THE
Young People's Wesley

By W. McDONALD

WITH AN INTRODUCTION
By BISHOP W. F. MALLALIEU, D.D.
"The best of all is, God is with us."—Wesley

NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS
CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE
1901

Copyright by
EATON & MAINS,
1901.

AFFECTIONATELY

Dedicated

PREFACE.

My sole object in the preparation of this little volume has been to meet what I regard as a real want—a Life of John Wesley which shall include all the essential facts in his remarkable career, presented in such a comprehensive form as to be quickly read and easily remembered by all; not so expensive as to be beyond the reach of those of the most limited means, and not so large as to require much time, even of the most busy worker, to master its contents. I have sought to give my readers a faithful view of the man—his origin, early life, conversion, marvelous ministry, what he did, how he did it, the doctrines he preached, the persecutions he encountered, and his triumphant end.

This revised and enlarged edition will be found to contain many interesting features not found in the first edition. I have added, also, a brief account of the introduction of Methodism into America, as well as John Wesley's influence at the opening of the twentieth century. For this interesting chapter I am indebted to Rev. W. H. Meredith, of the New England Conference, who kindly consented to assist me, in view of the pressure to get the manuscript ready on time.

It will appear, from all that has been said, that Mr. Wesley was the most remarkable character of the last century; and the influence of his life is more potent for good to-day than ever before, and must continue to augment—if his followers are true to their trust—till the end of time.

William McDonald.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

INTRODUCTION.

What, another Life of John Wesley! Why not? This time a "Young People's Wesley." If ever the common people had an interest in any man, living or dead, that man is John Wesley. It is true that we already have many "Lives" of this remarkable man. They range from the massive volumes of Tyerman down to the booklet of a few pages. The truth abides that of making many books there is no end, and so more Lives of Wesley will be written from time to time as the years and centuries come and go. The reason of this is that John Wesley is one of the greatest men of all the Christian centuries. When we undertake to enumerate the five greatest men that the English race has ever produced we must of necessity include the name of John Wesley. As the distance increases between the present time and the days of his protracted activity the grander does he appear. The majority of the men of his day and generation did not comprehend him. They could not, for the plan of his aspirations and achievements was far above their thinking or living. They did not realize his greatness; they did not foresee the influence he was destined to exert on all future generations. He has been dead more than a hundred years, and yet to-day he is larger, vaster, and more powerful in the wide realm of intellectual and spiritual activities than he was at any time during his long and vigorous life. So far as we can judge, this development of the stature of this wonderful man will continue for ages.

Remember that John Wesley was well bred. On both his father's and mother's side he inherited the qualities of the best blood of England. So far as we know, his ancestry was purely Saxon, and of the best type of English-Saxon lineage. On sea or land, in military affairs, as a diplomat or statesman, he would have been eminent. He was one of the most thorough and comprehensive scholars of his century. He was fully abreast of his times in all matters of natural science; he was a linguist of rare excellency; he was a metaphysician; he was at home in philosophy. He had the rare ability of using all he knew for the best and highest purposes. He was a real genius, not a crank. A genius utilizes environment; a genius dominates circumstances; a genius makes old things new; a genius pioneers mankind in its career of progress. Because of these qualities and characteristics, men will never tire of reading the life, and men will never stop writing the life, of this man. Born in the humble rectory of Epworth, in the midst of the fens of Lincolnshire, his name and fame reach to the ends of the earth. Men know him not for what he might have been, but for what he was—a friend of all, and a prophet of God.

Just now when the common people are more and more educated, and nearly all of them are readers of books, and many of them interested in good books, it is important that we have a Life of Wesley that is perfectly adapted to those who are not critical historical students, but rather to those who want the gist of things, who want the substantial and essential facts in compressed shape.

It is believed that this volume will meet all these requirements, and that a careful perusal of its pages will put any person of ordinary intelligence in very close touch with one of the greatest religious and social reformers the world has ever known. This volume is one that might be read with great profit by every member of our Church, and by all Methodists everywhere. Especially would its reading help all our young people, and particularly the members of our Epworth League. It is certain that its reading would give them clear, definite, and correct views of the life and work of the founder of Methodism; and such views would be sure to lead to a more healthful and vigorous personal religious experience, and would encourage all heroic aspirations for the highest attainments in holy living, and excite the most ardent and persistent efforts for the salvation of all men. John Wesley knew that humanity had been redeemed by the sufferings and death of the Lord Jesus Christ. He knew that every redeemed soul might be saved. He knew that it was his business to bring redeemed humanity to the feet of its Redeemer. Would that all his followers might share in this threefold knowledge; and that by the reading of this volume all might be led to consecrate themselves to the accomplishment of the supremely glorious task at which John Wesley wrought until he ceased at once to work and live. O, that all Methodists might follow John Wesley even as he followed Christ!

W. F. Mallalieu.

Auburndale, Mass., April 8, 1901.

The Young People's Wesley.

CHAPTER I.

BORN IN TROUBLOUS TIMES.

During the latter part of the seventeenth and the first part of the eighteenth century England was the theater of stirring events. War was sounding its clarion notes through the land. Marlborough had achieved a series of brilliant victories on the Continent, which had filled and fired the national heart with the spirit of military glory.

The English, at that time, had an instinctive horror of popery and power. James II, cruel, arbitrary, and oppressive, had been hurled from the throne as a plotting papal tyrant, and his grandson, Charles Edward, known as the Pretender, was making every possible effort to regain the throne and to subject the people to absolute despotism. To add to their dismay, the fleets of France and Spain were hovering along the English coast, ready, at any favorable moment, to pounce upon her. The means of public communication by railroad and telegraph were unknown. There were few mails, and reliable information could not be readily or safely obtained. Under these circumstances it is not surprising that strange and exaggerated reports should have kept the public mind in a state of great excitement and general consternation.

It was also, pre-eminently, an infidel age. Disrespect for the Bible and the Christian religion prevailed among all classes. Hobbes, with his scorpion tongue; Toland, with his papal-poisoned heart; Tindal, with his infidel dagger concealed under a cloak of mingled popery and Protestantism; Collins, with a heart full of deadly hate for Christianity; Chubb, with his deistical insidiousness; and Shaftesbury, with his platonic skepticism, hurled by wit and sarcasm—these, with their corrupt associates, made that the infidel age of the world. Christianity was everywhere held up to public reprobation and scorn.

It is true that Steele, Addison, Berkeley, Samuel Clarke, and Johnson exposed the follies and sins of the times, but the character of these efforts was generally more humorous and sarcastic than serious. Occasionally they gave a sober rebuke of the religion of the day. Berkeley attacked, with his keen logic and finished style, the skeptical opinions which prevailed. Most of his articles were on the subject of "Free Thinking." Johnson, the great moralist, stood up, it is said, "a great giant to battle, with both hands against all error in religion, whether in high places or low."

These men, and Young, with his vast religious pretentiousness, are said to have walked in the garments of literary and social chastity; but Swift, greater intellectually than any of them, and a high church dignitary to boot, would have disgraced the license of the "Merry Monarch's" court and outdone it in profanity. Even Dryden made the literature of Charles II's age infamous for all time.

"Licentiousness was the open and shameless profession of the higher classes in the days of Charles, and in the time of Anne it still festered under the surface. Gambling was an almost universal practice among men and women alike. Lords and ladies were skilled in knavery; disgrace was not in cheating, but in being cheated. Both sexes were given to profanity and drunkenness. Sarah Jennings, Duchess of Marlborough, could swear more bravely than her husband could fight. The wages of the poor were spent in guzzling beer, in wakes and fairs, badger-baiting and cockfighting."[A] And yet the reign of Anne claims to have been the golden age of English literature. It did show a polish on the surface, but within it was "full of corruption and dead men's bones."

AN UNUSUAL VIEW OF THE EPWORTH RECTORY.

Added to this, the Church, which should have been the light of the world, was in a most deplorable state. Irreligion and spiritual indifference had taken possession of priest and people, and ministers were sleeping over the threatened ruins of the Church, and, in too many instances, were hastening, by their open infidelity, the day of its ruin. The Established Church overtopped everything. She possessed great power and little piety. Her sacerdotal robes had been substituted for the garments of holiness; her Prayer Book had extinguished those earnest, spontaneous soul-breathings which bring the burdened heart into sympathetic union with the sympathizing Saviour. Spirituality had well-nigh found a grave, from which it was feared there would be no resurrection. Isaac Taylor says: "The Church had become an ecclesiastical system, under which the people of England had lapsed into heathenism;" and "Nonconformity had lapsed into indifference, and was rapidly in a course to be found nowhere but in books." In France hot-headed, rationalistic infidelity was invading the strongholds of the Reformation, and French philosophers were spreading moral contagion through Europe, which resulted in the French Revolution. The only thing which saved England from the same catastrophe was the sudden rise of Methodism, which, as one writer says, "laid hold of the lower classes and converted them before they were ripe for explosion." When preachers of the Gospel celebrated holy communion and preached to a handful of hearers on Sabbath morning, and devoted the afternoon to card-playing, and the rest of the week to hunting foxes, what else could have been expected? It is doubtful if in any period of the history of the Church the outlook had been darker.

The North British Review says: "Never has a century risen on Christian England so void of soul and faith; it rose a sunless dawn following a dewless night. The Puritans were buried, and the Methodists were not born." The Bishop of Lichfield said, in a sermon: "The Lord's day now is the devil's market day. More lewdness, more drunkenness, more quarrels and murders, more sin is conceived and committed, than on all the other days of the week. Strong drink has become the epidemic distemper of the city of London. Sin in general has become so hardened and rampant that immoralities are defended, yea, justified, on principle. Every kind of sin has found a writer to teach and vindicate it."

"The philosopher of the age was Bolingbroke; the moralist was Addison; the minstrel was Pope; and the preacher was Atterbury. The world had an idle, discontented look of a morning after some mad holiday."

