For fifteen years after Methodism was introduced into I Newcastle,
John and Charles Wesley were both full of labours. The Societies
were spreading over all the country. In 1757 the age of riots
and mobs was past. Methodism was organised, and was making rapid
progress. Both the brothers were married. On April 8th, 1749
Charles had been married to Miss Sarah Gwynne, daughter of Marmaduke
Gwynne, of Garth, an eminent Welsh magistrate, who was a warm
friend of Methodism. His home at Bristol was one of the happiest
to be found in that city. John Wesley’s disastrous marriage
was made in February, 1751.
At the end of 1756, Charles Wesley’s active itinerancy
seems to have come to an end. Henceforth, with some exceptions,
be confined his labours to London and Bristol. By this means
the burden of the Societies fell more heavily than ever on his
brother. Charles Wesley had been greatly blessed during the
earlier years of the Evangelical Revival. He had the happy faculty
of leading his hearers to instant decision. His soul seemed
aflame with devotion. H is pathos and his appeal swept away
every barrier. No labours had wearied him; no mob had daunted
him. Now, however, there was a change. It was not easy for him
to tear himself from his family. His health, too, was broken,
and in some matters he was not quite agreed with his brother.
All these causes seem to have combined to withdraw him from
the more active itinerancy.
By the time he thus withdrew his brother’s health was
happily re-established. At the end of 1753, Wesley’s friends
thought that his days were numbered. He retired to Lewisham,
near London, the home of his friend Mr. Blackwell, with all
the symptoms of a rapid decline. On the night of his arrival
there, “to prevent vile panegyric,” he wrote his
own epitaph :— Here lieth the Body of
JOHN WESLEY,
A brand plucked out of the burning,
Who died of consumption in the fifty first year of his age,
Not leaving, alter his debts are paid,
Ten pounds behind him,
Praying,
"God be merciful to me, an unprofitable servant."
He ordered that this, if any, inscription should be placed
on his tombstone. Charles Wesley hurried to London, and did
his best to take the oversight of Methodism, but he plainly
told the Society there that if his brother died, he could never
fill his place. After five weeks at Lewisham, Wesley went to
drink the water at the Hot Well, Bristol. His health was in
a precarious state for a whole year, but he was then able to
resume his itinerant life. This period of retirement was fruitful.
Wesley began to prepare his “Notes on the New Testament,”
one of the doctrinal standards of Methodism, “a work which
I should scarce ever have attempted,” he says, “had
I not been so ill as not to be able to travel or preach, and
yet so well as to be able to read and write.”
When Charles Wesley retired from the more active itinerancy,
there were seventy to eighty itinerant preachers labouring in
the United Kingdom. These coadjutors were introducing Methodism
into all parts of the country. In the summer of 1747, one of
them crossed over to Ireland, where he had such success, that
he urged Wesley to come without delay. On August 9th, 1747,
Wesley, therefore, landed at Dublin. From this time the work
rapidly spread throughout Ireland. Mr. Tyerman calculates that
Wesley crossed the Channel forty-two times, and devoted at least
six years of his life to Ireland.
Four years later Wesley paid a short visit to Scotland, at
the earnest entreaty of his friend Captain Gallatin. He had
no intention to preach across the Border, nor did he imagine
that any one would wish him to do so. But he soon learned that
the Scots were eager to hear him. At Musselburgh, where his
friend’s regiment was then quartered, a great congregation
assembled, and “remained as statues from the beginning
of the sermon to the end,” though they were often grossly
inattentive in their own kirk. This was Wesley’s introduction
to Scotland.t At Edinburgh one of the bailies came with an elder
of the kirk to beg Wesley to spend some days with them. His
plans would not permit him to stay, but he promised that his
companion Christopher Hopper should come back the next week
to spend a few days. Wesley was often cheered by the rapt attention
of a Scotch congregation in later years, though he was also
disappointed by their apparent spiritual insensibility. Societies
were formed in various places, and though they were never large,
much good was done, especially in encouraging and stimulating
other Churches. These were the chief events of Methodist history
up to the year 1757. The relations of Methodism to the Established
Church caused anxious debate at the Conference of 1755 and the
following year, but that important subject must be reserved
for a separate chapter.
