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

References have been made to the state of Wesley’s health. His labours had been undiminished, and yet many of his friends had been anxious and alarmed. John Pawson, in an unpublished letter, dated Bristol, October 14, 1773, remarks: “Mr. Wesley has been with us for some time. He seems to be declining very fast; and I think there is great reason to fear that he will not be with us long.” There was sufficient cause for solicitude. Wesley’s pain, during the last three years, must have been acute; and it is perfectly marvellous how he managed, without a murmur, and without abatement, to do the whole of his accustomed work. At the beginning of 1774, the matter reached its crisis. He writes:

Such is Wesley’s own simple statement. The disease was unquestionably a serious one; and, yet, it is a surprising fact, that, only a week after the surgical operation, he was again in harness, and as actively employed as ever. Hence the following: “Tuesday, January 11—I began, at the east end of the town, to visit the society from house to house. I know no branch of the pastoral office which is of greater importance than this. But it is so grievous to flesh and blood, that I can prevail on few, even of our preachers, to undertake it.”

Wesley’s zeal for the extension of his Saviour’s kingdom would hardly let him rest when rest was requisite. His long life was an unbroken scene of gigantic action. He worked as though nothing could be done without his working; and yet no man more practically acknowledged, that all his work, without God’s blessing, would amount to nothing. Hence, not only his own ceaseless prayers for the help and co-operation of his great Master, but also his appointment of fast days to be observed by the thousands of his followers. Many of these are mentioned in his journals, but many were observed without being mentioned. One of these occurred at the time of which we are now writing. “Yesterday,” says Samuel Bardsley, on January 25, 1774, “yesterday I got a letter from Mr. Wesley, informing me that the 28th instant is to be observed as a day of fasting and prayer for the prosperity of the gospel.”⁠[204] Numbers of such days were appointed. No wonder Wesley prospered.

The first two months of 1774 were chiefly spent in London; and, on March 6, Wesley set out on his northern visitation, which, as usual, occupied his time till the conference was held in August. This journey has been so often traversed, that we shall no longer follow Wesley step by step; but merely advert to its chief incidents.

At Wolverhampton he was met by his friend Fletcher, of Madeley, and says: “March 22—At five in the morning I explained that important truth, that God trieth us every moment, weighs all our thoughts, words, and actions, and is pleased or displeased with us, according to our works. I see more and more clearly, that there is a great gulf fixed between us and all those, who, by denying this, sap the very foundation both of inward and outward holiness.”

When he had travelled as far as Congleton, he received intelligence which compelled him to retrace his steps, and go back to Bristol. The entry in the journal of this old man of more than seventy is a curiosity. “Wednesday, March 30—I went on to Congleton, where I received letters, informing me that my presence was necessary at Bristol. So, about one, I took chaise, and reached Bristol about half an hour after one the next day. Having done my business in about two hours, on Friday in the afternoon I reached Congleton again, about a hundred and forty miles from Bristol, no more tired (blessed be God!) than when I left it.” This is marvellous. Here we have a septuagenarian, in feeble health, travelling, not by railway, nor yet by coach, but in his own private chaise, in a wintry month, and on roads not macadamised, a distance of two hundred and eighty miles in about eight-and-forty hours, and then quietly sitting down and, without bombast, but with profound gratitude, recording the fact in the language above given. Can biography furnish a parallel to this? We doubt it.

On Easter day, April 3, Wesley writes: “I went on to Macclesfield, and came just in time (so is the scene changed here) to walk to the old church, with the mayor and the two ministers.”

Here we pause, to notice a man, who afterwards, not only distinguished himself by his pen and ministerial labours, but became one of Wesley’s sincerest and warmest friends.