Over this state of moral and religious apostasy a few were found who made sad and bitter lamentations. Bishop Burnet was "filled with sad thoughts." "The clergy," he said, "were under more contempt than those of any other Church in Europe; for they were much more remiss in their labors and least severe in their lives. I cannot look on," he says, "without the deepest concern, when I see imminent ruin hanging over the Church, and, by consequence, over the Reformation. The outward state of things is black enough, God knows, but that which heightens my fears arises chiefly from the inward state into which we are fallen."

Bishop Gibson gives a heart-saddening view of the matter: "Profaneness and iniquity are grown bold and open." Bishop Butler declared the Church to be "only a subject of mirth and ridicule." Guyes, a Nonconformist divine, says that "preacher and people were content to lay Christ aside." Hurrian, another Dissenter, sees "faith, joy, and Christian zeal under a thick cloud." Bishop Taylor declares that "the spirit was grieved and offended by the abominable corruption that abounded;" while good Dr. Watts sings sadly of the "poor dying rate" at which the friends of Jesus lived, saying: "I am well satisfied that the great and general reason of this is the decay of vital religion in the hearts and lives of men, and the little success that the administration of the Gospel has made of late in the conversion of sinners to holiness."

This was the state of the English Church, and of Dissenters as well, at the opening of the eighteenth century. And well it might be when, as has been said, the philosopher of the age was Bolingbroke, the moralist was Addison, the minstrel was Pope, and the preacher was Atterbury. But when darkness seems most dense the day-star of hope is near to rising.

On the 17th of June, 1703, was born in the obscure parish at Epworth, of Samuel and Susannah Wesley, John Wesley, the subject of this sketch. He was one of nineteen children. The names of fifteen have been recorded; the others, no doubt, died in infancy. Of these fifteen, John was the twelfth. He was born in the third year of the eighteenth century. His long life of eighty-eight years covered eleven of the twelve years of Queen Anne's reign, thirteen of that of George I, thirty-three of George II, and more than thirty of George III. This remarkable child was to more than revive the dead embers of the Reformation; he was chosen of God to inaugurate a spiritual movement which was to fill the world with the spirit of holy being and doing, and bring to the people ransomed by Jesus, in every clime and of every race, "freedom to worship God."

CHAPTER II.

THE WESLEY FAMILY.

Samuel Wesley, father of John, was for forty years rector of Epworth Parish. He was an honest, conscientious, stern old Englishman; a firmer never clung to the mane of the British lion. He was the son of John Wesley, a Dissenting minister, who enjoyed, for a time, all the rights of churchmen. But, after the death of Cromwell, Charles II, whom the Dissenters had aided in restoring to the throne, and who had promised them toleration and liberty of conscience, on his return, finding the Church party in the ascendency, violated his pledge and approved of the most cruel and oppressive laws passed by Parliament against Dissenters. By one of these inhuman acts more than two thousand ministers, and among them many of the most pious, useful, learned, and conscientious in the land, were deprived of their places in the Church, of their homes and support, and were compelled to wander homeless and friendless, without being allowed to remain anywhere, until they found rest in the grave.

"Stopping the mouths of these faithful men," says Dr. Adam Clarke, "was a general curse to the nation. A torrent of iniquity, deep, rapid, and strong, deluged the whole land, and swept away godliness and vital religion from the kingdom. The king had no religion, either in power or in form, though a papist at heart. He was the most worthless that ever sat on a British throne, and profligate beyond all measure, without a single good quality to redeem his numerous bad ones; and Church and State joined hand in hand in persecution and intolerance. Since those barbarous and iniquitous times, what hath God wrought!"[N]

Mr. Wesley had been for some years pastor of Whitchurch, Dorchestershire, and was greatly beloved by his people. But the law forbade anyone attending a place of worship conducted by Dissenters. Whoever was found in such an assembly was tried by a judge without a jury, and for the third offense was sentenced to transportation beyond the seas for seven years; and if the offender returned to his home before the seven years expired he was liable to capital punishment. This was an example of refined cruelty. The minister who had grown gray in the service of his Lord, whose annual income was barely sufficient to meet the pressing needs of his family, was turned adrift upon the world without support, and the poor man was not permitted to live within five miles of his charge, nor of any other which he might have formerly served. As Mr. Wesley could not teach, or preach, or hold private meetings, he, for a time, turned his attention to the practice of medicine for the support of his family.

He bade his weeping church adieu, and removed to Melcomb, a town some twenty miles away. He had preached for a time in Melcomb before he became vicar of Whitchurch, and hoped to find there a quiet retreat and sympathizing friends. But his family was scarcely settled when an order came prohibiting his settlement there, and fining a good lady twenty pounds for receiving him into her house. Driven from Melcomb, he sought shelter in Preston, by invitation of a kind friend, who offered him free rent. Then came the passage of what was known as the "five-mile act," which required that Dissenting ministers should not reside within five miles of an incorporated town. Preston, though not an incorporated town, was within five miles of one. Finding no place for rest from the relentless persecution of the Established Church—persecution as cruel as Rome ever inflicted, save the death penalty, and that was imposed under certain conditions—he concluded to leave his home for a time and retire to some obscure village until he could, by prayer and deliberation, determine what to do. Here, alone with God, his decision was made. He fully decided that he could not, with a good conscience, obey the law of Conformity, as it was called. Conformity was to him apostasy.

Mr. Wesley determined to remove to some place in South America, and, if not there, to Maryland. He hoped, by so doing, to find a quiet home for himself and family. In Maryland, settled and ruled by Catholics, he could enjoy freedom to worship God, but not in oppressive, Protestant England, just rescued from the domination of Rome.

No one can adequately comprehend how such a removal would have affected the religious life of the world. But the good man finally determined to abandon his plan and remain in his native land and do the best he could. God, without doubt, was in that decision. But he felt that God had called him to preach, and preach he would.

In spite of every precaution, he was frequently interrupted, suffering imprisonment for months together, and at four different times within a few years. At last, by frequent imprisonment, poverty, and failing health, the poor man's crushed spirit could stand it no longer, and he died at the early age of forty-two years, leaving wife and children homeless and helpless. All this the grandfather of John Wesley endured for conscience' sake. He was a graduate of Oxford; as a classical scholar he had few equals—a man of deep piety and distinguished talents. His father, Bartholomew Wesley, had early dedicated his son to the Gospel ministry, and God seems to have accepted the dedication. And because he conscientiously objected to conducting public worship strictly according to the Prayer Book, the unchristian laws regarding Conformity were enforced, and the tears, blood, and suffering which befell those godly men lay at the door of the Established Church. Cruel persecution marked this man for its prey even after death. When his inanimate body, followed by weeping wife, little children, and sympathizing neighbors, was borne on a bier to the gates of the consecrated burial place of Preston, the gates were closed against it by order of the minister of the Established Church. So the remains of this good and great man were deposited in an unknown and unmarked grave.

Samuel Wesley was sixteen years old at the time of his father's death. He had been under the careful tuition of his learned father, and under such training his mind had become highly educated for one of his years. He had a genius for poetry, and possessed a highly sensitive nature. His associations with Dissenters were not the most favorable, and what he saw and heard at the meetings of what was known as the "Calf's Head Club" disgusted him. Added to this, he was not pleased with the school of the Dissenters in which he was being educated, and, being not a little impulsive and hasty in his decisions, he concluded that all Dissenters were of the same character. He determined to examine the grounds of Dissent and Conformity, and, as might be expected, being more or less controlled by youthful prejudice, he concluded to renounce his former opinions and the faith of ancestors, and unite with the Established Church. And, as is often the case in such sudden changes, he did not stop until he had become a high churchman. But, notwithstanding his change, he had too much good practical common sense to carry out his theory. While it is true that he became a high Tory, he possessed too much benevolence, and too nice a sense of right, to give countenance to arbitrary power, such as had been exercised toward his ancestors. He could not forget what his honored father had suffered at the hands of churchmen.

Having become a churchman, at the age of sixteen he left his home for Oxford University. He traveled all the distance on foot, with only about thirteen dollars in his pocket and with no hopeful outlook for further supplies. And from that time until he graduated he received from his friends but a single crown ($1.20). But, Yankeelike, he made everything turn to his advantage. Being a bright scholar, he composed college exercises for those students who, it is said, "had more money than brains;" he read over lessons for those who were too lazy to study, and gave instruction to such as were dull of apprehension. He wrote also for the press, and left the university, at the close, with four times as much money as he had when he entered.

After his graduation he went to London and was ordained. He served one year as curate in London, one year as chaplain on shipboard, and two years more as curate in London.

When James II was expelled, and William and Mary were called to the throne, Mr. Wesley was the first man to write in their defense. For this timely support Queen Mary appointed him rector of Epworth, Lincolnshire, which position he held to the end of his life. The village was far from being attractive, and the people were generally hard cases; but he was a faithful pastor there for forty years. He was always poor, but always honest. He was frequently in jail for debt, and as often relieved by donations from the Duke of Buckingham, the Archbishop of York, the queen, and others. "No man," he says, "has worked truer for bread than I have done, and no one has fared harder."

In politics Mr. Wesley was no conservative. Whatever he did, he did with his might. He espoused the cause of William, Prince of Orange, regarding him as a perfect antitype of Job's war horse, and for such heroic support he received the anathemas of his parishioners; they stabbed his cow, cut off his dog's legs, burned his flax, and twice fired his house. But still he had the courage of his convictions. As an example of his moral courage the following story is told of him: Mr. Wesley was in a London coffee house taking refreshments. A colonel of the guards, near by, was uttering fearful oaths. Wesley, a young man, was greatly moved, and felt that a rebuke was demanded. He called the waiter to bring him a glass of water. He did so, and in a loud, clear voice Wesley said, "Carry this to that young man in the red coat, and request him to wash his mouth after his oaths." The colonel heard him, became much enraged, and made a bold attempt to rush upon his reprover. His companion interfered, saying, "Nay, colonel, you gave the first offense. You see, the gentleman is a clergyman." The colonel subsided, but did not forget the reproof. Years after he met Mr. Wesley in St. James Park, and said to him: "Since that time, sir, thank God! I have feared an oath and everything that is offensive to the Divine Majesty. I cannot refrain from expressing my gratitude to God and to you."

