1760.
1760Age 57
WESLEY began the year 1760 at Norwich, by holding a service at four o’clock in the morning. On January 7, he returned to London, and preached in West Street chapel, now enlarged and thoroughly repaired.
Wesley was a philanthropist; hence the following letter, published inLloyd’s Evening Post, of February 22, 1760.
“Windmill Hill,February 18, 1760.“Sir,—On Sunday, December 16 last, I received a £20 bank bill, from an anonymous correspondent, who desired me to lay it out, in the manner I judged best, for the use of poor prisoners. I immediately employed some in whom I could confide, to inquire into the circumstances of those confined in Whitechapel and New prison. I knew the former to have very little allowance, even of bread, and the latter none at all. Upon inquiry, they found one poor woman in Whitechapel prison, very big with child, and destitute of all things. At the same time, I casually heard of a poor man, who had been confined for nine months in the Poultry Compter, while his wife and three children (whom he before maintained by his labour) were almost perishing through want. Not long after, another poor woman, who had been diligent in helping others, was herself thrown into Whitechapel prison. The expense of discharging these three, and giving them a few necessaries, amounted to £10 10s.One pound and fourteen shillings I expended in stockings and other clothing, which was given to those prisoners who were in the most pressing want. The remainder, £7 16s.was laid out in bread, which was warily distributed thrice a week. I am, therefore, assured that the whole of this sum was laid out in real charity. And how much more noble a satisfaction must result from this, to the generous benefactor, than he could receive from an embroidered suit of clothes, or a piece of plate, made in the newest fashion! Men of reason, judge!“I am, sir, your humble servant,“John Wesley.”
“Windmill Hill,February 18, 1760.
“Sir,—On Sunday, December 16 last, I received a £20 bank bill, from an anonymous correspondent, who desired me to lay it out, in the manner I judged best, for the use of poor prisoners. I immediately employed some in whom I could confide, to inquire into the circumstances of those confined in Whitechapel and New prison. I knew the former to have very little allowance, even of bread, and the latter none at all. Upon inquiry, they found one poor woman in Whitechapel prison, very big with child, and destitute of all things. At the same time, I casually heard of a poor man, who had been confined for nine months in the Poultry Compter, while his wife and three children (whom he before maintained by his labour) were almost perishing through want. Not long after, another poor woman, who had been diligent in helping others, was herself thrown into Whitechapel prison. The expense of discharging these three, and giving them a few necessaries, amounted to £10 10s.One pound and fourteen shillings I expended in stockings and other clothing, which was given to those prisoners who were in the most pressing want. The remainder, £7 16s.was laid out in bread, which was warily distributed thrice a week. I am, therefore, assured that the whole of this sum was laid out in real charity. And how much more noble a satisfaction must result from this, to the generous benefactor, than he could receive from an embroidered suit of clothes, or a piece of plate, made in the newest fashion! Men of reason, judge!
“I am, sir, your humble servant,
“John Wesley.”
On the 3rd of March, Wesley left London, on a tour which occupied the next six months.
At Towcester, he found one converted person; and at Birmingham, a society of a little more than fifty. At Wednesbury, he preached in the new chapel, whose congregation, either in number or seriousness, had few superiors. In fact,the five o’clock morning congregation exceeded that of the Foundery in London. Here, also, he found two females professing to have received the blessing of entire sanctification, and prayed, “May God increase the number a thousand fold!” At Burslem, “a scattered town, inhabited almost entirely by potters,” he preached thrice. Some of his congregation “seemed quite innocent of thought; five or six laughed and talked nearly all the time; and one threw a clod of earth, which struck his head, but which neither disturbed him nor his congregation.” At Congleton, he preached from a scaffold, fixed in the window of the chapel, to a crowd assembled in an adjoining meadow. In making his way from Stockport to Leeds, his horse was “embogged,” on the top of a high mountain; he was thrown into the morass; and then had a walk which, “for steepness, and bogs, and big stones intermixed,” was such as even he had not before encountered.
From Leeds, Wesley proceeded to Liverpool, where he had a lengthened interview with John Newton. “His case,” says he, “is very peculiar. Our Church requires that clergymen should be men of learning, and, to this end, have a university education. But how many have a university education, and yet no learning at all! Yet these men are ordained! Meantime, one of eminent learning, as well as unblamable behaviour, cannot be ordained,because he wasnot at the university! What a mere farce is this! Who would believe that any Christian bishop would stoop to so poor an evasion!”
At this period, there existed between Newton and Wesley the sincerest friendship. Hence the following letter, written a few months after.
“September 9, 1760.“Reverend and dear Sir,—I have taken a double journey since I saw you, to London and to Yorkshire. I had a very agreeable progress, found a happy revival in several places, and made many valuable acquaintance, particularly among the clergy. It gave me much pleasure to see the same work promoted by very different instruments; all contentions laid aside; and the only point of dispute, amidst some variety of sentiments, seeming to be this, who should labour most to recommend and to adorn the gospel.“It was with some regret, I heard you were so near as at Parkgate, without coming over to us at Liverpool. Had I known it in time, I would gladly have met you there, but you were gone. Our next pleasure willbe to hear from yourself of your welfare. I inquired several times after Mr. Charles Wesley, when in London, but he was in the country, and out of the reach of a stranger’s importunity; though, had he been in health, I believe the distance would not have secured him from a visit. I should be glad to hear the Lord has restored him to his former strength and usefulness.“I hope, dear sir, you will still allow me a place in your friendship, correspondence, and prayers; and believe me to be your obliged and affectionate servant in our dear Lord,“John Newton.”[373]
“September 9, 1760.
“Reverend and dear Sir,—I have taken a double journey since I saw you, to London and to Yorkshire. I had a very agreeable progress, found a happy revival in several places, and made many valuable acquaintance, particularly among the clergy. It gave me much pleasure to see the same work promoted by very different instruments; all contentions laid aside; and the only point of dispute, amidst some variety of sentiments, seeming to be this, who should labour most to recommend and to adorn the gospel.
“It was with some regret, I heard you were so near as at Parkgate, without coming over to us at Liverpool. Had I known it in time, I would gladly have met you there, but you were gone. Our next pleasure willbe to hear from yourself of your welfare. I inquired several times after Mr. Charles Wesley, when in London, but he was in the country, and out of the reach of a stranger’s importunity; though, had he been in health, I believe the distance would not have secured him from a visit. I should be glad to hear the Lord has restored him to his former strength and usefulness.