One of the “two ministers,” referred to in this extract, was David Simpson, now a young man of twenty-eight. Born at Ingleby Arncliffe, in Yorkshire, and educated at Northallerton, and at Scorton, he, in 1766, entered St. John’s college, Cambridge, where he became acquainted with Rowland Hill, and a select society of devout collegians, and was converted. On leaving college, he was ordained, and accepted the curacy of Ramsden in Essex. He then removed to Buckingham, where, by his extempore preaching of justification by faith, and the nature and necessity of the new birth, he provoked alike the hostility of the surrounding clergy and the sneers of unconverted laics. About the year 1772, he accepted the invitation of Charles Roe, Esq., to his residence at Macclesfield, and soon became curate of what Wesley calls “the old church,” but which, at that period, was the only church that Macclesfield possessed. Here he married Miss Waldy, of Yarm, a young lady of distinguished excellence and piety, who died within six months after Wesley’s visit, leaving to her young husband the care of an infant daughter. Mr. Simpson’s faithful ministry was as much disliked at Macclesfield as it had been at Buckingham. Complaints of his Methodism were made to his diocesan, and twice he was suspended for preaching doctrines, to which, as a clergyman of the Church of England, he had solemnly subscribed. Expelled from the pulpit of the church, he began to preach in the adjacent towns and villages. Just at this juncture, the prime curacy of the church became vacant, and, the nomination being an appendage to the office of the mayor for the time being, Mr. Gould made him the offer, and had the pleasure of seeing it accepted. To prevent Simpson’s induction, a petition, with seventeen articles of accusation, was transmitted to the bishop of Chester, all of which might be reduced to one, namely, that he was a Methodist. In reply, he says, in a letter to his lordship: “This is true. My method is to preach the great truths of the gospel, in as plain, and earnest, and affectionate a manner as I am able. Some, hereby, have become seriously concerned about their salvation. The change is soon discovered; they meet with one or another, who invite them to attend the meetings of the Methodists, by which their number” (the Methodists) “is increased to a considerable degree. This is the truth. I own the fact. I confess myself unequal to the difficulty. What would your lordship advise?” Such was the conflict. Before it came to an issue, Mr. Roe, at his own expense, erected a church, of which Mr. Simpson became incumbent in 1775, relinquishing, at the same time, the curacy which had been a bone of contention. Here he continued to exercise his successful ministry until 1799, when he peacefully expired.

Among many others, who were benefited by Simpson’s preaching, was a young female, eighteen years of age, who, on the very day of Wesley’s visit, above recorded, found peace with God, at Simpson’s sacramental service, and afterwards became the Hester Ann Rogers, whose journals and letters have been read by myriads.

On leaving Macclesfield, Wesley proceeded to Manchester and other places. At Bury, Methodism had been cradled in a storm. On some occasions, the people were besmeared with the most offensive filth; and on others were disturbed in their devotions by a huntsman blowing the hunter’s horn. Again and again the vicar frustrated their attempts to erect a chapel; but, at length, land at Pitts o’ th’ Moor was bought; the poor Methodists dug the clay and burnt the bricks; some worked by day, and others watched by night; and now, in 1774, the building was completed, and, on the 15th of April, Wesley preached in it.

Leaving Lancashire for Yorkshire, Wesley had, for him, the unusual honour of preaching on April 17 and 18, in three different churches, at Halifax, Huddersfield, and Heptonstall; and, on the Sunday following, he occupied the same position in the church at Haworth. A few days later, we find him in Scotland, preaching “to a people, the greatest part of whom,” says he, “hear much, know everything, and feel nothing.” Here, he tells us, he heard sermons, which unfortunately are too common at the present day,—sermons full of truth, “but no more likely to awaken souls than an Italian opera;” and, hence, he himself began to thunder about death, and judgment, and eternity. At Glasgow, Methodist matters were not at all to his satisfaction. “How is it,” he asks, “that there is no increase in the society here? It is exceeding easy to answer. One preacher stays here two or three months at a time, preaching on Sunday mornings, and three or four evenings in a week. Can a Methodist preacher preserve either bodily health, or spiritual life, with this exercise? And if he is but half alive, what will the people be?”

At Greenock, he found the same fault; and, at Edinburgh, writes: “Here, likewise, the morning preaching had been given up; consequently the people were few, dead, and cold. Things must be remedied, or we must quit the ground.”

Wesley attended a Scotch funeral, with which he was disgusted. “O what a difference,” says he, “is there between the English and Scotch method of burial! The English does honour to human nature; and even to the poor remains, that were once the temple of the Holy Ghost! But when I see in Scotland a coffin put into the earth, and covered up without a word, it reminds me of what was spoken of Jehoiakim, ‘He shall be buried with the burial of an ass!’”

