Chapter XXI: Part II (6)

“You rank all the maintainers of _universal redemption_ with
Socinians. Alas, my brother! Do you not know even this, that
Socinians allow no redemption at all? that Socinus himself
speaks thus, ‘_Tota redemptio nostra per Christum metaphora_’?
How easy were it for me to hit many other palpable blots, in
what you call an answer to my sermon! And how, above measure,
contemptible would you then appear to all impartial men,
either of sense or learning! But, I assure you, my hand shall
not be upon you. The Lord be judge between me and thee! The
general tenour, both of my public and private exhortations,
when I touch thereon at all, as even my enemies know, if they
would testify, is ‘Spare the young man, even Absalom, for my
sake!’”[377]

David and Jonathan were divided. An immediate schism followed. Wesley writes:—“In March, 1741, Mr. Whitefield, being returned to England, entirely separated from Mr. Wesley and his friends, because he did not hold the decrees. Here was the first breach, which warm men persuaded Mr. Whitefield to make merely for a difference of opinion. Those who believed universal redemption had no desire to separate; but those who held particular redemption would not hear of any accommodation, being determined to have no fellowship with men that were ‘in such dangerous errors.’ So there were now two sorts of Methodists: those for particular, and those for general, redemption.”[378]

Here, for the present, we leave the subject; and turn to other matters.

In 1740, as in 1739, the pamphlets published against Methodism were many and malignant. One was entitled: “The important Doctrines of Original Sin, Justification by Faith, and Regeneration, clearly stated and vindicated from the misrepresentations of the Methodists. By Thomas Whiston, A.B.” London: 1740. Pp. 70. Mr. Whiston is unknown to fame. Wesley never noticed him; and, though his production is now before us, an analysis of its contents would weary the reader without instructing him.

Another was, “The Quakers and Methodists compared. By the Rev. Zachary Grey, LL.D., Rector of Houghton Conquest, in Bedfordshire,”—the laborious author of more than thirty different publications, a man of great ingenuity and research, but an acrimonious polemic, who died at Ampthill, in 1766.[379]

It is a curious fact, that Whitefield was far more violently attacked than the Wesleys were. “Aquila Smyth, a layman of the Church of England,” accuses him of having published two letters against Archbishop Tillotson, “in the spirit of pride, envy, and malice;” and of having “detracted the most valuable works of other men, in order to aggrandize himself, and gain credit for his own weak, impudent, and wicked performances.” His “behaviour exposes him to the scorn of every reader;” and his “consummate impudence” is unequalled in the Christian world. There “is a juggle between him and Wesley to deceive their followers, and to prevent an inquiry into their corrupt and abominable doctrine;” and, finally, after calling him “a brainsick enthusiast,” Smyth declares, that Whitefield has taken up five thousand acres in America, under the pretence of educating and maintaining such negroes as may be sent to him; but really because he hopes to realise from the transaction a more plentiful fortune than he could have gained in England by five thousand years of preaching.

So much for the spleen of Aquila Smyth. In the _Weekly Miscellany_, edited by Mr. Hooker, there appeared, in several successive numbers, fictitious dialogues between Whitefield and a country clergyman, the object of which was to make Whitefield contemptible; and the whole were finished with a promise from the editor, that he would abridge, for the benefit of his subscribers, the history of the Anabaptists, and would show that there is a near resemblance between them and their descendants, the Methodists.

The Rev. Alexander Garden, the Bishop of London’s commissary at Charlestown, in America, published a series of six letters on justification by faith and works, in which he accused Whitefield of “self contradiction,” of “arrogant and wicked slander,” and of being “so full of zeal that he had no room for charity.” He contemptuously speaks of Whitefield’s “apparent shuffles,” “miserable distinctions,” “mob harangues,” and “false and poisoned insinuations.” Whitefield “deceives the people, and has no talent at proving anything”; he is “a hare-brained solifidian, and runs about a mouthing”; he has “kindled a fire of slander and defamation, which no devil in hell, nor jesuit on earth, will ever make an effort to extinguish, but will fagot and foment it with all their might”; “he dispenses to the populace in a vehicle of cant terms, without sense or meaning”; and “in a mountebank way, he fancies himself a young David, and that he has slain Goliath.”

Whitefield was again severely handled “by a presbyter of the Church of England,” in an able pamphlet of forty-four pages, entitled “A modest and serious Defence of the Author of the Whole Duty of Man, from the false charges and gross misrepresentations of Mr. Whitefield, and the Methodists his adherents”; but this was a castigation which Whitefield merited, for his ill judged and unneeded letter, published in the _Daily Advertiser_ of July 3, 1740.

The most violent attack of all was in an octavo pamphlet of eighty-five pages, with the title, “The Expounder Expounded, by R——ph J——ps——n, of the Inner Temple, Esq.” London. Some parts of this disgraceful production are too filthy to be noticed; they must be passed in silence. In other parts, Whitefield, for publishing his journal, is charged with “saddling the world with one of the grossest absurdities and impositions, that folly or impudence could invent”; “his book is nothing but a continued account of his intimate union and correspondence with the devil”; and he himself may be seen “upon the hills and house-tops, like another Æolus, belching out his divine vapours to the multitude, to the great ease of himself, and emolument of his auditors.” “Charles Wesley lent him books at Oxford, which threw his understanding off the hinges, and rendered him _enthusiastically_ crazy”; at college he “deemed a lousy pate _humility_, foul linen was _heavenly contemplation_, woollen gloves were _grace_, a patched gown was _justification by faith_, and dirty shoes meant a _walk with God_. In short, with him, religion consisted wholly in _nastiness_, and heaven was easiest attacked from a _dunghill_.” These are the mildest specimens we have been able to select from this cesspool of a perverted intellect and a polluted heart.