Though Charles Wesley’s more active itinerancy closed
in 1756, the two historic centres of Methodism still shared
his labours. In the metropolis he often stayed for months together,
administering the Sacrament to the Society every Sunday, and
labouring with great acceptance. His letters show that his ministry
was never more blessed than in these days. His prayers at the
Sacrament often seemed to open heaven, and the whole congregation
was moved by his powerful appeals. About the time his brother’s
labours were narrowed down to the two chief centres. Wesley
found one of the most valuable of all his coworkers in this
second age of Methodism. On March 13th, 1757, finding himself
weak at Snowsfields, he prayed that God would send him help.
His Sunday work in the metropolis was equal, he says, to preaching
eight sermons. The Sacramental service at West Street, his West
End chapel, near the Seven Dials, was often attended by six
hundred persons. Wesley’s prayer for assistance was answered.
As soon as he had finished his sermon at West Street, whither
he hastened after preaching at Snowsfields, John Fletcher,
who had that morning been ordained priest, appeared to help
him. “How wonderful are the ways of God!” says Wesley.
“When my bodily strength failed, and no clergyman in England
was able and willing to assist me, He sent me help from the
mountains of Switzerland, and a helpmeet for me in every respect!
Where could I have found such another?”
Fletcher was not quite thirty. He afterwards became Vicar of
Madeley, in Shropshire, married Miss Bosanquet, a native of
Leytonstone, one of the saints of Methodism, and was Wesley’s
adviser and helper until his death In 1775. He was not spared
to be Wesley’s successor, for which position he seemed
so admirably qualified in many respects, but he rendered inestimable
service to the cause by that seraphic piety in the presence
of which discord died away, and the hearts of the most bitter
opponents were melted into love. The share he took in the Calvinist
controversy by the publication of his famous “Checks”
entitles him to the high praise of being one of the keenest
and at the same time most truly Christian controversialists
that any Church has possessed. Isaac Taylor says,* “The
Methodism of Fletcher was Chris tianity, as little lowered by
admixture of human infirmity as we may hope to find it anywhere
on earth.”
Fletcher’s help was the more precious to Wesley because
he had many troubles at this time. Thomas Walsh died in Ireland
in 1759, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. “Oh, what
a man,” says Wesley, “to be snatched away in the
strength of his years!” Fletcher was another Thomas Walsh
for Wesley. A heavier blow than Walsh’s death was the
defection of Thomas Maxfield in 1763. In 1760 Wesley says, “That
glorious work of sanctification which had been at a stand for
near twenty years” broke out among the people.t It began
in Yorkshire, then spread to London and through most parts of
England, till it reached Dublin, Limerick, and all the south
and west of Ireland. Wherever it came, all branches of the work
of God revived and increased. Wesley preached on this subject
in all his Societies, and was greatly cheered by the quickened
devotion of the people.
In London the movement was unhappily attended with a wild fanaticism
which soon blighted all its gracious fruits, and gave the Society
there a blow from which it did not recover for years. On the
last day of 1762 Wesley says, “I now stood and looked
back on the past year, a year of uncommon trials and uncommon
blessings. Abundance have been convinced of sin; very many have
found peace with God; and in London only, I believe full two
hundred have been brought into glorious liberty. And yet I have
had more care and trouble in six months, than in several years
preceding. What the end will be, I know not; but it is enough
that God knoweth.” George Bell, who had been a corporal
in the Life Guards, professed to find entire sanctification
in March, 1761. It soon became evident that this man was a mischievous
fanatic. He began to hold meetings of his own, declared that
God had done with preaching and Sacraments, and that none could
teach those who were renewed in love unless they enjoyed that
blessing themselves. On November 24th, 1762, Wesley stood where
he could hear Bell without being seen. He prayed for nearly
an hour with great fervour. Wesley afterwards told him what
he did not like, and treated him and his associates with characteristic
moderation.
Maxfield allied himself with Bell, and caused a serious division
in the Society. Some of the members went so far as to tell Wesley
that they would have no more to do with him, but would follow
Mr. Maxfield. A climax was reached in 1763. Bell prophesied
that the world would come to an end on February 28th. Wesley
did his best to counteract this mischievous prophecy, but it
greatly terrified some weak people. Prayer-meetings were held
through the night. Some persons remained in the fields, fearing
an earthquake. Happily Bell’s career as a prophet Was
cut short by his arrest and imprisonment. He recovered from
his religious fanaticism to become an ignorant infidel and a
radical reformer. Maxfield resigned his Connection with Wesley
at the end of April. He took with him two hundred of Wesley’s
members, and preached to a large congregation of his own in
Little Moorfields. Wesley visited him in his last illness, and
preached in his chapel, but, as we have seen, he was never able
to acquire him of dishonourable conduct. The London Society
lost four hundred members by this deplorable outburst of fanaticism.
