On the day of Whitefield’s departure, at four in the afternoon, Wesley ventured to follow his friend’s example, and for the first time in England dared to preach in the open air. His text was appropriate and striking, Isaiah lxi. 1, 2. The place was “a little eminence in a ground adjoining to the city.” His feeling was deep. He says: “I could scarce reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields; having been all my life, till very lately, so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought the saving of souls almost a sin if it had not been done in a church.”

Such were the prejudices and the feelings of the man who, for between fifty and sixty years proved himself the greatest out-door preacher that ever lived.

With the exception of a brief visit to London in June, September, and November, and of a short tour into Wales and another to Exeter, Wesley spent the whole of his time, from April to the end of 1739, in Bristol and its immediate neighbourhood. Though there are considerable gaps in Wesley’s journal, during which we lose sight of his texts and sermons, it is not too much to say that he delivered at least five hundred discourses and expositions in the nine months of which we speak; and it is a noticeable fact that only eight of these were delivered in churches,—six in the church at Clifton, one at Runwick, and one at Exeter. His preaching plan was as follows:—an exposition to one or other of the Bristol societies every night, and preaching every Sunday morning, and every Monday and Saturday afternoon. At Kingswood, including Hannam Mount, Rose Green, and Two Mile Hill, he preached twice every sabbath, and also every alternate Tuesday and Friday. At Baptist Mills, he preached every Friday; at Bath, once a fortnight, on Tuesday; and at Pensford, once a fortnight, on Thursday.

Another point is worth noticing. His chief, almost his only aim, was to explain to the people the plan of scriptural salvation; for, as may easily be seen, almost all his texts have an immediate bearing on this the greatest of all pulpit topics. Saved himself, his whole soul was absorbed in a grand endeavour to expound the truth which, above all other truths, is the means of saving sinners. “The points,” he writes, “I chiefly insisted upon were four: first, that orthodoxy, or right opinions, is, at best, but a very slender part of religion, if it can be allowed to be any part at all; that neither does religion consist in negatives, in bare harmlessness of any kind; nor merely in externals, in doing good, or using the means of grace, in works of piety, or of charity: that it is nothing short of, or different from, the mind that was in Christ; the image of God stamped upon the heart; inward righteousness, attended with the peace of God and joy in the Holy Ghost. Secondly, that the only way to this religion is repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. Thirdly, that by this faith, he that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, is justified freely by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. And, lastly, that being justified by faith, we taste of the heaven to which we are going; we are holy and happy; we tread down sin and fear, and sit in heavenly places with Christ Jesus.”[283]

He further tells us that the reasons which induced him to begin preaching in the open air were—1. That he was forbidden, as by a general consent, though not by any judicial sentence, to preach in any church. 2. That the rooms in which he preached could not contain a tenth part of the people that were earnest to hear. Hence, he adds, he determined to do in England what he had often done in a warmer climate; namely, when the house would not contain the congregation, to preach in the open air; and never had he seen a more awful sight than when, on Rose Green, or the top of Hannam Mount, some thousands of people were calmly joined together in solemn waiting upon God. He had no desire or design to preach in the open air till he was forbidden to preach in churches. It was no matter of choice, neither of premeditation. Field preaching was a sudden expedient, a thing submitted to rather than chosen; and submitted to, because he thought preaching even thus better than not preaching at all; first, in regard to his own soul, because a dispensation of the gospel being committed to him, he did not dare not to preach the gospel; and secondly, in regard to the souls of others, whom he everywhere saw seeking death in the error of their life.[284]

Some of his friends urged him to settle in college, or to accept a cure of souls: to whom he replied:—

Such was the position taken by Wesley and his friends. Their chief, their only business was to save souls. For this they had a world-wide commission. Nothing short of this could satisfy the yearnings of their nature. Unlike the old Puritans and others, they had no attacks to make on the despotic measures of the court and Church. “In their bosoms there was no rankling grudge against authorities; there was no particle of that venom which, wherever it lodges, infects and paralyses the religious affections.”[285] Their sole quarrel was, not with church or state authorities, but with sin and Satan; and their sole object was, not to make proselytes, but to save sinners.