Another pamphlet, published in 1740, and consisting of eighty-four pages, was entitled “The Imposture of Methodism displayed; in a letter to the inhabitants of the parish of Dewsbury. Occasioned by the rise of a certain modern sect of enthusiasts, called Methodists. By William Bowman, M. A., vicar of Dewsbury and Aldbrough in Yorkshire, and chaplain to the Right Honourable Charles, Earl of Hoptoun.” As yet, neither the Wesleys nor Whitefield had been in Yorkshire; but Ingham and William Delamotte were there, and had been the means of converting a large number of the almost heathenised inhabitants of the west riding. The reverend vicar tells his parishioners, that “an impious spirit of enthusiasm and superstition has crept in among them, and threatens a total ruin of all religion and virtue.” He himself has been “an eye-witness of this monstrous madness, and religious frenzy, which, like a rapid torrent, bears down everything beautiful before it, and introduces nothing but a confused and ridiculous medley of nonsense and inconsistency.” It was matter of thankfulness, “that the contagion, at present, was pretty much confined to the dregs and refuse of the people,—the weak, unsteady mob, always fond of innovation, and never pleased but with variety;” but, then, the mob was so numerous in the west of Yorkshire, that the danger was greater than was apprehended. The author declines to determine whether “these modern visionaries, like the Quakers, are a sect hatched and fashioned in a seminary of Jesuits; or whether, like the German Anabaptists, they are a set of crazy, distempered fanatics;” but certain it is, that their “enthusiasm is patched and made up of a thousand incoherencies and absurdities, picked and collected from the vilest errors and most pestilent follies, of every heresy upon earth.” “Their teachers inculcate, that they are Divinely and supernaturally inspired by the Holy Ghost, to declare the will of God to mankind; and, yet, they are cheats and impostors, and their pretended sanctity nothing but a trick and a delusion.” They had been allowed to use the pulpits of the Church, “till, by their flights and buffooneries, they had made the church more like a bear-garden than the house of prayer; and the rostrum nothing else but the trumpet of sedition, heresy, blasphemy, and everything destructive to religion and good manners.” It was high time for the clergy to put an end to their “pulpits being let out, as a stage, for mountebanks and jack-puddings to play their tricks upon, and from thence to propagate their impostures and delusions.” “These mad devotionalists held, that it is lawful and expedient for mere laymen, for women, and the meanest and most ignorant mechanics, to minister in the church of Christ, to preach, and expound the word of God, and to offer up the prayers of the congregation in the public assemblies.” They also taught, that “the new birth consists in an absolute and entire freedom from all kind of sin whatsoever;” and likewise “denounced eternal death and damnation on all who cannot conform to their ridiculous ideas.” “Whilst adopting to themselves the reputation of being the chief favourites of heaven, the confidants and imparters of its secrets, and the dispensers of its frowns and favours, they were really furious disciples of antichrist, reverend scavengers of scandal, and filthy pests and plagues of mankind.” Such are specimens of the meek language used by the reverend vicar of Dewsbury.

We have already noticed one production of the fiery and furious Joseph Trapp, D.D., published in 1739. The publication of that produced others, in 1740. One was entitled, “The true Spirit of the Methodists, and their Allies, fully laid open; in an answer to six of the seven pamphlets, lately published against Dr. Trapp’s sermons upon being ‘Righteous over much’”: pp. 98. The anonymous author says, that one of these six pamphlets is full of “false quotations, lies, and slanders,” and concludes with “an ungodly jumble of railing and praying.” The Methodists are branded as “crack-brained enthusiasts and profane hypocrites.” “The criterions of modern saintship are the most unchristian malice, lying, slander, railing, and cursing.” Whitefield is pronounced “impious and ignorant.” The “false doctrines and blasphemies of the Methodists, their field assemblies and conventicles in houses, are contrary to the laws of God and man, of church and state, and are tending to the ruin of both.”

Another pamphlet, of 127 pages, was by Dr. Trapp himself, and entitled, “A Reply to Mr. Law’s earnest and serious Answer (as it is called) to Dr. Trapp’s discourse on being righteous over much.” The reverend doctor, as inflammable as ever, pronounces the Methodists “a new sect of enthusiasts, or hypocrites, or both; whose doctrines and practices tend to the destruction of souls, are a scandal to Christianity, and expose it to the scoffs of libertines, infidels, and atheists.” This is not an unfair specimen of the whole 127 pages. William Law, however, was far too stout an antagonist to be silenced by Dr. Trapp. His “Serious Answer” to Trapp’s sermons, and his “Animadversions” on Trapp’s reply, whilst written in the highest style of Christian courtesy, are witheringly severe. They may be found in Wesley’s collected publications, edit. 1772, vol. vi.

Another doughty anti-Methodistic champion was the celebrated Dr. Daniel Waterland, chaplain in ordinary to his majesty, canon of Windsor, archdeacon of Middlesex, and vicar of Twickenham; one of the greatest controversialists of the age, who died at the end of the year of which we are writing, and whose collected works have since been published in eleven octavo volumes.

