The life and times of the Rev. John Wesley, M.A., founder of the Methodists. Vol. 2 (of 3)

Wesley writes: “January 1, 1748.—We began the year at four in the morning, with joy and thanksgiving. The same spirit was in the midst of us, both at noon and in the evening.”

On January 25, he set out for Bristol, and at Longbridge-Deverill, three miles from Warminster, by being thrown from his horse, had a narrow escape from an untimely death. These dangers and escapes were numerous and remarkable. Near Shepton-Mallet, while descending a steep bank, he had another accident of a similar kind to the former, his horse and himself tumbling one over the other, and imperilling the lives of both. And, a few weeks later, when in Ireland, his horse became restive and “fell head over heels.” With almost literal exactness might Wesley have made the apostle’s language his own: “In journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness; besides those things that are without, that which cometh upon us daily, the care of all the churches.”

The chapel at Bristol, though built only nine years ago, was in great danger of falling upon the people’s heads; and, moreover, it was now too small to accommodate the congregation attending. Accordingly, Wesley took instant steps to repair and to enlarge the building, and obtained a subscription of £230, towards defraying the expense.

While here, he also made a visit to Shepton-Mallet, where a hired and drunken mob pelted him and his companion, Robert Swindells, with “dirt, stones, and clods in abundance”; broke the windows of the house in which they were staying, took it by storm, and threatened to make it a heap of burning ruins.

Still, the Methodist revival spread. Writing to his friend Blackwell, under the date of February 2, Wesley says:—“Both in Ireland, and in many parts of England, the work of our Lord increases daily. At Leeds only, the society, from a hundred and eighty, is increased to above five hundred persons.”[1]

Charles Wesley and Charles Perronet had been in Ireland for the last six months, and, on the Moravians being ejected from the chapel in Skinner’s Alley, had become the tenants of that building. They had made an excursion to Tyrrell’s Pass, and, from among proverbial swearers, drunkards, thieves, and sabbath breakers, had formed a society of nearly one hundred persons. At Athlone, a gang of ruffians knocked Jonathan Healey off his horse, beat him with a club, and were about to murder him with a knife, when a poor woman, from her hut, came to his assistance, and, for her interference, was half killed with a blow from a heavy whip. The hedges were all lined with papists; the dragoons came out, the mob fled, Healey was rescued, and was taken into the woman’s cabin, where Charles Wesley found him in his blood, and attended to his wounds. A congregation of above two thousand assembled in the market; Charles Wesley preached to them from the window of a ruined house; and then the knot of brave-hearted Methodists marched to the field of battle, stained with Healey’s blood, and sang a song of triumph and of praise to God.

Having completed his business at Bristol, Wesley, on the 15th of February, started for Ireland, but the weather was such, that three weeks elapsed before he was able to set sail from Holyhead. Winds were boisterous, and snow lay thick upon the ground; but, on the way, besides preaching in churches, chapels, and roadside inns, Wesley, at Builth and other places, took his stand in the open air, immense congregations making surrounding woods and mountains echo, as they sung:—

“Ye mountains and vales, In praises abound; Ye hills and ye dales, Continue the sound; Break forth into singing, Ye trees of the wood, For Jesus is bringing Lost sinners to God.”

Attending a service in the Welsh language, he wrote: “What a curse was the confusion of tongues! and how grievous are the effects of it! All the birds of the air, all the beasts of the field, understand the language of their own species. Man only is a barbarian to man, unintelligible to his own brethren!”

At length, Wesley, accompanied by Robert Swindells and the Rev. Mr. Meriton, set sail, and, on March 8, arrived in Dublin, where they found Charles Wesley meeting the society, the members of which made so much noise in shouting, and in praising God, that, for a time, Wesley was unable to obtain a hearing.

Charles returned to England. Wesley spent the next ten weeks in Ireland. These were long absences, to which the leaders in London objected; but Wesley’s almost prophetic answer was, “Have patience, and Ireland will repay you.”[2]

Wesley’s first business was to begin preaching at five o’clock in the morning, “an unheard of thing in Ireland”; his next, to inquire into the state of the Dublin society. He writes: “Most pompous accounts had been sent me, from time to time, of the great numbers added; so that I confidently expected to find six or seven hundred members. And how is the real fact? I left three hundred and ninety-four members; and I doubt if there are now three hundred and ninety-six.” This seems to be a reflection on his brother; but was there not a cause? Ten days later, he remarks: “I finished the classes, and found them just as I expected. I left three hundred and ninety-four persons united together in August; I had now admitted between twenty and thirty, who had offered themselves since my return to Dublin; and the whole number is neither more nor less than three hundred and ninety-six.” He adds: “Let this be a warning to us all, how we give in to that hateful custom of painting things beyond the life. Let us make a conscience of magnifying or exaggerating anything. Let us rather speak under, than above, the truth. We, of all men, should be punctual in all we say, that none of our words may fall to the ground.”

