Chapter XVIII: Part II (3)

“HONOURED SIR,—I cannot think it right in you to give so
much encouragement to those convulsions which people have
been thrown into, under your ministry. Was I to do so, how
many would cry out every night? I think it is tempting God
to require such signs. That there is something of God in it,
I doubt not. But the devil, I believe, interposes. I think
it will encourage the French Prophets, take people from the
written word, and make them depend on visions, convulsions,
etc., more than on the promises and precepts of the
gospel.”[299]

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

“July 7. I had an opportunity to talk with Mr. Whitefield of
those outward signs which had so often accompanied the work
of God. I found his objections were chiefly grounded on
gross misrepresentations of matters of fact. But next day he
had an opportunity of informing himself better; for, in the
application of his sermon, four persons sunk down close to him,
almost in the same moment. One of them lay without either sense
or motion. A second trembled exceedingly. The third had strong
convulsions all over his body, but made no noise, unless by
groans. The fourth, equally convulsed, called upon God, with
strong cries and tears. From this time, I trust, we shall all
suffer God to carry on His own work in the way that pleaseth
Him.”

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

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

“I had a useful conference about many things with my honoured
friend Mr. John Wesley. I found that Bristol had great reason
to bless God for his ministry. The congregations I observed
to be much more serious and affected than when I left them;
and their loud and repeated Amens, which they put up to every
petition, as well as the exemplariness of their conversation
in common life, plainly show that they have not received the
grace of God in vain. Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face
of the sky; but how is it that ye cannot discern the signs of
these times? That good, great good, is done is evident. What
is it but little less than blasphemy against the Holy Ghost
to impute this great work to delusion, and to the power of the
devil?”[300]

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

July 23. On several evenings this week many were deeply
convinced; but none were delivered from that painful
conviction. I fear we have grieved the Spirit of the jealous
God, by questioning His work; and that, therefore, He is
withdrawn from us for a season. But He will return and
abundantly pardon.

July 30. Two more were in strong pain, both their souls and
bodies being well-nigh torn asunder. But, though we cried unto
God, there was no answer. One of them cried aloud, though not
articulately, for twelve or fourteen hours; when her soul was
set at liberty. She was a servant, and her master forbid her
returning to his service, saying, he would have none in his
house who had received the Holy Ghost.

August 5. Six persons at the new room were deeply convinced of
sin; three of whom were a little comforted by prayer.

August 11. In the evening two were seized with strong pangs, as
were four the next evening, and the same number at Gloucester
Lane on Monday; one of whom was greatly comforted.

August 14. Three at the new room this evening were cut to the
heart; but their wound was not as yet healed.

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

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

October 11. A woman showed the agony of her soul by crying
aloud to God for help. She continued in great torment all
night; but, while we were praying for her in the morning, God
delivered her out of her distress.

October 12. I was under some concern, with regard to one or two
persons, who were tormented in an unaccountable manner; and
seemed to be indeed lunatic, as well as sore vexed.

October 23. I was pressed to visit a young woman at Kingswood.
I found her on the bed, two or three persons holding her.
Anguish, horror, and despair, above all description, appeared
in her pale face. The thousand distortions of her whole body
showed how the dogs of hell were gnawing at her heart. The
shrieks intermixed were scarce to be endured. She screamed
out, “I am damned, damned; lost for ever! Six days ago you
might have helped me. But it is past. I am the devil’s now,
I have given myself to him: his I am, him I must serve, with
him I must go to hell; I will be his, I will serve him, I will
go with him to hell; I cannot be saved, I will not be saved.
I must, I will, I will be damned!” She then begun praying to
the devil. We began,—“Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!” She
immediately sank down as asleep; but, as soon as we left off,
broke out again, with inexpressible vehemence: “Stony hearts,
break! I am a warning to you. Break, break, poor stony hearts!
I am damned, that you may be saved. You need not be damned,
though I must.” She then fixed her eyes on the corner of the
ceiling, and said, “There he is. Come, good devil, come. You
said you would dash my brains out: come, do it quickly. I am
yours, I will be yours.” We interrupted her by calling again
upon God; on which she sunk down as before: and another young
woman began to roar out as loud as she had done. My brother now
came in, it being about nine o’clock. We continued in prayer
till past eleven; when God, in a moment, spoke peace into the
soul, first of the first tormented, and then of the other. And
they both joined in singing praise to Him who had “stilled the
enemy and the avenger.”