At Perth, he says, the generality of the people were so wise, that they needed no more knowledge, and so good, that they needed no more religion; and, hence, he gave them three thundering sermons, two of them on hell and the day of judgment.

Wesley’s great difficulty in Scotland was the objection to itinerancy. “I have written,” says he, in a letter dated October 16, 1774, “to Dr. Hamilton, that Edinburgh and Dunbar must be supplied by one preacher. While I live, itinerant preachers shall be itinerants: I mean, if they choose to remain in connection with me. The society at Greenock are entirely at their own disposal: they may either have a preacher between them and Glasgow, or none at all. But more than one between them they cannot have. I have too much regard both for the bodies and souls of our preachers, to let them be confined to one place any more. I have weighed the matter, and will serve the Scots as we do the English, or leave them.”⁠[205]

The above was addressed to Joseph Benson, at this time stationed in Scotland, and who has left a memento of Wesley’s visit which is worth quoting. “I was,” says he, “constantly with him for a week. I had an opportunity of examining narrowly his spirit and conduct; and, I assure you, I am more than ever persuaded, he is a none such. I know not his fellow, first, for abilities, natural and acquired; and, secondly, for his incomparable diligence in the application of those abilities to the best of employments. His lively fancy, tenacious memory, clear understanding, ready elocution, manly courage, indefatigable industry, really amaze me. I admire, but wish in vain to imitate, his diligent improvement of every moment of time; his wonderful exactness even in little things; the order and regularity wherewith he does and treats everything he takes in hand; together with his quick dispatch of business, and calm, cheerful serenity of soul. I ought not to omit to mention, what is very manifest to all who know him, his resolution, which no shocks of opposition can shake; his patience, which no length of trials can weary; his zeal for the glory of God and the good of man, which no waters of persecution or tribulation have yet been able to quench. Happy man! Long hast thou borne the burden and heat of the day, amidst the insults of foes, and the base treachery of seeming friends; but thou shalt rest from thy labours, and thy works shall follow thee!”⁠[206]

On the 10th of June, Wesley reached Newcastle, and, on the day after, set out for Wolsingham and the dales. Returning to Newcastle, he and his wife’s daughter, and two grandchildren, had a marvellous escape from danger and death, in which Wesley believed that angels, both good and bad, took part. The narrative cannot be given in fewer or better words than in his own. We merely premise, that Horsley is a village a few miles west of Newcastle; and that Mr. Smith had married Mrs. Wesley’s daughter. Wesley writes:

This was one of the narrowest escapes from death that Wesley ever had; and his remarks upon it are worth adding.

Newcastle was one of Wesley’s favourite haunts. However cruelly his wife treated him, her daughter and her son in law, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, always seem to have shown him kindness; and, hence, he always appeared to quit Newcastle with reluctance. He writes: “June 27—I took my leave of this lovely place and people.” The next day was his birthday, which he celebrated as follows: “This being the first day of my seventy-second year, I was considering, How is this, that I find just the same strength as I did thirty years ago? that my sight is considerably better now, and my nerves firmer, than they were then? that I have none of the infirmities of old age, and have lost several I had in my youth? The grand cause is, the good pleasure of God, who doeth whatsoever pleaseth Him. The chief means are: (1) My constantly rising at four, for about fifty years. (2) My generally preaching at five in the morning; one of the most healthy exercises in the world. (3) My never travelling less, by sea or land, than four thousand five hundred miles a year.”

Some will smile at this; but those who think, will hardly doubt, that the three things mentioned, so far from injuring health and shortening life, were among the likeliest of all likely things to be the means of preserving the one, and extending the other.

It is scarcely necessary to follow Wesley, in his wanderings through Durham, through the three ridings of the county of York, and through Lincolnshire; and then right away through Madeley, Worcester, and Cheltenham, to Bristol, where he arrived on August 6. The reader can easily find all this in his journal; we here prefer to give a few extracts from his letters.

Reference has just been made to Wesley’s vigour. We incline to think that, on his birthday, in the bright month of June, he was sometimes more jubilant than facts warranted. At all events, the following extract from a letter to his brother, written within two months before his birthday came, is scarcely in harmony with what was written then.

