard; and, after he had done, Bowers, a Moravian, got up to speak. Charles Wesley says: “I conjured him not; but he beat me down, and followed his impulse.” On the 16th of May, a dispute arose, in the Moravian meeting at Fetter Lane, about lay preaching. Many were zealous for it; but Whitefield and Charles Wesley declared against it. In June, another Moravian, John Shaw, “the self-ordained priest,” as Charles Wesley calls him, “was brimful of proud wrath and fierceness”; and two others, Bowers and Bray, whom Whitefield designated “two grand enthusiasts,” followed Charles to Blendon, “drunk with the spirit of delusion.” In the Moravian society, Shaw “pleaded for his spirit of prophecy”; and charged Charles Wesley “with love of pre-eminence, and with making his proselytes twofold more the children of the devil than they were before.” Many misunderstandings and offences had crept in; and Wesley came from Bristol to put things right. A humiliation meeting was held at Fetter Lane; and “we acknowledged,” says Wesley, “our having grieved God by our divisions; ‘one saying, I am of Paul; another, I am of Apollos’; by our leaning again to our own works, and trusting in them, instead of Christ; by our resting in those little beginnings of sanctification, which it had pleased Him to work in our souls; and, above all, by blaspheming His work among us, imputing it either to nature, to the force of imagination and animal spirits, or even to the delusion of the devil.” Things seem to have proceeded more smoothly till about September, when, in the absence of the two Wesleys, “certain men crept in among them unawares, telling them, that they had deceived themselves, and had no true faith at all. ‘For,’ said they, ‘none has any justifying faith, who has ever any doubt or fear, which you know you have; or who has not a clean heart, which you know you have not; nor will you ever have it, till you leave off running to church and sacrament, and praying, and singing, and reading either the Bible, or any other book; for you cannot use these things without trusting in them. Therefore, till you leave them off, you can never have true faith; you can never till then trust in the blood of Christ.’”[330]

This was a serious heresy; and, on November 1, Wesley hurried up to London to put a check to it. He acknowledges, that the Moravians still held the grand doctrine of justification by faith; and that the fruits of faith were “righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.” He testifies, that they were free from the sins of swearing, theft, gluttony, drunkenness, and adultery; that they had no diversions but such as become saints; that they regarded not outward adorning, and were not slothful in business. He confesses, that they fed the hungry, and clothed the naked; that their discipline was scarce inferior to that of the apostolic age; and, that every one knew and kept his proper place; but, despite all this, he found them far from perfect.

On first entering the society, he found Mr. Bray “highly commending the being still before God; and speaking largely of the danger that attended the doing of outward works, and of the folly of people running about to church and sacrament.”

On Sunday, November 4, the “society met at seven in the morning, and continued silent till eight.” In the evening, at Fetter Lane, “some of the brethren asserted in plain terms: 1. That, till they had true faith, they ought to be still; that is, to abstain from the means of grace, the Lord’s supper in particular. 2. That the ordinances are not means of grace, there being no other means than Christ.”

Three days later, Wesley had a long conference with Spangenberg, who substantially avowed the same opinions. At night, the Fetter Lane society sat an hour without speaking; and then there followed a warm dispute, to prove that none ought to receive the Lord’s supper till he had “the full assurance of faith.” Every day Wesley met with many “who once knew in whom they had believed, but were now thrown into idle reasonings, and were filled with doubts and fears. Many had left off the means of grace, saying they must now cease from their own works, and must trust in Christ alone; that they were poor sinners, and had nothing to do but to lie at His feet.”