At Philip’s Town, “a poor, dry, barren place,” he found a society, of whom forty were troopers.[3] At Tullamore, he preached to most of the inhabitants of the town; and at Clara, to “a vast number of well behaved people, some of whom came in their coaches, and were of the best quality in the country.” At Athlone, he writes: “Almost all the town appeared to be moved, full of good will and desires of salvation; but I found not one under any strong conviction, much less had any one attained the knowledge of salvation, in hearing above thirty sermons.”

At Birr, he preached “in the street, to a dull, rude, senseless multitude.” A Carmelite friar cried out, “You lie! you lie!” but the protestants present cried, “Knock the friar down”; and Wesley adds, “it was no sooner said than done.”

At Aughrim, he heard “a warm sermon against enthusiasts”; and, to the same congregation, preached another as an antidote. Mr. Simpson, a magistrate, invited him to dinner; and he, and his wife and daughter, were the first at Aughrim to join the Methodists.[4]

These and other places were soon formed into a circuit, extending on the Leinster side as far as Tyrrell’s Pass and Mountmellick, and on the Connaught side as far as Ballinrobe, Castlebar, and Sligo, the quarterly meetings being held at Coolylough, the residence of Mr. Handy, where hospitable entertainment was abundantly provided, and many a season of spiritual refreshing was religiously enjoyed.[5]

In Dublin, the Methodists had two meeting-houses, one in Dolphin Barn Lane, and the other in Skinner’s Alley; but they were both rented, and therefore of uncertain tenure. Wesley was not satisfied with this, and used his utmost endeavours to obtain a freehold site, for the erection of a chapel of his own. On the 15th of March, he wrote to Ebenezer Blackwell as follows: “We have not found a place yet that will suit us for building. Several we have heard of, and seen some; but they are all leasehold land, and I am determined to have freehold, if it is to be had in Dublin; otherwise we must lie at the mercy of our landlord whenever the lease is to be renewed.”[6]

Some time after, the freehold site was obtained, and, with Mr. Lunell’s munificent assistance, the first Methodist meeting-house in Dublin was erected in Whitefriar Street, and was opened for public worship in 1752.

Wesley returned to England at the end of the month of May, and on the 2nd of June, and three or four, following days, held, in London, his annual conference. The number present was twenty-three, including about half-a-dozen clergymen, three stewards, some local preachers, and Howel Harris.

At the opening of the conference, it was agreed that there would be no time to consider points of doctrine, and therefore that the attention of those present should be wholly confined to discipline.

The principle was reiterated, that, wherever they preached, they should form societies. They were to visit the poor members of society as much as the rich. Every alternate society-meeting in London, Bristol, Kingswood, and Newcastle, was to be kept inviolably private. At the other meetings strangers might be admitted with caution. It was thought, that they were in danger of making too long prayers, and it was agreed that, though exceptional cases must arise, yet, in general, they would do well not to pray in public above eight or ten minutes at a time. Directions were given to the assistants to guard against jealousy and envy, and against despising each other’s gifts. They were to try to avoid popularity, that is, “the gaining a greater degree of esteem or love from the people than is for the glory of God.” They were to examine the leaders of classes, and were to send to the Wesleys a circumstantial account of every remarkable conversion, and of every triumphant death. Assisted by the stewards, they were, every Easter, to make exact lists of all the members in each of the nine circuits into which the societies were divided, and to send the lists to the ensuing conference.[7]

In addition to these matters, there was another debated, of great interest and importance. Five years before, Wesley had published his “Thoughts on Marriage and Celibacy,” in which, to say the least, he strongly commended a single life. His brother Charles was now courting Miss Sarah Gwynne, and wished to marry her. Charles writes:—“How know I, whether it be best for me to marry, or no? Certainly better now than later; and, if not now, what security that I shall not then? It should be now, or not at all.” This was sound sense. Charles was now forty years old, and, like a wise man, he concluded, that he must either marry now, or never. Before he left Ireland, he communicated his intentions to his brother; and, in the month of April, he rode to Shoreham, and “told all his heart” to Vincent Perronet.[8] Difficulties existed. Among others, there was his brother’s tract. The Conference of 1747 had agreed to read all the tracts which had been published, and to make a note of everything that was thought objectionable. The Conference of 1748 was about to meet, and, of course, had a perfect right to review and to revise the “Thoughts on Marriage.” The question was introduced, and the result of the discussion upon Wesley’s mind may be found in the following sentence from a manuscript in the British Museum, which, though not written by Wesley, was corrected by him. “In June, 1748, we had a conference in London. Several of our brethren then objected to the ‘Thoughts on Marriage’; and, in a full and friendly debate, convinced me, that a believer might marry without suffering loss in his soul.” This was a great point gained. Charles’s courtship proceeded; and, in April, 1749, John writes: “Saturday, April 8.—I married my brother and Sarah Gwynne. It was a solemn day, such as became the dignity of a Christian marriage.” A stranger said, it looked more like a funeral than a wedding; but Charles remarks, “We were cheerful without mirth, serious without sadness; and my brother seemed the happiest person among us.”[9]