Chapter III: Oxford Methodism, Etc (2)

In the month of July, Wesley, being in London, paid a visit to the Rev. William Law, at Putney, and commenced a friendship which lasted for several years. From this period, he began to read the “Theologia Germanica,” and other mystic writings, with what results will be seen hereafter. On the 3rd of August, he was made a member of “The Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge;” and, during his stay in London, received from Mr. Clayton a long letter, which will help to give the reader an insight into the difficulties and daily life of the Oxford Methodists. It was first published in the _Wesleyan Times_ newspaper, of September 24, 1866.

“OXON, _August 1, 1732_.

“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—I cannot but think it an extraordinary
providence, that, when we had lost our best advocate and
patron, all opposition against us should immediately cease.
Since you left us, nobody has thought it worth while to attack
either Mr. Smith or me, or to endeavour to remove us from those
principles wherein you, by the grace of God, have fixed us. Mr.
Smith goes out of town to-morrow, and so will be entirely out
of danger from the fellows of Lincoln. He seems to be forearmed
against the temptations which may possibly arise from strange
company and from travelling. My little flock at Brazenose are,
God be praised, true to their principles. Bocardo,” [a room
over the north gate of the city used as a debtors’ prison,]
“I fear, grows worse upon my hands: they have done nothing
but quarrel ever since you left us. They carried matters so
high on Saturday, that the bailiff was sent for, who ordered
Tomlyn to be fettered, and put into the dungeon. The Castle
is, I thank God! in much better condition. All the felons were
acquitted, except Salmon, who is to be tried at Warwick; and
the sheep-stealer, who is burnt in the hand and is a great
penitent. Jempro is discharged, and I have appointed Harris to
read to the prisoners in his stead. Two of the felons likewise
have paid their fees and are gone out, both of them able to
read mighty well. There are only two in the gaol who want this
accomplishment,—John Clanville, who reads but moderately, and
the horse-stealer who cannot read at all, though he knows all
his letters and can spell most of the monosyllables. I hear
them both read three times a week; and, I believe, Salmon
hears them so many times daily. The woman, who was a perfect
novice, spells tolerably; and so does one of the boys; and
the other makes shift to read with spelling every word that
is longer than ordinary. They can both say their catechism
to the end of the commandments, and can likewise repeat the
morning and evening prayers for children in Ken’s Manual. I
have been twice at the school, namely, on Tuesday and Saturday
last; and intend to go again as soon as I have finished this
letter. The children all go on pretty well, except one, who,
I find, truants till eleven o’clock in a morning. I have
obtained leave to go to St. Thomas’s workhouse twice a week. I
am sure the people much need instruction, for there is hardly
a soul can read in the whole house. Pray, do not forget a few
Common-Prayer Books for the Castle.

“You cannot imagine the pleasure it is for me to know that you
are engaged every morning in prayer for me. I wish for nine
o’clock more eagerly than ever I did before; and, I think, I
begin to perceive what is meant by that union of souls which
is so much talked of in Pere Malebranche and Madam Bourignon.
Mr. Hall is not yet come home; so that I am pretty much taken
up with the poor people and the prisoners. I thank God, I
have fully conquered my affection for a morning nap, and rise
constantly by five o’clock, and have the pleasure to see
myself imitated by the greatest part of my pupils. I have made
Mr. Clements a proselyte to early rising, though I cannot to
constant communion. May God prosper all your designs of doing
good in London.

“I am, Rev. and dear Sir,
“Your affectionate friend and obedient humble servant,

“J. CLAYTON.”

The lull in the opposition to the Oxford Methodists was of short continuance. A month after the date of Mr. Clayton’s letter, Wesley had to mourn the death of his friend Morgan, and to defend himself against the accusation that Morgan had hastened his death by the rigorous fasting, which he had practised at Wesley’s recommendation.[105] Wesley’s long letter fully satisfied Morgan’s father, who expressed himself as almost wishing to be one of the Oxford Methodists himself, and as ready to vindicate them from any calumny or aspersion that might be cast upon them.[106] There were others, however, of a different mind, for a fortnight after Mr. Morgan wrote thus to Wesley, an article appeared in _Fogg’s Weekly Journal_, to the effect that there were, in the Oxford University, a number of persons who, in order “to live up to the principles of Christianity had doomed themselves to absurd and perpetual melancholy;” and that “these sons of sorrow designed to make the whole place a monastery.” The writer continues: “These Methodists pretend to great refinements, as well as to what regards the speculative, as the practical part of religion; and have a very near affinity to the Essenes among the Jews, and the Pietists in Switzerland. The chief hinge, on which their whole scheme of religion turns, is, that no action whatever is indifferent; and hence they condemn several actions as bad, which are not only allowed to be innocent, but laudable, by the rest of mankind. They avoid, as much as possible, every object that may affect them with any pleasant or grateful sensations. All social entertainments and diversions are disapproved of; and, in endeavouring to avoid luxury, they not only exclude what is convenient, but what is absolutely necessary for the support of life; fancying, (as is thought,) that religion was designed to contradict nature. They neglect and voluntarily afflict their bodies, and practise several rigorous and superstitious customs, which God never required of them. All Wednesdays and Fridays are strictly to be kept as fasts; and blood let once a fortnight, to keep down the carnal man. At dinner, they sigh for the time they are obliged to spend in eating. Every morning to rise at four o’clock, is supposed a duty; and to employ two hours a day in singing of psalms and hymns, is judged an indispensable requisite to being a Christian. In short, they practise everything contrary to the judgment of other persons, and allow none to have any (religion) but those of their own sect, which is the farthest from it.