“I hope, dear sir, you will still allow me a place in your friendship, correspondence, and prayers; and believe me to be your obliged and affectionate servant in our dear Lord,
“John Newton.”[373]
On March 30, Wesley embarked for Ireland, and, on April 6, Easter Sunday, introduced, at Dublin, the English custom of beginning religious service at four o’clock in the morning. The Dublin society was larger now than it had been for several years, consisting of more than five hundred members.
After three weeks’ labour in Dublin, he started for the provinces. At Terryhugan, he “spent a comfortable night in the prophet’s chamber, nine feet long, seven broad, and six high, the ceiling, floor, and walls all made of clay.” At Moira, his pulpit was a tombstone near the church. At Lisburn, the people were “all ear.” Newtown had usually the largest Methodist congregation in Ulster. At Belfast, he preached in the market-place “to a people who cared for none of those things.”
On the 5th of May, he came to Carrickfergus. Some months before, John Smith, one of Wesley’s itinerants, was preaching in an inland town, in the north of Ireland, when he made a sudden pause, and then exclaimed, “Ah! the French have just landed at Carrickfergus!” The mayor heard this, and, sending for the preacher, reprimanded him for exciting a needless alarm and disturbing the public tranquillity. Strangely enough, however, Smith’s utterance was correct; and, in a few hours, an express arrived with the intelligence, that Thurot had landed a thousand soldiers, commanded by General Cavignac, and that they had taken possession of the town.[374]Thurot had been tossed about by storms, till he and all his men were almost famished, having only an ounce ofbread per man daily. Their object in landing was chiefly to obtain provisions; but fighting followed; the garrison was conquered; and articles of capitulation were signed. Five days afterwards, Thurot set sail again, and was met by three English frigates. A battle ensued (February 28), and three hundred of the enemy were killed and wounded, Thurot himself being shot through the heart.[375]
General Cavignac was at Carrickfergus at the time of Wesley’s visit, and was resident in the house of Mr. Cobham, who also invited Wesley to be his guest. The following letter, to Mr. Blackwell, refers to these events.
“Carrickfergus,May 7, 1760.“Dear Sir,—I can now give you a clear and full account of the late proceedings of the French here; as I now lodge at Mr. Cobham’s, under the same roof with Monsieur Cavignac, the French lieutenant-general. When the people here saw three large ships anchor near the town, they took it for granted they were English; but, in an hour, the French began landing their men. The first party came to the north gate. Twelve soldiers, planted on the wall, fired on them as they advanced, wounded the general, and killed several. But when they had fired four rounds, having no more ammunition, they were obliged to retire. The French then entered the town, keeping a steady fire up the street, till they came near the castle. The English then fired hotly from the gates and walls, and killed their second general, who had burst open the gate, and gone in, sword in hand, with upwards of fourscore men. Having no more cartridges, the English soldiers thought it best to capitulate. They agreed to furnish, in six hours, a certain quantity of provisions, on condition that the French should not plunder. But they began immediately to serve themselves with meat and drink, and took all that they could find, chiefly from the houses where the inhabitants had run away. However, they neither hurt nor affronted man, woman, or child, nor did any mischief for mischief’s sake; though many of the inhabitants affronted them, cursed them to their face, and even took up pokers and other things to strike them.“I have had much conversation with Monsieur Cavignac, and have found him not only a very sensible man, but thoroughly instructed even in heart religion. After one general was killed, and the other wounded, the command devolved on him. I asked him, if it was true that they had a design to burn Carrick and Belfast. He cried out, ‘Jesu, Maria!we never had such a thought. To burn, to destroy, cannot enter into the head or heart of a good man.’ One would think, the French king sent these men on purpose to show what officers he has inhis army. I hope there are some such in the English army; but I never found them yet.“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,“John Wesley.”
“Carrickfergus,May 7, 1760.
“Dear Sir,—I can now give you a clear and full account of the late proceedings of the French here; as I now lodge at Mr. Cobham’s, under the same roof with Monsieur Cavignac, the French lieutenant-general. When the people here saw three large ships anchor near the town, they took it for granted they were English; but, in an hour, the French began landing their men. The first party came to the north gate. Twelve soldiers, planted on the wall, fired on them as they advanced, wounded the general, and killed several. But when they had fired four rounds, having no more ammunition, they were obliged to retire. The French then entered the town, keeping a steady fire up the street, till they came near the castle. The English then fired hotly from the gates and walls, and killed their second general, who had burst open the gate, and gone in, sword in hand, with upwards of fourscore men. Having no more cartridges, the English soldiers thought it best to capitulate. They agreed to furnish, in six hours, a certain quantity of provisions, on condition that the French should not plunder. But they began immediately to serve themselves with meat and drink, and took all that they could find, chiefly from the houses where the inhabitants had run away. However, they neither hurt nor affronted man, woman, or child, nor did any mischief for mischief’s sake; though many of the inhabitants affronted them, cursed them to their face, and even took up pokers and other things to strike them.
“I have had much conversation with Monsieur Cavignac, and have found him not only a very sensible man, but thoroughly instructed even in heart religion. After one general was killed, and the other wounded, the command devolved on him. I asked him, if it was true that they had a design to burn Carrick and Belfast. He cried out, ‘Jesu, Maria!we never had such a thought. To burn, to destroy, cannot enter into the head or heart of a good man.’ One would think, the French king sent these men on purpose to show what officers he has inhis army. I hope there are some such in the English army; but I never found them yet.
“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,
“John Wesley.”
Wesley further tells us, that his host, Mr. Cobham, was sent to Belfast, to obtain the provisions for the French that had been promised, and had to leave his wife with General Cavignac, as an hostage for his return. During his absence, Thurot himself entered Mr. Cobham’s house, and stated that he had neither ate nor slept for eight and forty hours. The commodore was hospitably entertained; and, after six hours of rest, he politely thanked his Irish hostess, and went aboard his ship.
Wesley had lengthened conversations with Cavignac, not only on affairs in general, but on religion. “He seemed,” says he, “to startle at nothing; but said more than once, and with emotion, ‘Why, this is my religion; there is no true religion besides it!’”
The following is an extract from another letter to Mr. Blackwell, and, though written some days previous to the former one, refers to the same subject.
“Newry,April 26, 1760.“Dear Sir,—Hitherto I have had an extremely prosperous journey; and all the fields are white unto the harvest. But that the labourers are few, is not the only hindrance to the gathering it in effectually. Of these few, some are careless, some heavy and dull; scarce one of the spirit of Thomas Walsh. The nearest to it is Mr. Morgan; but his body too sinks under him, and probably will not last long.“In a few days, I expect to be at Carrickfergus, and to hear from those on whose word I can depend, a full account of that celebrated campaign. I believe it will be of use to the whole kingdom. Probably, the government will at last awake, and be a little better prepared against the next encounter.“I am, dear sir, your ever affectionate servant,“John Wesley.”[376]
“Newry,April 26, 1760.