Such was Wesley’s reply to his brother’s remonstrance against the publication of his opinions on witchcraft and apparitions. The next letter, addressed to a lady in Ireland, refers to two important matters,—the Calvinian controversy, and Wesley’s method of dealing with contumacious Methodists.

The ensuing letters have relation to a book, an abridgment of which Wesley afterwards published, and concerning which some of his admirers have felt puzzled, and others pained. This is not the place for a disquisition on novels and novel reading; but it is a curious fact, that Wesley, the earnest and untiring evangelist, found time, not only to read a novel, but to print it.

Henry Brooke, Esq., an Irish barrister, was the son of an Irish rector; and, besides a number of plays and poems, in four volumes, 8vo, was the author of two novels, “The Fool of Quality,” and “Juliet Grenville.”⁠[211] His nephew, Henry, was a devoted Methodist, a friend of Fletcher, and one of Wesley’s correspondents. “The Fool of Quality” was first published, in five vols., in 1766, and was thus criticised in the Monthly Review of that period. “A performance enriched by genius, enlivened by fancy, bewildered with enthusiasm, and overrun with the visionary jargon of fanaticism. We wish the author would give us an abridgment, cleared from the sanctimonious rubbish by which its beauties are so much obscured. In its present state, it will be a favourite only with Behmenites, Herrnhutters, Methodists, Hutchinsonians, and some of the Roman Catholics.”

This was the book which Wesley read, and concerning which he wrote to Henry Brooke, the author’s nephew.

The answer to this was as follows.

Perhaps there have been published as many portraits of Wesley as of any man that ever lived. The year 1774 was, in this respect, remarkable. At its commencement, Wesley writes: “I was desired by Mrs. Wright, of New York, to let her take my effigy in waxwork. She has that of Mr. Whitefield and many others; but none of them, I think, comes up to a well drawn picture.” Query, what has become of this waxwork effigy? Besides the waxwork figure, there were others. From the manuscript letters of Samuel Bardsley, we learn that, already, the potters of Staffordshire had printed his likeness on their crockery; and Mr. Voyes of Corbridge had had it engraved on the seals he sold.

These are little facts; but they indicate Wesley’s growing popularity. The people ask for the portraits of public men only. A man must be notorious before the masses wish to see him. Thus it was in the case of Wesley. For five-and-thirty years, he had been before the public. No man had been more bitterly persecuted by his enemies; and no man was more ardently beloved by his friends. His fame had spread throughout the three kingdoms; and all sorts of artists began to use him for their own advantage.

Wesley was not fond of sitting for his portrait, though this was often done. On one occasion, while dining with a friend, in the neighbourhood of Blackfriars, an eminent artist offered him ten guineas as a bribe, to induce him to allow a cast of his face to be taken. “No,” said Wesley, “keep your money, and urge me no further.” “Sir,” said the artist, “I will not detain you more than three minutes.” Wesley consented; the cast was taken; and so also was the money: but no sooner was Wesley out of doors, than he saw an agitated crowd, surrounding an auctioneer, who was about to sell, not only the furniture of a poor debtor, but the bed upon which he was actually dying. In an instant, Wesley rushed into the throng, seized the arm of the auctioneer, and cried, “What’s the debt?” “Ten guineas,” was the answer. “Take it,” said Wesley, “and let the poor man have his furniture again;” and, then turning to John Broadbent, who was with him, he quietly observed, “Brother Broadbent, I see why God sent me these ten guineas.”⁠[215]

Methodism in America has been mentioned. The work there was now greatly growing. Twelve months before, Wesley had sent out one of his favourite preachers, Thomas Rankin, to act as a sort of generalissimo. Perhaps a wiser selection might have been made. At all events, Rankin’s honest hearted brusqueness sometimes gave offence. Boardman and Pilmoor, and Asbury, were all predecessors in point of time; but they and four other itinerants had now to recognise Rankin as their chief. In age and ministerial standing, they were nearly equal; but Rankin, by Wesley’s favour, had the preeminence. Asbury winced, but was too good a man to raise rebellion. He writes: “1774, May 25—Our conference began at Philadelphia. The overbearing spirit of a certain person had excited my fears. My judgment was stubbornly opposed for a while, and, at last, submitted to. But it is my duty to bear all things with a meek and patient spirit. Our conference was attended with great power, and all acquiesced in the future stations of the preachers. If I were not deeply conscious of the truth and goodness of the cause in which I am engaged, I should, by no means, stay here. Lord, what a world is this! yea, what a religious world!”⁠[216]