Wesley did his utmost to correct this state of things, and then, on November 21, went back to Bristol. On his way, he came to Wycombe, where he unexpectedly met Mr. Gambold and a Mr. Robson. He writes: “After much consultation and prayer, we agreed—1. To meet yearly at London on the eve of Ascension day. 2. To fix then the business to be done the ensuing year; where, when, and by whom. 3. To meet quarterly there, as many as can; viz., on the second Tuesday in July, October, and January. 4. To send a monthly account to one another, of what God hath done in each of our stations. 5. To inquire whether Messrs. Hall, Sympson, Rogers, Ingham, Hutchins, Kinchin, Stonehouse, Cennick, Oxlee, and Brown will join with us herein. 6. To consider whether there be any others of our spiritual friends, who are able and willing so to do.”[331] This arrangement is important as indicative of Wesley’s purpose at this early period of his history; but it was never put into execution. The rupture with the Moravians made it a dead letter.

Five weeks afterwards, he returned to London with a heavy heart. “Scarce one in ten of the Moravians retained his first love; and most of the rest were in the utmost confusion, biting and devouring one another.” His soul was sick of their “sublime divinity.” He had a long conversation with Molther, one of their ministers, and ascertained that the difference between them was the following:—

1. The Moravians held that there are no degrees of faith; and that no man has any degree of it, before he has the full assurance of faith, the abiding witness of the Spirit, or the clear perception that Christ dwelleth in him. Wesley dissented from this.

2. The Moravians taught that the way to attain faith is to wait for Christ, and be still: that is, not to use the means of grace; not to go to church; not to communicate; not to fast; not to use private prayer; not to read the Scriptures; not to do temporal good; nor to attempt doing spiritual good; because it was impossible for a man to use means like these without trusting in them. Wesley believed just the opposite.

3. The Moravians thought that in propagating faith, guile might be used: (1) By saying what we know will deceive the hearers, or lead them to think the thing which is not; (2) by describing things a little beyond the truth, in order to their coming up to it; (3) by speaking as if we meant what we did not mean. Wesley denounced all this.

4. The Moravians believed that the fruits of their thus propagating the faith in England were: (1) Much good had been done by it; (2) many were unsettled from a false foundation; (3) many were brought into true stillness; (4) some were grounded on the true foundation, who were wrong before. Wesley, on the contrary, thought that very little good, but much hurt, had been done, by such proceedings.

This was the state of things when Wesley “began the first Methodist society in England.” He was dissatisfied with his old Moravian friends, and well he might. He had been prominent in the formation of their society at Fetter Lane, on the 1st of May, 1738; but his hopes and aspirations concerning it were blighted; and hence he formed another society of his own. Moravian heresies had, in London at least, corrupted the Moravian bands; numbers were offended; these and others repaired to Wesley; Wesley took down their names, and met them every Thursday evening for spiritual advice and prayer; success followed; and the Methodist society was instituted. We must return to this subject in the next chapter.

Wesley spent most of the year 1739 in Bristol and the immediate neighbourhood; but, at different times, he rendered important service in other places. At Blackheath, he preached to twelve or fourteen thousand people; and on Kennington Common to twenty thousand. In Moorfields, he had a congregation of ten thousand. In Gloucester he preached to seven thousand;[332] and in Bath, Bradford, and elsewhere, to great multitudes. He also preached, at least once, in the mansion of Lady Huntingdon, taking a bold text for such a fashionable audience: “The cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires of other things, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.”

He also met with some adventures and incidents worth mentioning. In riding to Rose Green, his horse suddenly fell, and rolled over and over. A gentleman, at Bradford, who had wished him good luck in the name of the Lord, told him that his fellow collegians at Oxford always considered him “a little crack-brained.” In one instance, the pressgang came when he was in the middle of his sermon, and seized one of his hearers. While preaching in Turner’s Hall, London, the floor gave way, but fortunately the vault below was filled with hogsheads of tobacco, so that the crowded congregation only sunk a foot or two, and he proceeded without further interruption. At Oxford, he was grieved to find that none now visited the workhouse and the prison, and that the Methodist little school was about to be given up. At Stanley, on a little green, he preached for two hours amid the darkness of an October night. At Newport, he addressed “the most insensible, ill behaved people” he had seen in Wales; one old man cursing and swearing incessantly, and taking up a great stone to throw at him. The people of Wales generally he found as ignorant of gospel truth as the Cherokee Indians; and asks, “What spirit is he of, who had rather these poor creatures should perish for lack of knowledge than that they should be saved, even by the exhortations of Howel Harris, or an itinerant preacher?” Words these well worth pondering; for they are added proof, that Wesley, even as early as 1739, was not opposed to the employment of lay evangelists.