“Dear Sir,—Hitherto I have had an extremely prosperous journey; and all the fields are white unto the harvest. But that the labourers are few, is not the only hindrance to the gathering it in effectually. Of these few, some are careless, some heavy and dull; scarce one of the spirit of Thomas Walsh. The nearest to it is Mr. Morgan; but his body too sinks under him, and probably will not last long.
“In a few days, I expect to be at Carrickfergus, and to hear from those on whose word I can depend, a full account of that celebrated campaign. I believe it will be of use to the whole kingdom. Probably, the government will at last awake, and be a little better prepared against the next encounter.
“I am, dear sir, your ever affectionate servant,
“John Wesley.”[376]
Leaving Carrickfergus, Wesley proceeded to Larn, where he had “a very large, as well as serious congregation.” At Garvah, he preached in the house of Mr. Burrows to a “well behaved audience of churchmen, papists, presbyterians, and Cameronians.” At Ballymena, he had “a large concourseof people.” At Coot Hill, he preached to “most of the protestants in the town.” At Belturbet, there was neither papist nor presbyterian in the place; but there were “abundance of sabbath breakers, drunkards, and common swearers.” At Sligo, “the congregation was a little disturbed, by two or three giddy officers.” At Newport, “all the protestants of the town were present, and many of the papists, notwithstanding the prohibition and bitter curses of their priests.” At Castlebar, all the gentlemen of the surrounding country were assembled to hear a trial about the plunder of a Swedish ship. “It was to be heard,” says Wesley, “in the court house, where I preached; so they met an hour sooner, and heard the sermon first.”
Having been to the extreme west of Ireland, Wesley was now returning to the east, accompanied by William Ley and James Glasbrook, two of his itinerants. On reaching Carrick upon Shannon, he had no sooner begun to preach, than a magistrate came with a mob and a drum to silence him. While the magistrate harangued the mob in the street, Wesley quietly removed his congregation into the garden behind the house. William Ley was standing at the door. The magistrate, armed with a halbert and a sword, ran at him, and, striking him, broke his halbert upon William’s wrist. The mobmaster pushed along the passage to the other door, but found James Glasbrook holding it so firmly on the outer side, that egress into the garden was impossible. Not to be foiled, the magistrate and his minions ran round the house, climbed over the garden wall, and, with a volley of oaths and curses, rushed up to Wesley, bawling, “You shall not preach here to-day.” “Sir,” said Wesley, with the most provoking calmness, “I don’t intend it; for I have preached already.” The man now foamed more furiously than ever. He belaboured poor James Glasbrook with the truncheon of his halbert till it snapped asunder; and then took vengeance on Wesley’s hat, which, says Wesley, “he beat and kicked most valiantly; but a gentleman rescued it out of his hands, and we rode quietly out of the town.”
Wesley now made his way to Tyrrell’s Pass, where “a heap of fine, gay people came on Sunday in their postchaises to the preaching.” At Portarlington, he preached at five o’clockin the morning; and again “at ten, for the sake of the gentry: but,” he adds, “even that was too early, they could not rise so soon.” At Coolylough, he “found a congregation gathered from twenty miles round; and held the quarterly meeting of the stewards, a company of settled, sensible men. Nothing,” says he, “is wanting in this kingdom but zealous, active preachers, tenacious of order and exact discipline.” At Sligo, “a large, commodious” preaching room had been procured since his previous visit, and here he spent five days, preaching in the market, the barrack yard, and other places.
Preaching daily, and riding long journeys over the roughest roads, and on all kinds of horses down to one “about the size of a jackass,” Wesley came to Limerick on July 4, where he held a three days’ conference with ten of his Irish preachers. He then proceeded to the settlements of the Palatines at Ballygarrane, Killeheen, and Court Mattrass, three towns scarcely to be equalled; for there was “no cursing or swearing, no sabbath breaking, no drunkenness, no alehouse, in any of them.” At Clare, he preached in the new chapel; and at Clonmel, near the barracks, “to a wild, staring people,” whom the soldiers present kept quiet. At Bandon, he found a new meeting-house, “very neat and lightsome.” At Kinsale, his congregation consisted of “a multitude of soldiers, and not a few of the dull careless townsfolk.” “Surely,” says he, “good might be done here, would our preachers always preach in the Exchange, as they might without any molestation, instead of a little, ugly, dirty garret.”
After a tour of thirteen weeks, Wesley got back to Dublin on the 20th of July. He had preached scores of sermons, travelled many hundreds of miles, been subjected to great hardships, and sometimes to serious danger; but, in the midst of all, God was with him, and he was happy and prosperous in his glorious work. In making up the numbers, he found that there were, in Connaught, a little more than two hundred members; in Ulster, about two hundred and fifty; in Leinster, a thousand; and in Munster, about six hundred.
Wesley was now obliged to leave Ireland for the purpose of attending the Bristol conference, which was to open on July 25. Five days only were left to make the journey,—ample time as things are now, but not so in the days of Wesley.Then there were no steamers crossing the channel daily; and even sailing vessels then were remarkable for nothing except their want of punctuality. Wesley had been advised, that Captain Dansey would sail on the 19th or 20th; but, on arriving at Dublin, he found he would not start, at the earliest, before the 25th, on which day Wesley had arranged to begin his conference in Bristol. He then inquired for a Chester ship, and found one was expected to sail on the 22nd; but, in the morning of that day, the captain sent him word he had to wait for General Montague. Such delays were trying; but Wesley calmly writes: “So we have one day more to spend in Ireland. Let us live this day as if it were our last.” At length, on July 24, he and forty or fifty other passengers embarked for Chester, and, after a two days’ voyage, during which there were two dead calms, and Wesley preached two good sermons, they landed at Parkgate, thirty-six hours after Wesley ought to have been in Bristol. For nothing was Wesley more famed than for his strictness in fulfilling his appointments. The passengers were landed at Parkgate, but, it being the time of low water, Wesley’s horses could not be landed. To wait for high water and his horses was out of question; hence, he bought one and hired another, and set out for Bristol with the utmost speed. At Wolverhampton, his new horses failed and were unable to proceed farther. Fresh ones were hired, and the others left behind; but no sooner had Wesley and his companion started on their newly acquired nags, than one fell lame, and the other, which Wesley rode, tumbled, and gave its rider a most serious shock. At length, with great difficulty, they got to Newport; and there, abandoning their horses, they took a chaise, and reached Bristol a little before midnight on July 28. He writes: “I spent the two following days with the preachers, who had been waiting for me all the week; and their love and unanimity were such as soon made me forget all my labour.”