A few months before his death, Waterland preached two sermons, first at Twickenham, and next at Windsor, on regeneration, which, without mentioning the Methodists, were undeniably meant to serve as an antidote to the doctrines they preached. These he published in the form of an octavo pamphlet of fifty-six pages, accompanied by a mass of notes in Latin, Greek, and English, from all sorts of authors. The title of the pamphlet is, “Regeneration Stated and Explained, according to Scripture and Antiquity, in a Discourse on Titus iii. 4, 5, 6;” and its subject may be inferred from the following definition:—“The new birth, in the general, means a spiritual change, wrought upon any person by the Holy Spirit, in the use of baptism; whereby he is translated from his natural state in Adam, to a spiritual state in Christ.” Written from such a standpoint, the pamphlet of course was a tacit condemnation of the doctrines of the Methodists. It is immensely learned, but far from luminous; full of talent, but likewise full of error; exceedingly elaborate, but, to an equal extent, bewildering.

We shall mention only one other attack on Methodism and the Methodists made at this period. This was a pamphlet of fifty-five pages, with the title, “The Trial of Mr. Whitefield’s Spirit, in some remarks upon his fourth Journal.” The author makes himself merry with the discovery, that this new sect of enthusiasts, by taking to themselves the name of _Methodist_, have unintentionally stigmatised themselves with a designation which is branded in Scripture as evil. “The word Μεθοδεια, or Methodism, is only used twice throughout the New Testament (Ephesians iv. 14, and vi. 11), and in both places denotes that cunning craftiness whereby evil men, or evil spirits, lie in wait to deceive.” It is alleged that Wesley, Whitefield, and their followers, “have taken an appellation, perhaps through a judicial inadvertence, which the Spirit of God has peculiarly appropriated to the adversary of mankind, and to those who are leagued with him in enmity to the interests of righteousness and true holiness.” This was an ingenious hit; the writer, however, forgetting or misstating the fact, that the name of Methodists was not self-assumed, but imposed by others. “Μεθοδευσαι δε εστι το απατησαι—to be a Methodist, says St. Chrysostom, is to be beguiled.” And, from this, the author wishes the inference to be deduced, that, because the new sect of enthusiasts were called Methodists, they were all beguiled, and, of course, Wesley and Whitefield were the great beguilers. The remainder of the pamphlet is a critique on Whitefield’s Journals, which, it must be admitted, were unguardedly expressed, and which, before being printed, ought to have been revised by a kindred spirit, possessed of a soberer judgment than Whitefield had.

The Methodist persecutions of 1740 were chiefly of a literary kind. It is true that Charles Wesley met with a rough reception at Bengeworth, where Henry Seward called him “a scoundrel and a rascal”; directed the mob to “take him away and duck him”; and actually seized him by the nose and wrung it. This was bad enough, but the treatment of John Cennick and his friends was even worse. While he was preaching at Upton, in Gloucestershire, the mob assembled with a horn, a drum, and a number of brass pans, and made a most horrid hubbub; the brass pans being also used in beating the people’s heads. A man likewise put a cat into a cage, and brought a pack of hounds to make them bark at it. Another fellow and his wife, who kept an alehouse at Hannam, rode through the congregation, thrashing the people with their whips, and trampling them beneath their horses’ hoofs. Little children collected dust, which their upgrown patrons cast upon Cennick, who was also struck violently on the nose, and became a target at which to hurl dead dogs and stones.[380] But even violent and contemptuous treatment like this was not near so painful as the scurrilous attacks encountered through the press. In this way, the persecution of the Methodists was something more than a localised outburst of spleen and hate; for, in all sorts of squibs, they were gibbeted, and exposed to ridicule, throughout the kingdom.

Wesley’s trials were not trifles; but, in the midst of all, he bravely pursued the path of duty; and, after the final separation from his foolish, fanatical friends at Fetter Lane, his labours in London were attended with considerable success. On August 11, while forty or fifty were praying and giving thanks at the Foundery, two persons began to cry to God with a loud and bitter cry, and soon found peace. Five days after, a woman, at Long Lane, fell down and continued in violent agonies for an hour. In September, a great number of men forced their way into the Foundery, and began to speak big, swelling words; but, “immediately after, the hammer of the word brake the rocks in pieces.” A smuggler rushed in and cursed vehemently; but, when Wesley finished preaching, the man declared, before the congregation, that, henceforth, he would abandon smuggling and give God his heart.

Wesley’s efforts to do good were various. In London, he induced his friends to contribute the clothing they could spare, and distributed it among the poor of the Foundery society. In Bristol, besides visiting numbers of people “ill of the spotted fever,” he took into his Broadmead meeting-house twelve of the poorest people he could find, who were out of work; and, to save them at once from want and from idleness, employed them for four months in carding and spinning cotton.

Wesley concluded this eventful year at Bristol, by holding a watchnight meeting, proposed by James Rogers, a Kingswood collier, noted among his neighbours for his playing on the violin, but who, being awakened under the ministry of Charles Wesley, went home, burnt his fiddle, and told his wife that he meant to be a Methodist. To his death, James was faithful, and, besides many other important services, was the first Methodist preacher that preached at Stroud in Gloucestershire.[381]

This was the first watchnight meeting among the Methodists. The people met at half-past eight; the house was filled from end to end; and “we concluded the year,” says Wesley, “wrestling with God in prayer, and praising Him for the wonderful work which He had already wrought upon the earth.”

The meeting soon became a favourite one, and was held monthly. Wesley writes: “Some advised me to put an end to this; but, upon weighing the thing thoroughly, and comparing it with the practice of the ancient Christians, I could see no cause to forbid it. Rather, I believed it might be made of more general use.”[382] ‘The church, in ancient times, was accustomed to spend whole nights in prayer, which nights were termed _vigiliæ_, or vigils; and, sanctioned by such authority, Wesley appointed monthly watchnights, on the Fridays nearest the full moon, desiring that they, and they only, should attend, who could do it without prejudice to their business or families.