The principle upon which Wesley acted was to shrink from nothing that he judged to be conducive to his being made a Christian.[333] On this ground he went to Georgia, and to Germany; and says, “I am ready to go to Abyssinia or China, or whithersoever it shall please God to call me.” He was accused of being an enemy of the Church of England; but maintained that he was not. The doctrines he preached were the doctrines of the Church, as laid down in her prayers, articles, and homilies. He allows that there were five points of difference between him and many of the clergy; but he contends that they, not he, were unfaithful to the Church. The points were these:—1. Those from whom he differed spoke of justification, either as the same thing with sanctification, or as something consequent upon it. He believed it to be wholly distinct from sanctification, and necessarily antecedent to it. 2. They spoke of good works as the cause of justification. He believed the death and righteousness of Christ to be the whole and sole cause of it. 3. They spoke of good works as existing previous to justification. He believed that no good work is possible, previous to justification, and therefore no good work can be a condition of it; till we are justified we are ungodly, and incapable of good works; we are justified by faith alone, faith without works, faith producing all good works, yet including none. 4. They spoke of sanctification as if it were an outward thing. He believed it to be an inward thing,—the life of God in the soul of man; a participation of the Divine nature; the mind that was in Christ. 5. They spoke of the new birth as synonymous with baptism; or, at most, a change from a vicious to a virtuous life. He believed it to be an entire change of nature, from the image of the devil, wherein we are born, to the image of God; a change from earthly and sensual to heavenly and holy affections. “There is, therefore,” says he, “a wide, essential, fundamental, irreconcilable difference between us. If they speak the truth as it is in Jesus, I am found a false witness before God. But if I teach the way of God in truth, they are blind leaders of the blind.”[334] He contends that he “simply described the plain, old religion of the Church of England, which was now almost everywhere spoken against, under the new name of Methodism.”[335]

Wesley was a great reader; and some of the most interesting entries in his Journals are his critiques on books; but, in 1739, he seems to have been too busy preaching to have had time for reading. The only notice of this kind is the following: “1739, October 23. In riding to Bradford, I read over Mr. Law’s book on the new birth. Philosophical, speculative, precarious; Behmenish, void, and vain! ‘O what a fall is there!’” This is a harsh reflection upon an old friend; but, about a year and a half before, there had been the unfortunate quarrel with William Law, already mentioned. See pp. 185‒8.

Up to the present, Wesley’s mother had been his chief counsellor. Immediately after his conversion in May, 1738, he went to Germany, and returned to England in September. It so happened, that he and his mother had no interview until nine months after this. Before he went to Herrnhuth, he had related to her the particulars of his conversion, for which “she heartily blessed God, who had brought him to so just a way of thinking.” Meanwhile, however, she had been prejudiced against him, and had entertained “strange fears concerning him, being convinced that he had greatly erred from the faith.” This was not of long continuance. Hence the following entry in Wesley’s journal:—

“1739, September 3.—I talked largely with my mother, who told me that, till a short time since, she had scarce heard such a thing mentioned as the having God’s Spirit bearing witness with our spirit: much less did she imagine that this was the common privilege of all true believers. ‘Therefore,’ said she, ‘I never durst ask for it myself. But two or three weeks ago, while my son Hall was pronouncing these words, in delivering the cup to me, “The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given for thee,” the words struck through my heart, and I knew God, for Christ’s sake, had forgiven me all my sins.‘ “I asked whether her father (Dr. Annesley) had not the same faith; and whether she had not heard him preach it to others. She answered, he had it himself; and declared, a little before his death, that, for more than forty years, he had no darkness, no fear, no doubt at all of his being accepted in the Beloved. But that, nevertheless, she did not remember to have heard him preach, no, not once, explicitly upon it: whence she supposed he also looked upon it as the peculiar blessing of a few; not as promised to all the people of God.”[336]

