The life and times of the Rev. John Wesley, M.A., founder of the Methodists. Vol. 1 (of 3)

DURING the year 1743, Wesley spent about fourteen weeks in London, ten in Bristol and its vicinity, thirteen in Newcastle and the neighbourhood, three in Cornwall, and twelve in travelling chiefly to the north of England. He was now a thorough itinerant; and itinerating in England then was widely different from what it is at present. Turnpike roads did not exist; and no stage coach went farther north than the town of York.[484] Wesley travelled on horseback, reading as he rode, and usually having one of his preachers with him. In a life like this, there was much of both hardship and incident. For instance, on New Year’s day, between Doncaster and Epworth, he met a man so drunk that he could hardly keep his seat, but who, on discovering that Wesley was his fellow traveller, cried out, “I am a Christian! I am a Churchman! I am none of your Culamites!” And then, as if afraid that Wesley might turn out to be the devil, away he went, as fast as his horse could carry him. Twelve days after, on reaching Stratford upon Avon, Wesley was requested to visit a woman of middle age, who, with a distorted face, and a lolling tongue, had bellowed so horribly, in the presence of the parish minister, that he pronounced her possessed with demons. Wesley went, but, staring at her visitor, she said nothing ailed her. After singing a verse or two, Wesley and his friends began to pray. Just as he commenced, he felt as if he “had been plunged into cold water,” and immediately there was a tremendous roar. The woman was reared up in bed, her whole body moving, without bending either joint or limb. Then it writhed into all kinds of postures, the poor wretch still bellowing. Wesley, however, continued praying, until all demoniacal symptoms ceased, and the woman began rejoicing and praising God. On another occasion, in the month of April, while baiting his horse at Sandhutton, he found sitting, in the chimney corner of the public house, a good natured man, who was enjoying his grog with the greatest gusto. Wesley began to talk to him about sacred things, having no suspicion that he was talking to the parish priest. And yet so it was; but the reverend tippler, instead of boiling over with offence, begged his reprover to call upon him when he next visited his village. In July, when he and John Downes reached Darlington, from Newcastle, both their horses lay down and died; and, in August, when he was leaving London for Bristol, his saddle slipped upon his horse’s neck; he was jerked over the horse’s head; and the horse itself ran back to Smithfield. Six days later, being in Exeter, he went to church both morning and afternoon, and writes: “the sermon in the morning was quite innocent of meaning; what that in the afternoon was, I know not; for I could not hear a single sentence.” In October, when he was leaving Epworth, he had to cross the Trent in a ferry boat; a terrible storm was raging; and the cargo consisted of three horses and eight men and women. In the midst of the river, the side of the boat was under water, and the horses and men rolling one over another, while Wesley was laid in the bottom, pinned down with a large iron bar, and utterly unable to help himself. Presently, however, the horses jumped into the water, and the boat was lightened, and came safe to land. Such were some of the incidents Wesley met with in 1743.

One of the first events in this memorable year was the organisation of the Calvinistic Methodists in Wales. At a meeting held at Watford (near Cardiff), on January 5 and 6, and at which there were present four clergymen—Whitefield, Rowlands, Powell, and Williams, and three laymen—Howel Harris, Joseph Humphreys, and John Cennick, it was agreed that “public exhorters” should be employed, and that each “public exhorter,” with the assistance of “private exhorters,” should take the oversight of twelve or fourteen societies. Each “private exhorter” was to inspect only one or two societies, and was to follow his ordinary calling. Howel Harris was to be a general travelling superintendent; and the clergymen were to itinerate as much as they were able. Each society was to have a box, under the care of stewards, to receive weekly contributions towards the support of the general work; and the clergymen and exhorters were to meet in conference once, or oftener, every year.[485] Thus Whitefield, Harris, Humphreys, and Cennick began to organise their societies before the Wesleys did.

After an absence of seven weeks, Wesley returned to Newcastle, on the 19th of February, and at once set to work to purge the society of unworthy members. Since he left, on December 30, seventy-six had forsaken the society; and sixty-four were now expelled, about eight hundred still remaining. Of those who had voluntarily withdrawn themselves, a large proportion were Dissenters, who left, because otherwise their ministers refused to them the sacrament; thirty-three because their husbands, wives, parents, masters, or acquaintance objected; five because such bad things were said of the society; nine because they would not be laughed at; one because she was afraid of falling into fits; and fourteen for sundry other reasons. Among those expelled, there were two for swearing; two for sabbath breaking; seventeen for drunkenness; two for retailing spirituous liquors; three for quarreling; one for beating his wife; three for wilful lying; four for railing; one for laziness; and twenty-nine for lightness and carelessness. Thus, within a few months after its formation, the Newcastle society was purged of one hundred and forty of its members.

