CHAPTER XVIII

FROM THE DEATH OF WHITEFIELD TO THE DEATH OF
CHARLES WESLEY

BEFORE the news of Whitefield’s death reached England, another Calvinistic controversy had broken out. At the London Conference in August, 1770, various suggestions were made for the revival of the work of God where it had grown feeble. One of these led to years of angry debate. “Take heed to your doctrine,” ran the famous Minutes. “We said in 1744, ‘We have leaned too much toward Calvinism.’ Wherein?

"I. With regard to man’s faithfulness. Our Lord Himself taught us to use the expression. And we ought never to be ashamed of it. We ought steadfastly to assert, on His authority, that if a man is not ‘faithful in the righteous mammon,’ God will not give him the true riches.

"2. With regard to working for life. This also our Lord has expressly commanded us. 'Labour'-ejrgazesqe, literally ‘work ‘—‘ for the meat that endureth to everlast­ing life.’ And, in fact, every believer, till he comes to glory, works/or as well as from life.

"3. We have received it as a maxim, that 'a man is to do nothing in order to justification.' Nothing can be more false. Whoever desires to find favour with God should 'cease from evil, and learn to do well.' Whoever-repents should do 'works meet for repentance.' And if this is not in order to find favour, what does he do them for?

"Review the whole affair.

"I. Who of us is now accepted of God? ‘He that now believes in Christ, with a loving, obedient heart.’

"2. But who among those that never heard of Christ? He that feareth God, and worketh righteousness, according to the light lie has.

"3. Is this the same with 'he that is sincere'? Nearly, if not quite.

"4. Is not this salvation by works? Not by the merit of works, but by works as a condition.

"5. What have we then been disputing about for these thirty years? I am afraid, about words.

"6. As to merit itself, of which we have been so dread­fully afraid: we are rewarded 'according to our work;' yea, 'because of our works.' How does this differ from for the sake of our works? And how differs this from secundum merita operum,'-as our works deserve? Can you split this hair? I doubt I cannot.

"7. The grand objection to one of the preceding pro­positions is drawn from matter of fact. God does, in fact, justify those who, by their own confession, neither feared God nor wrought righteousness. Is this an exception to the general rule? It is a doubt, God makes any exception at all. But how are we sure that the person in question never did fear God and work righteousness? His own saying is not proof; for we know how all that are con­vinced of sin undervalue themselves in every respect.

"8. Does not talking of a justified or a sanctified state tend to mislead men, almost naturally leading them to trust in what was done in one moment, whereas we are every hour and every moment pleasing or displeasing to God, according to our works, according to the whole our inward tempers and our outward behaviour?"

These Minutes were intended for the preachers. So that much is here taken for granted. The answer to the question, “Who of us is now accepted of God?” shows that works were only a condition of salvation. No one [n the Conference had any doubt on that point. The Minutes were a counterbiast to Antinomianism, which had " spread like wildfire” among Wesley’s Societies at Norwich, Manchester, Dublin, and other places. Charles Wesley’s visit to Manchester in 1756 shows how the Antinomians laboured to spread their licentious teaching among the Methodists. Similar attempts were painfully familiar to Wesley’s preachers. They understood clearly that whilst they preached justification by faith, they must urge all to maintain good works. Lady Huntingdon, who had become a strong convert to Calvinism, looked on these Minutes in a different spirit. Her friendship with the Wesleys was now broken off. She even went so far as to say that she could “burn against” t the Minutes. Her Ladyship had founded a college at Treveca for training ministers, of which Fletcher was president, Joseph Benson classical tutor. In January, 1771, Benson was dismissed because he defended the Minutes. Fletcher wrote his views upon them to her Ladyship. He ex­plained them according to Wesley’s sentiments, and approved the doctrine, though he did not consider the Minutes cautiously worded at every point. He then resigned his connection with the college.

Wesley addressed a letter of expostulation to the Countess, in which he calmly pointed out certain faults which he had observed in her with great concern. As the time for the next Conference approached, she and her relative and adviser—the Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley—prepared to enter their protest. A letter was widely circulated calling on all who agreed with them to go in a body to the Conference and “insist upon a formal recantation of the said Minutes.” Lady Hunt­ingdon wrote to Charles Wesley enclosing a copy of the circular which had been issued. It bore the offensive title “Popery Unmasked.” She expressed her convic­tion that “all ought to be deemed Papists who did not disown” the Minutes. Charles Wesley showed what he thought of this communication by endorsing it with the words, “Lady Huntingdon’s LAST. UNANSWERED BY JOHN WESLEY’S BROTHER!”