Their congregations, says James Hutton, “were composed of every description of persons, who, without the slightest attempt at order, assembled, crying ‘Hurrah!’ with one breath, and with the next bellowing and bursting into tears on account of their sins; some poking each other’s ribs, and others shouting ‘Hallelujah.’ It was a jumble of extremes of good and evil; and so distracted alike were both preachers and hearers, that it was enough to make one cry to God for His interference. Here thieves, prostitutes, fools, people of every class, several men of distinction, a few of the learned, merchants, and numbers of poor people who had never entered a place of worship, assembled in crowds and became godly.”[286]

Of course, persecution followed. “We continued,” says Wesley, “to call sinners to repentance in London, Bristol, Bath, and a few other places; but it was not without violent opposition, both from high and low, learned and unlearned. Not only all manner of evil was spoken of us, both in private and public, but the beasts of the people were stirred up almost in all places to knock these mad dogs on the head at once. And when complaint was made of their savage, brutal violence, no magistrate would do us justice.”[287]

The following may be taken as specimens of the opposition met with in 1739. On one occasion, Wesley had obtained permission to preach in Pensford church; but, just as he was setting out, he received a letter, saying that the minister had been informed that he was mad, and that, therefore, the permission was withdrawn. Not being allowed to occupy the church, Wesley took his stand in the open air; but in the midst of prayer, two men, hired for the purpose, began to sing ballads, which obliged Wesley and his friends to begin to sing a psalm, so as to drown one noise by another.

Another incident must be given. Bath, at that period, was perhaps the most fashionable city in England; and the most renowned man in Bath was Richard, commonly called “Beau,” Nash. This accomplished rake, now sixty-five years old, was the son of a glass manufacturer in Wales, and was expelled from Jesus College, Oxford, for his intrigues and wild adventures. At the age of thirty, he was without a fortune, and without talents for acquiring one; and hence, to the end of life, became a gamester. The visit of Queen Anne to Bath, in 1703, had made the city the favourite resort of people of distinction, and, ever after, the amusements of the place were put under the direction of a master of the ceremonies, this sovereignty of the city being decreed to Nash by all ranks of residents and visitors. King of Bath, he had rules posted in the pump-room, from which even royalty itself was not allowed to deviate. He prescribed the dresses in which ladies and gentlemen were to appear at balls, and imperatively fixed the number of dances to be danced. He himself wore a monstrously large white hat, and usually travelled in a post chaise, drawn by six grey horses, honoured with outriders, footmen, French horns, and every other appendage of a pretentious coxcomb. He lived by gambling, and scattered money with as much indifference as he won it. The city of which he was the dandy king was full of fashionable rogues. “Nothing,” says the Weekly Miscellany of that period, “nothing was to be seen in it but play and the preparations for it. Persons of all characters, distinctions, and denominations sat down to cards from morning till night, and from night till morning; and those who disagreed in everything else agreed in this.”

On visiting Bath, Wesley was told that Nash meant to interfere, and was entreated not to attempt to preach. Wesley, however, was not the man to yield to a swaggering rake. He had gone to preach, and preach he would, and did; the threatenings of Nash having made his congregation much larger than was expected. Besides the poor, he had many of the rich and great. Soon after Wesley began his sermon, the “Beau,” in his immense white hat, appeared, and asked by what authority he dared to do what he was doing now. Wesley replied, “By the authority of Jesus Christ, conveyed to me by him who is now Archbishop of Canterbury, when he laid his hands upon me, and said, ‘Take thou authority to preach the gospel.’” “But this,” said Nash, “is a conventicle, and contrary to act of parliament.” “No,” answered Wesley, “conventicles are seditious meetings; but here is no sedition: therefore, it is not contrary to act of parliament.” “I say it is,” cried the man of Bath; “and, besides, your preaching frightens people out of their wits.” “Sir,” said Wesley, “did you ever hear me preach?” “No.” “How then can you judge of what you never heard?” “I judge,” he answered, “by common report.” “Common report,” replied Wesley, “is not enough. Give me leave to ask you, sir, is not your name Nash?” “It is,” he said. “Sir,” retorted Wesley, “I dare not judge of you by common report.” The master of ceremonies was worsted, and, after a pause, simply asked what the people wanted; upon which an old woman begged Wesley to allow her to answer him, and, amid her taunts, the resplendent king of the pump-room sneaked away.

No wonder that the Methodists were opposed. Their preaching, their doctrine, and their whole behaviour were novel. “Being convinced,” writes Wesley, “of that important truth, which is the foundation of all real religion, that ‘by grace we are saved through faith,’ we immediately began declaring it to others. Indeed, we could hardly speak of anything else, either in public or private. It shone upon our minds with so strong a light, that it was our constant theme. It was our daily subject, both in verse and prose; and we vehemently defended it against all mankind. But, in doing this, we were assaulted and abused on every side. We were everywhere represented as mad dogs, and treated accordingly. We were stoned in the streets, and several times narrowly escaped with our lives. In sermons, newspapers, and pamphlets of all kinds, we were painted as unheard of monsters. But this moved us not; we went on testifying salvation by faith both to small and great, and not counting our lives dear unto ourselves, so we might finish our course with joy.”[288]

Wesley here mentions the attacks made upon them by the press. The following are specimens:—