Samuel Wesley possessed many virtues, with some faults. He was often impetuous, hasty, and sometimes rash. In the heat of controversy, in which he at times engaged, he was often unsparing in his invectives. But this must be set down, in part, to the spirit of the time. He was a faithful pastor and a fine oriental scholar. Mr. Tyerman says, "He was learned, laborious, and godly." He had the reputation of being a good poet, a fair commentator, and an able miscellaneous writer.

Susannah Wesley.

Susannah Wesley, mother of John Wesley, was in most respects the perfect antipode of her husband. She is said by some to have been beautiful, and by all to have been devout, energetic, and intelligent. She had mastered the Greek, Latin, and French languages, and was the mother of nineteen children. And such a mother, for the careful, wise, religious training of her children, modern times has never furnished a superior.

She was the daughter of Dr. Samuel Annesley, one of the many sufferers under the cruel law of Nonconformity; but he does not seem to have suffered as severely as John Wesley, whose fate we have recorded. It must have been that he, for some cause, was more fortunate than his contemporary. Miss Annesley became the wife of Samuel Wesley at the age of nineteen years. It seems quite remarkable that Samuel Wesley and his wife should have both been connected with Dissenters, and their parents, on both sides, should have suffered by the oppression of the Established Church, and that both of them, while young, should have left the Dissenters and joined the Establishment. It could not have been the result of careful investigation, but, more likely, of youthful prejudice.

Mrs. Wesley was a noble woman. Of her Dr. Adam Clarke says: "Such a woman, take her all in all, I have never read of, nor with her equal have I been acquainted. Many daughters have done virtuously, but Susannah Wesley has excelled them all." She was the sole instructor of her numerous family, "and such a family," continues Dr. Clarke, "I have never read of, heard of, or known; nor since the days of Abraham and Sarah, Joseph and Mary of Nazareth, has there been a family to which the human race has been more in debt."

Many have supposed that Samuel Wesley was a sour and disagreeable husband. But he was one of the kindest of husbands, and his children are said to have "idolized" him. His affection for his wife is seen in a portrait he gives of her, a few years after their marriage, in his Life of Christ, in verse:

"She graced my humble roof, and blest my life;
Blest me by a far greater name than wife;
Yet still I bore an undisputed sway,
Nor was't her task, but pleasure, to obey.
Scarce thought, much less could act what I denied,
In our lone home there was no room for pride.
Nor did I e'er direct what still was right;
She studied my convenience and delight;
Nor did I for her care ungrateful prove,
But only used my power to show my love.
Whate'er she asked I gave, without reproach or grudge,
For still she reason asked, and I was judge.
All my commands, requests at her fair hand,
And her requests to me were all commands.
To other households rarely she'd incline,
Her house her pleasure was, and she was mine.
Rarely abroad, or never but with me,
Or when by pity called, or charity."

Mrs. Wesley's attachment to her husband was undying. When some disagreement occurred between her brother and her husband Mrs. Wesley took the side of her husband, and wrote to her brother as follows: "I am on the wrong side of fifty, infirm and weak, but, old as I am, since I have taken my husband for better, for worse, I'll keep my residence with him. Where he lives, I will live; where he dies, I will die, and there will I be buried. God do unto me, and more also, if aught but death part him and me."

In giving directions to her son John in regard to the right or wrong of worldly pleasure she says: "Take this rule: Whatever weakens your reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes off the relish for spiritual things—in short, whatever increases the strength and authority of your body over your mind, that thing is sin to you, however innocent it may be in itself." Did ever divine or philosopher state the question more clearly? Whoever follows these directions will not err in regard to the question of amusements.

Such a woman as this is worthy to be the mother of the founder of Methodism, for had not Susannah Wesley been the mother of John Wesley it is not likely that John Wesley would have been the founder of Methodism. We shall have occasion to speak of this woman and her husband further on.

CHAPTER III.

WESLEY'S EARLY LIFE.

During the first eleven years of Wesley's life two events occurred worthy of note. At the age of five he was rescued from the burning parsonage almost by miracle. On a winter night, February 9, 1709, while all the family were wrapped in slumber, the cry of "Fire! fire!" was heard on the street. The rector was suddenly awakened, and, though half naked, sought to arouse his family. He rushed to the chamber, called the nurse and the children, and bade them "rise quickly and shift for themselves." After great effort they succeeded in making their escape from the burning house. They are all safe except "Jack." He had not been seen by anyone. In a few moments his voice was heard, crying for help. The flames were everywhere. The father, greatly excited, attempted to rush upstairs, but the flames drove him back. He fell on his knees and commended the soul of his boy to God.

THE WESLEYAN MEMORIAL CHURCH, EPWORTH, ENGLAND.

While the father was on his knees the boy had mounted a trunk and called from the window. There was no time for ladders, for the house was nigh to falling. One cried, "Come here! I will stand against the wall, and you mount my shoulders quickly." In a moment it was done, and the child was pulled through the casement, and the next moment the walls fell—inward, through mercy—and the child, as well as the one who rescued him, was saved. His father received him as "a brand plucked from the burning," and in the joy of his heart cried out: "Come, neighbors, let us kneel down, and give thanks to God! He has given me all my children. Let the house go; I am rich enough."

There is no doubt but that some of his dastardly parishioners fired his house, and now house, books, furniture, manuscripts, and clothing were all gone. But this foul act made him many friends. A new house was built, but it was many years before he recovered from the loss, if, indeed, he ever did.

John's wonderful escape deeply impressed his mother that God intended him for some work of special importance in the history of the Church and the world, and she felt that she ought to devote special attention to him and train him for God.

At eight years of age John contracted that most dreaded disease, smallpox. His father was from home at the time. Mrs. Wesley, writing, says: "Jack has borne his disease bravely, like a man—and, indeed, like a Christian—without any complaint; though he seems angry at the smallpox when they are sore, as we guess by his looking sourly at them; for he never says anything." Brave boy!

Charterhouse School.

Passing from the watchful eye of his father and the tender, loving, and almost unexampled care and instruction of his mother, he entered, at about the age of eleven, the famous Charterhouse School, London. This was built originally for a monastery. It was purchased by Thomas Sutton, Esq., and under a charter from King James he established a school for the young. In this school forty-four boys, between the ages of ten and fifteen, were gratuitously fed, clothed, and instructed in the classics. Here such notables as Addison, Steele, Blackstone, Isaac Barrows, and others were educated.

Young Wesley was largely aided in securing this position by the Duke of Buckingham, who seems to have been a fast friend of the family. He secured for him a scholarship, which gave him about two hundred dollars a year. By the direction of his father he ran around the playgrounds three times every morning for the benefit of his health. It was a school of trial. Being a charity scholar, he did not escape the taunts of his fellow-students more highly favored than he; but he bore all with meekness, patiently suffering wrongfully. He remained there some six years, and, though a mere youth, he distinguished himself in every branch of scholarship to which he turned his attention.

Mr. Tyerman, who seems to have searched for every spot on this rising sun, is bold to say that Wesley "lost the religion which had marked his character from the days of his infancy. He entered the Charterhouse a saint, and left it a sinner." We cannot find this marked change on the record with the clearness with which it appears to Mr. Tyerman. There is no evidence that Wesley had ever known the converting grace of God up to this time, and, if not, we are unable to see how he could have lost it. That he was a sinner at this time there can be no doubt. But, while he confesses that he was a sinner, he declares that his "sins were not scandalous in the eyes of the world." Instead of being the wicked boy that Mr. Tyerman represents him to have been, he declares: "I still read the Scriptures, and said my prayers morning and evening. And what I now hoped to be saved by was: (1) Not being as bad as other people; (2) Having still a kindness for religion; and (3) Reading my Bible, going to church, and saying my prayers." Should an unconverted young man in these times, in passing through our high schools or seminaries, give evidence that he read his Bible, prayed morning and evening, attended church regularly, joined in all the devotions, went to the sacrament, and manifested a kindness for religion, who would say that "he entered the school a saint, and left it a sinner"? There is no evidence that Wesley, during his six years' course at the Charterhouse, ever contracted vicious habits or became a flagrant sinner. The wonder is that, with such corrupt and corrupting influences surrounding him, he had not been morally ruined.

Christ College.

At the age of seventeen he entered Christ College, Oxford, one of the noblest colleges of that famous seat of learning, where he remained five years, under the care of Dr. Wigon, a gentleman of fine classical attainments. His excellent standing at the Charterhouse gave him a high position at Oxford. His means of support were very limited. His mother laments their inability to assist him. In a letter to him she says:

Dear Jack: I am uneasy because I have not heard from you. If all things fail, I hope God will not forsake us. We have still his good providence to depend on. Dear Jack, be not discouraged. Do your duty. Keep close to your studies, and hope for better days. Perhaps, after all, we shall pick up a few crumbs for you before the end of the year. Dear Jack, I beseech Almighty God to bless thee.

Susannah Wesley.

This indicates the great financial embarrassment in which they were often found, as well as their abiding trust in God.

His mother seems deeply concerned for his religious life. She writes, "Now in good earnest resolve to make religion the business of life; for, after all, that is the one thing that, strictly speaking, is necessary. All things besides are comparatively little to the purposes of life. I heartily wish you would now enter upon a strict examination of yourself, that you may know whether you have a reasonable hope of salvation by Jesus Christ. If you have it, the satisfaction of knowing it will abundantly reward your pains; if you have it not, you will find a more reasonable occasion for tears than can be met with in any tragedy."

His brother Samuel writes hopefully to his father: "My brother Jack, I can faithfully assure you, gives you no manner of discouragement from believing your third son a scholar. Jack is a brave boy, learning Hebrew as fast as he can."

At the age of twenty-one, while yet a student at Oxford, "he appears," says a writer of the time, "the very sensible and acute collegian; a young fellow of the finest classical taste, of the most liberal and manly sentiments." Alexander Knox says: "His countenance, as well as his conversation, expressed an habitual gayety of heart, which nothing but conscious innocence and virtue could have bestowed." Then, referring to him in more advanced life, he says: "He was, in truth, the most perfect specimen of moral happiness I ever saw; and my acquaintance with him has done more to teach me what a heaven upon earth is implied in the maturity of Christian piety than all I have elsewhere seen or heard or read, except in the sacred volume." "Strange," says another writer, "that such a man should have become a target for poisoned arrows, discharged, not by the hands of mad-cap students only, but by college dignitaries, by men solemnly pledged to the work of Christian education!"