The circular received so little support that her Lady­ship and Mr. Shirley changed their tone. The day before the Conference met each of them addressed a letter to Wesley expressing their regret at the unbecoming lan­guage of their printed circular. They asked whether he would receive a deputation, so that a better understanding might be reached. Wesley fixed the third day of the Conference. Only eight people came, all of whom were under Lady Huntingdon’s personal influence. Mr. Shirley then read the letters in which he and the Countess apolo­gised for the language of the circular, and hoped that the “submission made was satisfactory to the gentlemen of the Conference.” He at once assented to the wish of the assembled preachers that the apology should be made as public as the obnoxious circular. After further discussion Wesley and all his preachers who were present, save Thomas Olivers, who would have nothing to do with “a

Patched up peace,” signed a declaration expressing their entire adhesion to the doctrine of justification by faith and their abhorrence of justification by works as a most perilous and abominable doctrine. A few days later Mr. Shirley sent a written acknowledgment that he had mistaken the meaning of the Minutes.

It might now have been hoped that this controversy was ended. Fletcher, who had received one of Mr. Shirley’s circulars, had carefully examined the Minu and drawn up “Five Letters to the Hon. and Rev. Auth of the Circular.” This manuscript he sent to Wesley, leaving him to print it or not as he thought fit. Wesley resolved to print without delay. When Fletcher learn the result of the Conference, he wrote to a friend in Bristol to ask that the pamphlet might be kept back for the present. He felt that the Minutes must be vindicated, but wished to make some modifications that would render the letters more palatable to Mr. Shirley. Their publication, however, had been announced, and Wesley was not at Bristol to stop the press, so that the “Five Letters” soon appeared.

The controversy assumed a painful and angry form. Wesley had little share in it. Fletcher was the champion of the Minutes. His “Checks to Antinomianism,” issued one after another during the prolonged struggle, are noble specimens of polemical divinity. For convincing argument, invincible charity, and high-toned courtesy, Fletcher. has on all hands won the highest praise. Thomas Olivers, one of Wesley’s preachers, who was now editor of his Magazine, proved himself a powerful champion on the Arminian side. Augustus M. Toplady, Sir Richard Hill, and his more famous brother Rowland Hill, were unsparing antagonists. For more than nine years Wesley was exposed to their virulent attacks. Soon after the foundation of City Road Chapel was laid in 1777, Rowland Hill published a pamphlet entitled “Imposture Detected, and the Dead Vindicated; in a Letter to a Friend; containing some gentle strictures on the false and libellous harangue, lately delivered by Mr. John Wesley, upon his laying the first stone of his new Dissenting meeting-house, near the City Road.” What the strictures were may be seen from some expressions. He called Wesley “the lying Apostle of the Foundery,” “a designing wolf,” “a dealer in stolen wares,” and asserted that he was “as unprincipled as a rook, and as silly as a jackdaw, first pilfering his neigh bour’s plumage, and then going proudly forth, displaying his borrowed tail to the eyes of a laughing world.”

Wesley calmly pursued his work. Charles Wesley had come to live in London the same year that the little deputation of Calvinists visited the Conference at Bristol in 1770. His daughter Sarah has preserved an anecdote which shows Wesley’s tranquil fidelity to his work amid all his troubles. He had promised to take his niece with him to Canterbury and Dover some time about 1775. The day before this journey, to which the girl was looking for­ward with peculiar pleasure, her father learned that Mrs. John Wesley had plundered her husband’s bureau and taken out some letters on which, by interpolating words and misinterpreting spiritual expressions, she had managed to put the worst construction. These she read to some Calvinists. They were to be sent to the Morning Post. Mr. Russell, a Calvinist, and an intimate friend of Charles Wesley’s, told him of this plot. He had heard the letter read, but suspected that they were forgeries, and wished that Wesley should try to clear up the matter.

Charles Wesley, who was far more jealous of his, brother’s reputation than his own, at once set out for the Foundery. His daughter never forgot the manner in which he announced the result of that visit to her mother on his return to Marylebone. “He is,” he said, “a most extraordinary man; I placed before him every evil consequence which could result from his leaving London, the stumbling-blocks he might cast in the way of the weak, the advantage he gave to his enemies, the importance of his character; and when I had finished, he replied with the utmost calmness, ‘When I devoted to God my ease, my time, my fortune, my life, did I except my reputation? No. Tell Sally I will take her to Canterbury tomorrow.” It was proved that the letters had been mutilated, and no scandal ensued.