This is all we know concerning the conference of 1760. It began on July 29, and ended on July 30. Wesley had been six months from London and his wife; and yet, on the very next day but one after his conference concluded, he set out on another month’s tour to Cornwall. But here we must make a pause, to insert some of Wesley’s letters.
We have seen that a year and a half previous to this, Wesley had become acquainted with Berridge, a devoted Christian and an able and useful minister; but an eccentric genius, and sometimes conceited and somewhat obstinate. Wesley, in more respects than one, was a mostfaithfulfriend. Hence the letter following.
“Dublin,April 18, 1760.“Dear Sir,—Disce, docendus adhuc quo censet amiculus; and take it in good part, my mentioning some particulars which have been long on my mind: and yet, I knew not how to speak them. I was afraid it might look like taking too much upon me, or assuming some superiority over you. But love casts out, or, at least, overrules that fear. So I will speak simply, and leave you to judge.“It seems to me, that, of all persons I ever knew, save one, you are thehardest to be convinced. I have occasionally spoken to you on many heads; some of a speculative, others of a practical nature; but I do not know that you were ever convinced of one, whether of great importance or small. I believe you retained your own opinion in every one, and did not vary a hair’s breadth.“I have likewise doubted whether you were not full ashard to be persuaded, as to be convinced: whether your will do not adhere to its first basis, right or wrong, as strongly as your understanding. I mean with regard to any impression, which another may make upon them. For, perhaps, you readily—too readily change of your own mere motion; so that it is not easy to please you long, but exceeding easy to offend you. I have frequently observed greatficklenessand greatstubbornnessmeet in the same mind.“Does not this imply thethinkingveryhighlyofyourself? Does it not imply something ofselfsufficiency? ‘You can stand alone; you care for no man. You need no help from man.’ It was not so with my brother and me, when we were first employed in this great work. We were deeply conscious of our own insufficiency; and though, in one sense, we trusted in God alone, yet we sought help from all His children, and were glad to be taught by any man. And this, although we were really alone in the work; for there were none that had gone before us therein. There were none then in England, who had trod that path, wherein God was leading us. Whereasyouhave the advantage which we had not; you tread in a beaten path. Others have gone before you, and are going now in the same way, to the same point. Yet it seems youchooseto stand alone; what was necessity withus, is choice withyou. You like to be unconnected with any, thereby tacitly condemning all. But possibly you go farther yet. Do not you explicitly condemn all your fellow labourers, blaming one in one instance, one in another, so as to be thoroughly pleased with the conduct of none? Does not this argue a very high degree of censoriousness? Do you not censure evenperitos in sua arte?“Permit me to relate a little circumstance to illustrate this. After we had been once singing a hymn at Everton, I was just going to say, ‘I wish Mr. Whitefield would not try tomendmy brother’s hymns. He cannot do it. How vilely he has murdered that hymn!weakeningthe sense, as well asmarringthe poetry!’ But how was I afterwards surprised to hear it was not Mr. Whitefield but Mr. Berridge! In very deed, it is not easy tomendhis hymns, any more than to imitate them.“Has not this aptness to find fault frequently shown itself in abundance of other instances? Sometimes with regard to Mr. Parker, or Mr. Hicks; sometimes with regard to me. And this may be one reason why you take one step which was scarce ever before taken in Christendom: I mean the discouraging of the new converts from reading, at least, from reading anything but the Bible. Nay, but get off the consequence who can: if they ought toreadnothing but the Bible, they ought tohearnothing but the Bible; so away with sermons, whether spoken or written! I can hardly imagine, that you discourage reading even our little tracts out of jealousy, lest we should undermine you, or steal away the affections of the people. I think you cannot easily suspect this. I myself did not desire to come among them; but you desired me to come. I should not have obtruded myself either upon them or you; for I have really work enough; full as much as either my body or mind is able to go through; and I have (blessed be God!) friends enough, I mean as many as I have time to converse with; nevertheless, I never repented of that I spent at Everton: I trust it was not spent in vain.“I have not time to throw these thoughts into a smoother form. May the God, whom you serve, give you to form a right judgment concerning them, and give a blessing to the rough sincerity of, dear sir, your affectionate servant,“John Wesley.”[377]
“Dublin,April 18, 1760.
“Dear Sir,—Disce, docendus adhuc quo censet amiculus; and take it in good part, my mentioning some particulars which have been long on my mind: and yet, I knew not how to speak them. I was afraid it might look like taking too much upon me, or assuming some superiority over you. But love casts out, or, at least, overrules that fear. So I will speak simply, and leave you to judge.
“It seems to me, that, of all persons I ever knew, save one, you are thehardest to be convinced. I have occasionally spoken to you on many heads; some of a speculative, others of a practical nature; but I do not know that you were ever convinced of one, whether of great importance or small. I believe you retained your own opinion in every one, and did not vary a hair’s breadth.
“I have likewise doubted whether you were not full ashard to be persuaded, as to be convinced: whether your will do not adhere to its first basis, right or wrong, as strongly as your understanding. I mean with regard to any impression, which another may make upon them. For, perhaps, you readily—too readily change of your own mere motion; so that it is not easy to please you long, but exceeding easy to offend you. I have frequently observed greatficklenessand greatstubbornnessmeet in the same mind.
“Does not this imply thethinkingveryhighlyofyourself? Does it not imply something ofselfsufficiency? ‘You can stand alone; you care for no man. You need no help from man.’ It was not so with my brother and me, when we were first employed in this great work. We were deeply conscious of our own insufficiency; and though, in one sense, we trusted in God alone, yet we sought help from all His children, and were glad to be taught by any man. And this, although we were really alone in the work; for there were none that had gone before us therein. There were none then in England, who had trod that path, wherein God was leading us. Whereasyouhave the advantage which we had not; you tread in a beaten path. Others have gone before you, and are going now in the same way, to the same point. Yet it seems youchooseto stand alone; what was necessity withus, is choice withyou. You like to be unconnected with any, thereby tacitly condemning all. But possibly you go farther yet. Do not you explicitly condemn all your fellow labourers, blaming one in one instance, one in another, so as to be thoroughly pleased with the conduct of none? Does not this argue a very high degree of censoriousness? Do you not censure evenperitos in sua arte?
“Permit me to relate a little circumstance to illustrate this. After we had been once singing a hymn at Everton, I was just going to say, ‘I wish Mr. Whitefield would not try tomendmy brother’s hymns. He cannot do it. How vilely he has murdered that hymn!weakeningthe sense, as well asmarringthe poetry!’ But how was I afterwards surprised to hear it was not Mr. Whitefield but Mr. Berridge! In very deed, it is not easy tomendhis hymns, any more than to imitate them.
