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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Southey writes:—

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

The Rev. R. Watson writes:—

Isaac Taylor writes:—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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