The Scots Magazine, for 1739, remarks that “Whitefield and the two Wesleys offend against the rules of the Christian church, by preaching in opposition to the opinions and instructions of the bishops.” “The Wesleys,” continues this Scottish censor, “are more guilty than Whitefield, because they are men of more learning, better judgment, and cooler heads. Let them go over to their proper companies, their favourites, the Dissenters, and utter their extemporary effusions in a conventicle; but not be suffered in our churches hypocritically to use our forms, which they despise. Let them carry their spirit of delusion among their brethren, the Quakers. Let them preach up their election and reprobation doctrines among the Calvinists; and their solifidian tenets among the Antinomians. Let not such bold movers of sedition, and ringleaders of the rabble, to the disgrace of their order, be regularly admitted into those pulpits which they have taken with multitude and with tumult, or, as ignominiously, by stealth.”

The clergy also began to bestir themselves. On Trinity Sunday, a sermon on regeneration was preached in the parish churches of Greenwich, and of St. Peter the Poor, London, by the Rev. Ralph Skerret, D.D., chaplain to the Earl of Grantham. The sermon, in 8vo, thirty-six pages, was published; but is scarcely worth noticing. The Methodists, however, are spoken of as “restless deceivers of the people, who make it their daily business to fill the heads of the ignorant and unwary with wild, perplexive notions.”

Another sermon, preached before the university of Oxford, on August 5, by the Rev. John Wilder, M.A., rector of St. Aldate’s, on “The Trial of the Spirits,” brands the Methodists as “deceivers,” “babblers,” “insolent pretenders,” “men of capricious humours, spiritual sleight, and canting craftiness,” “novices in divinity,” casting “indecent, false, and unchristian reflections on the clergy,” “newfangled teachers, setting up their own fantastic conceits, in opposition to the authority of God, and so bigoted to their wild opinions, and so puffed up with pride and vanity at the success of their enthusiastic labours, that they all appear fully disposed to maintain and defend their cause by more than spiritual weapons, or to die martyrs for it.”

On the 14th of October, the Rev. Charles Wheatley, M.A., vicar of Furneux Pelham, Herts, preached in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, a sermon against the “new enthusiasts,” on “St. John’s test of knowing Christ, and being born of Him.” The sermon, with notes, was published, in 8vo, thirty-one pages, but was not calculated to augment the fame of the honest and zealous churchman, who had already given to the public two important ritualistic works, entitled, “A Rational Illustration of the Book of Common Prayer,” and “An Historical Vindication of the Fifty-fifth Canon.” Mr. Wheatley is less abusive than Mr. Wilder; but yet he thinks it right to describe the Methodists as “rapturous enthusiasts, preaching up unaccountable sensations, violent emotions, and sudden changes;” and likewise “assuming to themselves, upon all occasions, the peculiar language of the Holy Ghost; equalling themselves to prophets and apostles; boasting of immediate inspirations; and laying a blasphemous claim to greater miracles than were ever wrought even by Christ Himself.”

Another opponent, in 1739, was Henry Stebbing, a doctor of divinity, a royal chaplain, and preacher to the Honourable Society of Gray’s Inn. This gentleman published “A Caution against Religious Delusion,” in the shape of “a sermon on the New Birth: occasioned by the pretensions of the Methodists.” In this comparatively temperate production, the Methodists are charged with “vain and confident boastings, and with rash uncharitable censures;” with “gathering tumultuous assemblies to the disturbance of the public peace, and with setting at nought all authority and rule;” with “intruding into other men’s labours, and with encouraging abstinence, prayer, and other religious exercises, to the neglect of the duties of our station.” It is admitted that, when there are “so many combinations for vice,” “religious societies for praying, reading (if not expounding) the Scriptures, and singing psalms may be of use for the encouragement of virtue;” but the danger is lest the laymen, who were heads or leaders of these societies, should “grow opinionated of themselves and fond of their own gifts, and should run into wild fancies until the pale of the Church is too strait for them.” Before the end of the year 1739, Stebbing’s sermon reached a sixth edition.

Another antagonist, more violent than Stebbing, was Joseph Trapp, D.D., who published, in 1739, a pamphlet of sixty-nine pages, entitled, “The Nature, Folly, Sin, and Danger of being Righteous over-much; with a particular view to the Doctrines and Practices of certain Modern Enthusiasts. Being the substance of four discourses lately preached in the parish churches of Christ Church and St. Lawrence Jewry, London; and St. Martin’s in the Fields, Westminster. By Joseph Trapp, D.D.”