About this time Wesley became Fellow of Lincoln College, and his brother Charles, who was five years younger, became a student of Christ Church College. He had prepared for college at Westminster grammar school, and was a "gay young fellow, with more genius than grace," loving pleasure more than piety. When John sought to revive the "fireside devotion" of the Epworth home he rejoined, with some degree of earnestness, "What! would you have me be a saint all at once?"

In September of 1725 John was ordained deacon by Bishop Potter, and in March of the following year was elected Fellow of Lincoln College, with which his aged father seems to have been greatly delighted, saying, "Wherever I am, Jack is Fellow of Lincoln!"

His Father's Curate.

His father's health failing, John was urged to become his curate. He responded to his father's request, but does not seem to have had a very high appreciation of his father's flock, for he describes them as "unpolished wights, as dull as asses and impervious as stones." But for about two years he hammers away, preaching the law as he then understood it, confessing that "he saw no fruit for his labor."

He then returned to Oxford as Greek lecturer, devoting himself to the study of logic, ethics, natural philosophy, oratory, Hebrew, and Arabic. He perfected himself in French, and spoke and wrote Latin with remarkable purity and correctness. He gave considerable attention to medicine. In this way Providence was fitting him for the great work of which he was to be the God-ordained leader. About the time that Wesley entered upon his ministry, by episcopal ordination, and commenced his lifework, Voltaire was expelled from France and fled to England. During a long life he and Wesley were contemporaries. Mr. Tyerman gives a graphic description of these two remarkable men. "Perhaps of all the men then living," he says, "none exercised so great an influence as the restless philosopher and the unwearied minister of Christ. Wesley, in person, was beautiful; Voltaire was of a physiognomy so strange, and lighted up with fire so half-hellish and half-heavenly, that it was hard to say whether it was the face of a satyr or man. Wesley's heart was filled with a world-wide benevolence; Voltaire, though of a gigantic mind, scarcely had a heart at all—an incarnation of avaricious meanness, and a victim to petty passions. Wesley was the friend of all and the enemy of none; Voltaire was too selfish to love, and when forced to pay the scanty and ill-tempered homage which he sometimes rendered it was always offered at the shrine of rank and wealth. Wesley had myriads who loved him; Voltaire had numerous admirers, but probably not a friend. Both were men of ceaseless labor, and almost unequaled authors; but while the one filled the land with blessings, the other, by his sneering and mendacious attacks against revealed religion, inflicted a greater curse than has been inflicted by the writings of any other author either before or since. The evangelist is now esteemed by all whose good opinions are worth having; the philosopher is only remembered to be branded with well-merited reproach and shame." Voltaire ended his life as a fool by taking opium, while Wesley ends his life in holy triumph, exclaiming, "The best of all is, God is with us."

CHAPTER IV.

THE EPWORTH RAPPINGS.

It does not seem as if a Life of John Wesley would be complete without an account of what was known as the "Epworth rappings," which occurred in the home of Samuel Wesley in 1716, while John was at the Charterhouse School, London. They occasioned no little speculation among philosophers and doubters in general, not only at the time they occurred, but down to the present day. A brief description of these strange noises, and how they were regarded at the time, may be proper in this place.

On the night of December 2, 1716, Robert Brown, Mr. Wesley's servant, and one of the maids of the family were alone in the dining room. About ten o'clock they heard a strong knocking on the outside of the door which opened into the garden. They answered the call, but no one was there. A second knock was heard, accompanied by a groan. The door was again and again opened, as the knocks were repeated, with the same result. Being startled, they retired for the night.

As Mr. Brown reached the top of the stairs a hand mill, at a little distance, was seen whirling with great velocity. On seeing the strange sight he seemed only to regret that it was not full of malt. Strange noises were heard in and about the room during the night. These were related to another maid in the morning, only to be met with a laugh, and, "What a pack of fools you are!" This was the beginning of these strange noises in the Epworth parsonage.

Subsequently, knocking was heard on the doors, on the bedstead, and at various times in all parts of the house.

Susannah and Ann were one evening below stairs in the dining room and heard knockings at the door and overhead. The next night, while in their chamber, they heard knockings under their feet, while no person was in the chamber at the time, nor in the room below. Knockings were heard at the foot of the bed and behind it.

Mr. Wesley says that, on the night of the 21st of December, "I was wakened, a little before one o'clock, by nine distinct and very loud knocks, which seemed to be in the next room to ours, with a short pause at every third knock." The next night Emily heard knocks on the bedstead and under the bed. She knocked, and it answered her. "I went down stairs," says Mr. Wesley, "and knocked with my stick against the joists of the kitchen. It answered me as loud and as often as I knocked." Knockings were heard under the table; latches of doors were moved up and down as the members of the family approached them. Doors were violently thrust against those who attempted to open or shut them.

When prayer was offered in the evening, by the rector, for the king, a knocking began all around the room, and a thundering knock at the amen. This was repeated at morning and evening, when prayer was offered for the king. Mr. Wesley says, "I have been thrice pushed by an invisible power, once against the corner of my desk in my study, and a second time against the door of the matted chamber, and a third time against the right side of the frame of my study door, as I was going in."

Mr. Poole, the vicar of Haxey, an eminently pious and sensible man, was sent for to spend the night with the family. The knocking commenced about ten o'clock in the evening. Mr. Wesley and his brother clergyman went into the nursery, where the knockings were heard. Mr. Wesley observed that the children, though asleep, were very much affected; they trembled exceedingly and sweat profusely; and, becoming very much excited, he pulled out a pistol and was about to fire it at the place from whence the sound came. Mr. Poole caught his arm and said: "Sir, you are convinced that this is something preternatural. If so, you cannot hurt it, but you give it power to hurt you." Then going close to the place, Mr. Wesley said: "Thou deaf and dumb devil, why dost thou frighten these children, who cannot answer for themselves? Come to me in my study, who am a man." Instantly the particular knock which the rector always gave at the gate was given, as if it would shiver the board in pieces. The next evening, on entering his study, of which no one but himself had the key, the door was thrust against him with such force as nearly to throw him down.

A sound was heard as if a large iron bell was thrown among bottles under the stairs; and as Mr. and Mrs. Wesley were going down stairs they heard a sound as if a vessel of silver were poured upon Mrs. Wesley's breast and ran jingling down to her feet; and at another time a noise as if all the pewter were thrown about the kitchen. But on examination all was found undisturbed.

The dog, a large mastiff, seemed as much disturbed by these noises as the family. On their approach he would run to Mr. and Mrs. Wesley, seeking shelter between them. While the disturbances continued the dog would bark and leap, and snap on one side and on the other, and that frequently before any person in the room heard any noise at all. But after two or three days he used to tremble and creep away before the noise began; and by this the family knew of its approach. Footsteps were heard in all parts of the house, from cellar to garret. Groans and every sort of noise were heard all over the house too numerous to relate. Whenever it was attributed to rats and mice the noises would become louder and fiercer.

These disturbances continued for some four months and then subsided, except that some members of the family were annoyed by them for several years.

Mr. Wesley was frequently urged to quit the parsonage. His reply was eminently characteristic: "No," said he, "let the devil flee from me. I will never flee from the devil."

Every effort was made to discover the cause of these disturbances, but without satisfactory results, save that all believed they were preternatural. The whole family were unanimous in the belief that it was satanic.

A full account of these noises was prepared from the most authentic sources by John Wesley and published in the Arminian Magazine. Dr. Priestley, an unbeliever, confessed it to have been the best-authenticated and best-told story of the kind that was anywhere extant; and yet, so strongly wedded was he to his materialistic views, he could not accept them, nor find what might be regarded as a commonsense solution of them. He thought it quite probable that it was a trick of the servants, assisted by some of the neighbors, and that nothing was meant by it except puzzling the family and amusing themselves. But Mrs. Wesley and other members of the household declared that the noises were heard above and beneath them when all the family were in the same room.

Dr. Southey, though he does not express an opinion of these noises in his Life of Wesley, in a letter to Mr. Wilberforce avows his belief in their preternatural character. In his Life of Wesley he does say, "The testimony upon which it rests is far too strong to be set aside because of the strangeness of the relation."

Dr. Priestley observes in favor of the story that all the parties seemed to have been sufficiently void of fear, and also free from credulity, except the general belief that such things were supernatural. But he claims that "where no good end is answered we may safely conclude that no miracle was wrought."

Mr. Southey replies to Priestley thus: "The former argument would be valid if the term 'miracle' were applicable to the case; but by 'miracle' Mr. Priestley intends a manifestation of divine power, and in the present case no such meaning is supposed, any more than in the appearance of departed spirits. Such things may be preternatural and yet not miraculous; they may be in the ordinary course of nature, and yet imply no alteration of its laws. And in regard to the good end which it may be supposed to answer, it would be end sufficient if sometimes one of those unhappy persons, who, looking through the dim glass of infidelity, sees something beyond this life and the narrow sphere of mortal existence, should, from the well-established truth of such a story (trifling and objectless as it may appear), be led to conclude that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in their philosophy."[M]

Mr. Coleridge finds a satisfactory solution of this knotty question in attributing the whole thing to "a contagious nervous disease" with which he judged the whole family to have been afflicted, "the acme or intensest form of which is catalepsy." The poor dog, it would seem, was as badly afflicted as the rest.

This notion does not need refutation. Dr. Adam Clarke, who collected all the accounts of these disturbances and published them in his Wesley Family, claims that they are so circumstantial and authentic as to entitle them to the most implicit credit. The eye and ear witnesses were persons of strong understanding and well-cultivated minds, untinctured by superstition, and in some instances rather skeptically inclined.

JEFFREY'S ATTIC ROOM, WHENCE THE MYSTERIOUS NOISES CAME.