“As these Methodists have occasioned no small stir in Oxford, so there has not been wanting a variety of conjectures about them. Some are apt to ascribe their gloomy and disconsolate way of life to want of money; thus being denied the enjoyment of those pleasures they chiefly desire, they are weighed down by an habitual sorrow; and it is certain that their founder took formerly no small liberty in indulging his appetites. Others tax their characters with hypocrisy, and suppose them to use religion only as a veil to vice; and, indeed, if we should give credit to the several tales related of them, their greatest friends would be ashamed to stand in their defence. Others judge that their way of life is owing to enthusiasm, madness, and superstitious scruples. Among their own party, they pass for religious persons, and men of extraordinary parts; but they have the misfortune to be taken by all, who have ever been in their company, for madmen and fools.”

Such are some of the scandalous charges contained in this precious epistolary morsel,—we believe the first attack ever made upon the Methodists in the public prints. The entire letter is before us; but only a part of it is quoted,—first because there is a great amount of empty and ungrammatical verbiage unworthy of being admitted into what was, at that period, perhaps the most literary and respectable paper published—_Fogg’s Weekly Journal_; and secondly because there is one paragraph, which, despite its verbosity, is so loathsomely impure, that it would be a sin against both God and man to reproduce it.

The letter was published in _Fogg’s Journal_, on December 9th, 1732; and, within two months after, it was answered in an octavo pamphlet of thirty pages, entitled, “The Oxford Methodists: Being some account of a society of young gentlemen in that city, so denominated; setting forth their rise, views, and designs; in a letter from a gent, near Oxford, to his friend in London. Printed for J. Roberts, price 6_d._” The second edition of this first defence of Methodism, published in 1738 “with very great alterations and improvements,” is that from which the following extracts are taken.

The writer says that he knew nothing of the Methodists till his friend requested him to make inquiry concerning them. On doing this, he was first of all told that they were “miserable enthusiasts and zealots;” and he found that almost every one, with whom he conversed, had a prejudice against them; and yet, notwithstanding this, he was unable to learn that the least slur had been cast upon their moral behaviour, except that “they pretended to be more pious than their neighbours,” and that “they put a gloomy and melancholy face upon religion, and affected greater austerities and exemplariness than the doctrines of the gospel demanded.”

The writer continues; after he “had heard all that could be said against them by their enemies,” he “thought it was but fair to inquire of their friends what could be said in their favour.” He found it, however, difficult to meet with any who would acknowledge himself to be a friend; and hence he was obliged to seek his information from one of the Methodists themselves. It is probable that Wesley was the Methodist thus consulted; but, be that as it may, a full account was given of the origin of Methodism at the end of the year 1729, and of its progress to the present time. The writer adds: “The gentleman assured me, that they” (the Methodists) “were so diffident of themselves, especially when they found a spirit of contemptuous raillery stirred up against them, that they took advice from time to time of a worthy and venerable gentleman, a near relation of one of them, who had much knowledge and experience of the world; and that they formed their conduct upon his advice; and, upon the encouragement he gave them, they were determined, at all events, to persevere in the course they had begun.”

The “near relation,” referred to in this extract, was Wesley’s father; and the extract is of vast importance as tending to confirm the opinion that the “father of the Wesleys”—the noble-hearted rector of Epworth—deserves more credit for the organisation and establishment of Oxford Methodism than the Methodists and the Church have ever yet awarded him. Several of his “encouraging epistles” were shown to the inquiring writer of the pamphlet before us, and gave him “a high notion of the piety and good sense of the venerable author.” “How happy,” he writes, “are these sacramentarians, these Methodists, these enthusiasts, as their enemies call them, to have so very excellent a director! and how much are they to be commended for submitting their conduct and designs to so pious and experienced a judge.”

He then proceeds: “There are three points to which these gentlemen think themselves obliged to adhere—1. That of visiting and relieving the prisoners and the sick, and giving away Bibles, Common-Prayer Books, and the ‘Whole Duty of Man’; and of explaining the catechism to the children of poor families, and of dropping a shilling or so to such families where they deem it needful. 2. That of weekly communion. 3. That of observing strictly the fasts of the Church, which has caused some to call them ‘Supererogation Men.’”

After this, the writer proceeds to notice the accusations contained in the letter published in _Fogg’s Weekly Journal_, and, as far as necessary, replies to them.

Such is an outline of the first defence of Methodism ever published.

Wesley, in 1733, composed two sermons full of a great doctrine, which had well-nigh been forgotten—the absolute need of the influences of the Holy Ghost to convert the soul. It is a gross mistake to imagine that this, with its cognate truths, was not discovered and embraced by Wesley until his meeting with Peter Bohler in 1738. Take the following extracts from the first of the sermons above mentioned, and which was preached at St. Mary’s, Oxford, before the university, on January 1st, 1733.[107]

“The circumcision of the heart is that habitual disposition of soul, which, in the sacred writings, is termed holiness; and which directly implies the being cleansed from sin, from all filthiness both of flesh and spirit; and, by consequence, the being endued with those virtues which were also in Christ Jesus; the being so renewed in the image of our mind, as to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect.”