In this notable production, it is stated that, “for laymen to officiate in reading prayers to any assembly, except their own families, is an encroachment upon the office of those who are ordained to holy functions; and for them to expound or interpret Scripture is neither laudable nor justifiable, but tends to the confirmation, not the removal, of ignorance.” For “a raw novice, though in holy orders” (like Whitefield), “to take upon him, at his first setting out, to be a teacher, not only of all the laity, in all parts of the kingdom, but of the teachers themselves, the learned clergy, many of them learned before he was born, is an outrage upon common decency and common sense; the height of presumption, confidence, and self-sufficiency; so ridiculous as to create the greatest laughter, were it not so deplorable and detestable as to create the greatest grief and abhorrence; especially when vast multitudes are so sottish and wicked as, in a tumultuous manner, to run madding after him.” Trapp insinuates that the Methodists “teach such absurd doctrines, and second them with such absurd practices, as to give countenance to the lewd and debauched, the irreligious and profane. In their own imagination, their errors are the height of wisdom, and their vices the most perfect virtues. They think themselves the greatest saints, when, in truth, they are under strong delusion, in the bond of iniquity, and in the gall of bitterness. They have set the nearest and dearest relations at variance; disturbed the quiet of families; and thrown whole neighbourhoods and parishes into confusion. They were half-dissenters in the Church, and more dangerous to the Church, than those who were total dissenters from it.” “Methodism was nothing but a revival of the old fanaticism of the last century; when all manner of madness was practised, and all manner of villainy committed in the name of Christ.” Its disciples, “like Solomon’s madman, cast firebrands, arrows, and death; and send to hell (only because they are not of their own frantic persuasion) millions of Christians much better than themselves.”

The author proceeds:—“For a clergyman of the Church of England to pray and preach in the fields, in the country, or in the streets of the city, is perfectly new, a fresh honour to the blessed age in which we have the happiness to live. I am ashamed to speak upon a subject, which is a reproach not only to our Church and country, but to human nature itself. Can it promote the Christian religion to turn it into riot, tumult, and confusion? to make it ridiculous and contemptible, and expose it to the scorn and scoffs of infidels and atheists? To the prevalence of immorality and profaneness, infidelity and atheism, is now added the pest of enthusiasm. Our prospect is very sad and melancholy. Go not after these impostors and seducers; but shun them as you would the plague.”

Such are fair specimens of the four fiery sermons preached by Dr. Trapp. Hypocrites, enthusiasts, novelists, ignes fatui, and glaring meteors are the best names which this reverend divine could find for the poor, peaceable, and persecuted Methodists.[289]

Another clerical adversary was “Tristam Land, M.A., late Fellow of Clare Hall, in Cambridge, Curate of St. James, Garlickhith; and Lecturer of the united parishes of St. Anthony and St. John Baptist.” His sixpenny pamphlet of thirty pages was entitled, “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, with a Letter addressed to the Religious Societies.” Whitefield is attacked for teaching the doctrine, that many are baptized without being born again; whereas Tristam Land insists that, according to the teachings of the Church of England, “all infants, at the time they are baptized, are sanctified with the Holy Ghost; and that, though they may afterwards depart from the grace given, and fall into sin, they are not to be commanded to be baptized or born again a second time; for to be born more than once, in a spiritual sense, is just as impossible as to be born twice in a natural. All that can be done in this matter is to use the several means of grace; or, in one word, as the Scripture expresses it, they must be renewed again by repentance.”

This reverend gentleman then proceeds to describe the Methodists as “young quacks in divinity, running about the city, and taking great pains to distract the common people, and to break the peace and unity of the Church. They are like vain persons, who think themselves handsome, and are apt to despise others; for looking upon themselves as exquisite pictures of holiness and as patterns of piety, they represent us (the clergy) as dumb dogs, profane, and carnally minded. They talk much of the pangs of the new birth, their inward feelings, experiences, and spiritual miracles; but their faith is an ill grounded assurance, their hope an unwarrantable presumption, and their charity a censoriousness and a contempt of their brethren of different sentiments to themselves.”

Good old Dr. Byrom, in a letter dated February 8, 1739, says, “The book against Mr. Whitefield by Mr. Land is thought a weak piece.”[290] No wonder.

Besides these, there was published “An Expostulatory Letter to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield;” also an octavo pamphlet of forty pages, entitled, “Observations and Remarks on Mr. Seagrave’s conduct and writings, in which his answer to the Rev. Dr. Trapp’s four sermons is more particularly considered.” In this latter production, it is asserted that Whitefield sinks the house of God into a playhouse, and turns religion to a farce; that prostitutes swarm at his meetings, and there make merchandise as at a country fair; that his congregations are such as crowd to a Smithfield show; and that Whitefield himself is an enthusiast, a blasphemer, and a wavering, wandering preacher of no establishment, but nearly attached to the Dissenting communion, and blending his sermons with a spice both of the Papist and Mahommedan.