Within two years, the entire band were scattered by the colonial rebellion, and apostolic Asbury was the only one remaining. Meanwhile, Rankin sent to Wesley an account of the first Methodist conference in America, and Wesley replied to him as follows.

Before passing from America, it is worth recording, that it was in the year 1774 that Methodism was introduced into another part of Newfoundland. In the month of March in that year, John Hoskins, a London Methodist, and his son, a lad of about sixteen years of age, embarked at Poole in Dorsetshire, and landed in Newfoundland five weeks afterwards. The intention of Hoskins was to work there till he had obtained money enough to take him to New England, where he wished to begin a school. He landed at Trinity penniless, and utterly unknown, and found himself in a “rocky, desolate country,” and surrounded by a “few, low, mean huts, built of wood.” He entered one to make inquiries as to how he might obtain subsistence; the good woman of the hut gave him some seal and bread to eat; and the minister of the place advised him to open a school at Old Perlican, where about fifty families resided. Away he went, a distance of one-and-twenty miles; the people received him gladly; and his school was opened. Here there was literally no religious worship whatever; but the schoolmaster began to read the Church prayers, and Wesley’s sermons; the people standing at a distance and looking at him as if he had been a monster. He then proceeded to give extempore exhortations; a few began to be serious; some helped him to sing; sixteen became penitent, and were formed into a class; and two or three soon found peace with God. Just at this juncture, Mr. Arthur Thomy, an Irish merchant, visited the place on business, and preached twice or thrice, confirming what Hoskins had said, and the society increased to forty members, and the believers to eight.

Thus was Methodism begun at Old Perlican. It soon spread. Island Cove had a society of thirty, and was the first to build a chapel. At Harbourgrace and Carbonear, where Mr. Coughlan had laboured, Calvinism and antinomianism were rampant, and Methodism had dwindled to almost nothing. The movement at Old Perlican was a new beginning; and Hoskins, the schoolmaster, and Thomy, the Irish merchant, were the chief actors. Thomy often travelled as far as fifty miles to preach; and sometimes met with brutal treatment. The Irish were his bitterest enemies, and, on one occasion, came with their shillalahs to kill him. Hoskins, also, had his share of persecution. Once he was daubed all over with tar, and was further threatened to be stuck with feathers. The work, however, prospered; and, in 1785, Newfoundland became one of the circuits in Wesley’s minutes.

The conference, at Bristol, was opened on August 9. Wesley writes: “The conference, which begun and ended in love, fully employed me on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday; and we observed Friday, 12th, as a day of fasting and prayer for the success of the gospel.”

Thomas Taylor, who was present, says: “August 9—Most of the day was taken up in temporal matters, which is dry business. August 10—This morning our characters were examined, and that closely. The afternoon was chiefly spent in taking in new preachers. In the evening, Mr. Wesley gave us but an indifferent sermon. August 11—We spent this day pretty profitably in considering some things of importance; especially how to prevent levity, idleness, and evil speaking. At night, Mr. Wesley gave us a profitable discourse on brotherly love.”⁠[218]

Miss March, in an unpublished letter, dated August 23, 1774, observes:

It was at this conference that Samuel Bradburn and James Rogers were admitted on trial; and that Joseph Pilmoor, for some reason, deserted Thomas Rankin in America, and desisted from travelling.

No sooner was the conference over, than Wesley again set out on his evangelistic travels. The next twelve days were spent in Wales. He returned to Bristol for the Sunday services on August 28; and, on the day following, started off to Cornwall. He came back to Bristol on September 9, and employed the next month in the city and its neighbourhood. Being the time of a parliamentary election, he met the Bristol society, and advised those of them who had votes:—“1. To vote, without fee or reward, for the person they judged most worthy. 2. To speak no evil of the person they voted against. 3. To take care their spirits were not sharpened against those that voted on the other side.”