Joined with Newcastle were a number of country places, at each of which Wesley preached every week, excepting Swalwell, where he went only once a fortnight. These were Horsley, Pelton, Chowden, South Biddick, Tanfield, Birtley, and Placey. At Chowden, he found he had got into the very Kingswood of the north; twenty or thirty wild children, in rags and almost nakedness, flocking round about him. At Pelton, in the midst of the sermon, one of the colliers began to shout amain from an excess of joy; but their usual token of approbation was clapping Wesley on the back. At Placey, the colliers had always been in the first rank for savage ignorance and all kinds of wickedness. Every Sunday men, women, and children met together to dance, fight, curse and swear, and play at chuck ball, span farthing, or whatever came to hand; but, notwithstanding this, when Wesley went among them, on the 1st of April, and preached amid wind, sleet, and snow till he was encased in ice, “they gave earnest heed to the things which were spoken.”

In Newcastle, almost every night, there were scenes of great excitement. Numbers dropped down, lost their strength, and were seized with agonies. Some said, they felt as if a sword was running through them; others thought a great weight upon them; others could hardly breathe; and others felt as if their bodies were being torn to pieces. “These symptoms,” says Wesley, “I can no more impute to any natural causes, than to the Spirit of God. I can make no doubt, but it was Satan tearing them, as they were coming to Christ. And hence proceeded those grievous cries, whereby he might design both to discredit the work of God, and to affright fearful people from hearing that word whereby their souls might be saved.”

Wesley left on April 7, and on the 30th of May was succeeded by his brother. Charles put an end to these annoying fits, and says, “I am more and more convinced it was a device of Satan to stop the course of the gospel.” He preached to “a thousand wild people” at Sunderland. At South Shields, his congregation consisted of “a huge multitude; many of them very fierce and threatening”; while the churchwardens and others tried to interrupt him by throwing dirt, and even money among the people. The mob at North Shields, led on by the parish priest, roughly saluted him; his reverence commanding a man to blow a horn, and his companions to shout.

Charles left on the 21st of June, and, eight days afterwards, was succeeded by John. The society was further reduced, by fresh backslidings, to about six hundred members. Wesley spent nearly three weeks among them; formed a society out of “his favourite congregation at Placey;” and then returned to London.

He came again on October 31st, and found the following advertisement was published:—

“For the Benefit of Mr. Este.

By the Edinburgh Company of Comedians, on Friday, November 4,

will be acted a Comedy, called

THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS;

To which will be added, a Farce, called,

Trick upon Trick, or Methodism Displayed.”

The day came; and about fifteen hundred people assembled in Moot Hall to see the funny farce, some hundreds having to sit upon the stage. Soon after the comedians began the first act of “The Conscious Lovers,” the seats upon the stage broke down, and their occupants were left sprawling in all directions. In the midst of the second act, all the shilling seats gave a crack, and began to sink. The people shrieked, and numbers ran away. When the third act was commencing, the entire stage suddenly sunk about six inches, and the players precipitately fled. At the end of the act, all the sixpenny seats, in a moment, fell with an alarming crash, which caused cries on every side. Most of the people had now left the hall, but, two or three hundred still remaining, Este, who was to act the Methodist, came forward and told them he was determined that the farce should be performed. While he was speaking, the stage sunk six inches more; when the valorous comedian and the remnant of his audience took to their heels in the utmost confusion. The week after, however, the farce was acted, and hundreds of people went again to see it.

One or two incidents in connection with Wesley’s northern journeys may be noticed here.

While returning to the south, at the beginning of the year, he was, for the first time in his life, repelled from the sacramental table. This occurred at Epworth. Having preached, on his father’s tomb, to a large congregation, gathered from the neighbouring towns, and it being the sacramental Sunday, some of the people went to Romley, the curate, to ask his permission to communicate; to whom the proud priest replied, “Tell Mr. Wesley, I shall not give him the sacrament; for he is not fit.” Wesley writes, “How wise a God is our God! there could not have been so fit a place under heaven, where this should befal me first, as my father’s house, the place of my nativity, and the very place where, ‘according to the straitest sect of our religion,’ I had so long ‘lived a Pharisee.’ It was also fit, in the highest degree, that he who repelled me from that very table where I had myself so often distributed the bread of life, should be one who owed his all in this world to the tender love which my father had shown to his, as well as personally to himself.”

While on his third journey to Newcastle, in 1743, Wesley paid his first visit to the town of Grimsby. Here a woman—a magdalen, who was parted from her husband—offered him a convenient place for preaching, and, under his sermon, became a penitent. Wesley, after hearing her domestic history, told her she must return instantly to her forsaken spouse. She replied, her husband was at Newcastle, and she knew not how to reach him. Wesley said, “I am going to Newcastle to-morrow morning. William Blow is going with me; and you shall ride behind him.” This was an odd arrangement, and perhaps not too prudent; but it was carried out. The poor creature rode to Newcastle, sad and sombre; there she met her husband; and, a short time after, was drowned at sea, while on her way to Hull.