Little more remains to be said concerning 1740. During the entire year, Wesley preached in only three churches, namely at Newbury, and at Lanhithel, and Lantarnum, in Wales. His favourite text was Ephesians ii. 8, showing that his mind and heart were still full of the glorious truth, salvation by grace through faith in Christ.

One of his publications has been already noticed. Another was a third volume of hymns, pp. 209, by no means inferior to its predecessors in poetic excellence, or Christian character. The book is also possessed of considerable historic interest, containing, as it does, a long hymn of twenty-two verses, descriptive of Charles Wesley’s history up to this period; and likewise several hymns addressed to Whitefield; and one “for the Kingswood colliers.” The volume consists of ninety-six hymns and poems, only four of which are selected from other authors. The preface is remarkable, giving a description of the man possessed of a clean heart. He is freed from pride, self will, evil thoughts, wandering thoughts, doubts, fears, etc. Wesley, a quarter of a century afterwards, declared that this preface contains the strongest account that he ever gave of Christian perfection; and admitted, that some of the statements needed correction; especially, that the perfect Christian is so “freed from self will as not to desire ease in pain;” that, “in prayer, he is so delivered from wanderings, that he has no thought of anything past, or absent, or to come, but of God alone,” etc. Wesley never taught anything respecting Christian perfection, but what was, either directly or indirectly, contained in this preface; but some of its strong assertions he wished to modify.[383]

Another publication, issued in 1740, was entitled, “Serious Considerations concerning the Doctrines of Election and Reprobation. Extracted from a late author.” 12mo, twelve pages. It is a condensed, well argued tract on what had become a bone of contention between Wesley and his friend Whitefield. The address to the reader is beautiful: “Let us bear with one another, remembering it is the prerogative of the great God to pierce through all His own infinite schemes with an unerring eye, to surround them with an all-comprehensive view, to grasp them all in one single survey, and to spread a reconciling light over all their immense varieties. Man must yet grapple with difficulties in this dusky twilight; but God, in His time, will irradiate the earth more plentifully with His light and truth.”

Another of Wesley’s publications was a 12mo tract of nineteen pages, with the title, “The Nature and Design of Christianity, extracted from a late author” (Mr. Law); and another was Wesley’s second Journal, extending from February 1 to August 12, 1738. 12mo, pp. 90.

The year 1740, in Wesley’s history, was not marked with great religious success; but it was one of the most eventful years in his chequered life. There was a full and final separation from the Moravians; there was the separate organisation of the Methodist society at Moorfields; and there was the controversy with Whitefield. All these matters will again demand attention.

1741.

[Sidenote: 1741 Age 38]

With the exception of a week spent in the midland counties, about a month at Oxford, and three weeks in Wales, Wesley divided the year 1741, in almost equal proportions, between London and Bristol.

Whitefield arrived in England, from America, in the month of March; and, finding his congregations at Moorfields and Kennington Common dwindled down from twenty thousand to two or three hundred, he started off to Bristol, where he remained till the end of May; when he came back to London, and, on July 25, sailed thence to Scotland, writing six-and-twenty pastoralizing letters on the way, and arriving at Leith on July 30. The next three months were spent with the Erskines and others, the leaders of the Seceders, who, in the year preceding, had been solemnly expelled by the General Assembly, and had had their relation to the national church formally dissolved. Whitefield’s career of out-door preaching, and his success in Scotland, were marvellous. All the time, however, he was burdened with an enormous debt, incurred on account of his orphan house in Georgia, and was sometimes threatened with arrest. On leaving Scotland, he proceeded direct to Wales, where, on the 11th of November, he married a widow of the name of James, and set up housekeeping with borrowed furniture, though, according to an announcement in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_,[384] his wife had a fortune of £10,000. The rest of the year he spent chiefly in Bristol and the west of England.[385]

Charles Wesley, of course, alternated with his brother, though he preached far more at Bristol than in London. Ever and anon he composed one of his grand funereal hymns, and not unfrequently met with amusing adventures. In a Kingswood prayer-meeting, while he and others were praying for an increase of spiritual children, a wild collier brought four of his black-faced little ones, and threw the youngest on the table, saying, “You have got the mother, take the bairns as well.” In another instance, a woman came to him about her husband, who had been to hear the _predestinarian_ gospel, returned home _elect_, and, in proof of it, _beat his wife_.

For some months, in the year 1741, Charles Wesley was in danger of subsiding into Moravian _stillness_; and his brother wrote to him, “The Philistines are upon thee, Samson, but the Lord is not departed from thee.” Gambold also, and Westley Hall, were inoculated with the same pernicious poison. Charles went off to Bristol, and on April 21 Wesley addressed to him the following:—

“I rejoice in your speaking your mind freely. O let our love be
without dissimulation!

“As yet, I dare in nowise join with the Moravians: 1. Because
their whole scheme is mystical, not scriptural. 2. Because
there is darkness and closeness in their whole behaviour, and
guile in almost all their words. 3. Because they utterly deny
and despise self denial and the daily cross. 4. Because they,
upon principle, conform to the world, in wearing gold or costly
apparel. 5. Because they extend Christian liberty, in this and
many other respects, beyond what is warranted in holy writ.
6. Because they are by no means zealous of good works; or, at
least, only to their own people. And, lastly, because they
make inward religion swallow up outward in general. For these
reasons chiefly, I will rather stand quite alone, than join
with them: I mean till I have full assurance, that they will
spread none of their errors among the little flock committed to
my charge.