“Has not this aptness to find fault frequently shown itself in abundance of other instances? Sometimes with regard to Mr. Parker, or Mr. Hicks; sometimes with regard to me. And this may be one reason why you take one step which was scarce ever before taken in Christendom: I mean the discouraging of the new converts from reading, at least, from reading anything but the Bible. Nay, but get off the consequence who can: if they ought toreadnothing but the Bible, they ought tohearnothing but the Bible; so away with sermons, whether spoken or written! I can hardly imagine, that you discourage reading even our little tracts out of jealousy, lest we should undermine you, or steal away the affections of the people. I think you cannot easily suspect this. I myself did not desire to come among them; but you desired me to come. I should not have obtruded myself either upon them or you; for I have really work enough; full as much as either my body or mind is able to go through; and I have (blessed be God!) friends enough, I mean as many as I have time to converse with; nevertheless, I never repented of that I spent at Everton: I trust it was not spent in vain.
“I have not time to throw these thoughts into a smoother form. May the God, whom you serve, give you to form a right judgment concerning them, and give a blessing to the rough sincerity of, dear sir, your affectionate servant,
“John Wesley.”[377]
Seven months elapsed before Wesley received an answer, which was as follows.
“Everton,November 22, 1760.“Dear Sir,—I received your letter from Ireland, and purposely delayed my answer till your return to England, that I might not write in a spirit unbecoming the gospel. I wish all that love the Lord Jesus Christ were perfectly agreed in their religious sentiments; but this, I find, is a matter rather to be wished than expected. Perhaps a little disagreement, in non-essentials, may be designed as one part of our trial, for the exercise of our candour and patience.“I discourage the reading of any books, except the Bible and the Homilies, not because of the jealousy mentioned by you, but because I find they, who read many books, usually neglect the Bible, and soon become eager disputants, and in the end turn out predestinarians. At least, this has so happened with me. If my sentiments do not yet altogetherharmonise with yours, they differ the least from yours of any others. And as there is nothing catching or cankering in those sentiments of yours which are contrary to mine, I am not only willing but desirous you should preach at Everton, as often as you can favour us with your company.“Last week, I was at Bedford, and preached to your society; from whom I heard you were returned from the west, and purposed to come amongst us soon. Will you call at Everton, as you go to, or return from Bedford? You will be welcome. My invitation is sincere and friendly: accept of it. I send my love to your brother, and to all that labour among you. May grace, mercy, and peace be multiplied on you, and your affectionate servant,“John Berridge.”[378]
“Everton,November 22, 1760.
“Dear Sir,—I received your letter from Ireland, and purposely delayed my answer till your return to England, that I might not write in a spirit unbecoming the gospel. I wish all that love the Lord Jesus Christ were perfectly agreed in their religious sentiments; but this, I find, is a matter rather to be wished than expected. Perhaps a little disagreement, in non-essentials, may be designed as one part of our trial, for the exercise of our candour and patience.
“I discourage the reading of any books, except the Bible and the Homilies, not because of the jealousy mentioned by you, but because I find they, who read many books, usually neglect the Bible, and soon become eager disputants, and in the end turn out predestinarians. At least, this has so happened with me. If my sentiments do not yet altogetherharmonise with yours, they differ the least from yours of any others. And as there is nothing catching or cankering in those sentiments of yours which are contrary to mine, I am not only willing but desirous you should preach at Everton, as often as you can favour us with your company.
“Last week, I was at Bedford, and preached to your society; from whom I heard you were returned from the west, and purposed to come amongst us soon. Will you call at Everton, as you go to, or return from Bedford? You will be welcome. My invitation is sincere and friendly: accept of it. I send my love to your brother, and to all that labour among you. May grace, mercy, and peace be multiplied on you, and your affectionate servant,
“John Berridge.”[378]
Charles Wesley was an itinerant preacher no longer. He preached at London and at Bristol, and wrote invaluable hymns; but the whole of the rough work of the Methodist movement now devolved upon his brother. This was not fair. Both were married; and, on that ground, both had an equal claim to remain at home. One, however, was happy in his married life; the other not. The following letter to Charles Wesley is characteristic.
“Coolylough,June 23, 1760.“Dear Brother,—Where you are I know not; and how you are, I know not; but I hope the best. Neither you nor John Jones has ever sent me your remarks upon that tract in the late volume of sermons. You are not kind. Why will you not do all you can to make me wiser than I am? Samuel Furley told me his objections at once: so we canvassed them without loss of time. Do you know what is done, anything or nothing, with regard to the small edition of the Notes?“Mr. I’anson writes me a long account of the Sussex affair. It is of more consequence than our people seem to apprehend. If we do not exert ourselves, it must drive us to that bad dilemma, leave preaching, or leave the Church. We have reason to thank God, it is not come to this yet. Perhaps it never may.“In this kingdom, nothing is wanting but a few more zealous and active labourers. James Morgan, John Johnson, and two or three more do their best: the rest spare themselves.“I hope Sally and your little ones are well. Where and how is my wife? I wrote to her on Saturday last. Adieu!“Where must the conference be? at Leeds or Bristol? If we could but chain or gag the blatant beast, there would be no difficulty.“I am, etc.,“John Wesley.”[379]
“Coolylough,June 23, 1760.
“Dear Brother,—Where you are I know not; and how you are, I know not; but I hope the best. Neither you nor John Jones has ever sent me your remarks upon that tract in the late volume of sermons. You are not kind. Why will you not do all you can to make me wiser than I am? Samuel Furley told me his objections at once: so we canvassed them without loss of time. Do you know what is done, anything or nothing, with regard to the small edition of the Notes?
“Mr. I’anson writes me a long account of the Sussex affair. It is of more consequence than our people seem to apprehend. If we do not exert ourselves, it must drive us to that bad dilemma, leave preaching, or leave the Church. We have reason to thank God, it is not come to this yet. Perhaps it never may.
“In this kingdom, nothing is wanting but a few more zealous and active labourers. James Morgan, John Johnson, and two or three more do their best: the rest spare themselves.
“I hope Sally and your little ones are well. Where and how is my wife? I wrote to her on Saturday last. Adieu!
“Where must the conference be? at Leeds or Bristol? If we could but chain or gag the blatant beast, there would be no difficulty.