Wesley came to London on October 15, and spent the remainder of the year in his usual winter journeys.

Norwich was again a trouble. He writes: “Never was a poor society so neglected as this has been for the year past. The morning preaching was at an end; the bands suffered all to fall in pieces; and no care at all taken of the classes, so that, whether they met or not, it was all one; going to church and sacrament were forgotten; and the people rambled hither and thither as they listed. I met the society, and told them plain, I was resolved to have a regular society or none. I then read the rules, and desired every one to consider whether he was willing to walk by these rules or no. Those, in particular, of meeting their class every week, unless hindered by distance or sickness; and being constant at church and sacrament. I desired those who were so minded to meet me the next night, and the rest to stay away. The next night we had far the greater part. I spoke to every leader, concerning every one under his care, and put out every person whom they could not recommend to me. After this was done, out of 204 members, 174 remained. And these points shall be carried, if only fifty remain in society.”

On his return to London, he visited Ely and St. Ives, and met with an adventure which was strange, even in his experience. Approaching Ely, Mr. Dancer met him with a chaise. For a mile and a half, the road was inundated. “How must foot people come to Ely?” he asked. “Why,” replied simple Mr. Dancer, “they must wade.” The farther he went, the more difficult and dangerous was the way. Between Ely and St. Ives, snow fell in great abundance, and, at considerable peril, Wesley’s borrowed chaise was piloted by Mr. Tubbs, who trudged along, at the horse’s head, and, up to his knees in mud and water, naively said, “We fen men don’t mind a little dirt.” For four miles, Wesley was dragged through this “slough of despond,” when further progress, for the vehicle, became impossible. He tried to proceed on horseback; but this also was soon impracticable, the whole district being one wide waste of water. “Here, therefore,” says he, “I procured a boat, full twice as large as a kneading trough. I was at one end, and a boy at the other, who paddled me safe to Erith; where Miss L—— waited for me with another chaise, which brought me safe to St. Ives.”

Wesley concluded the year’s itinerary thus: “December 25—During the twelve festival days, we had the Lord’s supper daily; a little emblem of the primitive church.”

Was this a lingering remnant of Wesley’s high churchism? What would be said of the Methodists of the present day, were they to imitate the example of their founder?

The Calvinian controversy still proceeded. The Gospel Magazine told its readers, that Arminianism “is a system founded in ignorance, supported by pride, and will end in delusion.” The Hon. and Rev. W. B. Cadogan, a young man of twenty-three, and, though not yet ordained, already presented to the living of St. Giles, Reading, burned Wesley’s works in his kitchen, saying “he was determined to form his opinions from the Bible alone.”⁠[219] The two Hills were silent, with the exception of Mr. Richard’s “Lash at Enthusiasm, in a Dialogue founded upon real Facts.” The principal Calvinistic work, published at this period, was Toplady’s “Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism of the Church of England,” in two volumes, 8vo, with an Introduction, most lamentably virulent. The subject is repulsive; but, rightly to understand Wesley’s provocations and patience, it is necessary to give extracts from this scandalous production of a conceited but clever man, who acted as though the Almighty had elected him to revile his neighbours, without either sense or reason.