In a “Faithful Narrative” of Whitefield’s life and character, it is stated that numberless lies and false reports have been raised in London to vilify his character, and to stigmatise his followers; and he was now branded as a mercenary knave. It was also reported that, in Georgia, he had been imprisoned and personally chastised for making the people mad with enthusiasm.

An “Expostulatory Letter” to Whitefield, “and the rest of his brethren, the Methodists of the Church of England,” octavo, forty pages, and signed “E. B.,” charges them with departing from the rubric in sprinkling children at baptism, thus prostituting a holy ordinance, and substituting an insignificant, unavailing thing, neither worthy of God, nor beneficial to men. It also urges them to be dipped themselves, and thus become exemplars to others.

Besides all these, an attack was made by a young man of eight-and-twenty, curate of All Saints’, Bristol, the Rev. Josiah Tucker, afterwards a doctor of divinity, and Dean of Gloucester. In a Letter, dated June 14, 1739, he accuses Whitefield of propagating “blasphemous and enthusiastic notions, which struck at the root of all religion, and made it the jest of those who sat in the seat of the scornful.” Wesley replied to this, and concludes by advising Tucker not to meddle with controversy, for his talents were not equal to its management. It would only entangle and bewilder him more and more. Besides, there was no pleasure in answering a man whose head was not adapted to the right directing of disputes.[291]

The next onslaught was more authoritative and serious. On August 1, 1739, Edmund Gibson, Bishop of London, published his “Pastoral Letter,” of fifty-five pages, “to the People of his Diocese; especially those of the two great cities of London and Westminster: by way of Caution against Lukewarmness on one hand, and Enthusiasm on the other.” Two-thirds of this prelatical pamphlet are on enthusiasm, and are levelled against the Methodists. Numerous extracts are given from Whitefield’s Journal, to show—1. That these enthusiasts claim to have extraordinary communications with God, and more than ordinary assurances of a special presence with them. 2. That they have a special and immediate mission from God. 3. That they think and act under the immediate guidance of a Divine inspiration. 4. That they speak of their preaching and expounding, and the effects of them, as the sole work of a Divine power. 5. That they boast of sudden and surprising effects as wrought by the Holy Ghost in consequence of their preaching. 6. That they claim the spirit of prophecy. 7. That they speak of themselves in the language, and under the character, of apostles of Christ, and even of Christ Himself. 8. That they profess to plant and propagate a new gospel, as unknown to the generality of ministers and people, in a Christian country. 9. That they endeavour to justify their own extraordinary methods of teaching, by casting unworthy reflections upon the parochial clergy, as deficient in the discharge of their duty, and not instructing their people in the true doctrines of Christianity.

Thirteen days after the “Pastoral Letter” was published, Whitefield wrote an answer to it, and, in a firm but quiet and respectful way, replied to all the bishop’s allegations. He concludes by charging Gibson with propagating a new gospel, because he asserts, that “good works are a necessary condition of our being justified in the sight of God.” He maintains that faith is the only necessary condition, and that good works are the necessary fruit and consequence. “This,” he writes, “is the doctrine of Jesus Christ; this is the doctrine of the Church of England; and it is, because the generality of the clergy of the Church of England do not preach this doctrine, that I am resolved, God being my helper, to continue instant in season and out of season, to declare it unto all men, let the consequences, as to my own private person, be what they will.”

If the bishop really believed his accusations to be true, his pastoral is a model of meek writing. On the other hand, Whitefield’s answer is one of the smartest productions of his pen; its pith and point somewhat reminding us of the terseness which characterized his friend Wesley.

While Whitefield was skirmishing with the Bishop of London, Wesley was having a brush with the Bishop of Bristol. First they discussed the subject of faith as the only necessary condition of a sinner’s justification before God. Then his lordship charged the Methodists with “a horrid thing, a very horrid thing,” namely, “pretending to extraordinary revelations and gifts of the Holy Ghost.” The conversation concluded thus:—

Bishop. “I hear you administer the sacrament in your societies.”

Wesley. “My lord, I never did yet; and I believe I never shall.”

Bishop. “I hear too, that many people fall into fits in your societies, and that you pray over them.”

Wesley. “I do so, my lord, when any show, by strong cries and tears, that their soul is in deep anguish; and our prayer is often heard.”

Bishop. “Very extraordinary indeed! Well, sir, since you ask my advice, I will give it freely. You have no business here; you are not commissioned to preach in this diocese. Therefore, I advise you to go hence.”