The year 1743 will always be memorable for the riots in Staffordshire. At this period, West Bromwich was an open common, covered with heath, and burrowed with rabbit warrens. Wednesbury was a small country town, irregularly built, the roads following ancient footways, and leaving wide spaces unoccupied. One of these was called the “High Bullen,” and was the place where bulls were baited. So extensively did this barbarous sport prevail in the “black country,” that, in Tipton parish, nineteen of these furious animals were baited at one of the annual wakes. Wednesbury, however, was most celebrated for its cockfights. Indeed, the Wednesbury “cockings,” as Charles Knight informs us, were almost as famous as the races of the “Derby day” at the present time. Recreations are an index to character, and sports, such as these, reflected, as well as moulded, the moral condition of the people.

Charles Wesley, accompanied by Mr. Graves, was the first Methodist who preached at Wednesbury. This was in November, 1742.[486] His brother followed in January, 1743, and spent four days among the people, preached eight sermons, and formed a society of about one hundred members.[487] Mr. Egginton, the vicar, was extremely courteous, told Wesley he had done much good already, and he doubted not would do much more, invited him to his house, and said the oftener he came the better.[488]

Wesley was followed by Mr. Williams, a Welshman, who, it is alleged, vilified the clergy, and called them dumb dogs that could not bark. After him came a bricklayer; then a plumber and glazier, both sent from London; and, under their preaching, people fell down in fits, and made strange hideous noises. Malice, spleen, and feuds sprung up. The Methodists spoke ill natured things of their lawful minister, and told the members of the Church of England, that they would all be damned. These things, it is said, exasperated ignorant people, and were the principal cause of the subsequent disturbances.[489] Wesley paid a second visit to Wednesbury on the 15th of April, and says, “the inexcusable folly of Mr. Williams had so provoked Mr. Egginton, that his former love was turned into bitter hatred.” Wesley went to church, where Egginton delivered, with great bitterness of voice and manner, what Wesley pronounced, the most wicked sermon he ever heard; and, two days afterwards, while he himself was preaching, a neighbouring parson, who was extremely drunk, after using many unseemly and bitter words, tried to ride over his congregation.

Charles Wesley came on the 20th of May, and found the society increased to above three hundred. “The enemy,” he writes, “rages exceedingly, and preaches against them. A few have returned railing for railing; but the generality have behaved as the followers of Christ.” A Dissenter had given a piece of ground upon which to build a chapel, and Charles says, “I consecrated it by a hymn.” He went to Walsal, accompanied by many of the brethren, singing songs of praise. He preached from the steps of the market house, the mob roaring, shouting, and throwing stones incessantly. Many struck him, but none hurt him.

Soon after this, while a small party of Wednesbury Methodists were returning from Darlaston, singing hymns, the Darlaston mob began to pelt them with stones and dirt; while the united mobs of Darlaston, Walsal, and Bilston smashed the windows of most of the Methodist houses in Wednesbury, Darlaston, and West Bromwich.[490] In some instances, money was extorted, and in others furniture was broken, spoiled, or stolen; and even pregnant women were beaten with clubs and otherwise abused.[491] John Adams, John Eaton, and Francis Ward went to Walsal for a warrant to apprehend the rioters. The magistrate, Mr. Persehouse, told them they had themselves to blame for the outrage that had been committed, and refused their application.[492] The mob hurled against them all sorts of missiles, and when the magistrate was asked to quiet these disturbers of the public peace, he swung his hat round his head, and cried, “Huzza!” Mr. Taylor, the curate of Walsal, came, not to stop the outrage, but to encourage the rioters in their violence. One of them struck Francis Ward on the eye, and cut it so, that he expected to lose his sight. He went into a shop and had it dressed, when the ruffians again pursued him, and beat him most unmercifully. He escaped into the public house, and was again fetched out, and dragged along the street, and through the public kennels, till he lost his strength, and was hardly able to stand erect.

Wesley writes, June 18th: “I received a full account of the terrible riots which had been in Staffordshire. I was not surprised at all, neither should I have wondered if, after the advices they had so often received from the pulpit, as well as from the episcopal chair, the zealous high churchmen had rose and cut all that were Methodists in pieces.”

He immediately set out to assist the poor Methodists, as far as he was able, and came to Francis Ward’s on the 22nd. After hearing the statements of the people, he “thought it best to inquire whether there could be any help from the laws of the land”; and rode to Counsellor Littleton at Tamworth, to ask his opinion on the matter.