Ever after this, Susannah Wesley resided chiefly in London, and attended the ministry of her sons John and Charles. She heartily embraced their doctrines, and conversed with the members of their society. Hence the following from one of her letters to Charles, dated December 27, 1739:—

“Your brother, whom I shall henceforth call Son Wesley, since my dear Sam is gone home, has just been with me, and much revived my spirits. Indeed, I have often found that he never speaks in my hearing without my receiving some spiritual benefit. But his visits are seldom and short; for which I never blame him, because I know he is well employed, and, blessed be God, hath great success in his ministry. But, my dear Charles, still I want either him or you; for, indeed, in the most literal sense, I am become a little child, and need continual succour. For these several days, I have had the conversation of many good Christians, who have refreshed, in some measure, my fainting spirits. I hope we shall shortly speak face to face. But then, alas! when you come, your brother leaves me! Yet that is the will of God, in whose blessed service you are engaged; who has hitherto blessed your labours, and preserved your persons. That He may continue so to prosper your work, and protect you both from evil, and give you strength and courage to preach the true gospel, in opposition to the united powers of evil men and evil angels, is the hearty prayer of, dear Charles,

“Your loving mother, “Susannah Wesley.”[337]

Reference is made in the above extract to the death of Samuel Wesley, which occurred on November 6, 1739, at the early age of forty-nine. Up to the very last, he was strongly opposed to the Methodist movement of his brothers. In a letter to his mother, written only seventeen days before his death, he says:—

“My brothers are now become so notorious, that the world will be curious to know when and where they were born, what schools bred at, what colleges of in Oxford, and when matriculated, what degrees they took, and where, when, and by whom ordained. I wish they may spare so much time as to vouchsafe a little of their story. For my own part, I had much rather have them picking straws within the walls, than preaching in the area of Moorfields.

“It was with exceeding concern and grief, I heard you had countenanced a spreading delusion, so far as to be one of Jack’s congregation. Is it not enough that I am bereft of both my brothers, but must my mother follow too? I earnestly beseech the Almighty to preserve you from joining a schism at the close of your life, as you were unfortunately engaged in one at the beginning of it. It will cost you many a protest, should you retain your integrity, as I hope to God you will. They boast of you already as a disciple.

“They design separation. They are already forbidden all the pulpits in London; and to preach in that diocese is actual schism. In all likelihood, it will come to the same all over England, if the bishops have courage enough. They leave off the liturgy in the fields; and though Mr. Whitefield expresses his value for it, he never once read it to his tatterdemalions on a common. Their societies are sufficient to dissolve all other societies but their own. Will any man of common sense, or spirit, suffer any domestic to be in a band, engaged to relate to five or to ten people everything, without reserve, that concerns the person’s conscience, howmuchsoever it may concern the family? Ought any married persons to be there, unless husband and wife be there together? This is literally putting asunder whom God hath joined together.

“As I told Jack, I am not afraid the Church should excommunicate him (discipline is at too low an ebb), but, that he should excommunicate the Church. It is pretty near it. Holiness and good works are not so much as conditions of our acceptance with God. Lovefeasts are introduced, and extemporary prayers, and expositions of Scripture, which last are enough to bring in all confusion; nor is it likely they will want any miracles to support them. He only who ruleth the madness of the people can stop them from being a formed sect. Ecclesiastical censures have lost their terrors; thank fanaticism on the one hand, and atheism on the other. To talk of persecution from thence is mere insult. It is—

Sixteen nights after writing the above, Samuel Wesley went to bed as well as usual. At three next morning, he was seized with illness, and, four hours afterwards, expired. John Wesley, at the time, was in London, and Charles in Bristol; but, as soon as possible, they hastened to Tiverton, where they rejoiced to hear that, several days before he went hence, God had given to their brother a calm and full assurance of his interest in Christ.