“O my brother, my soul is grieved for you; the poison is in
you: fair words have stolen away your heart. ‘No English man or
woman is like the Moravians!’ So the matter is come to a fair
issue. Five of us did still stand together a few months since;
but two are gone to the right hand, Hutchins and Cennick; and
two more to the left, Mr. Hall and you. Lord, if it be Thy
gospel which I preach, arise and maintain Thine own cause!
Adieu!”[386]

In the month of May, a reunion of Wesley’s London society with the Moravians at Fetter Lane was solemnly discussed; and all the bands met at the Foundery, on a Wednesday afternoon, to ask God to give them guidance. “It was clear to all,” writes Wesley, “even those who were before the most desirous of reunion, that the time was not come: (1) because the brethren of Fetter Lane had not given up their most essentially erroneous doctrines; and, (2) because many of us had found so much guile in their words, that we could scarce tell what they really held, and what not.”

Wesley entertained no bitterness towards the Moravians. He readily acknowledges, that they had a sincere desire to serve God; that many of them had tasted of His love that they abstained from outward sin; and that their discipline, in most respects, was excellent: but, after reading all their English publications, and “waiving their odd and affected phrases; their weak, mean, silly, childish expressions; their crude, confused, and undigested notions; and their whims, unsupported either by Scripture or sound reason,”—he found three grand, unretracted errors running through almost all their books, namely “universal salvation, antinomianism, and a kind of new, reformed quietism.” No wonder that the thought of reunion was abandoned.

A month after the above meeting, at the Foundery, Wesley made a tour among the Moravians, in the midland counties. Here Ingham had preached with great success; and here Mr. Simpson, one of the Oxford Methodists, had settled as a sort of Moravian minister. During the journey, Wesley made an experiment which he had often been urged to make, namely that of speaking to no one on sacred things, unless his heart was free to it. The result was, that, for eighty miles together, he had no need to speak at all; and he tells us that, instead of having crosses to take up and bear, he commonly fell fast asleep; and all behaved to him, as to a civil, good-natured gentleman. On reaching Ockbrook, where Simpson lived, he found that though, a few months before, there had been a great awakening all round about, three-fourths of the converts were now backsliders. Simpson had drawn the people from the Church, and had advised them to abandon devotion. He said, there was no Church of England left; and that there was no scriptural command for family or private prayer. The sum of his teaching was: “If you wish to believe, be still; and leave off what you call the means of grace, such as prayer and running to church and sacrament.” Mr. Graves, the clergyman of the parish, having offered the use of his church to Wesley, the latter preached two sermons, one on “the true gospel stillness”, and the other from his favourite text—“By grace are ye saved, through faith.”

From Ockbrook, Wesley went to Nottingham, where he found further evidences of backsliding. The room, which used to be crowded, was now half empty; and the few who did attend the services, instead of praying when they entered, sat down without any religious formality whatever, and began talking to their neighbours. When Wesley engaged in prayer among them, none knelt, and “those who stood chose the most easy and indolent posture which they conveniently could.” One of the hymn-books, published by the Wesleys, had been sent from London to be used in the public congregations; but both that and the Bible were now banished; and, in the place of them, lay the Moravian hymns and Zinzendorf’s sixteen sermons. Wesley preached twice in this Moravian meeting; and once in the market place, to an immense multitude, all of whom, with two or three exceptions, behaved with great decorum.

After spending a week at Markfield, Ockbrook, Nottingham, Melbourn, and Hemmington, and also probably becoming acquainted with the Countess of Huntingdon, who lived in this locality, Wesley returned to town, on the 16th of June, and, a fortnight after, went to Oxford, where he met his old friend Mr. Gambold, who honestly told him, he was ashamed of his company, and must be excused going to the Moravian meeting with him.

At the beginning of September, Zinzendorf wished to have an interview, and, at his request, Wesley went to Gray’s-inn Walk, a public promenade, to meet him. Zinzendorf charged him with having changed his religion; with having quarreled with the Brethren; and with having refused to be at peace with them, even after they had asked his forgiveness. In reference to Wesley’s doctrine of Christian perfection, the count became furious. “This,” said he, “is the error of errors. I pursue it through the world with fire and sword. I trample upon it. I devote it to utter destruction. Christ is our sole perfection. Whoever follows inherent perfection, denies Christ. All Christian perfection is faith in the blood of Christ; and is wholly imputed, not inherent.” Wesley asked, if they were not striving about words; and, by a series of questions, got the obfuscated German to admit, “that, a believer is altogether holy in heart and life,—that he loves God with all his heart, and serves Him with all his powers.” Wesley continued: “I desire nothing more. I mean nothing else by perfection, or Christian holiness.” Zinzendorf rejoined: “But this is not the believer’s holiness. He is not more holy if he loves more, or less holy, if he loves less. In the moment he is justified, he is sanctified wholly; and, from that time, he is neither more nor less holy, even unto death. Our whole justification, and sanctification, are in the same instant. From the moment any one is justified, his heart is as pure as it ever will be.” Wesley asked again: “Perhaps I do not comprehend your meaning. Do we not, while we deny ourselves, die more and more to the world and live to God?” Zinzendorf replied: “We reject all self denial. We trample upon it. We do, as believers, whatsoever we will, and nothing more. We laugh at all mortification. No purification precedes perfect love.”[387] And thus the conference ended.