“Mr. John Wesley and Mr. Walter Sellon are a pair of insignificant adversaries, who have arraigned, tried, and condemned the Church of England. In general, they are so excessively scurrilous and abusive, that contending with them resembles fighting with chimney sweepers, or bathing in a mud pool.” “Mr. Walter Sellon is Mr. John Wesley’s retainer general and whitewasher in ordinary. Arminianism is their mutual Dulcinea del Toboso. High mounted on Pine’s Rosinante, forth sallies Mr. John from Wine Street, Bristol, brandishing his reed, and vowing vengeance against all, who will not fall down and worship the Dutch image which he has set up. With an almost equal plenitude of zeal and prowess, forth trots Mr. Walter from Ave Maria Lane, low mounted on Cabe’s halting dapple. The knight and the squire having met at the rendezvous appointed, the former prances foremost, and, with as much haste as his limping steed will permit, doth trusty Walter amble after his master.” Sellon is Wesley’s “understrapper”; the “junto are Parthians aiming their arrows at the sun; and wolves exhausting their strength by howling at the moon.” Sellon “dips his pen in the common sewer”; and Wesley “scatters firebrands.” “The world has long seen, that unmixed politeness can no more soften Mr. Wesley’s rugged rudeness, than the melody of David’s harp could lay the north wind.” Sellon was “a small body of Pelagian divinity, bound in calf, neither gilt nor lettered”; “the meanest, and most rancorous Arminian priest that ever disgraced a surplice.” “We would advise his Arminian holiness of Rome to cashier the image of St. Austin from serving any longer as a support to his easy chair; and to procure an effigy of Mr. Walter Sellon, to serve—​not, indeed, upon due recollection, as a stay to his holiness’s throne—​nor even as a prop to his footstool; but as a leg to a certain convenience (a sella perforata, though not the sella porphyretica), whereon, I presume, his holiness deigns, occasionally, to sit.” Wesley’s Notes on the New Testament are “a wretched bundle of plagiarisms”; and he himself “drives a larger traffic in blunders and blasphemies than any other blunder merchant this island has produced.”

Such are a few of the mild and merciful oracular utterances of the elect Augustus Toplady; who says he blamed himself “for handling Wesley too gently, and for only giving him the whip when he deserved a scorpion.”

Fletcher, during 1774, published:—(1) “The Fictitious and the Genuine Creed; being ‘A Creed for Arminians,’ composed by Richard Hill, Esq.; to which is opposed a Creed for those who believe that Christ tasted death for every man.” 12mo, 52 pages. (2) “Logica Genevensis continued; or, the first part of the Fifth Check to Antinomianism, containing an Answer to ‘The Finishing Stroke’ of Richard Hill, Esq.; in which some remarks upon Mr. Fulsome’s Antinomian Creed, published by the Rev. Mr. Berridge, are occasionally introduced.” 12mo, 48 pages. (3) “Logica Genevensis continued; or, the second part of the Fifth Check to Antinomianism, containing a Defence of ‘Jack o’ Lanthorn,’ and ‘The Paper Kite,’ i. e. sincere obedience; and of the ‘Cobweb,’ i. e. the evangelical law of liberty; and of the ‘Valiant Sergeant, J. F.,’ i. e. the conditionality of perseverance, attacked by the Rev. Mr. Berridge, in his book called ‘The Christian World Unmasked.’” 12mo, 44 pages. (4) “The First Part of an Equal Check to Pharisaism and Antinomianism.” 12mo, 264 pages. (5) “Zelotes and Honestus reconciled; or, an Equal Check to Pharisaism and Antinomianism continued: being the first part of the Scripture Scales to weigh the Gold of Gospel Truth. With a Preface containing some Strictures upon the Three Letters of Richard Hill, Esq., which have been lately published.” 12mo, 175 pages.

The whole of these publications, extending to nearly 600 pages, are full of the greatest truths, and, like all Fletcher’s writings, are entirely free from personal abuse, and are worthy of a gentleman, a scholar, and a Christian.

We can hardly say as much of another work, published in 1774: “A Scourge to Calumny, in two parts, inscribed to Richard Hill, Esq. Part the First, demonstrating the Absurdity of that Gentleman’s Farrago. Part the Second, containing a full Answer to all that is material in his Farrago Double Distilled. By Thomas Olivers.” 12mo, 168 pages. Richard Hill deserved all he got; but Fletcher would have hesitated before charging him, as is done by Olivers, “with wilful untruth.” At the same time, it is impossible not to have a feeling of admiration for the sturdy Welshman, when he says to the wealthy squire, who had rudely called him Tom the cobbler: “Permit me to tell you, sir, that my name is as sacred to me, as yours is to you. If you were the greatest peer of the realm, and I the poorest peasant, the laws of God and of my country would authorise me to call you to an account, for every insult offered to my character, either as a fellow creature, or as an Englishman. You have no more authority, either from reason or religion, to call me Tom, than I have to call you Dick.”