In reviewing the events of the year 1739, it only remains to notice Wesley’s publications. These were the following:—

1. “An Abstract of the Life and Death of Mr. Thomas Halyburton. With recommendatory Epistle by George Whitefield, and Preface by John Wesley.” Oswald: London. 1739.

Halyburton was a Scotchman, and was born in 1674. At the age of twenty-six, he became a Presbyterian minister. Ten years afterwards, he was appointed Professor of Divinity in the college of St. Andrews; but almost immediately was seized with pleurisy, and died in the thirty-seventh year of his age.

Wesley’s preface is dated “London, February 9, 1739,” and the book was published within a few weeks afterwards; for Wesley’s brother Samuel, in a letter bearing date, April 16, 1739, says: “I have got your abridgment of Halyburton; and, if it please God to allow me life and strength, I shall demonstrate that the Scot as little deserves preference to all Christians, as the book to all writings but those you mention. There are two flagrant falsehoods in the very first chapter. But your eyes are so fixed upon one point, that you overlook everything else. You overshoot, but Whitefield raves.”[339]

Wesley’s abridged Life of Halyburton is a beautifully written, and most edifying book. Why did Wesley publish it? There can be but little doubt that his chief reasons were:—1. Because it contains a living exemplification of real religion. And 2. Because Halyburton’s struggles, doubts, fears, and general experience, previous to his finding peace with God, through faith in Christ, bear a striking resemblance to the case of Wesley himself. After describing that the kingdom of God, within us, is holiness and happiness, and that the way of attaining it is a true and living faith, Wesley, in his preface, says: “This work of God in the soul of man is so described in the following treatise, as I have not seen it in any other, either ancient or modern, in our own or any other language; so that I cannot but value it, next to the holy Scripture, above any other human composition, except only the ‘Christian’s Pattern,’ and the small remains of Clemens Romanus, Polycarp, and Ignatius.”

In the same preface, Wesley propounds thus early a doctrine, which afterwards held a conspicuous place in the system of truth he taught. In answering the objection, that “the gospel covenant does not promise entire freedom from sin,” he writes: “What do you mean by the word sin? Do you mean those numberless weaknesses and follies, sometimes improperly termed sins of infirmity? If so, we shall not put off these but with our bodies. But if you mean, it does not promise entire freedom from sin, in its proper sense, or from committing it, this is by no means true, unless the Scripture be false. Though it is possible a man may be a child of God, who is not fully freed from sin, it does not follow that freedom from sin is impossible; or that it is not to be expected by all. It is described by the Holy Ghost as the common privilege of all.”

2. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1739, was entitled: “Nicodemus; or, a Treatise on the Fear of Man. From the German of Augustus Herman Francke. Abridged by John Wesley.” Bristol: S. and F. Farley. 1739.

The subject of the treatise was peculiarly adapted to Wesley’s present position; and the whole is written in his best, nervous, clear, classic style.

3. Wesley’s third publication was two treatises of ninety-nine pages, 12mo; the first on Justification by Faith only; the second on the Sinfulness of Man’s Natural Will, and his utter inability to do works acceptable to God until he be justified and born again of the Spirit of God: by Dr. Barnes. “With Preface, containing some account of the author, extracted from the Book of Martyrs. By John Wesley.”

This was another book congenial to Wesley’s present feelings; inasmuch as it was full of the great doctrine, which was now the theme of his daily ministry.