October 25. I was sent for to one in Bristol, who was taken ill
the evening before. She lay on the ground furiously gnashing
her teeth, and after awhile roared aloud. It was not easy for
three or four persons to hold her, especially when the name
of Jesus was named. We prayed; the violence of her symptoms
ceased, though without a complete deliverance. In the evening,
I was sent for to her again. She began screaming before I
came into the room; then broke out into a horrid laughter,
mixed with blasphemy. One, who apprehended a preternatural
agent to be concerned in this, asking, “How didst thou dare
to enter into a Christian?” was answered, “She is not a
Christian—she is mine.” This was followed by fresh trembling,
cursing, and blaspheming. My brother coming in, she cried out,
“Preacher! Field preacher! I don’t love field preaching.” This
was repeated two hours together, with spitting, and all the
expressions of strong aversion. We left her at twelve, and
called again at noon next day. And now it was, that God showed
He heareth prayer. All her pangs ceased in a moment: she was
filled with peace, and knew that the son of wickedness was
departed from her.

October 27. I was sent for to Kingswood again, to one of those
who had been so ill before. A violent rain began just as I set
out. Just at that time, the woman (then three miles off) cried
out, “Yonder comes Wesley, galloping as fast as he can.” When
I was come, she burst into a horrid laughter, and said, “No
power, no power; no faith, no faith. She is mine; her soul is
mine. I have her, and will not let her go.” We begged of God
to increase our faith. Meanwhile, her pangs increased more
and more; so that one would have imagined, by the violence of
the throes, her body must have been shattered to pieces. One,
who was clearly convinced this was no natural disorder, said,
“I think Satan is let loose. I fear he will not stop here,”
and added, “I command thee in the name of the Lord Jesus, to
tell if thou hast commission to torment any other soul.” It
was immediately answered, “I have. L——y C——r and S——h J——s.”
We betook ourselves to prayer again; and ceased not, till she
began, with a clear voice, and composed, cheerful look, to
sing, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”

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

October 28. I called at Mrs. J——s’, in Kingswood. L——y C——r
and S——h J——s were there. It was scarce a quarter of an hour
before the former fell into a strange agony; and, presently
after, the latter. The violent convulsions all over their
bodies were such as words cannot describe. Their cries and
groans were too horrid to be borne; till one of them, in a tone
not to be expressed, said, “Where is your faith now? Come, go
to prayers. I will pray with you.” We took the advice, and
poured out our souls before God, till L——y C——r’s agonies so
increased, that it seemed she was in the pangs of death. But,
in a moment, God spoke; and both her body and soul were healed.
We continued in prayer till past midnight, when S——h J——s’
voice was also changed, and she began to call upon God. This
she did for the greatest part of the night. In the morning, we
renewed our prayers, while she was crying continually, “I burn!
I burn! O what shall I do? I have a fire within me. I cannot
bear it. Lord Jesus! help! Amen, Lord Jesus!”

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

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

“On Monday night, I was preaching at the school on the
forgiveness of sins, when numbers cried out with a loud and
bitter cry. Indeed, it seemed that the devil and the powers of
darkness were come among us. My mouth was stopped. The cries
were terrifying. It was pitch dark; it rained much; and the
wind blew vehemently. Large flashes of lightning and loud claps
of thunder mingled with the screams and exclamations of the
people. The hurry and confusion cannot be expressed. The whole
place seemed to resemble the habitation of apostate spirits;
many raving up and down, and crying, ‘The devil will have me; I
am his servant! I am damned! My sins can never be pardoned! I
am gone, gone for ever!’ A young man was in such horrors, that
seven or eight persons could scarce hold him. He roared like a
dragon: ‘Ten thousand devils, millions, millions of devils are
about me!’ This continued three hours, and what a power reigned
amongst us! Some cried out with a hollow voice, ‘Mr. Cennick!
Bring Mr. Cennick!’ I came to all that desired me. They then
spurned me with all their strength, grinding their teeth, and
expressing all the fury that heart can conceive. Their eyes
were staring and their faces swollen, and several have since
told me, that when I drew near, they felt fresh rage, and
longed to tear me in pieces. I never saw the like, nor even the
shadow of it before. Yet I was not in the least afraid, as I
knew God was on our side.”[301]

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

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

“Many, no doubt, were, at our first preaching, struck down,
both soul and body, into the depth of distress. Their _outward
affections_ were easy to be imitated. Many counterfeits I
have already detected. The first night I preached here, half
my words were lost through their outcries. Last night, before
I began, I gave public notice that whosoever cried, so as to
drown my voice, should be carried to the farthest corner of
the room. But my porters had no employment the whole night;
yet the Lord was with us, mightily convincing of sin and of
righteousness. I am more and more convinced, the fits were a
device of Satan to stop the course of the gospel.”[302]