Wesley had looked forward with great pleasure to his brother’s removal from Bristol to London. He often wished to consult him about important matters affect­ing their Societies. Though they met at Bristol and London, it was very desirable that they should have closer intercourse. The benefit of this change of residence was, however, minimised in consequence of a generous offer made by one of Charles Wesley’s friends. This lady, Mrs. Gumley, gave him the lease of her town house. in Chesterfield Street, Marylebone. The fine house was well furnished and provided with every comfort. But it was three miles from the Foundery. This was a serious drawback. Wesley was too busy a man to spare time for frequent visits at so great a distance.

In January, 1774, a hydrocele, which had greatly troubled Wesley for a considerable time, was successfully removed in Edinburgh. In the summer of 1775, when in the north of Ireland, he lay down one extremely hot afternoon on the grass in a friend’s orchard. For forty years he bad been accustomed to rest in this way, and had never taken any harm. Now, however, he fell asleep on his face. When he awoke, he felt slightly unwell, but was able to preach with ease to a vast congregation. Next day his stand was so arranged, that a strong, sharp wind blew full on the side of his head whilst he was preaching. This was on the Wednesday. He was soon in a high fever, and at a friend’s house near Lisburn was compelled to take to his bed. His strength was utterly gone. He could not even turn himself; his memory entirely failed; his tongue was much swollen, and as black as a coal; and for some time neither heart nor pulse seemed to beat. About three o’clock on the Sunday morning he appeared to be in the agonies of death. His pulse beat about a hundred and thirty times a minute, his flesh was like fire, and be was convulsed from head to foot. Mr. Gayer and his family were Methodists, and had abundant means. Nothing which their kindness could suggest was left untried. Joseph Bradford, one of Wesley’s preachers, was his travelling companion. He nursed the invalid with a mother’s care. On the Thursday after Wesley came to Mr. Gayer’s, Bradford brought some medicine in a cup, saying, “Sir, you must take this.” He thought, “I will, if I can swallow, to please him; for it will do me neither harm nor good.” It at once caused vomiting; the heart and pulse began to play, and from that time Wesley steadily gained strength. On Saturday he was up all day, on Sunday he spent several hours in the downstairs parlour, and on Wednesday he travelled thirty miles towards Dublin. The newspapers had already announced that he was dead. John Fletcher wrote to Charles Wesley urging him to stand in the gap if his brother was removed. He Suggested that a committee of the oldest and steadiest Preachers might assist him to bear the burden. The blow Which Fletcher feared was, in God’s mercy, averted. Methodism was not then able to spare its head. No pro­vision had yet been made for carrying on the work after Wesley’s death.

The great event of home Methodism during this period was the erection of City Road Chapel. Since 1739 the Foundery had been the headquarters of Methodism. In 1743 Wesley had secured a West End centre, which is still standing, in West Street, near the Seven Dials. Southwark and Spitalfields had also good chapels. On April 21st, 1777, Wesley laid the foundation of his Methodist cathedral. “The rain,” he says, “befriended" us much, by keeping away thousands who purposed to be there; but there were still such multitudes, that it was with great difficulty I got through them to lay the first stone.” In a sermon on the words, “According to this time, it shall be said, What hath God wrought !" he de­scribed the rise of Methodism at Oxford, its mission in Georgia, the exclusion of himself and his friends from the English churches; he also explained the nature of Methodism and its relation to the Church of England. All who heard the venerable preacher must have seen by what a strange path God had led him up to that memor­able day.

An appeal for help in this great undertaking was sent to all the country Societies. Wesley wrote urging them to assist the parent Society, which had for many years contributed largely and willingly to their necessities. The burden of raising funds fell on Wesley himself. He made collections for the work in all parts of the country. We catch one glimpse of him and his faithful companion, Thomas Taylor, standing on either side of the path at Keighley after Wesley had preached. Hat in band, they thus gathered seven pounds for the new chapel. Wesley spent much time in London attending to all details of the building. Sunday, November 1st, 1778, was the opening day. Wesley describes his new chapel as perfectly neat, but not fine. Many were afraid that the crowds who came from all parts would have caused much disturbance. Everything was quiet and orderly, however. Wesley preached in the morning on part of Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the Temple, and in the evening on the hundred and forty and four thousand standing with the Lamb on Mount Zion. “God was eminently present.”