4. Towards the end of 1739,[340] Wesley published his tract, entitled “The Character of a Methodist.” He states, that the name of Methodists is not one which they have taken to themselves, but one fixed upon them by way of reproach, without their approbation or consent. The tract was written at the urgent request of numbers of people, who were anxious to know what were “the principles, practice, and distinguishing marks of the sect which was everywhere spoken against.” The distinguishing marks of a Methodist are, not his opinions, though the Methodists are fundamentally distinguished from Jews, Turks, and infidels; from Papists; and from Socinians and Arians: neither are the marks of a Methodist “words or phrases:” nor “actions, customs, or usages of an indifferent nature:” nor the laying of the whole stress of religion on any single part of it. “A Methodist is one who has the love of God shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost given unto him; one who loves the Lord his God with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his mind, and with all his strength. He rejoices evermore, prays without ceasing, and in everything gives thanks. His heart is full of love to all mankind, and is purified from envy, malice, wrath, and every unkind or malign affection. His own desire, and the one design of his life is not to do his own will, but the will of Him that sent him. He keeps not only some, or most of God’s commandments, but all, from the least to the greatest. He follows not the customs of the world; for vice does not lose its nature through its becoming fashionable. He fares not sumptuously every day. He cannot lay up treasures upon earth any more than he can take fire into his bosom. He cannot adorn himself, on any pretence, with gold or costly apparel. He cannot join in any diversion that has the least tendency to vice. He cannot speak evil of his neighbour, no more than he can tell a lie. He cannot utter unkind, or idle words. No corrupt communication ever comes out of his mouth. He does good unto all men; unto neighbours and strangers, friends and enemies.” “These,” says Wesley, “are the principles and practices of our sect; these are the marks of a true Methodist. By these alone do Methodists desire to be distinguished from other men.”

Such were Methodists when Methodism was first founded in 1739. No wonder God was with them, and honoured them with such success. Is John Wesley’s Character of a Methodist descriptive of all the Methodists living now? Would to God it were!

5. Another of Wesley’s publications, in 1739, was entitled: “Hymns and Sacred Poems. Published by John Wesley, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford; and Charles Wesley, M.A., Student of Christ Church, Oxford.” London: 12mo, pages 223.

As this book has recently been reprinted by the Methodist Conference Office, (“Wesley Poetry,” vol. i.,) a detailed description of its contents is not necessary. Suffice it to remark, that, besides the productions of his brother, the volume contains at least twenty translations from the German by Wesley himself, and that these are among the finest hymns the Methodists ever sing. In fact, with a few exceptions, the hymns of the two Wesleys are the only productions in the book worth having. Many are devout but literary rubbish, and utterly unworthy of being used in public worship. Some of the poems are passable; a few are beautiful; but others might have been left, without any loss to the Christian public, in the limbo of oblivion. Had the publication consisted only of John and Charles Wesley’s hymns, it would have been one of the choicest productions ever printed; as in other things, so in this, an admixture made it weak.

6. It may be added, that it was probably in 1739 that Wesley published an extract of his journal, from his embarking for Georgia, October 14, 1735, to his return to London, February 1, 1737; but of this we are not certain, the first edition being without date.

The substance of this has been already given, and hence we pass, at once, to the year 1740.

1740.

1740 Age 37

THE Moravian wranglings brought Wesley to the metropolis in 1739; and, on the 3rd of January following, he left his friends, still “subverting one another’s souls by idle controversies and strife of words;” and came to Bristol on January 9.

Here he purposed to remain; but within a month he was back to London. A young surgeon, of the name of Snowde, had met in Bristol a man of the name of Ramsey, who in a state of destitution and distress had applied to Wesley for relief. Wesley employed him in writing and in keeping accounts for him, and afterwards in teaching a school instituted by the Bristol society.[341] Ramsey brought the young surgeon to hear Wesley preach. Both were rascals, and availed themselves of an opportunity of stealing £30 that had been collected towards building Kingswood school. Snowde went off to London; fell in with his old acquaintance; committed highway robbery; was arrested, tried, and condemned to die. While in Newgate, awaiting the execution of his sentence, he wrote to a friend, adjuring Wesley, “by the living God,” to come and see him before his death. Wesley, who had been robbed so sacrilegiously, started off, on a journey of more than two hundred miles, purposely to visit the convict thief. He found him apparently penitent, and having only a week to live. On the day before his sentence was to be executed, the poor creature wrote:—“I trust God has forgiven me all my sins, washing them away in the blood of the Lamb.” Next morning a reprieve was sent, and, six weeks afterwards, he was ordered for transportation. Whether Wesley assisted in obtaining the commutation of his sentence we have no means of knowing;[342] but as soon as the affair was settled he returned to Bristol; where, with the exception of a brief interval of about a week’s duration, he continued until the month of June. The rest of the year, excepting about three weeks, was spent in London.