Here we have propounded, in the plainest terms, as early as the year 1733, Wesley’s famous doctrine of Christian perfection. “This sermon,” said he, in 1765, “contained all that I now teach concerning salvation from all sin, and loving God with an undivided heart.”[108]

In the same sermon he tells us that, “without the Spirit of God we can do nothing but add sin to sin; it being as impossible for us even to think a good thought without His supernatural assistance, as to create ourselves, or to renew our whole souls in righteousness and true holiness. He alone can quicken those who are dead unto God, and breathe into them the breath of Christian life.”

We are further taught that this holiness of heart is to be obtained “alone by faith, which is not only an unshaken assent to all that God hath revealed in Scripture, but in particular to those important truths,—‘Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners,’—‘He bare our sins in His own body on the tree,’—‘He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.’”

Then follows: “Those who are thus, by faith, born of God, have also strong consolation through hope. This is the next thing which the circumcision of the heart implies; even the testimony of their own spirit, with the Spirit which witnesses in their hearts, that they are the children of God.”

Then, as if intended to answer one of the false accusations which had appeared in _Fogg’s Weekly Journal_ only three weeks before, and to justify one of the practices there condemned, he tells his reverend and learned auditors that this heart religion “does not forbid us, as some have strangely imagined, to take pleasure in anything but God; to suppose this, is to suppose the Fountain of holiness is directly the author of sin; since He has inseparably annexed pleasure to the use of those creatures which are necessary to sustain the life He has given us.” But, at the same time, “every good soldier of Christ will not only renounce the works of darkness, but every appetite too, and every affection, which is not subject to the law of God. Vain hope! that a child of Adam should ever expect to see the kingdom of Christ and of God, without striving, without agonizing first, to enter in at the strait gate,—without a constant and continued course of general self-denial.”

“This,” adds Wesley, “is God’s short and plain account of true religion and virtue. Other sacrifices from us He would not; but the living sacrifice of the heart He hath chosen. Let it be continually offered up to God through Christ, in flames of holy love. And let no creature be suffered to share with Him; for He is a jealous God. His throne will He not divide with another; He will reign without a rival. Be no design, no desire admitted there, but what has Him for its ultimate object. This is the way wherein those children of God once walked, who, being dead, still speak to us.”[109]

Such then were the principles held by Wesley and the Oxford Methodists, in 1733. From these he never varied; and dark will be the day when they are either abandoned or forgotten by his followers.

The other sermon, written in 1733, was founded upon the text, “Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption.” Here again we are told that the Holy Spirit “is the great Fountain of holiness to His church. From Him flows all the grace and virtue, by which the stains of guilt are cleansed, and we are renewed in all holy dispositions, and again bear the image of our Creator. He is the immediate Minister of God’s will upon earth, and transacts all the great affairs of the church of Christ.”[110]

Precious truths are truths like these. Without them the church, no matter how learned, rich, respectable, and ritualistic, is utterly powerless in converting men. With them, nothing is impossible; for, in such a case, the church has, for the accomplishment of its purposes, not only the resources of man, but the omnipotence of God.

In the same year, 1733, Wesley issued his first printed production, “A Collection of Forms of Prayer for every day in the Week.” These prayers were originally intended for the use of his college pupils; but the reader may also gather from them some of the principles and aims of the Oxford Methodists.

They longed for the love of God to be the sole actuating power in the use they made of their understanding, affections, senses, health, time, and talents; that God might always be present to their minds; that they might ever have awful thoughts of Him, and never mention His holy and reverend name, unless on just, solemn, and devout occasions; nor even then, without acts of adoration; and that they might glorify Him by every thought of their hearts, every word of their tongues, and every work of their hands, and by professing His truth, even to the death, if it should please Him to call them to it.

They wished to be made all kindness and benignity, all goodness and gentleness, all meekness and longsuffering; and to be filled with the whole spirit of humility, and to have it the constant, ruling habit of their minds. They dreaded applause, and desired never to speak a word that might tend to their own praise, unless the good of others required it. They endeavoured to abstain from all pleasures which did not prepare them for taking pleasure in God.

They acted upon the principle of excluding none from their charity, who were the objects of God’s mercy. They embraced all occasions to assist the needy, to protect the oppressed, to instruct the ignorant, to confirm the wavering, to exhort the good, and to reprove the wicked. They wished to look upon the failings of their neighbours as if they were their own; and never revealed them but when charity required, and then with tenderness and compassion.

Space forbids further reference to these prayers. Suffice it to say that, for reverential feeling, simplicity and beauty of expression, scriptural sentiment, Christian benevolence, and earnest longings for the highest holiness; for adoration, penitence, deprecation, petition, thanksgiving, and intercession,—they have no superiors, perhaps hardly any equals, in the English language. They are little known, and less used; but would be of great service to thousands of Methodists, if sometimes employed as an aid in their private devotions.