Wesley. “My lord, my business on earth is, to do what good I can. Wherever, therefore, I think I can do most good, there must I stay, so long as I think so. At present, I think I can do most good here; therefore, here I stay. Being ordained a priest, by the commission I then received, I am a priest of the church universal; and being ordained as fellow of a college, I was not limited to any particular cure, but have an indeterminate commission to preach the word of God in any part of the Church of England. I conceive not, therefore, that in preaching here by this commission I break any human law. When I am convinced I do, then it will be time to ask, shall I obey God or man? But if I should be convinced in the meanwhile that I could advance the glory of God and the salvation of souls, in any other place more than in Bristol, in that hour, by God’s help, I will go hence; which till then I may not do.”[292]

About the same time, a pamphlet of ninety-six pages was published, entitled, “The Life of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, by an Impartial Hand.” Impartiality is pretended, but hostility is seen. The object of the Life is evidently to make the subject of it a mark for the shafts of ridicule. Accounts are given of the fracas in St. Margaret’s church, Westminster, on Sunday, February 4. There is also “a method of confession drawn up for the use of the women Methodists,” professedly taken from the original in Whitefield’s or Wesley’s own handwriting, and with which, it is alleged, the Deists are delighted. Among other questions, to be asked, as often as occasion required, were the following: “Are you in love? Whom do you love just now, better than any other person in the world? Is not the person an idol? Does any court you? How do you like him? How do you feel yourself when he comes, when he stays, and when he goes away?” A full account is, likewise, furnished of Joseph Periam, a young clerk to an attorney, who had been converted, partly by reading Whitefield’s sermons on the new birth, and whom his friends had put into a madhouse—(1) Because he fasted for near a fortnight. (2) Because he prayed so as to be heard several storeys high. (3) Because he had sold his clothes and given the money to the poor. The Methodists are further charged with attempting to take away the liberty of the press; Wesley is accused of placing his converts, when delivered from their violent agitations and distortions, on an eminence, for others to behold them; and Whitefield is charged with saying, that he could produce two cobblers in Bristol, that knew more of true Christianity than all the clergy in the city put together. His Journals are designated rhapsodies and repetitions of spiritual pride, vanity and nonsense; he is accused of wilful and notorious falsehood, and of taking pleasure in being abusive and scurrilous.

All this breathes fury; but the following taken from the Weekly Miscellany of July 21, 1739, surpasses it. The Methodist preacher stands on an eminence with admiring and subscribing crowds about him. He is young, which is good; looks innocent, which is better; and has no human learning, which is best of all. He spreads his hands and opens his lips as wide as possible. He talks of a sensible new birth; good women around him come to his assistance; he dilates himself; cries out; the hill swells into a mountain; and parturiunt montes, nascitur ridiculus mus. Then there is a chorus of ten thousand sighs and groans, deepened with the blowing of bassoons and horns. The Methodists are mad enthusiasts who teach, for dictates of the Holy Spirit, seditions, heresies, and contempt of the ordinances of God and man. They are buffoons in religion, and mountebanks in theology; creatures who disclaim sense and are below argument; visionary antics in gowns and cassocks; so buffeted by the devil as to be qualified to be confessors to the whole island; composing sermons as fast as they can write, and speaking faster than they think; and forming societies of females, who are to confess their love affairs one to another, and to take care that there shall be a supply of new Methodists for future generations.

In the same year, appeared a pamphlet, of twenty-eight pages, entitled “The Methodists; an Humorous, Burlesque Poem, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield and his followers.” The frontispiece represents the great preacher addressing an immense crowd on Kennington Common, while, on the outskirts of the congregation, are coaches of all descriptions, and a gibbet on which three condemned felons are hanging. Describing the Methodists, the poem says:—

After this, the devil is represented as making a tour from Rome to Oxford, in the course of which he stole the bigoted madness of a Turk, and the wit of a modern atheist, both of which he drenched, dull and deep, in a literary Dutchman’s brain, and then, making them his own, and pulling off his horns, and shoeing his cloven foot, dressing himself in a student’s gown, and using for the nonce a distorted face, and, because of the piety of its nasal tones, a Noncon parson’s nose, he introduced himself to the Oxford Methodists, and gave them instructions how to act, so as to effect their purposes,—instructions too lascivious to be reprinted. As a very mild specimen of this foul-mouthed poem, we give another description of the Methodists:—

At the risk of exhausting the reader’s patience, we must notice another anti-Methodist pamphleteer, who, in 1739, did his little best to strangle the new-born system at its birth. This was a certain “James Bate, M.A., Rector of St. Paul’s, Deptford; and formerly Chaplain to His Excellency Horatio Walpole, Esq.”

First of all, the redoubtable author gave to the world a pamphlet of thirty-eight pages, bearing the title, “Methodism Displayed; or Remarks upon Mr. Whitefield’s Answer to the Bishop of London’s Pastoral Letter.” In this production, Whitefield is charged with causing numbers of poor tradesmen to leave their families to starve, only to ramble after himself; in dividing the word of God, he violently divides text from context, and makes arrant nonsense of both; he shuffles and prevaricates; treats the bishop with saucy sneers; is guilty of flat falsehoods, disingenuous quirks, and mean evasions; perfidiously tramples upon the canons of the Church; and flies in the face of his diocesan with unparalleled pride and impudence.