In Bristol, the work, in its outward aspects, was greatly altered. Wesley writes:—“Convictions sink deeper and deeper; love and joy are more calm, even, and steady.”

Still there were a few instances similar to those that had occurred in the previous year. On January 13, while he was administering the sacrament at the house of a sick person in Kingswood, a woman “sunk down as dead.” A week after, she was “filled with the love of God, and with all peace and joy in believing.” On January 24, after he had preached in Bristol, another woman caught hold of him, crying:—“I have sinned beyond forgiveness. I have been cursing you in my heart, and blaspheming God. I am damned; I know it; I feel it; I am in hell; I have hell in my heart.” On April 3, the congregations in Bristol were remarkably visited; and “the cries of desire, joy, and love were on every side.” Five weeks after, another phase of excitement was presented. The people began to laugh; and, though it was a great grief to them, the laughing spirit was stronger than they were able to resist. One woman, who was known to be no dissembler, “sometimes laughed till she was almost strangled; then she broke out into cursing and blaspheming; then stamped and struggled with incredible strength, so that four or five could scarce hold her; then cried out, ‘O eternity, eternity! O that I had no soul! O that I had never been born!’ At last, she faintly called on Christ to help her,” and her excitement ceased. Most of the society were convinced, that those who laughed had no power to help it; but there were two exceptions: Elizabeth B—— and Anne H——. At length, says Wesley, “God suffered Satan to teach them better. Both of them were suddenly seized in the same manner as the rest, and laughed whether they would or no, almost without ceasing. Thus they continued for two days, a spectacle to all; and were then, upon prayer made for them, delivered in a moment.”

What are we to think of this? Wesley attributes it to Satan, and, in confirmation of his opinion, recites an instance which had occurred in his own history while at Oxford. According to their custom on Sundays, he and his brother Charles were walking in the meadows, singing psalms, when all at once Charles burst into a loud fit of laughter. Wesley writes:—“I asked him if he was distracted; and began to be angry. But presently I began to laugh as loud as he; nor could we possibly refrain, though we were ready to tear ourselves in pieces. We were forced to go home without singing another line.”

Amidst all this, however, there were happy deaths at Bristol. Margaret Thomas died in the highest triumph of faith, her will swallowed up in the will of God, and her hope full of immortality.[343] And one of the Kingswood converts “longed to be dissolved and to be with Christ;” some of her last words being, “I know His arms are round me; for His arms are like the rainbow, they go round heaven and earth.” These were among the first Methodists that entered heaven; and, no doubt, it was deaths like theirs which prompted not a few of the triumphant funereal hymns that gushed so exultingly from the poetic soul of Wesley’s brother.

The New Room at Bristol, as the first Methodist meeting-house was called, was now opened. Wesley expounded and preached daily, choosing for exposition the Acts of the Apostles, and for sermons the greatest texts of the New Testament. He was also one of the most active of philanthropists. The severity of the frost in January threw hundreds out of work, and reduced them to a state bordering on starvation; but Wesley made collections, and fed a hundred, and sometimes a hundred and fifty, hungry wretches in a day. He visited Bristol Bridewell, and tried to benefit and to comfort poor prisoners, till the commanding officer gave strict orders that neither Wesley nor any of his followers should in future be admitted, because he and they were all atheists. Of these same Bristol “atheists,” Wesley himself writes, “They were indeed as little children, not artful, not wise in their own eyes, not doting on controversy and strife of words; but truly determined to know nothing save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” Such they were when Wesley left them at the beginning of the month of June; and such his brother found them. “O what simplicity,” remarks Charles Wesley, “is in this childlike people! O that our London brethren would come to school at Kingswood! These are what they pretend to be. God knows their poverty; but they are rich.”[344]