In January, 1733, Wesley set out on horseback for Epworth, to see his father, whose health was failing; and, on his way, had a narrow escape, by his horse falling over a bridge, not far from Daventry. His parents suggested to him the propriety of using means to obtain the Epworth living; but he was deterred from acquiescing in the proposal, by a conviction that, “if he could stand his ground at Oxford, and approve himself a faithful minister of Christ, through evil report and good report, there was no place under heaven where he was so likely to make improvement in every good work.”[111]

In May, he again went to Epworth, visiting, on the way, his friend Clayton, at Manchester, where he spent a sabbath, and preached thrice, in three different churches. On his return to Oxford, in June, he found the ill effects of his absence; for three of his own pupils and the whole of Mr. Clayton’s had abandoned the Methodists; and, instead of finding seven-and-twenty communicants at St. Mary’s, he now found not more than five. His friends were deserting him, and his enemies triumphing over him; but, in the midst of all, he stood unmoved. “My friends,” says he, “were either trifling or serious: if triflers, fare them well; a noble escape: if serious, those who are more serious are left, whom the others would rather have opposed than forwarded in the service they have done, and still do, us. As for reputation, though it be a glorious instrument of advancing our Master’s service, yet there is a better than that—a clean heart, a single eye, a soul full of God.”[112] “The thing that gives offence here is the being singular with regard to time, expense, and company. Ill men say all manner of evil of me, and good men believe them. There is a way, and there is but one, of making my peace. God forbid I should ever take it. I have as many pupils as I need, and as many friends; when more are better for me, I shall have more. If I have no more pupils after these are gone from me, I shall then be glad of a curacy near you; if I have, I shall take it as a signal to remain here. What I do is this; when I am entrusted with a person who is first to understand and practise, and then to teach, the law of Christ, I endeavour to show him what that law is. When he appears seriously sensible of this, I propose to him the means God hath commanded him to use, in order to that end; and a week, or a month, or a year after, as the state of his soul seems to require it, the several prudential means recommended by wise and good men. Only two rules it is my principle to observe in all cases; first, to begin, continue, and end all my advices in the spirit of meekness; and secondly, to add to meekness long suffering; in pursuance of a rule which I fixed long since, never to give up any one till I have tried him at least ten years.”[113]

These are significant facts. Methodism at Oxford was organised in 1729. Two years after, while Wesley and his brother were at Epworth, it dwindled into almost nothing; and two years later still, when it had increased to seven-and-twenty communicants, during another brief Epworth visit it was almost utterly destroyed, for the seven-and-twenty were reduced to five. All this goes to show that Wesley was the soul of this mighty movement, and that without him it would have been dissolved and become extinct.

It is far from certain that the seven-and-twenty communicants, just mentioned, were all collegians. On the contrary, there is strong presumptive proof that they were not; and, indeed, that some of them were ladies. One of them seems to have been Miss Potter, probably the bishop’s daughter, concerning whom Clayton writes to Wesley, in a letter dated “Manchester, September 10, 1733,” as follows:—

“Poor Miss Potter! I wonder not that she is fallen. Where
humility is not the foundation, the superstructure cannot be
good. And yet I am sorry to hear the tidings of her, especially
that she has a great man for her confessor, who dissuades her
from constant communion. I am sure she has great occasion to
use all the means of grace which Providence provides for her.
I would not persuade you to leave off reading with her. Who
knows whether you may not raise her again to the eminence
from which she has fallen? At least, though she neglect the
weightier matters of the law, yet keep up in her that reverend
respect she bears it, even by the ‘tithing of mint and anise
and cummin.’”[114]

Whether there were other ladies besides this one, included in the seven-and-twenty Methodist communicants, it is impossible to say; but none were included in the five. The five poor Methodists remaining, not reckoning Wesley himself, nor Morgan who was dead, nor Clayton who was removed to Manchester, nor Whitelamb who was gone to Wroote, were doubtless Charles Wesley, Benjamin Ingham[115] and James Hervey (both of whom joined them in 1733), John Gambold, and, probably, Charles Kinchin. All honour to such names! They kept the fire burning when it was in danger of going out. Wesley was their master spirit; but they were faithful and willing co-workers.

Mr. Clayton, in the letter just quoted, refers to confession and to constant communion. Did the Oxford Methodists recommend confession? It would seem they did; hence the following extract from a long, unpublished letter, written at this period, and addressed to Wesley, by his sister Emily:—

“To lay open the state of my soul to you, or any of our clergy,
is what I have no inclination to at present; and, I believe, I
never shall. I shall not put my conscience under the direction
of mortal man, frail as myself. To my own master I stand or
fall. Nay, I scruple not to say, that all such desire in you,
or any other ecclesiastic, seems to me like church tyranny, and
assuming to yourselves a dominion over your fellow-creatures,
which was never designed you by God.... I farther own that I do
not hold frequent communion necessary to salvation, nor a means
of Christian perfection. But do not mistake my meaning; I only
think communing every Sunday, or very frequently, lessens our
veneration for that sacred ordinance, and, consequently, our
profiting by it.”