These unexplained noises in the Epworth rectory found their counterpart in what was known a little earlier as "New England witchcraft," and in our times as the Rochester and Hidsville knockings in 1848, which have ripened into modern Spiritualism, which, if real, is satanic.

There is but little doubt that these remarkable occurrences at his Epworth home made a deep and lasting impression on John Wesley's mind and life. There was ever present to his mind the reality of an invisible world, and he was convinced that satanic as well as angelic forces were all about us, both to bless and to ruin us if permitted to do so by Him who rules all the world.

CHAPTER V.

ORIGIN OF THE HOLY CLUB.

It was while he was a member of Lincoln College that that unparalleled religious career of Mr. Wesley, which has always been regarded as the most wonderful movement of modern times, began. "Whoever studies the simplicity of its beginning, the rapidity of its growth, the stability of its institutions, its present vitality and activity, its commanding position and prospective greatness, must confess the work to be not of man, but of God."

The heart of the youthful collegian was profoundly stirred by the reading of the Christian Pattern, by Thomas à Kempis, and Holy Living and Dying by Jeremy Taylor. He learned from the former "that simplicity of intention and purity of affection were the wings of the soul, without which he could never ascend to God;" and on reading the latter he instantly resolved to dedicate all his life to God. He was convinced that there was no medium; every part must be a sacrifice to either God or himself. From this time his whole life was changed. How much he owed under God to these two works eternity alone will reveal. Law's Call and Perfection greatly aided him.

A little band was formed of such as professed to seek for all the mind of Christ. They commenced with four; soon their number increased to six, then to eight, and so on. Their object was purely mutual profit. They read the classics on week days and divinity on the Sabbath. They prayed, fasted, visited the sick, the poor, the imprisoned. They were near to administer religious consolation to criminals in the hour of their execution. The names of these remarkable religious reformers were: John and Charles Wesley, Robert Kirkham, William Morgan, George Whitefield, John Clayton, T. Broughton, B. Ingham, J. Harvey, J. Whitelamb, W. Hall, J. Gambold, C. Kinchin, W. Smith, Richard Hutchins, Christopher Atkinson, and Messrs. Salmon, Morgan, Boyce, and others.

As might have been expected, they were ridiculed and lampooned by those who differed from them, and who could not comprehend the motive to such a religious life. They were called in derision "Sacramentarians," "Bible Bigots," "Bible Moths," "The Holy Club," "The Godly Club," "Supererogation Men," and finally "Methodists." Their strict, methodical lives in the arrangement of their studies and the improvement of their time, their serious deportment and close attention to religious duties, caused a jovial friend of Charles Wesley to say, "Why, here is a new sect of Methodists springing up!" alluding to an ancient school of physicians, or to a class of Nonconforming ministers of the seventeenth century, or to both, who received this title from some things common to each. The name took, and the young men were known throughout the university as the Methodists. The name thus given in derision was finally accepted, and has been retained in honor to this day by the followers of Wesley.

A writer in one of the most respectable journals of the day, in describing these inoffensive men, employed the most unwarrantable language. It was affirmed that they had a near affinity to the Essenes among the Jews, and to the Pietists of Switzerland; they excluded what was absolutely necessary to the support of life; they afflicted their bodies; they let blood once a fortnight to keep down the carnal man; they allowed none to have any religion but those of their own sect, while they themselves were farthest from it. They were hypocrites, and were supposed to use religion only as a veil to vice; and their greatest friends were ashamed to stand in their defense. They were enthusiasts, madmen, fools, and zealots. They pretended to be more pious than their neighbors. These were but the beginning of sorrows, as we shall see later.

Wesley says: "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."

"As for reputation," he says, "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." What words are these for a minister of the Lord Jesus! It implies heroic, unselfish devotion to a glorious object. He had discovered the secret of success.

What golden words are these: "I once desired to make a fair show in language and philosophy. But that is past. There is a more excellent way; and if I cannot attain to any progress in one without throwing up all thoughts of the other, why, fare it well." This gives the reader an idea of the motive which governed him to the end of life.

In the midst of these scenes of persecution Wesley addressed a letter to his venerable father, still living at Epworth, asking his advice. The old man urged him to go on and not be weary in well-doing; "to bear no more sail than necessary, but to steer steady. As they had called his son the father of the Holy Club, they might call him the grandfather, and he would glory in that name rather than in the title of His Holiness." These were noble words from sire to son at such a time and in such a conflict.

In years after, when looking back upon the scenes of Oxford and that mustard-seed beginning, Wesley said: "Two young men, without name, without friends, without either power or fortune, set out from college with principles totally different from those of the common people, to oppose all the world, learned and unlearned, to combat popular prejudices of every kind. Their first principle directly attacked all wickedness; their second, all the bigotry in the world. Thus they attempted a reformation not of opinions (feathers, trifles not worth naming), but of men's tempers and lives; of vice of every kind; of everything contrary to justice, mercy, or truth. And for this it was that they carried their lives in their hands, and that both the great vulgar and the small looked upon them as mad dogs, and treated them as such." Such was the beginning of the religious career of this wonderful man. Wesley refers to three distinct periods of the rise of Methodism. He says: "The first rise of Methodism was in November, 1729, when four of us met at Oxford. The second was at Savannah, in April, 1736, when twenty or thirty persons met at my house. The last was at London, May 1, 1738, when forty or fifty of us agreed to meet together every Wednesday evening, in order to free conversation, begun and ended with singing and prayer. God then thrust us out to raise a holy people."

It would be interesting to follow these men and learn the results of their lives; but our space does not permit. We refer the reader to that most excellent work, The Oxford Methodists, by Tyerman. Of Robert Kirkham little or nothing is known. William Morgan died while a mere youth, and died well. John Clayton became a Jacobite Churchman, and treated Wesley and his brother Charles with utter contempt. Thomas Broughton became secretary of the "Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge," and was faithful to his trust till death. He died suddenly upon his knees, on a Sabbath morning just before he was to have preached. James Harvey, author of Meditations, was a man of beautiful character, but opposed Wesley's Arminian views. Charles Kinchin, unlike most of the "Holy Club," remained the fast friend of Wesley until death. John Whitelamb married John Wesley's sister Mary, who died within one year, leaving her husband broken-hearted and despondent. He seems to have lost much of his early devotion, causing Mr. Wesley to say, "O, why did he not die forty years ago?" Wesley Hall married John Wesley's sister Martha, a lady of superior talents and sweetness of disposition. Wesley regarded Hall as a man "holy and unblamable in all manner of conversation." After some years Hall went to the bad. He became, first, a Dissenter, then a Universalist, then a deist, after that a polygamist. He abandoned his charming wife, nine of his ten children having died, and the tenth soon followed. He went to the West Indies with one of his concubines, living there until her death. Broken in health and awakened to his terrible condition, he returned to England, where he soon after died. His lawful and faithful wife, hearing of his condition, like an angel of mercy hastened to his bedside. He died in great sorrow of heart, saying—and they were his last words—"I have injured an angel, an angel that never reproached me." Wesley says: "I trust he died in peace, for God gave him deep repentance." John Gambold became a Moravian bishop, and was so opposed to Wesley that he frankly told him he was "ashamed to be seen in his company." Wesley, however, always held him in high esteem. Of Richard Hutchins little is known, except that he was rector of Lincoln College, and never seems to have opposed the Wesleys. Christopher Atkinson was for twenty-five years vicar of Shorp-Arch and Walton. His last words were, "Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly." Charles Delamotte was one who accompanied the Wesleys to Georgia. Little further is known of him, except that he became a Moravian and died in peace at Barrow upon the Humber.

Here ends our account of the "Holy Club." All of them maintained a correct life except Hall. They were nearly all Calvinists, and in this they came in conflict with Wesley. Had they remained with Wesley, what a record they might have made! We trust their end was peace.

A Triumphant Death Scene.

Go with me to the Epworth rectory. The venerable Samuel Wesley is dying; no, not dying, but languishing into life. John and Charles have been summoned from Oxford, and they are at the bedside. The faithful wife is so overcome that she cannot be present to witness the dying scene.

John sympathetically inquires, "Do you suffer much, father?" The dying man responds, "Yes, but nothing is too much to suffer for heaven. The weaker I am in body the stronger and more sensible support I feel from God." The dying saint lays his trembling hand on the head of Charles, and, like a true prophet, says, "Be steady! The Christian faith will surely revive in this kingdom. You shall see it, though I shall not." John inquires again, "Are you near heaven?" The dying rector joyfully responds, "Yes, I am." "Are all the consolations of God small with you, father?" The emphatic answer is, "No! no! no!"

He then called his children each by name, and said to them, "Think of heaven; talk of heaven! All the time is lost when we are not thinking of heaven." The hour came for his departure. The children knelt beside his bed; John prayed. As the prayer ended, in a feeble whisper the rector said, "Now you have done all." Again John prayed, commending the soul of his honored father to God. All was silent as the tomb. They opened their eyes, and the rector was with the Lord, "beholding the King in his beauty." "Can anything on earth be more beautiful," says one writer, "than such a death? It was indeed fitting that this tried, scarred Christian warrior should pass thus peacefully to his reward."

"Now," said his widow, in great sorrow, "I am appeased in his having so easy a death, and I am strengthened to bear it."

On the very day of the rector's funeral a heartless parishioner, to whom the rector owed seventy-five dollars, seized the widow's cattle to secure the debt. But it was such a deed as his godless people were ever ready to perpetrate. John came to the relief of his poor mother, and gave the woman his note for the amount.

Wesley is again at Oxford, intent on service for his Lord.

CHAPTER VI.

WESLEY IN AMERICA.

One of the most remarkable chapters in the life of John Wesley relates to his mission to America.

There was a tract of land in North America, lying between South Carolina and Florida, over which the English held a nominal jurisdiction. It was a wild, unexplored wilderness, inhabited only by Indian tribes. Under the sanction of a royal charter in 1732 a settlement was made in this territory, and as a compliment to the king, George II, it was named Georgia.

The object of such a settlement was twofold: first, to supply an outlet for the redundant population of the English metropolis; and, secondly, to furnish a safe asylum for foreign Protestants who were the subjects of popish intolerance. No Roman Catholic could find a home there. James Edward Oglethorpe, an earnest friend of humanity, was appointed the first governor of the territory, and he and twenty others were named as trustees, to hold the territory twenty years in trust for the poor.