The prayers of the Church of Eng land were read here both morning and evening by an ordained clergyman. At first the pulpit was occupied almost entirely by Charles Wesley and other clergymen, but before long care was taken that the London preachers should not be excluded from the chief metropolitan pulpit. Many advantages were reaped by the erection of this commodious chapel. The covenant service was held there on the 1st of January, 1779. “At length,” says Wesley, “we have a house capable of containing the whole Society.” The dwelling-house which is still standing on the south side of the chapel (No. 47, City Road) was the home of Wesley and his preachers, to which they were glad to remove from the ruinous premises at the Foundery. In this house Wesley died. In the burial-ground behind, he rests in peace, surrounded by more than five thousand of his devoted preachers and members. The Foundery was a decaying building, quite unworthy of Methodism, which had spread over England and Ireland, found its way to Scotland, planted stations in the West Indies and the United States, and now numbered forty-seven thousand members. The time had, therefore, come when it was essential to provide some better centre than the Foundery.

The work in America was spreading rapidly. In 1776 there were 3,148 members. The war with England threw everything into confusion for a time. Whilst City Road Chapel was being built, three of Wesley’s preachers returned to England. Francis Asbury was left alone. He was the Wesley of America. For forty-five years he travelled over the rough settlements of the States as ex­tensively as Wesley did at home. Bogs, swamps, prairies, mountains, and rivers were fearlessly crossed by this heroic itinerant. Every day he read a hundred pages, and spent three hours in private devotion. Though his colleagues had left him in 1777, there were thirty-four itinerants who bad been called out to the work in America itself and nearly seven thousand members.

Methodism spread through the States by leaps and bounds. Wesley was greatly exercised by the position of his people there. They had no one to administer the Sacraments. Many of the English clergy of the country had withdrawn or ceased to officiate on account of the war. At best there had been but few of them, and many Societies were far beyond the reach of their ministrations. In 1780 Wesley wrote to Dr. Lowth, Bishop of London. lie had presented a petition to his Lordship for the ordina­tion of some pious man who might minister to the needs of the people in America. His request was not granted. Dr. Lowth replied that there were “three ministers in that country already.” Wesley answered that from sad experi­ence he knew that the greater part of the missionaries in America were men who had neither the power nor the form of godliness, “men that lay no claim to piety, nor even decency.” His whole letter shows how he mourned over the spiritual destitution of America.

Matters reached a crisis in 1784. During the previous ten years 12,915 new members had been added to the American Societies. They now numbered 14,988. Asbury pleaded urgently for help. He was in a difficult position. In 1779 the preachers in the south had arranged that three of the oldest men among them should ordain the rest. Asbury prevailed on them to give up the adminis­tration of the Sacraments till he could communicate with Wesley. His appeal stated that “a minister and such preachers” as Wesley could fully recommend would be very acceptable. Asbury’s ardent desire was to see Wesley himself in America. That was clearly impossible; hut at tile Conference of 1784 Coke, Whatcoat, and Vasey were appointed. A month later Wesley, with the assist­ance of the Rev. James Creighton, a clergyman who had become one of his staff in London, solemnly set apart Dr. Coke as “Superintendent” over the American preachers and Societies. Asbury was to be his colleague, with equal powers. They were to ordain others to administer the Sacraments. After Dr. Coke had been set apart for his office, he assisted Wesley and Creighton to ordain Whatcoat and Vasey as elders, with power to administer the Sacraments in America.

Wesley had now taken a decisive step. He was fully convinced in his own mind that he was a Scriptural ejpiskopo~, but only the most pressing necessity drove him to exercise the power of ordination. All other plans for meeting the necessities and claims of his growing Societies in America had failed. He therefore was compelled to take this step. Next year, after careful deliberation, he yielded to the judgment of his friends, and set apart three of his well-tried preachers to administer the Sacraments in Scotland. “I trust,” he says, “God will bless their ministrations, and show that He has sent them.” Other preachers were afterwards ordained for the colonies and for Scotland, and several also for England.

Charles Wesley was greatly disturbed by his brother’s ordinations. He was not fully conversant with the neces­sities of the case, nor was he a practical man, like John Wesley. He wrote an urgent letter begging him to stop and consider before he had quite broken down the bridge. Wesley had not acted under a sudden impulse. He had carefully weighed the matter and made good his position. He could not therefore yield to his brother’s appeal. By-and-bye Charles Wesley’s fears subsided. He saw that some of his apprehensions were groundless, and was able to leave the issues of the work to Him who had guided every step of its marvellous development.

Methodism only gained a legal constitution in 1784. For two years the Birstal Chapel case had awakened grave concern. A new preaching-place was required, and to give the trustees security for the money advanced for its erection, another deed was prepared. The trustees insisted that they and the leaders should have power to appoint preachers for their chapel after the death of the Wesleys. At one time it seemed as though Wesley would be compelled to leave these obstinate trustees with their chapel on their hands, and build another for his Society. He was determined to resist to the last any arrangement which would transfer the appointment of preachers to the trustees. His firmness, together with some timely con­cessions, brought the matter to a happy issue.