Two other extracts from letters, belonging to this period, may be useful as illustrative of Oxford Methodism. In the month of July, 1733, Mr. Clayton, then resident in Manchester, wrote to Wesley as follows:—

“As to your question about Saturday, I can only answer it by
giving an account of how I spend the day. I do not look upon
it as a preparation for Sunday, but as a festival itself;
and, therefore, I have continued festival prayer, for the
three primitive hours, and for morning and evening, from the
Apostolical Constitutions, which, I think, I communicated
to you whilst I was at Oxford. I look upon Friday as my
preparation for the celebration of both the sabbath and the
Lord’s day; the first of which I observe much like a common
saint’s day, or as one of the inferior holidays of the Church.
I have, I bless God! generally contrived to have the eucharist
celebrated on Saturdays as well as other holidays, for the use
of myself and the sick people whom I visit.

“I was at Dr. Deacon’s when your letter came to hand, and we
had a deal of talk about your scheme of avowing yourselves as
a society, and fixing upon a set of rules. The Doctor seemed
to think you had better let it alone; for to what end would
it serve? It would be no additional tie upon yourselves; and
perhaps would be a snare for the consciences of those weak
brethren who might chance to come among you. Observing the
stations” [the fast on Wednesdays and Fridays] “and weekly
communion are duties which stand upon a much higher footing
than a rule of society; and they who can set aside the command
of God and the authority of the Church will hardly, I doubt, be
tied by the rules of a private society.

“As to the mixture” [of water with sacramental wine] “Mr.
Colley told me it was constantly used at Christ Church.
However, if you have reason to doubt it, I would have you
inquire; but I cannot think the want of it a reason for not
communicating. If I could receive where the mixture was used,
I would; and, therefore, I used to prefer the Castle to Christ
Church; but if not I should not think myself any further
concerned in the matter than as it might be in my power to get
it restored.”[116]

Again, in another letter, dated “Manchester, September 10, 1733,” Mr. Clayton writes:—

“How should I direct my instructor in the school of Christ!
However, I must be free to tell you my sentiments of what
you inquire about. On Wednesdays and Fridays I have, for
some time past, used the Office for Passion Week, out of
Spinckes’s Devotions, and bless God for it. I have found it
very useful to excite in me that love of God, and that sorrow
for having offended Him, which make up the first main branch
of repentance. Refer your last question to Mr. Law; I dare not
give directions for spending that time which I consume in bed,
nor teach you, who rise at four, when I indulge myself in sleep
till five.”[117]

These are important letters, not only as exhibiting the religious earnestness of Wesley and his friends, but as affording a glimpse of the high churchism of the Oxford Methodists. Wesley seriously contemplated the formation of a society, who should strictly observe saint days, holidays, and Saturdays, besides other ritualistic practices, down to superstitious admixture of sacramental wine with water. In truth, these were ardent spirits. Visiting prisons, and teaching children; rising at five every morning; praying for each other and for their friends; and observing the weekly communion, are things which all will regard with commendation: but the other were silly, popish practices, not only unauthorised and useless, but too much resembling the pernicious nonsense of the high church party of the present day to receive the approval of those who have learned to be thankful for the inestimable blessings of the great Protestant reformation.

The health of Wesley’s father was now extremely feeble; and it became an anxiously discussed family question whether Wesley should be his father’s successor. Samuel was first urged to use means to obtain the next presentation of the Epworth rectory; but he positively declined doing so, and directed his father’s attention to John. The correspondence on this subject extends over the whole of the year 1734. The Epworth living was valuable, as may be judged by the fact that, though then worth only £200 per annum, it is now, through the relative changes that have taken place in the value of money and the price of food, worth near £1000.[118] The dying rector had been at great expense in improving the parsonage and its premises. Here he had diligently and faithfully laboured as an earnest parish minister for nearly forty successive years. Here most of his nineteen children had been born. Here he was about to die himself; and here he was anxious that his wife should die. John was pressed to secure the living, and thereby secure a continuance of the old homestead for his mother and his unmarried sisters. His brother Samuel allowed that at Oxford he would have “more friends, more freedom from care, and more Divine ordinances than he could have elsewhere;” but then at Oxford he was “despised,” and therefore could “do no good there.” To this John answered: “1. A Christian will be despised anywhere. 2. No one is a Christian till he is despised. 3. His being despised will not hinder his doing good, but much further it, by making him a better Christian. 4. Another can supply my place at Epworth better than at Oxford, and the good done here is of a far more diffusive nature; inasmuch as it is a more extensive benefit to sweeten the fountain than to do the same to particular streams.”[119]

In writing to his father, he put the case thus: “The question is not whether I could do more good to others there or here; but whether I could do more good to myself: seeing wherever I can be most holy myself, there I can most promote holiness in others. But I can improve myself more at Oxford than at any other place,” etc.