“I am, etc.,
“John Wesley.”[379]
What Wesley calls “the Sussex affair” was probably[380]a trial at the sessions held at Maidstone. On the 13th of March, fifteen Methodists, including the family, met in the house of Thomas Osborne, at Rolvenden, for religious worship. Information of this being given to a neighbouring magistrate, he thought proper to put into execution the law made in the reign of Charles II., to prevent and suppress conventicles; and, accordingly, summoned what was called “the vagrant itinerant Methodist preacher,” who exhorted in the meeting, to appear before him; and then convicted him in the sum of £20. Besides this, Thomas Osborne, the master of the house, was also fined £20; and fourteen hearers five shillings each. All these penalties, amounting to £43 10s., were paid to the magistrate on March 29. The parties, however, appealed to the next quarter sessions, which were held on April 15, Charles Whitworth, Esq., M.P. for Minehead, in the chair, and a whole bevy of magistrates on the bench. These illustrious worthies confirmed the convictions. Upon this the appellants applied to the court of King’s Bench for writs ofcertiorari, to remove the convictions and appeals to that court of justice, and to have the judgment of the court thereupon. Accordingly, in Trinity term, 1760, the writs were granted, and, on the 3rd of June, the case was argued. After hearing counsel on both sides, the court quashed the convictions of the magistrate and of the sessions, and so the matter ended.[381]
Another letter, though not by Wesley, but addressed to him, deserves insertion here. The necessity for a Methodist training college for young evangelists, and for provision for superannuated preachers and preachers’ widows, was felt long before funds for such purposes were raised.
“Snisby,July 12, 1760.“Reverend and dear Sir,—I would have done myself the pleasure to have met you at your conference, but, having two churches to supply, and none at that time to assist me, I must lay aside all thoughts of it.“I need not tell you what Mr. Tizzard has been doing in these parts,as he is with you to give you an account himself. But as his labours are a good deal intermixed with mine, I take the liberty to offer my advice concerning carrying on the work hereabouts. W. Kendrick is expelled from his societies for his adulteries; his people are in great confusion; and it is generally thought, that the sincere part of them will renounce their errors, and come over to us. Some have done so already; and others say, ‘We have been deceived: we have been mumbling the shell, while those whom we have despised have been eating the kernel.’ R. Gillespy, for the same crime, is expelled from among the baptists. Through the offence occasioned by these two poor wretches, the minds of many of the people are rendered sore; and some are wavering. Excepting Markfield, and two or three other places, all your societies here are in their infancy; and, because of all this, I think it would not be amiss if Mr. Tizzard were continued another quarter in this round, as he seems to be pretty well received in most places. But if it be thought proper to remove him, I must advise you to send a picked man,—a man of gifts, of grace, of prudence, of seriousness, and of a tender, healing spirit; for such an one is necessary for the people he will have to deal with.“What say you to an hospital for poor superannuated Methodist preachers, and for travelling preachers’ wives; together with a college for a master and four fellows, and a certain number of students, to be chosen from Kingswood school, or elsewhere? To build and endow such a place would be a very great expense; yet, I am persuaded, not too great for the Methodists to bear, if they had only a willing mind. To make a beginning, I will promise to subscribe £20 down, as soon as such an undertaking shall be agreed upon. I will not say how much more at present. How many have you in society that can afford to give £1 apiece? How many that can and will give that and more? How many, that are much more able than I, that will give but half as much? If the ends proposed be thought worth obtaining, consider at your conference what can be done in it. Make an estimate of what you think can be raised. I apprehend such an undertaking would free the preachers from many fears and cares, which must now almost necessarily attend them. Under God, it would be a sure means of perpetuating the work for ever, which you have begun, as there would be from hence a constant supply of travelling preachers to spread abroad the doctrine you have revived. It would ease the societies of considerable expense hereafter; and would be the means of causing the gospel to keep a footing in some of our churches for ever, beside other good ends that might be mentioned. May the Lord be with you, and direct you in your consultations, and prosper all your undertakings, for His glory and the good of mankind!“I am, dear sir, your unworthy brother in Christ,“Walter Sellon.”[382]
“Snisby,July 12, 1760.
“Reverend and dear Sir,—I would have done myself the pleasure to have met you at your conference, but, having two churches to supply, and none at that time to assist me, I must lay aside all thoughts of it.
“I need not tell you what Mr. Tizzard has been doing in these parts,as he is with you to give you an account himself. But as his labours are a good deal intermixed with mine, I take the liberty to offer my advice concerning carrying on the work hereabouts. W. Kendrick is expelled from his societies for his adulteries; his people are in great confusion; and it is generally thought, that the sincere part of them will renounce their errors, and come over to us. Some have done so already; and others say, ‘We have been deceived: we have been mumbling the shell, while those whom we have despised have been eating the kernel.’ R. Gillespy, for the same crime, is expelled from among the baptists. Through the offence occasioned by these two poor wretches, the minds of many of the people are rendered sore; and some are wavering. Excepting Markfield, and two or three other places, all your societies here are in their infancy; and, because of all this, I think it would not be amiss if Mr. Tizzard were continued another quarter in this round, as he seems to be pretty well received in most places. But if it be thought proper to remove him, I must advise you to send a picked man,—a man of gifts, of grace, of prudence, of seriousness, and of a tender, healing spirit; for such an one is necessary for the people he will have to deal with.
“What say you to an hospital for poor superannuated Methodist preachers, and for travelling preachers’ wives; together with a college for a master and four fellows, and a certain number of students, to be chosen from Kingswood school, or elsewhere? To build and endow such a place would be a very great expense; yet, I am persuaded, not too great for the Methodists to bear, if they had only a willing mind. To make a beginning, I will promise to subscribe £20 down, as soon as such an undertaking shall be agreed upon. I will not say how much more at present. How many have you in society that can afford to give £1 apiece? How many that can and will give that and more? How many, that are much more able than I, that will give but half as much? If the ends proposed be thought worth obtaining, consider at your conference what can be done in it. Make an estimate of what you think can be raised. I apprehend such an undertaking would free the preachers from many fears and cares, which must now almost necessarily attend them. Under God, it would be a sure means of perpetuating the work for ever, which you have begun, as there would be from hence a constant supply of travelling preachers to spread abroad the doctrine you have revived. It would ease the societies of considerable expense hereafter; and would be the means of causing the gospel to keep a footing in some of our churches for ever, beside other good ends that might be mentioned. May the Lord be with you, and direct you in your consultations, and prosper all your undertakings, for His glory and the good of mankind!
“I am, dear sir, your unworthy brother in Christ,
“Walter Sellon.”[382]
Such was the noble scheme of good Walter Sellon, more than seventy years before the first Methodist theological institution was opened. Wesley answered the letter on September 4; but unfortunately his answer has not been found.