The first company of emigrants, one hundred and twenty-four in number, had already landed at Savannah and were breathing its balmy air, and the enthusiastic governor was on his return to inspire in the mind of the English people increased confidence in the new enterprise.

Having long been a personal friend of the Wesley family, Oglethorpe knew well the sterling worth of the two brothers, John and Charles, who were still at Oxford. An application was made to some of the Oxford Methodists to settle in the new colony as clergymen. Such sacrifices as they were ready to endure, and such a spirit as seemed to inflame them, were regarded as excellent qualities for the hardships of such a country as Georgia. Mr. Wesley was earnestly pressed by no less a person than the famous Dr. Burton to undertake a mission to the Indians of Georgia, Dr. Burton telling him that "plausible and popular doctors of divinity were not the men wanted in Georgia," but men "inured to contempt of the ornaments and conveniences of life, to bodily austerities, and to serious thoughts." He finally consented, his brother Charles, Benjamin Ingham, and Charles Delamotte joining him.

When the project was made public it was regarded by many as a Quixotic scheme. One inquired of John: "Do you intend to become a knight-errant? How did Quixotism get into your head? You want nothing. You have a good provision for life. You are in a fair way for promotion, and yet you are leaving all to fight windmills."

"Sir," replied Mr. Wesley, "if the Bible be not true, I am as very a fool and madman as you can conceive. But if that book be of God, I am sober-minded; for it declares, 'There is no man that hath left houses, and friends, and brethren for the kingdom of God's sake, who shall not receive manifold in this present time, and in the world to come everlasting life.'"

He submitted his plans to his widowed mother, asking her advice. She replied, "Had I twenty sons, I should rejoice to see them all so employed." His sister Emily said, "Go, my brother;" and his brother Samuel joined with his mother and sister in bidding him Godspeed.

All things being in readiness, on the 14th of October, 1735, the company embarked on board the Simmonds, off Gravesend, and after a few days' detention set sail for the New World.

This was a voyage of discovery—the discovery of holiness.

"Our end in leaving our native land," Wesley says, "was not to avoid want, God having given us plenty of temporal blessings; nor to gain the dung and dross of riches and honor; but simply to save our souls, to live wholly to the glory of God."

Wesley hoped by subjecting himself to the hardships of such a life to secure that holiness for which his soul so ardently longed. He had no clear conception as yet of the doctrine of salvation by faith alone. He hoped by spending his life among rude savages to escape the temptations of the great metropolis. In the wilds of America he could live on "water and bread and the fruits of the earth," and speak "without giving offense." He justly concluded that "pomp and show of the world had no place in the wilds of America." "An Indian hut offered no food for curiosity." "My chief motive," he says, "is the hope of saving my own soul. I hope to learn the true sense of the Gospel of Christ by preaching it to the heathen." "I cannot hope to attain the same degree of holiness here which I do there." "I hope," he continues, "from the moment I leave the English shore, under the acknowledged character of a teacher sent from God, there shall be no word heard from my lips but what properly flows from that character."

But Wesley could not get away from himself. The greatest hindrance to holiness was in his own heart. He had looked for holiness in works, sacrifices, austerities, etc., but had failed to see that it was by faith alone.

The voyage, though of almost unparalleled roughness, was of infinite profit to Wesley. A company of Moravians, with David Nitschmann as their bishop, were passengers, bound to the New World, fleeing from popish persecutions. Wesley, observing their behavior in the midst of great peril, was convinced that they were in possession of that to which he was a stranger. Ingham represented them as "a heavenly minded people."

Fifty-seven days of sea life brought them within sight of the beautiful Savannah. Soon they were kneeling upon its soil, thanking God for his merciful care and providential deliverance.

An event occurred on the voyage to Georgia illustrating Wesley's character. General Oglethorpe had become offended at his Italian servant. Hearing a disturbance in the cabin, Wesley stepped in. The general, observing him, and being in a high temper, sought to apologize. "You must excuse me, Mr. Wesley," he said; "I have met with a provocation too great for a man to bear. You know I drink nothing but Cyprus wine. I provided myself with several dozens of it, and this villain, Grimaldi, has drank nearly the whole lot of it. I will be avenged. He shall be tied hand and foot, and carried to the man-of-war. [A man-of-war accompanied the expedition for protection.] The rascal should have taken care how he used me so, for I never forgive." Wesley, fixing his eye upon the general—an eye that seemed to penetrate his soul—said, "Then I hope, general, you never sin!"

The general's heart was touched, his conscience smitten. He stood speechless before the youthful evangelist for a moment, and then threw his bunch of keys on the floor before his poor, cringing servant, saying, "There, villain, take my keys; and behave better in the future." Wesley, it seems, had the moral courage, which probably no other man possessed on that ship, to reprove General Oglethorpe to his face.

Soon after landing in Georgia, Wesley met Spangenberg, the Moravian elder, and desired to know of him how he should prosecute his new enterprise. The devout man of God saw clearly the need of the young evangelist, and inquired of him: "Have you the witness within yourself? Does the Spirit of God bear witness with your spirit that you are a child of God?" Wesley seemed surprised at such questions. Spangenberg continued, "Do you know Jesus Christ?" Wesley replied, "I know him as the Saviour of the world." "True," responded the Moravian elder, "but do you know that he saves you?" Wesley replied, "I hope he has died to save me." Spangenberg gravely added, "Do you know yourself?" Wesley answered, "I do;" and here the interview ended.

WESLEY'S ARM-CHAIR.

Charles Wesley was Oglethorpe's secretary, in place of Rev. Samuel Quincy, a native of Massachusetts, who retired from the office, desiring to return to England, where he had been educated. Ingham seems to have attached himself to Charles Wesley, and devoted himself to the children and the poor, and was the first to follow Charles to England. Delamotte was impelled to go to Georgia from his love of John Wesley and his desire to serve him in any capacity; and he never left him for a day while Wesley remained in America. He was the last to leave the colony. John Wesley was the sole minister of the colony, and stood next to Oglethorpe himself.

The Georgia to which Wesley came was very different from the Georgia of to-day. It had only a few English settlements, the most of the territory being the home of savage Indians. These tribes being at war with each other, all access to them was cut off. Not being able to extend their mission among them, Wesley and his colaborers turned their attention to the whites, hoping that God would before long open their way to preach the Gospel to the Indians. In the prosecution of their mission they practiced the most rigid austerities. They slept on the ground instead of on beds, lived on bread and water, dispensing with all the luxuries and most of the necessities of life. They were, in season and out of season, everywhere urging the people to a holy life. Wesley set apart three hours of each day for visiting the people at their homes, choosing the midday hours when the people were kept indoors by the scorching heat.

Charles Wesley and Mr. Ingham were at Frederica, where the people were frank to declare that they liked nothing they did. Even Oglethorpe himself had become the enemy of his secretary, and falsely accused him of inciting a mutiny.

Their plain, earnest, practical public preaching and private rebukes aroused the spirit of persecution, which broke upon them without mixture of mercy. Scandal, with its scorpion tongue; backbiting, with its canine proclivities; and gossip, which also does immense business on borrowed capital—these ran like fires over sun-scorched prairies, until these devoted servants of God were well-nigh consumed.

At Frederica, Charles narrowly escaped assassination. So general and bitter was the hate that he says: "Some turned out of the way to avoid me." "The servant that used to wash my linen sent it back unwashed." "I sometimes pitied and sometimes diverted myself with the odd expressions of their contempt, but found the benefit of having undergone a much lower degree of obloquy at Oxford."

While very sick he was unable to secure a few boards to lie upon, and was obliged to lie on the ground in the corner of Mr. Reed's hut. He thanked God that it had not as yet become a "capital offense to give him a morsel of bread." Though very sick, he was able to go out at night to bury a scout-boatman, "but envied him his quiet grave." He procured the old bedstead on which the boatman had died, upon which to rest his own sinking and almost dying frame; but the bedstead was soon taken from him by order of Oglethorpe himself. But through the mercy of God and the coming of his brother and Mr. Delamotte he recovered.

After about six months (February 5 to July 25) spent in labors more abundant, and almost in stripes above measure, Providence opened his way to return to England as bearer of dispatches to the government. He took passage in a rickety old vessel with a drunken captain, and all came near being lost at sea. The ship put into Boston in distress, and there Charles Wesley remained for more than a month, sick much of the time, but preaching several times in King's Chapel, corner of School and Tremont Streets, and in Christ Church, on Salem Street. This latter church remains as it was when Wesley occupied its pulpit.

John remained in Georgia—at Frederica and Savannah—battling with sin and Satan, with a Christian boldness which might almost have inspired wonder among the angels. His life was frequently threatened at Frederica, and at Savannah there was no end to the insults he endured. Hearing of his conflicts, Whitefield writes to him to "go on and prosper, and, in the strength of God, make the devil's kingdom shake about his ears."

Through the cunning craftiness and manifest hypocrisy of one Miss Hopkey, niece of the chief magistrate, and a lady of great external accomplishments, he came near being ruined. She sought his company; bestowed on him every attention; watched him when sick; was always at his early morning meetings; dressed in pure white because she learned that he was pleased with that color; was always manifesting great interest in his spiritual state; and all, without doubt, to cover up deeper designs. Mr. Wesley, always unsuspecting and confiding, became strongly attached to her for a time, but was subsequently convinced that God did not approve of an alliance in that direction, and at once determined to cut every cord which bound them. At this the lady became greatly exasperated, and within a few days was married to another man—Williamson—and then, with her husband and uncle to aid her, she sought in every way the overthrow of Mr. Wesley.

Mr. Tyerman seeks to make this case, as, in fact, many others, turn to the disadvantage of Wesley. He will have it that Wesley had promised to marry Miss Hopkey, though Henry Moore declares that Wesley told him that no such thing ever occurred. Mr. Tyerman gives credit to the testimony of the hypocritical Miss Hopkey rather than to that of Henry Moore and John Wesley.