Nothing, however, could long check the progress of Methodism.
Before 1758 Wesley had visited every part of Ireland except
the county of Sligo. He found it had the largest population
of any Irish county. He counted eight villages in less than
seven miles, and Sligo itself I seemed as large as Limerick.
He also visited the descendants of the settlers who had come
from the Palatinate, half a century before. They had no minister,
and were become notorious for drunkenness, cursing, swearing,
and utter neglect of religion. Methodist preaching had been
a great blessing to this community. An oath was now rarely heard
among them, or a drunkard seen in their borders. In 1760 Wesley
found three such towns in this German settlement as could scarcely
be found anywhere else. There was neither cursing, swearing,
Sabbath-breaking, drunkenness, nor alehouse among them. Most
of these settlers were afterwards scattered, but they carried
the germs of Methodism to the New World. Wesley’s ministry
in Ireland was remarkable for its success among the military.
“The first call of Methodism there,” he said, “was
to the soldiers.” These brave fellows often formed Wesley’s
body-guard. Their officers occasionally tried to prevent their
attendance at Methodist services, but they also were frequently
warm friends of the work. Sometimes Wesley preached near the
barracks, where no mob durst venture to molest him for fear
of the soldiers. Sometimes they escorted him to his lodgings,
Or cleared a preaching-place and kept order whilst he spoke.
During the whole of this period, from the retirement of Charles
Wesley to the death of Whitefield in 1770, Methodism spread
rapidly. The Conference that met in August, 1770, reported a
membership of 29,406, under the care of a hundred and twenty-one
preachers, in fifty circuits. The fiftieth circuit was “America,”
where four preachers were now at work. There were a hundred
members in New York not included in this return. Philip Embury,
an emigrant from the Palatine settlement in Ireland, reached
there in 1760. For five years religion languished among the
early settlers. But in 1765 the zeal of a devout woman, Barbara
lIeck, led them to begin Methodist preaching. Captain Webb,
then on military duty in the States, preached in his regimentals.
He greatly strengthened the hands of the little Society, and
attracted many hearers. He also wrote an account of the work
to Wesley, asking for help. In the Conference of 1769 the appeal
from America was presented. “Who is willing to go?”
Wesley asked. Richard Boardman and Joseph Pilmoor at once volunteered,
and Methodism soon struck its roots deep into American soil.
In 1767 a great effort was made to reduce the debt on Methodist
chapels. There were now a hundred in all parts of the country.
The debt was Li 1,383. Wesley drew up a statement, which he
sent to his friends, with a short note asking their assistance.
L5,000 was contributed the first year, L2,ooo the next. Another
appeal yielded £1,700 more, but as new chapels were springing
up in all parts of the kingdom, fresh debt was constantly contracted.
In 1770 the old debt stood at £5,671, the new at £1,287. It
taxed all Wesley’s resources for many years to deal with
this difficulty, caused by the vast extension of Methodism.
On September 30th, 1770, George Whitefield died in America.
The later years of his life had been mainly devoted to the New
World. Since the Calvinist controversy of 1741 he and the Wesleys
had worked apart. The breach of friendship was indeed soon healed.
Whitefield preached in Wesley’s chapels, and regarded
both his old friends as brothers. In September, 1769, he left
for America, after spending four years in England. The previous
February Wesley says, “I had one more agreeable conversation
with my old friend and fellow-labourer George Whitefield. His
soul appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking
apace.” White-field was greatly cheered on his arrival
in America by the prosperity of Bethesda, his orphanage near
Savannah. It was almost free from debt. Two new wings had been
built, one hundred and fifty feet long, and other buildings
were being pushed forward. The Governor and council of the colony
received him with public honours.
His tour through the States was marked by all his old ardour.
His health seemed to be restored. He lost no opportunity of
preaching, and was heard with delight by enthusiastic crowds
wherever he went. To Charles Wesley, whom he always loved with
special tenderness, he wrote, “I can only sit down and
cry, ‘What bath God wrought!’ My bodily health is
much improved, and my soul is on the wing for another Gospel
range. Unutterable love! I am lost in wonder and amazement!”
The day before his death he preached for two hours to a vast
open-air congregation. His feelings completely carried him
away, so that he was scarcely able to stop. He afterwards went
on to Newburyport, where he was expected to preach next day.
Whilst he was at supper the pavement in front of his host’s
house and the hail of the house itself were crowded with people,
who could not wait till the morrow. Whitefield was worn out.