After the Bristol conference, Wesley set out, on September 1, for Cornwall. At Launceston, he found “the small remains of a dead, scattered society”; and was not surprised, as they “had scarce any discipline, and only one sermon in a fortnight.” He found another such society at Camelford; “but their deadness was owing to bitterness against each other.” At Port Isaac, the society “diligently observed all the rules, with or without a preacher. They constantly attended the church and sacrament, and met together at the times appointed.” Thirty out of the thirty-five members were walking in the light of God’s countenance. At St. Agnes, he was “surprised and grieved to find, that, out of ninety-eight members, all but three or four had forsaken the Lord’s table.” At St. Ives, a rock served him as “a very convenient pulpit; and nearly all the town, high and low, rich and poor, assembled together.” At St. Just, “abundance of backsliders were present, ten of whom he rejoined to the society, and also added new members.”
Some idea of Wesley’s labours may be formed from the fact that, during his Cornish visit, besides visiting the societies and travelling, he preached thirty times in eleven days. This is not an unfair specimen of his ministerial labours, all over the United Kingdom.
On his return from Cornwall, he found the society at Plymouth reduced from seventy members to thirty-four; and even these were as “dead as stones.” He preached in the church of Maryweek, also at Collumpton, Halberton, Tiverton, and other places, and got back to Bristol on October 3.
During this interval, Wesley wrote as follows to his brother Charles, who was out of health.
“Plymouth,September 28, 1760.“Dear Brother,—I care not a rush for ordinary means; only that it is our duty to try them. All our lives, and all God’s dealings with us, have been extraordinary from the beginning. We have reason, therefore, to expect, that what has been will be again. I have been preternaturally restored more than ten times. I suppose you will thus be restored for thejourney; and that, by the journey, as a natural means, your health will be re-established; provided you determine to spend all the strength which God shall give you in this work.“Cornwall has suffered miserably by my long absence, and the unfaithfulness of the preachers. I left seventeen hundred in the societies, and I find twelve hundred. If possible, you should see Mr. Walker. He has been near a month at the Hot Wells. He is absolutely a Scot in his opinions, but of an excellent spirit. My love to Sally. Adieu.“John Wesley.”[383]
“Plymouth,September 28, 1760.
“Dear Brother,—I care not a rush for ordinary means; only that it is our duty to try them. All our lives, and all God’s dealings with us, have been extraordinary from the beginning. We have reason, therefore, to expect, that what has been will be again. I have been preternaturally restored more than ten times. I suppose you will thus be restored for thejourney; and that, by the journey, as a natural means, your health will be re-established; provided you determine to spend all the strength which God shall give you in this work.
“Cornwall has suffered miserably by my long absence, and the unfaithfulness of the preachers. I left seventeen hundred in the societies, and I find twelve hundred. If possible, you should see Mr. Walker. He has been near a month at the Hot Wells. He is absolutely a Scot in his opinions, but of an excellent spirit. My love to Sally. Adieu.
“John Wesley.”[383]
Wesley spent a month at Bristol, and in its vicinity. He preached a charity sermon in Newgate for the use of poor prisoners. He visited again the French captives at Knowle; and, “in hope of provoking others to jealousy, made another collection for them, and ordered the money to be expended in linen and in waistcoats.” Three days were employed in speaking “severally” to the members of the Bristol society, of whom he writes: “As many of them increase in worldly goods, the great danger I apprehend now is, their relapsing into the spirit of the world; and then their religion is but a dream.” He also took another step of vast importance. He requested the children of the members of society to meet him. Eighty came. Half of these he divided into two classes, two of boys, and two of girls; and appointed proper leaders to meet them separate; he himself meeting them all together twice a week. Were not these Methodism’s firstcatechumenclasses? We think so.
It was during Wesley’s present visit to the city of Bristol, that George II. suddenly expired, in his palace at Kensington, in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and the thirty-fourth of his reign. Wesley writes, perhaps with more loyalty than discrimination: “October 25—King George was gathered to his fathers. When will England have a better prince?” The following Friday was set apart by Wesley and the Bristol society, “as a day of fasting, and prayer for the blessing of God upon the nation, and, in particular, on his present majesty. They met at five, at nine, at one, and at half past eight.”
On November 8, after an eight months’ absence, Wesley got back to London, where, with the exception of a visit toCanterbury and Dover, he continued during the remainder of the year. At the latter place, he found “a serious, earnest people, and some of the best singers in England.” He visited the sick in London, and met the penitents, “a congregation which,” he says, “he wished always to meet himself.” He preached, he prayed, and, as we shall see shortly, wrote letters to the newspapers. The year, from first to last, was full of labour.
Before proceeding to less pleasant topics, the introduction of another letter to Wesley from the pious John Newton may not be deemed an intrusion. Newton had preached for the Dissenters, but was dissatisfied with their ecclesiastical economy. He wished to become a clergyman, but the bishop refused to ordain him. Wesley seems to have proposed to him to join the ranks of the Methodist itinerant preachers. The following is his answer.
“November 14, 1790.“Reverend and dear Sir,—How shall I thank you for the obliging notice you take of me? I wonder you can find time, in the midst of so many more important concerns, to encourage so poor a correspondent. In one sense only, I think myself not altogether unworthy your friendship; that is, I am not ungrateful. I honour and esteem you; I pray for your success, and sincerely rejoice in it. I know no one to whom my heart is more united in affection, nor to whom I owe more, as an instrument of Divine grace.“I am at some seasons impatient enough to be employed; but I am really afraid of setting myself to work. It appears, by the event, that, in the attempts I have already made, I have mistaken, either the place, or the manner, in which I am to appear.“I forgot to tell you in my last, that I had the honour to appear as a Methodist preacher. I was at Haworth; Mr. Grimshaw was pressing, and prevailed. I spoke, in his house, to about one hundred and fifty persons; a difficult auditory in my circumstances, about half Methodists, and half Baptists. I was afraid of displeasing both sides; but my text, John 1. 29, led me to dwell upon a point in which we were all agreed; and, before I had leisure to meddle with doctrines (as they are called), the hour was expired. In short, it was a comfortable opportunity.“Methinks here again, you are ready to say, Why not go on in the same way? what more encouragement can you ask, than to be assisted and accepted? My answer is, I have not either strength of body or mind sufficient for an itinerant preacher. My constitution has been broken for some years. To ride an hour in the rain, or more than thirty miles in a day, usually unfits me for everything. You must allow me to pay some regard to flesh and blood, though I would not consult them. Besides, Ihave a maintenance now in my hands,[384]the gift of a kind Providence; and I do not see that I have a call to involve myself, and a person who has entrusted all her concerns to me, in want and difficulties. I have likewise an orphan sister, for whom it is my duty to provide; consequently, it cannot be my duty to disable myself from fulfilling what I owe to her. The weightiest difficulty remains; too many of the preachers are very different from Mr. Grimshaw; and who would wish to live in the fire? So, though I love the Methodists, and vindicate them from unjust aspersions upon all occasions, and suffer the reproach of the world for being one myself, yet, it seems not practicable for me to join them farther than I do. For the present, I must remain as I am, and endeavour to be as useful as I can in private life.“Have there been any more prosecutions upon the Conventicle Act? I have been informed, that a bill is in embryo to restrain the clergy to their own parishes.“Pray for me, dear sir. Mrs. Newton sends her love, and will rejoice to see you. Will you permit me to subscribe myself, your unworthy but affectionate and obliged brother in the gospel hope,“John Newton.”[385]
“November 14, 1790.