The mob were still as violent as ever. On the very day before Wesley’s arrival at Francis Ward’s, a large crowd came to the house of John Eaton, who was a constable. John went to the door, with his constable’s staff, and began to read the act of parliament against riots; but stones flew so thick about his head, that he was obliged to leave off reading and to retire. They then broke all his windows, destroyed the door of his dwelling, and smashed his clock to pieces. On the same day, two or three of the Methodists were singing a hymn in John Adams’ house, when a pack of apprentices came and threw stones through the windows. A mob destroyed Jonas Turner’s windows with a club, threw three baskets full of stones to break his furniture, and ruthlessly dragged him along the ground a distance of sixty yards. They went to Mary Turner’s house, at West Bromwich, and hunted her and her two daughters with stones and stakes, threatening to knock them on the head, and to bury them in a ditch. They came to John Bird’s house, felled his daughter, snatched money from his wife, and then broke ten of his windows, besides destroying sash frames, shutters, chests of drawers, doors, and dressers. They took Humphrey Hands by the throat, swore they would be the death of him, gave him a great swing, and hurled him on the ground. On rising, they struck him on the eye, and again knocked him down. They then smashed all his windows, shivered many of his household goods, and broke all the shelves, drawers, pots, and bottles in his shop, and destroyed almost all his medicines. All this happened within a day or two of Wesley’s coming to Francis Ward’s. Indeed, at this very time, there were in and about Wednesbury more than eighty houses, all of which had their windows damaged, and in many of which not three panes of glass were left unbroken.[493]

Counsellor Littleton assured Wesley they might have an easy remedy, if they resolutely prosecuted, as the law directed; and doubtless this encouraged John Griffiths and Francis Ward to apply, at the end of June, to another magistrate for protection and redress; but, having stated their case to his worship, he talked to them roughly, made game of them, refused a warrant, and said, “I suppose you follow these parsons that come about. I will neither meddle nor make.”

For some time, preaching was suspended; and then came Messrs. Graves and Williams, who, however, confined their preaching to private houses.[494] At length, on October 20, Wesley himself again entered this wild beasts’ den. At noon, he preached in the centre of the town, and was not disturbed; but, two or three hours afterwards, while he was writing at Francis Ward’s, the mob beset the house, and cried, “Bring out the minister; we will have the minister!” At Wesley’s request, three of the most furious came into the house, and, after the interchange of a few sentences, were perfectly appeased. With these men to clear the way, Wesley went out, and, standing in the midst of the surging mob, asked them what they wanted with him. Some said, “We want you to go with us to the justice.” Wesley replied, “That I will, with all my heart”; and away they went. Before they had walked a mile, the night came on, accompanied with heavy rain. Bentley Hall, the residence of Mr. Lane, the magistrate, was two miles distant. Some pushed forward, and told Mr. Lane, that they were bringing Wesley before his worship. “What have I to do with Wesley?” quoth the magistrate; “take him back again.” Presently the crowd came up, and began knocking for admittance. A servant told them his master was in bed. The magistrate declined to see them, but his son asked their business. A spokesman answered, “To be plain, sir, if I must speak the truth, all the fault I find with him is, that he preaches better than our parsons.” Another said, “Sir, it is a downright shame; he makes people rise at five in the morning to sing psalms.[495] What advice would your worship give us?” “Go home,” said Lane, the younger, “and be quiet.”

Finding it impossible to obtain an audience of Mr. Lane, they then hurried Wesley to Walsal, to Mr. justice Persehouse. It was now about seven o’clock, and, of course, was dark. Persehouse, however, also refused to see them, on the ground that, like magisterial Mr. Lane, he was gone to bed; and hence there was nothing for it but to trudge back again. About fifty of the crowd undertook to be Wesley’s convoy; but, before they had gone more than a hundred yards, the mob of Walsal ran after them; some were pelted; others fled; and Wesley was left, alone and unbefriended, in the hands of the victorious ruffians. Some tried to seize him by the collar, and to pull him down. A big lusty fellow, just behind him, struck him several times with an oaken club. Another rushed through the crowd, lifted his arm to strike, but, on a sudden, let it drop, and only stroked Wesley’s head, saying “What soft hair he has!” One man struck him on the breast; and another on the mouth, with such force, that the blood gushed out. He was dragged back to Walsal; and, attempting to enter a large house, the door of which was standing open, he was seized by the hair of the head, and hindered. He was then paraded through the main street, from one end of Walsal to the other. Here he stood, and asked, “Are you willing to hear me speak?” Many cried, “No, no! knock out his brains; down with him; kill him at once!” Wesley asked, “What evil have I done? which of you all have I wronged in word or deed?” Again they cried, “Bring him away, bring him away!” Wesley began to pray; and now a man, who just before headed the mob, turned and said, “Sir, I will spend my life for you; follow me, and no one shall hurt a hair of your head.” Two or three of his companions joined him; the mob parted; and these three or four brave ruffians, the captains of the rabble on all occasions, and one of them a prizefighter in a bear garden, took Wesley and carried him safely through the infuriated crowd. He writes: “a little before ten o’clock, God brought me safe to Wednesbury; having lost only one flap of my waistcoat, and a little skin from one of my hands. From the beginning to the end I found the same presence of mind, as if I had been sitting in my own study. But I took no thought for one moment before another; only once it came into my mind, that, if they should throw me into the river, it would spoil the papers that were in my pocket. For myself, I did not doubt but I should swim across, having but a thin coat and a light pair of boots.”