He said to a clergyman who was present, “Brother, you
must speak to these dear people; I cannot say a word.”
Taking a candle, he hastened to his room. On the stairs be paused.
He could not resist the appeal made to him by the presence of
the eager people. He yielded to the impulse, and spoke on till
the candle which he held in his hand burned away and died out
in its socket. At two o’clock next morning Whitefield
awoke his travelling companion. His asthma was coming on again.
He sat in bed praying for his friends and his work, then hastened
to the window, panting for breath. Medical help was called in,
but all was in vain. At six o’clock the great orator of
the Revival had entered into rest.
It had long been agreed between Wesley and White-field that
the survivor should preach his friend’s funeral sermon.
On November 18th the solemn service was held in the Tottenham
Court Road Tabernacle. An immense multitude assembled from all
parts. Wesley’s voice was strengthened, so that even those
about the doors heard distinctly. “It was an awful season,”
he says. “All were as still as night. Most appeared to
be deeply affected, and an impression was made on many, which,
one would hope, will not speedily be effaced.” He preached
the sermon again at the Tabernacle in Moor-fields the same afternoon,
and at Greenwich on the following Friday. “Here likewise
I trust God has given a blow to that bigotry which had prevailed
for many years.” * On January 2nd, 1771, he says, “I
preached in the evening, at Deptford, a kind of funeral sermon
for Mr. Whitefield. In every place I wish to show all possible
respect to the memory of that great and good man.”
On September 30th, 1770, George Whitefield died in America.
The later years of his life had been mainly devoted to the New
World. Since the Calvinist controversy of 1741 he and the Wesleys
had worked apart. The breach of friendship was indeed soon healed.
Whitefield preached in Wesley’s chapels, and regarded
both his old friends as brothers. In September, 1769, he left
for America, after spending four years in England. The previous
February Wesley says, “I had one more agreeable conversation
with my old friend and fellow labourer George Whitefield. His
soul appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking
apace.” White field was greatly cheered on his arrival
in America by the prosperity of Bethesda, his orphanage near
Savannah. It was almost free from debt. Two new wings had been
built, one hundred and fifty feet long, and other buildings
were being pushed forward. The Governor and council of the colony
received him with public honours.
His tour through the States was marked by all his old ardour.
His health seemed to be restored. He lost no opportunity of
preaching, and was heard with delight by enthusiastic crowds
wherever he went. To Charles Wesley, whom he always loved with
special tenderness, he wrote, “I can only sit down and
cry, ‘What hath God wrought!’ My bodily health is
much improved, and my soul is on the wing for another Gospel
range. Unutterable love! I am lost in wonder and amazement
!" The day before his death he preached for two hours to
a vast open-air congregation. His feelings completely carried
him away, so that he was scarcely able to stop. He afterwards
went on to Newburyport, where he was expected to preach next
day. Whilst he was at supper the pavement in front of his host’s
house and the hall of the house itself were crowded with people,
who could not wait till the morrow. Whitefield was worn out.
He said to a clergyman who was present, “Brother, you
must speak to these dear people; I cannot say a word.”
Taking a candle, he hastened to his room. On the stairs he paused.
He could not resist the appeal made to him by the presence of
the eager people. He yielded to the impulse, and spoke on till
the candle which he held in his hand burned away and died out
in its socket. At two o’clock next morning Whitefield
awoke his travelling companion. His asthma was coming on again.
He sat in bed praying for his friends and his work, then hastened
to the window, panting for breath. Medical help was called in,
but all was in vain. At six o’clock the great orator of
the Revival had entered into rest.
It had long been agreed between Wesley and White-field that
the survivor should preach his friend’s funeral sermon.
On November 18th the solemn service was held in the Tottenham
Court Road Tabernacle. An immense multitude assembled from all
parts. Wesley’s voice was strengthened, so that even those
about the doors heard distinctly. “It was an awful season,”
he says. “All were as still as night. Most appeared to
be deeply affected, and an impression was made on many, which,
one would hope, will not speedily be effaced.” He preached
the sermon again at the Tabernacle in Moor-fields the same afternoon,
and at Greenwich on the following Friday. “Here likewise
I trust God has given a blow to that bigotry which had prevailed
for many years.” * On January 2nd, 1771, he says, “I
preached in the evening, at Deptford, a kind of funeral sermon
for Mr. Whitefield. In every place I wish to show all possible
respect to the memory of that great and good man.”
Sponsored by Northwest Nazarene University, Nampa, Idaho.