“The count,” said Mr. Stonehouse after reading the conversation, “is a clever fellow; but the genius of Methodism is too strong for him.”[388]

Zinzendorf accused Wesley of refusing to live in peace, even after the Brethren had humbled themselves and begged his pardon. Wesley says there is a mistake in this. Fifty or more Moravians spoke bitterly against him; one or two asked his pardon, but did it in the most careless manner possible. The rest, if ashamed of their behaviour at all, managed to keep their shame a profound secret from him.[389]

As to the count’s theory, that a man is wholly sanctified the moment he is justified—a theory held by the Rev. Dr. Bunting, at all events, at the commencement of his ministerial career[390]—we say nothing; but there can be no question, that his sentiments respecting self denial, and the right of believers to do or not to do what they like, are, in a high degree, delusive and dangerous. We have here the very essence of the antinomian heresy, and are thus prepared for an entry in Charles Wesley’s journal:—

1741. September 6.—“I was astonished by a letter from my
brother, relating his conference with the apostle of the
Moravians. Who would believe it of Count Zinzendorf, that he
should utterly deny all Christian holiness? I never could, but
for a saying of his, which I heard with my own ears. Speaking
of St. James’s epistle, he said: ‘If it was thrown out of the
canon, I would not restore it.’”

The heresy of such a man was of vast importance; for, in this same year and month, September, 1741, Zinzendorf told Doddridge, that he had “sent out, from his own family of Moravians, three hundred preachers, who were gone into most parts of the world; and that he himself was now become the guardian of the Protestant churches in the south of France, sixty of which were assembling privately for worship.”[391]

As already stated, Charles Wesley was in danger of falling into the Moravian heresy. The following is an extract from a letter addressed to Wesley by the Countess of Huntingdon, and dated October 24, 1741.

“Since you left us, the _still ones_ are not without their
attacks. I fear much more for your brother than for myself,
as the conquest of the one would be nothing in respect to the
other. They have, by one of their agents, reviled me very much,
but I have taken no sort of notice of it. I comfort myself,
that you will approve a step with respect to them, which your
brother and I have taken: no less than his declaring open war
against them. He seemed under some difficulty about it at
first, till he had free liberty given him to use my name, as
the instrument, in God’s hand, that had delivered him from
them. I rejoiced much at it, hoping it might be the means of
working my deliverance from them. I have desired him to enclose
to them yours on Christian perfection. The doctrine therein
contained, I hope to live and die by; it is absolutely the most
complete thing I know. Your brother is also to give his reasons
for separating. I have great faith God will not let him fall;
for many would fall with him. His natural parts, his judgment,
and the improvement he has made, are so very far above the very
highest of them, that I should imagine nothing but frenzy had
seized upon him.

“We set out a week ago for Donnington, and you shall hear from
me as soon as I arrive, and have heard how your little flock
goes on in that neighbourhood.”[392]

Methodists will learn, from this interesting letter, that they owe a debt of gratitude to the noble and “elect lady” of the midland counties.

We turn to Whitefield. On his arrival from America, in the month of March, he found his position far from pleasant.

First of all, there was the melancholy death of his friend, William Seward—really Methodism’s first martyr—a man of considerable property, but of meagre education and inferior talent; Whitefield’s travelling companion in his second voyage to Georgia, and who, at the time of his being murdered, in Wales, was itinerating with Howel Harris in Glamorganshire. At Newport, the mob had torn Harris’s coat to tatters, stolen his wig, and pelted him and his companion with apples, stones, and dirt. At Caerleon, rotten eggs were thrown in all directions, Seward’s eye was struck, and, a few days after, he was entirely blind. At Monmouth, their treatment was of the same kind as at Newport and Caerleon; but Seward bravely cried, “Better endure this than hell.” At length, on reaching Hay, a villain hit him on the head; the blow was fatal; and William Seward went to inherit a martyr’s crown, at the early age of thirty-eight, on October 22, 1741.

Besides the death of Methodism’s protomartyr, there were other troubles which Whitefield had to carry. He had an orphan family of nearly a hundred persons to maintain; was above a thousand pounds in debt for them; and was threatened with arrest on account of a bill for £350, drawn, in favour of the orphan house by his dead friend, William Seward, but which had not been met by him. James Hutton, who had been his publisher, refused to have any further transactions with him. “Many of my spiritual children,” he writes, “who, when I last left England, would have plucked out their own eyes to have given me, are so prejudiced by the dear Messrs. Wesleys’ dressing up of election in such horrible colours, that they will neither hear, see, nor give me the least assistance. Yea, some of them send threatening letters, that God will speedily destroy me. As for the people of the world, they are so embittered by my _injudicious_ and _too severe_ expressions against Archbishop Tillotson, the author of the old Duty of Man, that they fly from me as from a viper; and, what is worst of all, I am now constrained, on account of our differing in principles, publicly to separate from my dear, dear old friends, Messrs. John and Charles Wesley.”[393]

During his passage to England, Whitefield wrote to Charles Wesley as follows: “My dear, dear brother, why did you throw out the bone of contention? Why did _you_ print that sermon against predestination? Why did you, in particular, affix your hymn and join in putting out your late hymn-book? How can you say you will not dispute with me about election, and yet print such hymns?” And then he proceeds to state, that he had written an answer to Wesley’s sermon on free grace, and was about to have it printed in Charlestown, Boston, and London.[394]

About six weeks before his arrival in England, some one obtained a copy of the letter he had sent to Wesley, under the date of September 25, 1740,[395] (an extract of which is given in the previous chapter, page 316,) and had printed it without either his or Wesley’s consent, and circulated it gratuitously at the doors of the Foundery. Wesley heard of this; and, having procured a copy, tore it in pieces before the assembled congregation, declaring that he believed Whitefield would have done the same. The congregation imitated their minister’s example, and, in two minutes, all the copies were literally torn to tatters.