It is right to add, that, in the midst of all these perils, there were four brave Methodists who clung to Wesley, resolved to live or die with him, namely, William Sitch, Edward Slater, John Griffiths, and Joan Parks. When Wesley asked William Sitch, what he expected when the mob seized them, William answered with a martyr’s spirit, “To die for Him, who died for us.” And when Joan Parks was asked if she was not afraid, she said: “No, no more than I am now. I could trust God for you, as well as for myself.”

Such was the beginning of Methodism in the “black country.” “The heathen raged, and the people imagined a vain thing. But He that sitteth in the heavens laughed; the Lord had them in derision.” Human justice there was none; but Divine protection was sufficient. Wesley was carried to the houses of Lane and Persehouse, but these two magisterial worthies refused to see him; and yet, only eight days before, they had the effrontery to issue the following proclamation, which Wesley justly calls one of the greatest curiosities, of the kind, that England had ever seen:—

It is a remarkable fact, however, that, notwithstanding Wesley’s rough usage, and the pretentiously loyal proclamation of these two unjust justices, Charles Wesley boldly bearded the lions in their den only five days after his brother so miraculously escaped. He found the poor Methodists “standing fast in one mind and spirit, in nothing terrified by their adversaries.” He writes: “Never before was I in so primitive an assembly. We sung praises lustily, and with a good courage; and could all set our seal to the truth of our Lord’s saying, ‘Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.’ We assembled before day to sing hymns of praise to Christ; and, as soon as it was light, I walked down the town, and preached boldly on Revelation ii. 10. It was a most glorious time. Our souls were satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and we longed for our Lord’s coming to confess us before His Father and His holy angels.”[497]

Even this is not all. The clergyman at Darlaston was so struck with the meek behaviour of the Methodists, in the midst of suffering, that he offered to join the Wesleys in punishing the rioters;[498] while “honest Munchin,” as he was called, the captain of the rabble, who first came to Wesley’s help and rescued him, was so impressed with his spirit and behaviour, that he immediately forsook his gang of godless companions, joined the Methodists, and was received, by Charles Wesley, as a member on trial, only five days after Wesley’s deliverance. “What thought you of my brother?” asked Charles Wesley of “honest Munchin.” “Think of him!” said he, “I thought he is a mon of God; and God was on his side, when so mony of us could not kill one mon.”

It may here be added, that “Munchin” was a nickname only,—a provincial word expressive of coarse, brutal strength. The real name of Wesley’s deliverer was George Clifton. He lived in a small house at the foot of Holloway Bank, and never tired of telling, in after days, how God stayed his hand, when he nearly took Wesley’s life. He died in Birmingham, at the age of eighty-five, in the year 1789, and was buried in St. Paul’s churchyard. It is a notable incident[499] that, while Wesley’s persecutors passed quickly away, nearly all who took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, lived, like “honest Munchin,” a long and a peaceful life, and saw their children’s children walking in the fear of God.

Unfortunately, the “Staffordshire riots” did not terminate in October, 1743; and, in order to complete the summary, we must trespass, for a moment, on the events of 1744.

We learn from the pamphlet already quoted, “Papers giving an account of the Rise and Progress of Methodism at Wednesbury and in other parishes adjacent,” that, after the bold visit of Charles Wesley, Messrs. Graves and Williams, who, for months past, had preached only in private houses, now begun to preach publicly. At Christmas, Whitefield came and spent several days in preaching in the streets with his accustomed eloquence and power; and then, on February 2, 1744, Charles Wesley again entered the field of action. Egginton, the Wednesbury vicar, had drawn up a paper, and sent the crier to give notice, that all the Methodists must sign it, or else their houses would be immediately demolished. It was to this effect, “that they would never read, or sing, or pray together, or hear the Methodist parsons any more.” Several signed through fear; and every one who did was mulcted a penny to assist in making the rabble drunk.[500]

This was not more than about a month before Charles Wesley’s visit. When he came, however, Egginton was dead; but, in the meantime, not a Methodist in Darlaston had escaped the renewed violence of the vicar’s godless mob, except two or three who had bought exemption by giving their purses to the lawless gang. The windows of all the Methodists were broken, neither glass, lead, nor frames remaining. Tables, chairs, chests of drawers, and whatever furniture was not easily removable, were dashed in pieces. Feather beds were torn to shreds, and the feathers strewed about the rooms[501] in all directions.