To this his father properly replied that our main consideration in choosing a course of life “is not dear self, but the glory of God, and the different degrees of promoting it.”[120]

John agreed to this; but argued that “that course of life tends most to the glory of God, wherein we can most promote holiness in ourselves and others;” and that at Oxford he had several advantages for doing this which were almost peculiar to the place. 1. He could always have at hand half-a-dozen friends, nearly of his own judgment, and engaged in the same studies; persons who had wholly and absolutely devoted themselves to God, and who denied themselves and took up their cross daily. 2. He could not only have as much, but as little company as he pleased; for he had no trifling visitors, except about an hour in a month, when he invited some of the fellows to breakfast. 3. He was entirely free from worldly cares, for his income was ready for him on stated days, and all he had to do was to count it and carry it home. 4. He had the privilege of public prayer twice a day, and of weekly communion. 5. At Oxford there was room for charity in all its forms; poor families to be relieved; children to be educated; workhouses and prisons to be visited; and the schools of the prophets, where tender minds were to be formed and strengthened. 6. He had the joint advice of many friends in any difficulty that might arise; the good bishop and vice-chancellor to supply his want of experience; and a fund, which this year would amount to near £80, to supply the bodily wants of the poor, and thereby prepare their souls to receive instruction. In addition to all this, he alleges that the care of two thousand souls at Epworth would crush him; and that, were he to abandon all his Oxford advantages, he would not be able to stand his ground for a single month against intemperance in sleeping, eating, and drinking; against irregularity in study; against a general lukewarmness in his affections, and remissness in his actions; against softness and self-indulgence, directly opposite to that discipline and hardship which become a soldier of Jesus Christ.[121]

The letter from which the above is taken is dated December 10, 1734. His brother Samuel wrote a fortnight later, saying that his father had told him John was unalterably resolved not to accept the living, even if he could get it. Samuel protests against the decision, and says that in Wesley’s arguments he can see his love to himself, but he cannot see his love to his neighbour. Besides, he was not at liberty to resolve against undertaking a cure of souls, having been solemnly engaged to do this at his ordination. Charles might be silly enough to vow he would not depart from Oxford, and thereby avoid orders; but the faith of John was already plighted to the contrary; and the idea scarce ever entered the head of any Christian but his own, that a parish priest cannot attain to the highest perfection possible on this side heaven.[122]

Wesley’s reasons and arguments were doubtless well intended; but they were feeble, sophistical, and inconclusive. It is easy to imagine that they would be painful both to his father and family; and it seems impossible to excuse them except upon the ground that God had elected him for another kind of work, and that by an unseen power he was prevented realising his father’s wishes. Wesley’s father died April 25, 1735, and the Epworth living passed into other hands; but before proceeding farther, we give the last letter Wesley received from him.

The venerable rector was now anxiously employed in the publication of his grand folio volume of 600 pages, “_Dissertationes in Librum Jobi_,” and had requested his son to assist him with the engravings for it.

“EPWORTH, _January 21, 1735_.

“DEAR SON,—About an hour since, your letter of the 13th
instant came to hand, and indeed not before I had need of it,
especially when I considered how extremely weak I was, and
found myself grow sensibly weaker every day. My people have
been very kind to me during my long illness, which has brought
me now so low that I cannot walk half-a-dozen times about my
chamber; but then I am often refreshed with seeing Mr. Hale’s
noble present of books to me lying in my window, near half of
which I have already spread in my parish, some to those who
came to see me, and to others I have sent them, and with very
good effect, many having read them, and some lent them to
others. A spirit of Christianity, beyond what I have hitherto
known, seems to be raised among them; one proof of which is in
the greater frequency of the sacraments. Nor is Mr. Whitelamb
wanting in any part of his duty, though I am not able to preach
or give the sacrament to them myself, except one day, and that
with his assistance.

“And now let us go on to matter of less moment, though I hope
not quite frivolous. Had I had all Mr. Rivington’s advice at
first, all my plates and cuts would have been done before
this, and that with less expense, and to greater perfection.
The agreement you have made with the engraver seems to be
very reasonable. Whether the cuts are to be done on sheets
or half sheets I leave to you and Mr. Rivington; but I would
have leviathan’s rival, that is, the whale, as well as the
crocodile. As for the elephant, he is so common that he need
not be added. I am glad the tombs want no more than retouching,
and especially that Mr. Garden is not ill pleased with them.
‘Job in Adversity’ I leave to your direction, as likewise the
frontispiece, which Mr. Virtue is doing, who now duns me pretty
hard for money for it; and I have writ him lately to send me
word what he will charge for the whole when it is finished,
and what he desires in part, with a promise to send him some
money by the first opportunity I have of doing it. As for poor
Pentapolis, it must even shift as it can, though my heart is
pretty much in it, and I have taken a little pains about it.
This I must likewise leave with you; but cannot you send me a
copy of the drawings before they are engraven, that I may weigh
them, as is proper? As for Job’s horse, I cannot for my life
imagine how I shall get him into my Lord Oxford’s stable,—I
mean, get liberty to inscribe it to him, unless you yourself
would speak to my Lord Duplin about it. Have you yet found any
news of ‘_De Morbo Jobi_,’ which has been so long incognito?
Or, is there anything else that you find wanting? I heartily
commend you and your brother to God, and am this evening

Your affectionate father,
SAMUEL WESLEY.”[123]

Wesley endorsed this characteristic letter from his father with the words, “The last I received from him.” Thirteen weeks afterwards, the venerable man rested from his cares and earthly labours.

On June 11, 1734, Wesley preached before the university what his brother Charles calls “his Jacobite sermon,” for which he was “much mauled and threatened.” He was prudent enough, however, before preaching it, to get the vice-chancellor to read and approve of it, and hence was able to set “Wadham, Merton, Exeter, and Christ Church” objectors at defiance.