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

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

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

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

Southey writes:—

“A powerful doctrine, preached with passionate sincerity,
produced a powerful effect upon weak minds, ardent feelings,
and disordered fancies. There are passions which are as
infectious as the plague, and fear itself is not more so than
fanaticism. When once these bodily affections were declared to
be the throes of the new birth, a free licence was proclaimed
for every kind of extravagance; and when the preacher
encouraged them to throw off all restraint, and abandon
themselves before the congregation to these mixed sensations of
mind and body, the consequences were what might be anticipated.”

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

The Rev. R. Watson writes:—

“That cases of real enthusiasm occurred at this and subsequent
periods, is indeed allowed. There are always nervous, dreamy,
and excitable people to be found; and the emotion produced
among these would often be communicated by natural sympathy.
No one could be blamed for this, unless he had encouraged the
excitement for its own sake, or taught the people to regard
it as a sign of grace, which most assuredly Mr. Wesley never
did. Nor is it correct to represent these effects, genuine
and fictitious together, as peculiar to Methodism. Great and
rapid results were produced in the first ages of Christianity,
but not without ‘outcries,’ and strong corporeal as well as
mental emotions. Like effects often accompanied the preaching
of eminent men at the Reformation; and many of the Puritan
and Nonconformist ministers had similar successes in our own
country. In Scotland, and also among the grave Presbyterians of
New England, previous to the rise of Methodism, the ministry of
faithful men had been attended by very similar circumstances;
and, on a smaller scale, the same results have followed
the ministry of modern missionaries of different religious
societies in various parts of the world. It may be laid down as
a principle established by fact, that whenever a zealous and
faithful ministry is raised up, after a long, spiritual dearth,
the early effects of that ministry are not only powerful, but
often attended with extraordinary circumstances; nor are such
extraordinary circumstances necessarily extravagancies because
they are not common. It is neither irrational nor unscriptural
to suppose, that times of great national darkness and depravity
should require a strong remedy; and that the attention of the
people should be roused by circumstances which could not fail
to be noticed by the most unthinking. We do not attach primary
importance to secondary circumstances; but they are not to be
wholly disregarded. The Lord was not in the wind, nor in the
earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small voice; yet
that still small voice might not have been heard, except by
minds roused from their inattention by the shaking of the earth
and the sounding of the storm.”

Isaac Taylor writes:—

“These disorders resembled, in some of their features, the
demoniacal possessions mentioned in the gospel history. The
bodily agitations were perhaps as extreme in the one class
of instances as in the other; nevertheless, there is no real
analogy between the two. The demoniacs were _found_ in this
state by Christ where He went preaching; they did not _become
such_ while listening to Him. Besides, in no one instance
recorded in the Gospels or Acts, did demoniacal possession, or
any bodily agitations resembling it, come on as the initial
stage of conversion. How then are we to dispose of such cases?
Perhaps not at all to our satisfaction, except so far as this,
that they serve to render so much the more unambiguous the
distinction between themselves and those genuine affections
which the apostolic writers describe and exemplify.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“LONDON, _June 25, 1739_.

“HONOURED SIR,—I suspend my judgment of Brother Watkins’ and
Cennick’s behaviour till I am better acquainted with the
circumstances of their proceeding. I think there is a great
difference between them and Howel Harris. He has offered
himself thrice for holy orders; him therefore and our friends
at Cambridge I shall encourage: others I cannot countenance in
acting in so public a manner. The consequences of beginning to
teach too soon will be exceeding bad—Brother Ingham is of my
opinion.

“I hear, honoured sir, you are about to print a sermon on
predestination. It shocks me to think of it; what will be the
consequences but controversy? If people ask me my opinion,
what shall I do? I have a critical part to act, God enable me
to behave aright! Silence on both sides will be best. It is
noised abroad already, that there is a division between you and
me. Oh, my heart within me is grieved!

“Providence to-morrow calls me to Gloucester. If you will be
pleased to come next week to London, I think, God willing, to
stay a few days at Bristol. Your brother Charles goes to Oxon.
I believe we shall be excommunicated soon. May the Lord enable
us to stand fast in the faith; and stir up your heart to watch
over the soul of, honoured sir,

“Your dutiful son and servant,
GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Mrs. Grevil’s,
a Grocer in Wine Street, Bristol.”