No craven-hearted parson would have ventured to preach to humanised fiends like these; and yet these were pre-eminently the men whom the Wesleys tried to benefit and save. At the risk of being murdered, they fearlessly told them of their sin and danger. More than once they had hazarded their lives; and now, Charles was in the midst of these begrimed ruffians, as courageous as ever. He escaped, but the poor Methodists were again made to suffer from the more than brutal violence of their fiendish neighbours.

One man’s wife, about Candlemas, was abused in a manner too horrible to relate; and, because he tried to bring some of the recreants to justice, his windows were broken; his furniture and tools destroyed; all his wife’s linen was torn to tatters; his bed and bedstead were cut; and his Bible and Prayer-Book pulled to pieces. On Shrove Tuesday, the house of Francis Ward was forcibly entered, and all his goods were stolen. John Darby’s house was broken open, his furniture and five stalls of bees destroyed, and his poultry filched. Other houses were plundered and injured in like manner. Some of the mob were armed with swords, some with clubs, and some with axes. The outrages, if possible, were even worse than those some months before. One man cut Mary Turner’s bible into fragments with his axe. Another swore he would beat out Mrs. Sheldon’s brains with her fire shovel. Joshua Constable was attacked by an outrageous gang, his house, in part, pulled down, his goods destroyed and stolen, and his wife violently and brutally assaulted. For six days, in the early part of 1744, this lawless riot lasted, and the damage done to the property of the Wednesbury Methodists amounted to a serious sum. Applications for redress were made to not fewer than three magistrates, but to no purpose. The document, containing many of the above facts, was drawn up on February 26, 1744 when the persecuted Methodists remark:—“We keep meeting together morning and evening, are in great peace and love with each other, and are nothing terrified by our adversaries. God grant we may endure to the end!”[502]

Leaving the “black country,” we must pass to other scenes of fiendish violence, and yet sacred triumph.

Cornwall, at this period, was as imbruted as Staffordshire. Smuggling was considered an honourable traffic, and the plunder of shipwrecked mariners was accounted a lawful prize. Drunkenness was general; and cockfighting, bullbaiting, wrestling, and hurling were the favourite amusements of the people. Francis Truscott relates that, at the time when the Wesleys first went to Cornwall, there was a village, about five miles from Helstone, which was literally without a Bible, and which had, no religious book whatever, except a single copy of the Book of Common Prayer, kept at the public house. On one occasion, during a terrific storm, when the people feared that the world was ending, they fled in consternation to the tavern, that Tom, the tapster, might secure them protection by reading them a prayer. Having fallen upon their knees, Tom hastily snatched a well thumbed book; and began, with great pomposity, to read about storms, wrecks, and rafts, until his mistress, finding that some mistake was made, cried out, “Tom, that is ‘Robin Cruso’!” “No,” said Tom, “it is the Prayer-Book;” and on he went until he came to a description of man Friday, when his mistress again vociferated that she was certain Tom was reading “Robin Cruso.” “Well, well,” said Tom, “suppose I am; there are as good prayers in ‘Robin Cruso’ as in any other book”; and so Tom proceeded, till the storm abated, and the conscience stricken company dispersed, complacently believing that they had done their duty.[503]

While the people, however, were thus generally sunk in ignorance and vice, there were a few exceptions. Among these were Catherine Quick and eleven others, at St. Ives, who frequently met together to pray, and to read Burkitt’s Notes on the New Testament. This godly band of pious people was visited by Captain Turner, a Methodist from Bristol; and this led Catherine Quick and her associates to invite Wesley to visit them.[504]

Charles Wesley was the first to come. Entering St. Ives, on July 16, Mr. Shepherd met him; the boys of the place gave him a rough salute; and Mr. Nance made him his welcome guest. The day after his arrival, he went to church, where the rector preached a railing sermon against the Methodists, or, as he called them, “the new sect, enemies to the Church, seducers, troublers, scribes, pharisees, and hypocrites.” Immediately after being thus religiously regaled, Charles and his godly inviters went to the church at Wednock, where Mr. Hoblin, the curate, poured out such a hotch-potch of railing and foolish lies as might have made even the devil blush. Charles told the preacher, that he had been misinformed; upon which his reverence replied, with more coarseness than courtesy, “You are a liar,” and then left him. On the day following, when Charles Wesley went to the market house, at St. Ives, and commenced singing the hundredth psalm, the mob began to beat a drum and shout. Four days later, when he had just named his text, the same unruly ruffians rushed upon his congregation, and threatened to murder them. The sconces of the room were broken, the windows dashed in pieces, and the shutters, benches, and, indeed, everything except the walls, destroyed. They asseverated, that Charles Wesley should not preach again, and lifted up their hands and clubs to strike him. The women were beaten, dragged about, and trampled on without mercy; until, at length, the rascals fell to quarreling among themselves, broke the town clerk’s head, and left the room. Two days after, while preaching at Wednock, the minister’s mob fell upon the congregation, and swore most horribly, that they would be revenged on them for their taking the people from the church, and making such a disturbance on the sabbath day. Sticks and stones were used, and ten cowardly ruffians attacked one unarmed man, beat him with their clubs, and knocked him to the ground. The day following, at St. Ives, the service was broken up by the mob throwing eggs and stones, and swearing they would pull down the walls of the room, whose windows, benches, and sconces they had already ruthlessly destroyed. At Pool, on July 26, the churchwarden shouted, and hallooed, and put his hat to Charles Wesley’s mouth to prevent his preaching.