He then set out for Epworth, accompanied by Westley Hall, who proposed marriage to his sister Keziah, greatly to the satisfaction of all the parties concerned, except Hall’s own mother. On his return to Oxford, he spent some time in London, chiefly in consulting Mr. Law about one of his pupils, referred to in Wesley’s Works, vol. xii., p. 46; but also partly in putting through the press his father’s “Dissertations on the Book of Job.”[124]

About the same period, he began the practice of reading as he rode on horseback,—a practice he continued nearly forty years. He also made frequent excursions to different parts of the country, often on foot; and, during the year, walked more than a thousand miles, constantly preaching on the sabbath, and already acting the part of an itinerant. His walking, preaching, reading, studying, visiting, and fasting began to affect his health; he lost his strength, and frequently spat blood.[125] On the 16th of July, while asleep in bed, he had such an attack of bleeding as led him to exclaim: “O God, prepare me for Thy coming, and then come when Thou wilt!” His friends became alarmed; and his mother wrote letters blaming him for neglecting his health. A physician was called in, his advice adopted, and gradually the well worn devotee regained his lost vigour.[126]

Though Wesley’s letter to his father, dated December 10, 1734, seemed to decide the question respecting his seeking to obtain the Epworth living, his brother Samuel, during the correspondence arising out of it, started an idea which, ghost like, haunted Wesley for months afterwards, and which, we incline to think, had considerable influence in inducing him to change his views, and ultimately to go to Georgia.

Samuel, on Christmas-day, 1734, wrote as follows:—“You are not at liberty to resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. You are solemnly engaged to do it before God, and His high-priest, and His Church. Are you not ordained? Did you not deliberately and openly promise to instruct, to teach, to admonish, to exhort those committed to your charge? Did you equivocate then with so vile a reservation, as to purpose in your heart that you would never have a charge? It is not a college, it is not an university; it is the _order of the Church_, according to which you were called.”[127]

This was touching Wesley in a tender place. On conscientious grounds, he had already refused to apply for the Epworth living; and yet here his brother Samuel maintains that on conscientious grounds, he is bound not to bury himself at Oxford, but to undertake a cure of souls, either at Epworth or somewhere else. His faith is plighted. Before God and His Church he has sworn to be, not a tutor, but a minister of Christ. What was the effect of this? In December, 1734, Wesley refused to apply for his father’s living; and yet, ten months afterwards, he left Oxford and set sail to Georgia. What occurred during this brief interval?

In January, 1735, Wesley wrote to Samuel, saying:—“I do not, nor ever did, resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. There are four cures belonging to our college, and consistent with a fellowship. I do not know but I may take one of them at Michaelmas. Not that I am clearly assured that I should be false to my engagement, were I only to instruct and exhort the pupils committed to my charge. But of that I should think more. I desire your full thoughts upon the whole, as well as your prayers.”[128]

To this Samuel replied, February 8, 1735:—“_The order of the Church_ stakes you down, and the more you struggle you will be held the faster. If there be such a thing as truth, I insist upon it, you must, when opportunity offers, either perform that promise, or repent of it.”[129]

In answer, five days afterwards, John remarked:—“Your last argument is either _ignoratio elenchi_, or implies these two propositions: 1. ‘You resolve against any parochial cure of souls.’ 2. ‘The priest who does not undertake the first parochial cure that offers is perjured.’ Let us add a third: ‘The tutor who, being in orders, never accepts of a parish is perjured.’ And then I deny all three.”[130]

Samuel’s reply was as follows:—“An ordained tutor, who accepts not a cure, is perjured; alter the term into ‘who resolves not to accept,’ and I will maintain it, unless you can prove either of these two: (1) there is no such obligation at taking orders; (2) this obligation is dispensed with. Both which I utterly deny.”[131]

On the 4th of March John replied:—“I had rather dispute with you, if I must dispute, than with any man living; because it may be done with so little expense of time and words. You think I engaged myself at my ordination to undertake the cure of a parish. I think I did not. However, I own I am not the proper judge of the oath I then took; accordingly, the post after I received yours, I referred it to ‘the high-priest of God,’ before whom I contracted that engagement, proposing this single question to him,—Whether I had, at my ordination, engaged myself to undertake the cure of a parish or no. His answer runs in these words: ‘It doth not seem to me that, at your ordination, you engaged yourself to undertake the cure of any parish, provided you can, as a clergyman, better serve God and His Church in your present or some other station.’ Now, that I can, as a clergyman, better serve God and His Church in my present station, I have all reasonable evidence.”[132]

Wesley’s father died within two months after this; and yet, during this short interval, Wesley seems to have been induced to lay aside his scruples and to apply for the Epworth living. He applied, but he was not successful. This is a bold assertion to be made in the teeth of statements directly opposite; statements made and repeated and re-repeated, without dispute, for more than the last seventy years: but before the reader rejects it, let him ponder the significance of the following letter, written by Wesley’s friend, Broughton, and published, for the first time, in the _Wesleyan Times_, of October 28, 1861:—

“LONDON, _April 15, 1735_.