“Reverend and dear Sir,—How shall I thank you for the obliging notice you take of me? I wonder you can find time, in the midst of so many more important concerns, to encourage so poor a correspondent. In one sense only, I think myself not altogether unworthy your friendship; that is, I am not ungrateful. I honour and esteem you; I pray for your success, and sincerely rejoice in it. I know no one to whom my heart is more united in affection, nor to whom I owe more, as an instrument of Divine grace.
“I am at some seasons impatient enough to be employed; but I am really afraid of setting myself to work. It appears, by the event, that, in the attempts I have already made, I have mistaken, either the place, or the manner, in which I am to appear.
“I forgot to tell you in my last, that I had the honour to appear as a Methodist preacher. I was at Haworth; Mr. Grimshaw was pressing, and prevailed. I spoke, in his house, to about one hundred and fifty persons; a difficult auditory in my circumstances, about half Methodists, and half Baptists. I was afraid of displeasing both sides; but my text, John 1. 29, led me to dwell upon a point in which we were all agreed; and, before I had leisure to meddle with doctrines (as they are called), the hour was expired. In short, it was a comfortable opportunity.
“Methinks here again, you are ready to say, Why not go on in the same way? what more encouragement can you ask, than to be assisted and accepted? My answer is, I have not either strength of body or mind sufficient for an itinerant preacher. My constitution has been broken for some years. To ride an hour in the rain, or more than thirty miles in a day, usually unfits me for everything. You must allow me to pay some regard to flesh and blood, though I would not consult them. Besides, Ihave a maintenance now in my hands,[384]the gift of a kind Providence; and I do not see that I have a call to involve myself, and a person who has entrusted all her concerns to me, in want and difficulties. I have likewise an orphan sister, for whom it is my duty to provide; consequently, it cannot be my duty to disable myself from fulfilling what I owe to her. The weightiest difficulty remains; too many of the preachers are very different from Mr. Grimshaw; and who would wish to live in the fire? So, though I love the Methodists, and vindicate them from unjust aspersions upon all occasions, and suffer the reproach of the world for being one myself, yet, it seems not practicable for me to join them farther than I do. For the present, I must remain as I am, and endeavour to be as useful as I can in private life.
“Have there been any more prosecutions upon the Conventicle Act? I have been informed, that a bill is in embryo to restrain the clergy to their own parishes.
“Pray for me, dear sir. Mrs. Newton sends her love, and will rejoice to see you. Will you permit me to subscribe myself, your unworthy but affectionate and obliged brother in the gospel hope,
“John Newton.”[385]
The year 1760 was full of varied, anxious, and painful interest.
One matter must be mentioned, though Wesley himself was not concerned in it, except as he deeply sympathised with the noble and afflicted family. Earl Ferrars, cousin of Lady Huntingdon, and brother of the Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley, at the commencement of the year, deliberately shot Mr. Johnson, his steward, who had been a servant in the family for thirty years. Horace Walpole’s version of the matter is, that Earl Ferrars’ wife was the fortuneless sister of Sir William Meredith; and that the earl maintained, that she trepanned him into marriage while he was in a state of drunkenness. Before his marriage, Mrs. Clifford was his mistress, by whom he had several children; and, from the first, his wife was hated. He always carried pistols to bed with him, and often threatened to kill her before morning. By an act of parliament, she obtained a divorce, and an allowance out of his estates; one of thereceivers for that purpose being his steward, Mr. Johnson. Finding that Johnson had paid Lady Ferrars £50 without his knowledge, the earl resolved to murder him, and shot him accordingly. He was arrested, and lodged in the Tower of London. The trial, in Westminster Hall, in the month of April, lasted for three days, the sentence being, that the earl be hanged, and his body delivered to Surgeons’ Hall, to be dissected and anatomized. Charles Wesley attended the trial, and tells us “most of the royal family, the peeresses, the chief gentry of the kingdom, and the foreign ambassadors were present.” A plea of lunacy was set up. Walter Shirley and Dr. Munro were the best witnesses; but their testimony failed to prove his madness. One hundred and six of the peers of England, including Lord Talbot, his friend, and Lord Westmoreland, his father-in-law, pronounced the prisoner guilty, and his doom was fixed. The execution took place on the 5th of May; the unhappy culprit having spent the night previous in playing at piquet with the warders of the prison. He rode to Tyburn in his own landau and six, wearing his wedding clothes, and chewing pigtail tobacco; his mistress throwing a letter into his carriage, telling him that the crowd was so enormous she was unable to meet him at a certain place as she had promised. A mourning coach and six, with some of his lordship’s friends, and a hearse and six, to carry his corpse to Surgeons’ Hall, followed in a procession, which took two hours and three quarters in making its way through the streets of London, from the Tower to the place of execution. After hanging an hour and five minutes, the body was dissected; and then the mangled remains of the highborn murderer were delivered to his friends, and interred in Leicestershire. On the table in his room, just before he went to execution, he wrote:
“In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,And undismayed expect eternity.”[386]
“In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,And undismayed expect eternity.”[386]
“In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,And undismayed expect eternity.”[386]
“In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,
Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,
And undismayed expect eternity.”[386]
Such was the end of this godless noble, the near relative ofsome of the best Christians then living. Their distress was indescribable. His broken hearted brother (Walter Shirley), his cousin (Lady Huntingdon), and others, all endeavoured to effect his conversion, but without success. Prayer was made for him in the closet, in the family, and in public congregations; special meetings of intercession were held in his behalf; Charles Wesley evinced the tenderest concern for the wretched culprit; and the Methodists in London generally followed his example; a day of fasting and prayer was kept at the Foundery: but all to no effect.
Three weeks after the execution, the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Shirley wrote to Wesley as follows.