Not having exhausted all his wrath, the same reverend gentleman, at the end of the year, issued another manifesto, of sixty-six pages, entitled, “Quakero-Methodism; or a Confutation of the First Principles of the Quakers and Methodists.” This was a dear shilling’s worth, written in reply to a letter on Bate’s former pamphlet “by T. S—— y, Esq.” Bate asserts that the whole performance of the “Quakero-Methodist” (as T. S—— y is called) may be ranked under the two heads of scurrility and sophistry; but as God, at whose altar he serves, has forbid him to return railing for railing, he will give no answer to the scurrility whatever. He then, notwithstanding this, proceeds to accuse his adversary of having “troubled the public with a load of stupidity, folly, and nonsense.” He alleges against him “insipid sneers, like the grins of an idiot;” he tells him that “the shortest cut for him to avoid writing nonsense is to lay down his pen;” that his “whole stock of knowledge has been laid in at some expounding house that was under the influence of the spirit of presumption, ignorance, pride, and arrogance;” and that “his arguments have never more than two gentle faults, false premises and a false conclusion.” He says, Whitefield “chews” the charges of the Bishop of London, “just as an ass mumbles a thistle, without either the courage to swallow it, or the sense to lay it down;” and concludes by assuring his opponent that he could have “goaded him with the sharpest, bitterest, and severest sarcasms, and have scourged his spiritual pride with wholesome severity;” but in mercy he has refrained from using such “a whip of scorpions.”

The magazines and newspapers of the period were filled with similar abuse of the poor Methodists. The writer has examined most of them, and has been struck with two facts:—(1) of those admitting letters and articles against the Methodists, the fairest and most moderate was the Gentleman’s Magazine; and (2) the bitterest and most violent was the professedly religious Weekly Miscellany, a weekly folio sheet of four pages. The following is a mild specimen from the latter, and refers not only to the movements of Wesley and Whitefield in the south of England, but of Ingham in the north. After accusing Whitefield of “behaviour disgraceful to the Christian religion and to the ministerial office,” the journalist proceeds to say that—

“The clergy had all refused him their pulpits, and the lord mayor the halls and markets of the city.” He was “a conceited boaster and heterodox intruder; whose next performance was to be accompanied with a chorus of ten thousand sighs and groans, deepened with bassoons. In the approaching winter, the town would be entertained with harlequin turned Methodist, by way of reprisals, since the Methodist had turned harlequin. In Yorkshire, by the preaching of the Methodists, the spirit of enthusiasm had so prevailed, that almost every man who could hammer out a chapter in the Bible had turned an expounder of the Scripture, to the great decay of industry, and the almost ruin of the woollen manufacture, which seemed threatened with destruction for want of hands to work it.” “Methodism has laid aside play-books and poems, for Scripture phrases and hymns of its own composing. Its disciples were never easy but when they were in a church, or expounding the Bible, which they could do offhand, from Genesis to Revelation, with great ease and power. They had given away their finery to tattered beggars, resolving to wear the coarsest attire and to live upon the most ordinary diet. They hired barns, where they met at six in the evening; expounded, prayed, and sang psalms till towards ten; and then had a lovefeast to communicate their experiences, especially as to love affairs.” “Several fine ladies, who used to wear French silks, French hoops of four yards wide, bob-wigs, and white satin smock petticoats, were turned Methodists, and now wore stuff gowns, common night-mobs, and plain bays for Jennys.”

Numbers of similar extracts might be given from the newspapers and periodicals of 1739; but the reader has had enough of scurrilous and lying hodge-podge to satisfy the cravings of the greatest gossip.

Such were the premonitory mutterings of the storm in which the Methodist movement was cradled. Mobs threatened; newspapers, magazines, and other periodicals fulminated their malicious squibs; prelates, priests, and doctors of divinity became militant pamphleteers; but, in the midst of all, Wesley and his friends calmly proceeded in their glorious calling. Some even, who were animated with a friendly feeling towards them, looked upon their course of conduct with alarm. Good Dr. Doddridge, in a letter dated May 24, 1739, writes:—

Another friend, Mr. T. Hervey, writing in the same month to Samuel Wesley, at Tiverton, says, that he is anxious “to stop the spread and prevalence of several very strange and pestilent opinions;” and expresses the hope that this may be done effectually by the elder brother of Wesley, whom he designates “the dear, but deluded man.” He then proceeds to state that—