“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—The same evening I received the favour of
yours, I waited on St. John, promising myself a kind reception.
He rejoiced with me to hear that your father was yet alive; but
did not close readily with me in attempting what, if crowned
with success, might prove a means of making our declining
friend end his days in peace. What shall we say for so sudden,
so unwished for a change? Oh, put not your trust in princes!
St. John disowns his giving me any encouragement to promise
you hopes of success. Did I then write you an untruth? If his
charge be just, I did; but his words were, ‘though he had
solicited the Bishop of London and Sir Robert on behalf of
another, not for Epworth, yet he would be glad to serve Mr.
Wesley.’ But where is the obstacle? Why, my lord of London,
who is usually consulted by the minister of state on such
occasions, spoke some disadvantageous things of you once in
the presence of St. John. But I could not but observe to our
friend that the misrepresented strictness of life, which gave
occasion for these disadvantageous things to be spoken of you,
was so far from being an objection to your being favoured by
a Christian bishop, that I humbly hoped it would turn to your
good account, inasmuch as over exactness of behaviour was the
sign of a tender and well regulated mind. But I cannot here
help thinking, ‘_Tros Tyriusve illi nullo discrimine agetur_.’
St. John thinks the Bishop of Oxford can be your friend. Yes,
I told him, my lord might give you a favourable word, if
asked; but I did not think the interest in his lordship was
so prevalent as to make him bestir himself on your behalf.
However, if you judge it proper to write to the bishop, I will
wait upon him, and do the best I can to serve my dear friend.

“Could your father’s book be presented to the queen soon? It
might do good. Do you know any great man about the court? The
king is not so difficult (I hope), if one could get a hearty
friend to espouse you. My interest in the speaker is not
powerful enough to bring about so desired a work; yet if there
was any other great man to befriend you, a serviceable hint
might be dropped. I doubt not but our good and loving God will
order this and everything else for your great and best good.
This is the wish and prayer of, dear sir,

“Yours most sincerely,

“J. BROUGHTON.”

Broughton was now curate at the Tower, in London.[133] Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, was a politician of great ability and power. Sir Robert Walpole was prime minister. The Bishop of London was the celebrated Edmund Gibson. The Epworth living was a gift of the crown. Bear these facts in mind, and the above epistle will be easily interpreted.

Wesley’s objections to leave Oxford being overcome, probably by the hard facts and logic of his brother Samuel, he took steps to become his father’s successor. Broughton, who was evidently a man of influence and position, was employed to secure the help of Bolingbroke; and Bolingbroke had promised to use his endeavours to serve Wesley; but, on being pressed to fulfil his promise, shrank from doing so, on the ground that he had heard Gibson speak disparagingly of Wesley in Walpole’s presence; and, as the next presentation of the Epworth living was, _ipso facto_, at the disposal of these two dignitaries, it was almost useless to bring before them Wesley’s wish.

Broughton suggests two other steps to be taken, which might be of service in securing the living: (1) that the good services of the Bishop of Oxford be solicited; and (2) that the dying rector’s “Dissertations on the Book of Job,” dedicated to Queen Caroline, might be presented to her majesty as soon as possible. To adopt the second of these suggestions was impracticable, as the work was only in the course of being printed, and the first opportunity of presenting a copy to the queen did not occur until six months after the rector’s death. Whether the first was carried out we have no means of knowing.

The reader will excuse these lengthy observations, on the ground that they help to clear up what has always been a somewhat painfully mysterious chapter in Wesley’s history. It is not true that he could not be induced to apply for his father’s living. Indirectly, at least, he did apply, but failed; and, remembering this, the wonder is not so great that a few months afterwards he embarked for Georgia.[134]

Little more remains to be said before accompanying Wesley on his mission.

It was in the midst of this correspondence respecting the Epworth rectory, that George Whitefield was introduced to Wesley’s acquaintance, and became one of the Oxford Methodists.[135] Three years before, Whitefield had been admitted a servitor of Pembroke College, and had begun to pray and sing psalms five times every day. He longed to be acquainted with the Methodists, and often watched them passing, through ridiculing crowds, to receive the sacrament at St. Mary’s; but he was a poor youth, the servitor of other students, and shrunk from obtruding himself upon their notice. At length, a woman, in one of the workhouses, attempted to cut her throat; and Whitefield sent an apple-seller, attached to Pembroke College, to inform Charles Wesley of her condition; and this led Charles to invite him to breakfast next morning. He was now introduced to the rest of the Methodists, and adopted all their rules. The master of his college threatened to expel him. Some of the students shot at him their shafts of ridicule; others threw dirt at him; and others took away their pay from him. Being in great distress about his soul, he lay whole days prostrate on the ground, in silent or vocal prayer; he chose the worst sort of food; he fasted twice a week; he wore woollen gloves, a patched gown, and dirty shoes; and, as a penitent, thought it unbecoming to have his hair powdered. Like all his brother Methodists, he observed Lent with the greatest severity, eating no flesh during the six weeks, except on Saturdays and Sundays. On the other days, his only food was coarse bread, and sage tea without sugar. Abstinence and inward conflicts brought on illness; but, after about seven weeks, he was enabled to lay hold on Christ by a living faith, was filled with peace and joy, and became probably by far the most happy member of the Oxford brotherhood.[136]

Mention has been already made of the first of Wesley’s publications,—his “Forms of Prayer,” printed in 1733. In 1735 he issued three others.