All these outrages were principally prompted by the parsons, who continually spoke of the Methodists as popish emissaries, and who, to use the Rev. Mr. Hoblin’s fisticuff language, “ought to be driven away by blows, and not by arguments.” At length, the mayor of St. Ives appointed twenty new constables to suppress the rioters by force of arms, “and plainly told Mr. Hoblin, the fire and fagot minister, that he would not be perjured to gratify any man’s malice.”

Charles Wesley came to St. Ives on the 16th of July, and set out, on his return to London, on August 8, his brother having summoned him to attend a conference with the adherents of Whitefield and with the Moravians. In this way, his labours in Cornwall were interrupted; but, a fortnight after, his brother, accompanied by John Nelson, John Downes, and Mr. Shepherd, succeeded him. Nelson and Downes had but one horse between them, and, hence, rode by turns. They reached St. Ives on August 30, and found the society increased to about a hundred and twenty, nearly a hundred of whom had found peace with God. John Nelson began to work at his trade as a stonemason; and, as opportunity permitted, preached at St. Just, the Land’s End, and other places. John Downes fell ill of a fever, and was unable to preach at all. Wesley and Nelson slept upon the floor, Wesley using Nelson’s top coat for a pillow, and Nelson using Burkitt’s Notes on the New Testament for his. One morning, at three o’clock, after using this hard bed for a fortnight, Wesley turned over, clapped Nelson on the side, and jocosely said: “Brother Nelson, let us be of good cheer, for the skin is off but one side yet.” Their board also was as hard as their bed. They were continually preaching; but “it was seldom,” says Nelson, “that any one asked us to eat or drink. One day, as we returned from St. Hilary Downs, Mr. Wesley stopped his horse to pick the blackberries, saying, ‘Brother Nelson, we ought to be thankful, that there are plenty of blackberries; for this is the best country I ever saw for getting an appetite, but the worst for getting food.’”[505]

Wesley spent three weeks in Cornwall, leaving Nelson behind him. Upon the whole, he had been kindly treated. The mob at St. Ives, it is true, welcomed him with a loud huzza; and serenaded him before his window with the harmless ditty:—

But, during his stay, the only act of violence he met with was, on one occasion, when the mob burst into the room at St. Ives, and a ruffian struck him on the head.

On his way to Cornwall, and also on returning, Wesley preached at Exeter, and visited a lad, and a clergyman in prison, both sentenced to suffer death. His vast congregation “in that solemn amphitheatre,” as he calls the castle yard, was such an one as he had rarely seen,—“void both of anger, fear, and love.” He also preached at the cross in Taunton, where a man, attempting to make disturbance, so exasperated the congregation, that there was a general cry, “Knock the rascal down, beat out his brains!” and Wesley had to interfere to prevent his being roughly handled. He likewise paid a flying visit to the Isles of Scilly, crossing the ocean in a fishing boat, and singing amid the swelling waves:—

It has been already stated, that Charles Wesley was summoned from Cornwall to attend a conference in London, consisting of the leading men of the three communities,—the Arminian Methodists, the Calvinistic Methodists, and the Moravians. The object of the conference was, by mutual explanations and concessions, to cultivate a better understanding with each other; so that the parties might avoid all unnecessary collision, and unite, as far as was practicable, in advancing what they believed to be the work of God. Wesley drew up a statement of the questions at issue between himself and Whitefield, with the concessions he was prepared to make.[506] Mr. Jackson says, the project had its origin with Wesley,[507] and perhaps it had; but, a year before this, John Cennick expressed a wish for the same sort of meeting. In a letter to Whitefield’s wife, dated May 6, 1742, he writes:—“I have had it much impressed upon my mind, that it would be right in the sight of God, that all our preachers, all Mr. Wesley’s, and all the Moravian brethren should meet together. Who knows but we might unite? Or if not, we might consent in principles as far as we can, and love one another. At least, I think all our preachers should meet, as the apostles did, often. I know it would be for good; but I suspend my judgment to the elder brethren.”[508]

It may thus be doubtful whether the proposal for the conference originated with Wesley or with Cennick; but, through no fault of Wesley’s, the proposal was abortive. To be present at the conference, Wesley travelled from Newcastle; his brother came all the way from Cornwall; and John Nelson trudged from Yorkshire. But Whitefield, who was in London, seems to have declined the invitation; the Moravians refused to come; and, though Spangenberg had promised to attend, he left England instead of doing so; while James Hutton said, his brethren had orders not to confer at all, unless the archbishop of Canterbury, or the bishop of London, were also present.[509]

This was the last attempt at union; but perhaps it suggested to Wesley’s mind the idea of having conferences of his own, which he began to hold twelve months afterwards.