Having hurled a lance in his own defence, he then proceeds to defend Wesley, telling Mr. Hill, that the man he had maligned was one who had published a hundred volumes, who travelled yearly about five thousand miles, preached yearly about a thousand sermons, visited as many sick beds as he preached sermons, and wrote twice as many letters; and who, though now between seventy and eighty years of age, “absolutely refused to abate, in the smallest degree, these mighty labours; but might be seen, at this very time, with his silver locks about his ears, and with a meagre, worn out, skeleton body, smiling at storms and tempests, at such labours and fatigues, at such difficulties and dangers, as, I believe,” says Olivers, “would be absolutely intolerable to you, sir, in conjunction with any four of your most flaming ministers.”

Wesley’s own publications, in 1774, were not many.

First of all, there was the fifteenth number of his Journal, already mentioned: 12mo, 112 pages. Then there was “An Extract from Dr. Cadogan’s Dissertations on the Gout, and all Chronic Diseases,” already referred to on page 111. 12mo, 49 pages. This was a bold stroke. Dr. Cadogan’s work had not been more than ten years published; it had been extremely popular, and had run through several editions; the doctor himself was now at the zenith of his fame, and did not die for three-and-twenty years afterwards; and, yet, Wesley takes upon himself, not to publish the work itself, but an extract from it, and to write a preface to it, in which he objects to the doctor’s wholesale condemnation of “smoked and salted meats, of pickles, of wine, and of flesh, thoroughly roasted or boiled.” Wesley says: “I recommend the book as the most masterly piece upon the subject, which has yet appeared in the English language.”

Another of Wesley’s publications was “Thoughts upon Necessity,” 12mo, 33 pages. This was one of his most thoughtful and able tracts. Its purport may be gathered from a sentence in his preface,—“I cannot believe the noblest creature in the visible world to be only a fine piece of clockwork.”

To the above must be added his “Thoughts on Slavery,” 8vo, 53 pages. It ought never to be forgotten, that John Wesley was one of the very first of England’s philanthropists to denounce the infamous evil of slavery. Statues, and other honours, declarative of a nation’s homage, have been justly awarded to Wilberforce; but Wesley’s record is on high; and the day has yet to come when the influence of his advanced views will be duly and gratefully recognised. Even some of Wesley’s friends were strangely blinded to a system that he boldly denounced as the “execrable sum of all villanies”; and Whitefield himself, only four years before, had died the possessor of a large number of human beings, who, in his will, were classed among his goods and chattels, and whom he unceremoniously bequeathed to “that elect lady, the Right Honourable Selina, Countess Dowager of Huntingdon.” Wesley’s pamphlet was no sooner issued than it brought upon him vindictive opposition, in a two shilling book, entitled “A Supplement to Mr. Wesley’s ‘Thoughts upon Slavery’”; in which the writer does his utmost to make the leader of the Methodists ridiculous. Wesley had counted the cost, and expected this. In America it was otherwise. There, at Philadelphia, Mr. Anthony Benezet republished Wesley’s tract at his own expense, and sent to him a friendly salutation, by William Dillwyn, “my old pupil,” says Benezet, “a valuable, religiously minded person, who is going a voyage to your country”;⁠[220] and who, thirteen years afterwards, in 1787, became one of the founders of the Society for the Suppression of Slavery.

Wesley still continued the publication of his collected works; and, in 1774, seven additional volumes were issued, making the entire number thirty-two. The last seven, with the exception of three small tracts, consisted exclusively of his journals, coming down to September 1, 1770.

Perhaps there ought to be added another publication, which, though not printed by Wesley, was his production: “A Sermon preached at the opening of the new Meeting-house at Wakefield, on the 28th of April, 1774, by the Rev. John Wesley: taken down in shorthand, at the time of delivery, by Mr. Williamson, a teacher of that art, and published at the request of many of the hearers. Leeds: 1774. Sold by all Booksellers, price threepence.” 8vo, 12 pages. The text is 1 Corinthians i. 23, 24. The sermon, perhaps properly, has never been published in any edition of Wesley’s works. Though it contains nothing remarkable, it would enrich the Methodist Magazine, and would be gratefully welcomed by thousands of readers, who, without a reissue, will never see it.