After a time Wesley, for just causes, excluded Mrs. Williamson from the Lord's table, and gave his reasons for so doing. For this he was prosecuted before the courts, a packed and paid grand jury bringing against him ten indictments, and the minority presenting a strong counter report. The case never came to trial, though Wesley made seven fruitless efforts to have it tried.

The prejudice excited against him by the chief magistrate and others became so strong that he could accomplish but little good among the people.

In the midst of these conflicts he held every Sunday, from five to six, a prayer service in English; at nine, another in Italian; from 10:30 to 12:30 he preached a sermon in English and administered the communion; at one he held a service in French; at two he catechised the children; at three he held another service in English; still later he conducted a service in his own house, consisting of reading, prayer, and praise; and at six attended the Moravian service.

He finally resolved, as his mission seemed at an end, to leave Georgia and return to England. His public announcement of his purpose created great excitement among all classes. The magistrate forbade his departure. Williamson demanded that he give bail to answer the suit against him; but this he refused to do, telling them that he had sought seven times to have the case tried, but in vain, and that for the balance they could look after that. On the same night, after public prayers, with four men to accompany him, Wesley left Savannah, December 2, 1737, never more to return. They took a small boat to Perrysburg, a distance of some twelve miles. They then made their way on foot through swamps and forests, suffering untold hardships from cold, hunger, and thirst for four days, when they safely arrived at Port Royal. Here Delamotte joined them, and all took boat for Charleston, where they arrived after four more days of toil.

After spending a few days in Charleston Mr. Delamotte returned to Savannah, and on the 22d day of December Mr. Wesley set sail for England, where he safely arrived on the first day of the following February, the next day after Mr. Whitefield had sailed for America.

Mr. Wesley did not regard his mission to America as a failure. He blessed God for having been carried to America, contrary to all his preceding resolutions. "Hereby I trust He hath, in some measure, humbled me and proved me, and shown me what was in my heart."

Mr. Whitefield writes, on his arrival in Georgia: "The work Mr. Wesley has done in America is inexpressible. His name is very precious among the people; and he has laid a foundation that I hope neither man nor devils will ever be able to shake. O, that I may follow him as he followed Christ!"

CHAPTER VII.

WESLEY'S RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE.

Mr. Wesley's religious experience deserves special notice. If he was raised up by God for any purpose, it was to revive spiritual Christianity, which included justification by faith, entire sanctification, and the witness of the Holy Spirit. To understand his own experience on these doctrines is the object of this chapter.

Let us first notice the external religious life which Mr. Wesley maintained prior to the wonderful change which occurred soon after his return from America. From his journals we learn that he said prayers both public and private, and read the Scriptures and other good books constantly. He experienced sensible comfort in reading à Kempis, resulting in an entire change in his conversation and life. He set apart two hours each day for religious retirement, and received the sacrament every week. He watched against every sin, whether in word or deed. He shook off all his trifling acquaintances, and was careful that every moment of his time should be improved. He not only watched over his own heart, but urged others to become religious. He visited those in prison, assisted the poor and sick, and did what he could with his presence and means for the souls and bodies of men. He deprived himself of all the superfluities and many of the necessaries of life that he might help others. He fasted twice each week, omitted no part of self-denial which he thought lawful, and carefully used in public and private at every opportunity all the means of grace. For the doing of these things he became a byword, but rejoiced that his name was cast out as evil. His sole aim was to do God's will and secure inward holiness. Sometimes he had joy, sometimes sorrow; sometimes the terror of the law alarmed him, and sometimes the comforts of the Gospel cheered him. He had many remarkable answers to prayer, and many sensible soul comforts.

Let us next notice Mr. Wesley's estimate of his own religious state at this time.

He found that he had not such faith in Christ as kept his heart from being troubled in time of danger, for in a storm he cried unto God every moment, but in a calm he did not. His words he discovered to be such as did not edify, especially his manner of speaking of his enemies. By these he was convinced of unbelief and pride. He gives a dark picture of his state at this time, much darker than the light of after years justified. "I went to America," he says, "to convert the Indians, but O, who shall convert me? O, who will deliver me from this fear of death?"

On landing in England he writes: "It is now two years and almost four months since I left my native country in order to teach the Georgia Indians the nature of Christianity, but what have I learned myself in the meantime? Why, what I least of all expected—that I, who went to America to convert others, was never myself converted to God."

He further says: "This, then, have I learned in the ends of the earth—that I am fallen short of the glory of God, alienated from the life of God; I am a child of wrath, an heir of hell."

In later years, when carefully reconsidering his early experience, Mr. Wesley was not disposed to form the same severe judgment of his religious state. He wisely added several qualifying remarks which should not be omitted when his early language is employed. He could not say that he was not converted at this time, or that he was a child of wrath. To the expression, "I was never myself converted to God," is added this note: "I am not sure of that," strongly intimating that he believed he was then converted.

To the expression, "I am a child of wrath, an heir of hell," is added this note: "I believe not." It seemed to his own mature judgment that he was not the wretched sinner he had fancied himself to be in those sad hours of his early history. He says, "I had then the faith of a servant, though not that of a son." What he means by this expression may be gathered from a sermon which he preached some fifty years later. He says: "But what is the faith which is properly saving? what brings eternal salvation to all those that keep it to the end? It is such a divine conviction of God and the things of God as even in its infant state enables everyone that possesses it to fear God and work righteousness. And whosoever in every nation believes thus far, the apostle declares, is accepted of him. He actually is at that very moment in a state of acceptance. But he is at present only a servant of God, not properly a son. Meantime let it be well observed that the 'wrath of God' no longer abideth on him.

"Indeed, nearly fifty years ago, when the preachers commonly called Methodists began to preach that grand scriptural doctrine, salvation by faith, they were not sufficiently apprised of the difference between a servant and a child of God. They did not clearly understand that everyone who feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted of him. In consequence of this they are apt to make sad the hearts of those whom God hath not made sad. For they frequently asked those who feared God, 'Do you know that your sins are forgiven?' And upon their saying 'No,' immediately repeated, 'Then you are a child of the devil.' No, that does not follow. It might have been said (and it is all that can be said with propriety), 'Hitherto you are a servant; you are not a child of God.' The faith of a child is properly and directly a divine conviction whereby every child of God is enabled to testify, 'The life that I now live I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.' And whosoever hath this, the Spirit of God witnesseth with his spirit that he is a child of God."

Again he says: "The faith of a servant implies a divine evidence of the invisible world so far as it can exist without living experience. Whoever has attained this, the faith of a servant, 'feareth God and escheweth evil;' or, as is expressed by St. Peter, 'feareth God and worketh righteousness.' In consequence of which he is in a degree, as the apostle observes, 'accepted with him.' Elsewhere he is described in these words: 'He that feareth God and keepeth his commandments.'"

A careful examination of these quotations will convince anyone that the difference in Mr. Wesley's opinion between being a servant and a son is not that one is converted and the other is not, not that one is accepted by God and the other rejected, but that one has the direct witness of the Spirit that he is a child of God and the other has not. This was Wesley's religious state when he returned to England. He was not that lost soul, that heir of hell, which he reckoned himself to be, but an accepted servant of God without the direct witness of the Spirit to his sonship.

Meeting Peter Böhler, February 7, 1738, he (Böhler) was made the instrument of a great blessing to his soul. Böhler was a Moravian, nine years the junior of Wesley; a most devout man, deeply versed in spiritual things, and well qualified to lead the earnest Oxford student into the path of peace. Wesley was astonished at the announcement of Böhler that true faith in Christ was inseparably attended by dominion over sin, and constant peace arising from a sense of forgiveness. He could in no way accept the doctrine until he had first examined the Scriptures and had heard the testimony of three witnesses adduced by Böhler. But what staggered him most was the doctrine of instantaneous conversion. This he could not accept. But a careful appeal to the Bible and the testimony of Böhler's witnesses settled the question. Thus "this man of erudition," says Mr. Tyerman, "and almost anchorite piety sat at the feet of this godly German like a little child, and was content to be thought a fool that he might be wise."

But the time drew near when the veil was to be rent, and he who had been for half a score of years a seeker was to behold the glories of the inner temple. His brother Charles had already received the gift of the Spirit, and Whitefield was rejoicing in the same blessing; but John still lingered. He became so oppressed with his spiritual state that he thought of abandoning preaching; but Böhler said: "By no means. Preach faith till you have it, and then because you have it you will preach it." So he began. He uttered strong words at St. Lawrence's and St. Catherine's, and was informed that he could preach no more in either place. At Great St. Helen's he spoke with such plainness that he was told he must preach no more there. At St. Ann's he spoke of free salvation by faith, and the doors of the church were closed against him. The same result attended his preaching at St. John's and St. Bennett's, until he found the words of a friend addressed to his brother true in his own case, that "wherever you go this 'foolishness of preaching' will alienate hearts from you and open mouths against you."

The simplicity of faith staggered the youthful philosopher. Böhler, in writing of the Wesleys to Zinzendorf, says: "Our mode of believing in the Saviour is so easy to Englishmen that they cannot reconcile themselves to it; if it were a little more artful, they could much sooner find their way into it."

Wesley's distress of soul continued until the 24th of May. At five in the morning of that auspicious day he opened his Testament and read: "There are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises, that by these ye may be partakers of the divine nature." Later in the day he opened the word and read: "Thou art not far from the kingdom of God." Having attended St. Paul's Cathedral in the afternoon, where the anthem was a great comfort to his soul, he went with great reluctance to a society meeting at night at Aldersgate Street. There he found one reading Luther's preface to the Romans; and at about a quarter before nine, while the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ was being described, "I felt," he says, "my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ—Christ alone—for salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death; and then I testified openly to all there what I now felt in my heart."

From this moment a new spiritual world opened upon the mind and heart of John Wesley. He not only began at once to pray for those who had ill-used him, but openly testified to all present what God had done for his soul. And from that hour onward, for fifty-three years, he bore through the land a heart flaming with love.