This struggle showed the necessity for some legal settlement to save Methodism from going to wreck after its founder’s death. Before the matter was settled Wesley’s life was in imminent danger. During the Bristol Conference he was seized with “a most impetuous flux,” which was followed by violent and almost constant cramp. Three doses of opium stopped the cramp, but took away speech, hearing, and power to move, so that Wesley lay like a mere log. No one expected his recovery. Joseph Bradford, his old nurse, was with him. “I have been reflecting on my past life,” the old man said to him; “I have been wandering up and down between fifty and sixty years, endeavouring, in my poor way, to do a little good to my fellow-creatures; and now it is probable that there are but a few steps between me and death; and what have I to trust to for salvation? I can see nothing that I have done or suffered that will bear looking at. I have no other plea than this: I the chief of sinners am, But Jesus died for me.”*

Wesley rallied from this severe attack, but the eighteen days of suspense had shown clearly that there was no time to be lost. Dr. Coke had read to the Bristol Confer­ence the opinion of counsel, to the effect that the members of the Conference should be enrolled, and measures taken for the perpetuity of the body. On February 28th, 1784, Wesley executed his Deed of Declaration, which has been called the Magna Charta of Methodism.t It was enrolled in Chancery a few days later. A legal constitution was now given to the Con­ference. The deeds on which Methodist chapels had been settled for many years reserved to Wesley the power to appoint preachers; after his death his right was to pass to Charles Wesley; and if William Grimshaw survived both the brothers, he was to exercise it. The Deed of Declaration contained the names of one hundred preachers who were to form the Methodist Conference. They were to meet once a year, to fill up vacancies in their own number, appoint a president and secretary, station the preachers to various circuits, admit proper persons into the ministry, and have general control over the Methodist Societies. The act of the majority was to bind all. Careful provision was made for various contingencies. There were one hundred and seventy Methodist preachers at the time when this deed was executed. Some of those whose names did not appear in it were much hurt by the omission. Wesley himself chose the members of the Conference, and no man knew better than he who were most eligible. Considerable feeling was caused, however, by his selection, and five malcontents retired from the ranks. The follow­ing year Wesley published a defence of his conduct. To the argument that all the preachers should have been placed on the deed he justly objects that it would have doubled the expense of meeting and have left all the circuits without preachers during the Conference. He says that he had chosen the persons who seemed most suitable. “I did my best; if I did wrong, it was not the error of my will, but of my judgment.”

Charles Wesley died on March 29th, 1788. His brother was in Staffordshire at the time. He was singing with his congregation Charles Wesley’s hymn,

Come, let us join our friends above,

That have obtained the prize,

at the very hour when the poet of Methodism joined the company in heaven. By a mistake in the address of the letter, news of his brother’s death did not reach Wesley till the day before the funeral. He was then at Maccles field, so that he could not join the sorrowing company in the little graveyard of the old parish church at Marylebone, near Charles Wesley’s residence. A fortnight later, when he attempted to give out his brother’s hymn on “Wrestling Jacob” at Bolton, he broke down at those touching lines,

My company before is gone,

And I am left alone with Thee.

The patriarch burst into a flood of tears, sat down in the pulpit, and buried his face in his hands. The singing ceased, and all the congregation wept together. In a little while Wesley recovered himself, and was able to proceed with a service never to be forgotten by those who were present.

On his return from the north in the middle of July, Wesley spent an hour with his “widowed sister and her children.” “They all seemed inclined,” he said, “to make the right use of the late providential dispensation.” He did everything in his power to supply his brother’s place to his niece and his two nephews—the famous organists. When Sarah Wesley needed change of air, he begged her to consult Dr. Whitehead, his favourite physician, and promised her ten or twenty pounds if she went to Harrogate. No one could have been more ten­derly careful of the widow and her children. It was a great grief to Wesley that the brother with whom he had been so intimately associated at the University and in Georgia, as well as throughout the course of the Great Revival, should have refused to be buried at City Road. That ground was unconsecrated. Charles Wesley was too stout a Churchman to consent to his burial there. He preferred to rest in the graveyard of the parish in which he resided. The brothers therefore lie apart. John Wesley sleeps under the shadow of the metropolitan church of Methodism; Charles rests with his wife and two sons behind the old parish church of Marylebone.