Not a little of the time of the two Wesleys was now employed in pastoralizing the societies they had formed in London, Bristol, and other places. In Bristol, in the month of January, Wesley spoke to each member of society, and rejoiced in finding them neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. He did the same at Kingswood, and remarks: “I cannot understand how any minister can hope ever to give up his account with joy, unless (as Ignatius advises) he knows all his flock by name; not overlooking the men servants and maid servants.” In London, he and his brother began visiting the society together, on February 2, which they continued from six in the morning to six at night, until the visiting was completed. The same practice was pursued at Newcastle.

The London society now consisted of nineteen hundred and fifty members; and, before the year was ended, it numbered two and twenty hundred. This was a large church, gathered within the last four years, and needing a more than ordinary amount of pastoral attention. The members only, to say nothing of children, servants, and outside hearers, were almost sufficient to fill the Foundery chapel twice over. More room became imperative. Without this, it seemed to be impossible to extend, or even to conserve the work. London had one Methodist chapel already; before the year was ended, it had two others.

In the month of May, Wesley had the offer of a chapel in West Street, Seven Dials, which about sixty years before had been built by the French Protestants. He accepted the offer, and opened the chapel, as a Methodist place of worship, on Trinity Sunday, the first service lasting from ten o’clock till three. At five, he preached again to an immense congregation at the Great Gardens; then met the leaders; and after them the bands; and yet, at ten o’clock at night, he was less weary than when he began his enormous day’s work in the morning. Here, when in London, he and his brother now regularly officiated on Sunday mornings and evenings, read the liturgy, and administered the sacraments. The Lord’s supper was celebrated at the morning service on both the first and second Sundays of the month, and the attendance was so numerous, that, in both instances, the service usually lasted at least five hours. This was longer than even Wesley thought desirable, and led him to divide the communicants into three divisions, so that not more than about six hundred might communicate on the same occasion. These were enormous gatherings, with which those of the present day will hardly bear comparison.

Three months after he took possession of the West Street chapel, Wesley became the occupier of a third, which had been built in Bermondsey, Southwark, by a Unitarian. Being vacant, Wesley took it. Some objected to this. “What!” said a zealous woman, “what! will Mr. Wesley preach at Snowsfields? Surely not! there is not such another place in London. The people there are not men, but devils!” This was just the sort of reason to induce Wesley, not to stay away, but go. Accordingly, on August 8, he opened Snowsfields chapel by preaching from the words—“Jesus said, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

Wesley did more than this for the London society. Visiting the sick he regarded as an imperative Christian duty. Sending them help was not enough. Besides, to neglect this was not only to neglect a duty, but to lose a means of grace. “One great reason,” says Wesley, “why the rich have so little sympathy for the poor, is, because they so seldom visit them.” “All,” he adds, “who desire to escape the everlasting fire, and to inherit the everlasting kingdom, are equally concerned, according to their power, to practise this important duty.”[510] Holding such sentiments, Wesley himself, throughout life, visited the poor and the afflicted, to the utmost of his ability; but, of course, as an itinerant evangelist, when he had done his best, much was left untouched. Hence, in the year 1743, he appointed in London visitors of the sick, as distinct office bearers in his society.[511] Stewards had been appointed already, to receive the contributions of the society, which amounted to nearly £8 per week; and to distribute them, partly in repairing and paying for chapel premises, partly in paying debts, partly in other necessary expenses, and partly in relieving the afflicted and the poor. The stewards, seven in number, were to be frugal; to have no long accounts; to give none, that asked relief, either an ill word or an ill look; and to expect no thanks from man. They met together every Thursday morning at six o’clock, and distributed all the money paid to them up to the previous Tuesday night; so that all receipts and disbursements were concluded within the week. The stewards, however, soon found a difficulty with regard to the afflicted. Some were ready to perish before they heard of them; and, even when they became acquainted with their illness, being persons generally employed in trade, they were unable to visit them as often as they wished. To meet this deficiency, Wesley called together the whole of the London society; showed how impossible it was for the stewards to visit all the sick in all parts of the metropolis; desired the leaders to be more careful in inquiring after sick cases, and in giving early information concerning them; and then appealed to the assembled members and asked for volunteers for this important work. Numbers cheerfully responded, out of whom Wesley selected forty-six, whom he judged to be of the most tender, loving spirit. He then divided London into twenty-three districts, and arranged that the sick, in each district, should be visited, by a couple of visitors, three times every week; and that the visitors, besides inquiring into the state of the people’s souls, should relieve those of them in want, and should present their accounts to the stewards weekly. Wesley writes:—