Three weeks after this, Wesley had to hurry off to Kingswood to allay the turmoils there. He met the bands, but it was a cold uncomfortable meeting. Cennick and fifteen or twenty of his friends had an interview with Wesley, who accused them of speaking against him behind his back. They replied that they had said nothing behind his back which they would not say before his face; namely, that he preached up the faithfulness of man, and not the faithfulness of God.

After a lovefeast, held in Bristol on Sunday evening, February 22, Wesley related to the Bristol Methodists, that many of their brethren at Kingswood had formed themselves into a separate society, on account of Cennick preaching doctrines different to those preached by himself and his brother. Cennick, who was present, affirmed, that Wesley’s doctrine was false. Wesley charged him with supplanting him in his own house, stealing the hearts of the people, and, by private accusations, dividing very friends. Cennick replied, “I have never privately accused you.” Wesley, who, by some means, was possessed of a letter which Cennick had recently addressed to Whitefield, answered: “My brethren, judge;” and then began to read as follows:—

“_January 17, 1741._

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—That you might come quickly, I have written
a second time. I sit solitary, like Eli, waiting what will
become of the ark. My trouble increases daily. How glorious did
the gospel seem once to flourish in Kingswood! I spake of the
everlasting love of Christ with sweet power; but now brother
Charles is suffered to open his mouth against this truth,
while the frighted sheep gaze and fly, as if no shepherd was
among them. O, pray for the distressed lambs yet left in this
place, that they faint not! Brother Charles pleases the world
with universal redemption, and brother John follows him in
everything. No atheist can preach more against predestination
than they; and all who believe election are counted enemies to
God, and called so. Fly, dear brother. I am as alone; I am in
the midst of the plague. If God give thee leave, make haste.”

Cennick acknowledged the letter was his, that it had been sent to Whitefield, and that he retracted nothing in it. The meeting got excited, and Wesley adjourned the settlement of the business to Kingswood on Saturday next ensuing.

Here he heard all that any one wished to say, and then read the following paper:—

“BY many witnesses, it appears that several members of the
band society in Kingswood have made it their common practice
to scoff at the preaching of Mr. John and Charles Wesley;
that they have censured and spoken evil of them behind their
backs, at the very time they professed love and esteem to their
faces; that they have studiously endeavoured to prejudice other
members of that society against them; and, in order thereto,
have belied and slandered them in divers instances.

“Therefore, not for their opinions, nor for any of them
(whether they be right or wrong), but for the causes above
mentioned, viz. for their scoffing at the word and ministers of
God, for their talebearing, backbiting, and evil speaking, for
their dissembling, lying, and slandering:

“I, John Wesley, by the consent and approbation of the band
society in Kingswood, do declare the persons above mentioned
to be no longer members thereof. Neither will they be so
accounted, until they shall openly confess their fault, and
thereby do what in them lies, to remove the scandal they have
given.”

This is a remarkable document It was hardly two years since Whitefield and Wesley began to preach at Kingswood, and yet here we have a large number of their converts charged with backbiting, lying, slandering, and other crimes. “How is the gold become dim!” Were the former days better than these? We doubt it.

Here we also have the first Methodist expulsion; not for opinions, but for sins; not by the sole authority and act of John Wesley, but “by the consent and approbation” of the society, whose refractory members were to be put away. Such was Methodism, at its beginning.

Cennick, and those who sympathised with his sentiments, refused to own that they had done aught amiss; and declared that, on many occasions, he had heard both Wesley and his brother preach Popery. Wesley gave them another week to think the matter over. They were still intractable; and alleged that the _real_ cause of their expulsion was their holding the doctrine of election. Wesley answered, “You know in your conscience it is not. There are several predestinarians in our societies both at London and Bristol, nor did I ever put any one out of either because he held that opinion.” The result of the whole was, Cennick and fifty-one others at once withdrew, and the remainder, numbering about a hundred, still adhered to Wesley.[396]

Such was the first schism in Methodist history,—John Cennick the leader,—fifty of the Kingswood members its abettors,—and John Wesley and a majority of the Kingswood society, the court enacting their expulsion.

The writer’s chief object is to furnish facts, and therefore he refrains from comment on these transactions. No doubt Cennick was sincere. After the risks he ran in preaching Christ, no one can doubt his Christian earnestness: but, having come to Kingswood at Wesley’s invitation, and having been employed by him as the teacher of his school, and also as an evangelist among the surrounding colliers, it would, at least, have been more courteous to have quietly retired from his present sphere of action, when he found his views different from those of his patron and his friend, than it was for him to pursue the controversial and divisive course he did. John Cennick had a lion’s courage and a martyr’s piety; but his passions sometimes mastered his prudence, and, for want of the serpent’s wisdom, he often failed in exhibiting the meekness of the dove.

Whitefield arrived in London a few days after the Kingswood expulsion; and Wesley, on the 25th of March, hastened off to meet him. Whitefield told him they preached two different gospels, and that he was resolved to preach against him and his brother wherever he preached at all. A weekly publication, of four folio pages, entitled “The Weekly History; or An Account of the most remarkable Particulars relating to the present Progress of the Gospel,” was immediately started by J. Lewis, Whitefield promising to supply him with fresh matter every week. This was really the first Methodist newspaper ever published. Of course, Calvinism was its inspiring genius. The principal contributors were Whitefield, Cennick, Howel Harris, and Joseph Humphreys.

The last mentioned was employed by Wesley as a sort of Moravian lay preacher, as early as the year 1738,[397] and was greatly attached to him. At this period, he was acting as Moravian minister at Deptford, and wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“DEPTFORD, _April 5, 1741_.

“DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—I think I love you better than ever.
I would not grieve you by any means, if I could possibly help
it. I think I had never more power in preaching than I had
this morning. And, if this is the consequence of electing
everlasting love, may my soul be ever filled with it!”[398]

In another letter, of three weeks later date, addressed to “Mr. M——,” he avows his belief in the doctrine of final perseverance, and proceeds to say:—

“The doctrine of sinless perfection in this life, I utterly
renounce. I believe the preaching of it has led many souls
into darkness and confusion. I believe those that hold it,
if children of God at all, are in a very legal state. I
believe those who pretend to have attained it are dangerously
ignorant of their own hearts. I also see that, if I incline
towards universal redemption any longer, I must also hold with
universal salvation.”

He then adds: “Last Saturday I sent the following letter to the Rev. Mr. J. Wesley.”

“REVEREND SIR,—I would have been joined with you to all
eternity if I could; but my having continued with you so long
as I have has led me into grievous temptation; and I now think
it my duty no longer to join with you, but openly to renounce
your peculiar doctrines. I have begun to do it at London; and,
as the Lord shall enable me, will proceed to do it here at
Bristol. I feel no bitterness in my spirit, but love you, pray
for you, and respect you.

“I am, sir, your humble servant and unworthy brother,
“JOSEPH HUMPHREYS.”

The above letter was sent to the editor of the _Weekly History_ by Whitefield, accompanied by the following note:—

“I would have you print this letter with my last. If you
think it best, I would also have it printed in the _Daily
Advertiser_. I see the mystery of iniquity, that is working,
more and more.

“Ever yours,
“G. WHITEFIELD.“[399]

Humphreys and Cennick were now both at Kingswood, which was, for the time being, the head quarters of the Calvinistic schism. Here, in the month of April, the separatists got, from an old man, his copy of Wesley’s treatise against predestination, and burnt it.[400] About the same time, however, Wesley distributed a thousand copies among Whitefield’s congregation, and a thousand more at the Foundery;[401] and, in the same month, addressed the following characteristic letter to his friend.[402]

“_April, 1741._

“Would you have me deal plainly with you? I believe you would;
then, by the grace of God, I will.

“Of many things I find you are not rightly informed; of others
you speak what you have not well weighed.

“‘The society room at Bristol,’ you say, ‘ is adorned,’ How?
Why, with a piece of green cloth nailed to the desk; and two
sconces for eight candles each in the middle. I know no more.
Now, which of these can be spared I know not; nor would I
desire more adorning, or less.

“But ‘lodgings are made for me and my brother,’ That is, in
plain English, there is a little room by the school, where I
speak to the persons who come to me; and a garret, in which a
bed is placed for me. And do you grudge me this? Is this the
voice of my brother, my son, Whitefield?

“You say further, ‘that the children at Bristol are clothed
as well as taught,’ I am sorry for it, for the cloth is not
paid for yet, and was bought without my consent, or knowledge.
‘But those at Kingswood have been neglected,’ This is not so,
notwithstanding the heavy debt that lay upon it. One master and
one mistress have been in the house ever since it was capable
of receiving them. A second master has been placed there some
months since; and I have long been seeking for two proper
mistresses; so that as much has been done, as matters stand, if
not more, than I can answer to God and man.

“Hitherto, then, there is no ground for the heavy charge
of perverting your design for the poor colliers. Two years
since, your design was to build them a school. To this end,
you collected some money more than once; how much I cannot
say, till I have my papers. But this I know, it was not near
one-half of what has been expended on the work. This design you
then recommended to me, and I pursued it with all my might,
through such a train of difficulties as, I will be bold to
say, you have not met with in your life. For many months, I
collected money wherever I was, and began building, though
I had not then a quarter of the money requisite to finish.
However, taking all the debt upon myself, the creditors were
willing to stay; and then it was that I took possession of it
in my own name; that is, when the foundation was laid; and I
immediately made my will, fixing you and my brother to succeed
me therein.

“But it is a poor case, that you and I should be talking thus.
Indeed, these things ought not to be. It lay in your power to
have prevented all, and yet to have borne testimony to what you
call ‘the truth.’ If you had disliked my sermon, you might have
printed another on the same text, and have answered my proofs,
without mentioning my name; this had been fair and friendly.”

The two friends were thus at variance; but every candid reader must honestly acknowledge, that Wesley triumphantly refutes Whitefield’s petulant objections.

Meanwhile, Whitefield’s adherents in the metropolis, within a few days after his arrival, set to work to erect him a wooden building near the Foundery, which they called “a Tabernacle, for morning’s exposition.”[403] On April 25, he went to Bristol, where Charles Wesley was officiating; and, three weeks after, wrote to a friend, saying, “The doctrines of the gospel are sadly run down, and most monstrous errors propagated. They assert, ‘that the very in-being of sin must be taken out of us, or otherwise we are not new creatures,’ However, at Bristol, error is in a great measure put a stop to.”[404]

So Whitefield thought, and yet, at this very time, Charles Wesley was preaching at Bristol and Kingswood, if possible, with greater power than ever. In June, however, Whitefield began to collect money for a rival meeting-house at Kingswood, and wished John Cennick to lay the foundation immediately, but to take care not to make the building either too large or too handsome.[405]

Wesley and Whitefield were divided; but Howel Harris, with his warm Welsh heart, tried to reunite them. In the month of October, Harris had loving interviews with both Wesley and his brother, and wrote to Whitefield, then in Scotland. Whitefield, easily moved in the path of Christian love, immediately addressed to Wesley the letter following:—

“ABERDEEN, _October 10, 1741_.