We must proceed to another matter. Wesley writes:—

“In the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten persons came
to me in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin,
and earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired, I would
spend some time with them in prayer, and advise them how to
flee from the wrath to come. That we might have more time for
this great work, I appointed a day when they might all come
together, which, from thenceforward, they did every Thursday,
in the evening. To these, and as many more as desired to join
with them, (for the number increased daily,) I gave those
advices, from time to time, which I judged most needful for
them; and we always concluded our meeting with prayer suited
to their several necessities. This was the rise of the United
Society, first in London, and then in other places.”[328]

In another place, he writes:—

“The first evening about twelve persons came; the next week,
thirty or forty. When they were increased to about a hundred,
I took down their names and places of abode, intending, as
often as it was convenient, to call upon them at their houses.
Thus, without any previous plan, began the Methodist Society in
England,—a company of people associating together to help each
other to work out their own salvation.”[329]

No doubt the whole of this is strictly true; but there are other facts to be remembered.

By the preaching of the two Wesleys and of Whitefield, a large number of persons in London had been converted; and most of these had been incorporated in the Moravian bands. When Wesley went to Bristol, at the end of March, the work in London devolved, to a great extent, on his brother Charles. Disputes soon sprung up. On Easter day, Charles had a conversation with Zinzendorf “about motions, visions, and dreams, and was confirmed in his dislike to them.” On April 28, Whitefield preached in Islington churchyard; and, after he had done, Bowers, a Moravian, got up to speak. Charles Wesley says: “I conjured him not; but he beat me down, and followed _his impulse_.” On the 16th of May, a dispute arose, in the Moravian meeting at Fetter Lane, about lay preaching. Many were zealous for it; but Whitefield and Charles Wesley declared against it. In June, another Moravian, John Shaw, “the self-ordained priest,” as Charles Wesley calls him, “was brimful of proud wrath and fierceness”; and two others, Bowers and Bray, whom Whitefield designated “two grand enthusiasts,” followed Charles to Blendon, “drunk with the spirit of delusion.” In the Moravian society, Shaw “pleaded for his spirit of prophecy”; and charged Charles Wesley “with love of pre-eminence, and with making his proselytes twofold more the children of the devil than they were before.” Many misunderstandings and offences had crept in; and Wesley came from Bristol to put things right. A humiliation meeting was held at Fetter Lane; and “we acknowledged,” says Wesley, “our having grieved God by our divisions; ‘one saying, I am of Paul; another, I am of Apollos’; by our leaning again to our own works, and trusting in them, instead of Christ; by our resting in those little beginnings of sanctification, which it had pleased Him to work in our souls; and, above all, by blaspheming His work among us, imputing it either to nature, to the force of imagination and animal spirits, or even to the delusion of the devil.” Things seem to have proceeded more smoothly till about September, when, in the absence of the two Wesleys, “certain men crept in among them unawares, telling them, that they had deceived themselves, and had no true faith at all. ‘For,’ said they, ‘none has any justifying faith, who has ever any doubt or fear, which you know you have; or who has not a clean heart, which you know you have not; nor will you ever have it, till you leave off running to church and sacrament, and praying, and singing, and reading either the Bible, or any other book; for you cannot use these things without trusting in them. Therefore, till you leave them off, you can never have true faith; you can never till then trust in the blood of Christ.’”[330]

This was a serious heresy; and, on November 1, Wesley hurried up to London to put a check to it. He acknowledges, that the Moravians still held the grand doctrine of justification by faith; and that the fruits of faith were “righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.” He testifies, that they were free from the sins of swearing, theft, gluttony, drunkenness, and adultery; that they had no diversions but such as become saints; that they regarded not outward adorning, and were not slothful in business. He confesses, that they fed the hungry, and clothed the naked; that their discipline was scarce inferior to that of the apostolic age; and, that every one knew and kept his proper place; but, despite all this, he found them far from perfect.

On first entering the society, he found Mr. Bray “highly commending the being still before God; and speaking largely of the danger that attended the doing of outward works, and of the folly of people running about to church and sacrament.”

On Sunday, November 4, the “society met at seven in the morning, and continued silent till eight.” In the evening, at Fetter Lane, “some of the brethren asserted in plain terms: 1. That, till they had true faith, they ought to be still; that is, to abstain from the means of grace, the Lord’s supper in particular. 2. That the ordinances are not means of grace, there being no other means than Christ.”