This was a kind and well meant letter, but it was pregnant with mistakes. Still it tends to show the enormous difficulties encountered by the Methodists at the commencement of their history. Sometimes they met a friend, though not often; and it is a pleasing duty to introduce godly Joseph Williams, of Kidderminster, as one who sympathised with their indefatigable endeavours to save the souls of their fellow men. Under the date of September 17, 1739, he writes concerning the two Wesleys, Whitefield, and Ingham:—

“The common people flock to hear them, and, in most places, hear them gladly. They commonly preach once or twice every day; and expound the Scriptures in the evening to religious societies, who have their society rooms for that purpose.” He then proceeds to give an account of his hearing Charles Wesley preach at Bristol. Standing on a table, in a field, the preacher, with eyes and hands lifted up to heaven, prayed with uncommon fervour and fluency. “He then preached about an hour in such a manner as I scarce ever heard any man preach. Though I have heard many a finer sermon, yet I think I never heard any man discover such evident signs of vehement desire” [to benefit his hearers]. “With unusual fervour, he acquitted himself as an ambassador for Christ; and although he used no notes, nor had anything in his hand but a Bible, yet he delivered his thoughts in a rich, copious variety of expression, and with so much propriety, that I could not observe anything incoherent through the whole performance, which he concluded with singing, prayer, and the usual benediction.

“Afterward, I waited on him at Mr. Norman’s. He received me in a very friendly manner. Before he would take any refreshment, he, with a few friends that waited on him, sung a hymn, and then prayed for a blessing, as at set meals. After tea, we sung another hymn; and then I went with them to the religious society, and found the place so thronged, that it was with great difficulty we reached the centre of it. We found them singing a hymn; he then prayed; and proceeded to expound the twelfth chapter of the gospel of St. John, in a sweet, savoury, spiritual manner. This was followed by singing another hymn; and he then prayed over a great number of bills presented by the society, about twenty of which respected spiritual cases. Never did I hear such praying. Never did I see or hear such evident marks of fervency in the service of God. At the close of every petition, a serious Amen, like a gentle, rushing sound of waters, ran through the whole audience. Such evident marks of a lively fervent devotion, I was never witness to before. If there be such a thing as heavenly music upon earth, I heard it there. I do not remember my heart to have been so elevated in Divine love and praise, as it was there and then, for many years past, if ever. Notwithstanding some errors, which, as mere men, they may be liable to, I cannot but believe that God is with them of a truth, and hath raised them up in this day of general defection from gospel purity, simplicity, and zeal, for signal service and usefulness in His church.”[295]

In a letter to Charles Wesley, written in the month of September, 1739, Williams adds: “I heartily wish you God speed. I bless you in the name of the Lord. Fear not what men can do unto you. With Him your judgment is, and your reward with your God.”[296]

Such a testimony from a man so devout, enlightened, and justly famed as Joseph Williams, the Kidderminster carpet weaver, is quite as weighty as any testimony of an opposite character from either Bishop Gibson, or any priest or prelate then watching on the walls of Zion.

We must now return to Wesley at Bristol. Every night he expounded to societies. These were small gatherings of religious people, which had continued meeting for godly purposes for about the last fifty years;[297] for it is important to remember that the “Religious Societies” formed in the days of Dr. Horneck, previous to the abdication of King James, and again revived in the reign of Queen Mary, were not confined to London and Westminster, but existed in different towns throughout the kingdom. We find them in Oxford, Nottingham, Gloucester, Bristol, Newcastle, Dublin, Kilkenny, and other places; and all acting substantially according to the same rules and regulations. They met to pray, sing psalms, and read the Scriptures together; and to reprove, exhort, and edify one another by religious conference. They also carried out designs of charity, such as supporting lectures and daily prayers in churches, releasing imprisoned debtors, and relieving the poor and sending their children to school. In 1737, Whitefield preached “a sermon before the “Religious Societies” at one of their general quarterly meetings in Bow church, London, from the text, Ecclesiastes iv. 9–12, in which he strongly advocated the practice of Christians meeting together for religious fellowship. “As coals,” says he, “if placed asunder, soon go out, but if heaped together, enliven each other, and afford a lasting heat;” so it is with Christians.

Such were the “Religious Societies” which existed for more than half-a-century before the formation of the “United Societies” of the people called Methodists; and in whose rooms and meetings, in London, Bristol, and elsewhere, Whitefield and the Wesley brothers, for a few years, were accustomed to read and explain the Scriptures almost every night. On arriving in Bristol, Wesley found such societies as these assembling in Castle Street, in Gloucester Lane, in Weavers’ Hall, in Nicholas Street, in the Back Lane, and in Baldwin Street, and at once began expounding to them the Epistle to the Romans, and other portions of the New Testament; and it is a remarkable fact that, with one or two exceptions, all the scenes about to be mentioned took place in these society meetings, or in private dwellings. We furnish them as we find them.