In 1744, more than six years subsequent to that blessed experience at Aldersgate, Mr. Wesley relates another experience which we must not overlook. It is related in these words: "In the evening while I was reading prayers at Snowfield I found such light and strength as I never remember to have had before. I saw every thought, as well as action or word, just as it was rising in my heart, and whether it was right before God or tainted with pride or selfishness. I never knew before—I mean not at this time—what it was to be still before God. I waked the next morning by the grace of God in the same spirit; and about eight, being with two or three that believed in Jesus, I felt such an awe and tender sense of the presence of God as greatly confirmed me therein; so that God was before me all the day long. I sought and found him in every place, and could truly say, when I lay down at night, 'Now I have lived to-day.'"

In 1771, referring to this experience, he says: "Many years since I saw that 'without holiness no man shall see the Lord.' I began by following after it, and inciting all with whom I had any intercourse to do the same. Ten years after God gave me a clearer view than I had before of the way how to attain it; namely, by faith in the Son of God. And immediately I declared to all, 'We are saved from sin, we are made holy, by faith. This I testified in private, in public, in print; and God confirmed it by a thousand witnesses. I have continued to declare this for about thirty years; and God has continued to confirm the work of grace."

These experiences flamed out in his whole life. He claimed that he knew whereof he affirmed. While he advocated strongly the doctrines of Christianity, he was most earnest in promoting the experience of personal holiness.

A question has been propounded here eliciting much controversy, namely, "Did Mr. Wesley ever profess to have experienced the blessing of entire sanctification?" It does not appear to us to be a question of as much importance as many seem to imagine. The more important question is: Did Mr. Wesley believe and teach that such an experience was possible in this life? Did he encourage his people to seek such a blessing, and, when obtained, profess it in a humble spirit? This question among others was submitted to Dr. James M. Buckley: "Have we any record of Mr. Wesley's professing to be entirely sanctified; if so, where may it be found?" His answer will be regarded as entirely satisfactory to all unprejudiced minds.

"This question reappears from time to time, as though of great importance. We know of no record of his explicitly professing or saying in so many words, 'I am entirely sanctified;' no record of uttering words to that effect. But we have no more doubt that he habitually professed it than that he professed conversion. The relation John Wesley sustained to his followers, and to this doctrine, makes it certain that he professed it, and almost certain that there would be no special record of it.

"1. All Wesley's followers assumed him to be what he urged them to be. Before they were in a situation to make records his position was so fixed that to record his descriptions of this state would have been unthought of.

"2. He preached entire sanctification, and urged it upon his followers.

"3. He defended its attainability in many public controversies.

"4. He urged and defended the profession of it, under certain conditions and safeguards; made lists of professors; told men they had lost it because they did not profess; and said and did so many things, only to be explained upon the assumption that he professed to enjoy the blessing, that no other opinion can support it."[L]

Soon after this experience at Aldersgate Chapel Mr. Wesley made a journey to Herrnhut, Germany, to visit the Moravian brethren, but soon withdrew from them because of their errors in doctrine. He antagonized the dogma of Zinzendorf, that men are entirely sanctified at the moment when they are converted. His opinion of the count differed materially from his estimation of Böhler.

CHAPTER VIII.

WESLEY'S MULTIPLIED LABORS.

No sooner had Mr. Wesley experienced the transforming power of grace than he hastened to declare it to all, taking "the world" for his "parish."

After confessing to those immediately about him what God had done for his soul he flew with all possible speed to declare it to the miners in their darkness, to the Newgate felons in their loathsome cells, to the wealthy and refined worshipers at St. John's and St. Ives', offering in burning words a common salvation alike to the Newgate felon and to the St. John's and St. Ives' aristocracy.

Mr. Wesley was a most pertinacious adherent of the English Establishment, and never dreamed of attempting the salvation of souls by preaching the Gospel outside of her church walls until he was ruthlessly expelled from all her pulpits. But he had firmly resolved that neither bishops, nor curates, nor church wardens should stand between him and duty. But what to do and where to go he did not know. Every door seemed closed against him, and almost every face save the face of God frowned upon him. But while God smiled he knew no fear. In his extremity he took counsel of Whitefield, resulting in a firm purpose to do the work to which Providence seemed to have clearly called them. Churches were closed, to be sure, but the unsaved and perishing were everywhere except in the churches, and to reach and to save them they betook themselves to the wide, wide world. They were now seen in hospitals, administering spiritual comfort to the sick; in prisons, offering eternal life to condemned felons; at Kingswood, calling the dark colliers to a knowledge of the truth. In these places unfrequented by sacerdotal robes the Gospel of the grace of God was carried by these unhonored servants of Jesus. But soon prisons and hospitals were denied them, and then they fled to the fields and to the streets of the cities, choosing for their pulpits the market-house steps, a horse-block, a coal heap, a table, a stone wall, a mountain side, a horse's back, etc.

The colliers of Kingswood had no church, no Sabbath, no Gospel. They were the most corrupt, degraded, blasphemous class to be found in England. Southey describes them as "lawless, brutal, and worse than heathen." They seemed to have been forsaken of God and man. This was a fit place to test the power of "the Gospel of the grace of God." The intrepid Whitefield was the first to break the ice. "Pulpits are denied," he says, "and the poor colliers are ready to perish." So he unfurled the Gospel banner "with a mountain for his pulpit," he says, "and the broad heavens for a sounding-board."

The Wesleys are lifting up their voices like trumpets in all parts of the kingdom. They are threading their way along the mountains of Wales, where the people know as little of Christianity as do the wild Indians of our Western plains. They are seen in Ireland, in all her towns and cities, calling her papal-cursed sons to a knowledge of Jesus. Again their voices are heard amid the hills and vales of Scotland, urging her stern clans to accept Jesus by faith alone. Then they are surrounded by tens of thousands of besmeared miners who are weeping for sin and rejoicing in deliverance from it.

Mr. Wesley and John Nelson for three weeks labored to introduce the Gospel into Cornwall. During this time they slept on the floor. Nelson says that Mr. Wesley had his great coat for his pillow, while Nelson had Burkitt's Notes on the New Testament for his. After they had been there nearly three weeks, one morning about three o'clock, Mr. Wesley turned over, and finding Nelson awake, clapped him on his side, saying, "Brother Nelson, let us be of good cheer; I have one whole side yet, for the skin is off but one side." As they were leaving Cornwall Mr. Wesley stopped his horse to pick blackberries, saying, "Brother Nelson, we ought to be thankful that there are plenty of blackberries, for this is the best country I ever saw to get an appetite and the worst place to provide means to satisfy it." Still they courageously pushed forward, with the one purpose of saving men.

That we may aid the reader in getting a clearer and more comprehensive conception of the immense amount of labor performed by Mr. Wesley, we will arrange it under distinct heads:

1. His travels were immense. He averaged, during a period of fifty-four years, about five thousand miles a year, some say eight, making in all at least some two hundred and ninety thousand miles, a distance equal to circumnavigating the globe about twelve times. It must not be forgotten that most of this travel was performed on horseback. Think of riding around the globe on horseback twelve times!

2. The amount of his preaching was unparalleled. Mr. Wesley preached not less than twenty sermons a week—frequently many more. These sermons were delivered mostly in the open air and under circumstances calculated to test the nerve of the most vigorous frame. He did, in the matter of preaching, what no other man ever did—he preached on an average, for a period of fifty-four years, fifteen sermons a week, making in all forty-two thousand four hundred, besides numberless exhortations and addresses on a great variety of occasions.

A minister in these times does well to preach one hundred sermons a year. At this rate, to preach as many sermons as Mr. Wesley did, such a minister must live and preach four hundred and twenty-four years. Think of a minister preaching two sermons each week day and three each Sabbath for fifty-four years, and some idea can be formed of Mr. Wesley's labors in this department.

3. His literary labors were extraordinary. While traveling five thousand miles and more a year, or at least about fourteen miles a day, and preaching two sermons, and frequently five, each day, he read extensively. He read not less than two thousand two hundred volumes on all subjects, many of the volumes folios, after the old English style. His journals show that he read not only to understand, but to severely criticise his author as well.

The number of his publications will scarcely be credited by those who are not familiar with them, especially when we consider the amount of time he spent in traveling and preaching, and the urgency of his engagements, both of a public and private nature.

He wrote and published grammars of the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, and English languages.

He was for many years editor of a monthly periodical of fifty-six pages, known as the Arminian Magazine, requiring the undivided attention of any ordinary man in these times.

He wrote, abridged, revised, and published a library of fifty volumes known as the Christian Library, one of the most remarkable collections of Christian literature of the times. He subsequently reread and revised the whole work with great care, and it was afterward published in thirty volumes—a marvel of excellence and industry.

He published an abridgment of Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History, with important additions, in four volumes.

He published an abridgment of the History of England, in four volumes.

He compiled and published a Compendium of Natural Philosophy, in five volumes.

He arranged and published a collection of moral and sacred poems, in three volumes.

He published an abridgment of Milton's Paradise Lost, with notes. He published an abridgment of Young's Night Thoughts.

He wrote and published a commentary on the whole Bible in four large volumes, but the portion on the Old Testament was rendered almost worthless by the abridgment of the notes by the printer in order to get them within a given compass.

He compiled a complete dictionary of the English language, much used in his day. He compiled and published a history of Rome. He published selections from the Latin classics for the use of students.

He published an abridgment of Goodwin's Treatise of Justification. He abridged and published in two volumes Brooke's Fool of Quality.

He wrote a good-sized work on electricity. He prepared and published three medical works for the common people; one entitled Primitive Physic was highly esteemed in the old country. He compiled and published six volumes of church music. His poetical works, in connection with those of his brother Charles, are said to have amounted to not less than forty volumes. Charles composed the larger part, but they passed under the revision of John, without which we doubt if Charles Wesley's hymns would have been what they are—the most beautiful and soul-inspiring in the English language.

In addition to all this there are seven large octavo volumes of sermons, letters, controversial papers, journals, etc. It is said that Mr. Wesley's works, including translations and abridgments, amounted to more than two hundred volumes, for we have not given here a complete list of his publications. To this must be added:

4. His pastoral labors. It is doubtful if any pastor in these times does more pastoral work than did Mr. Wesley. He speaks frequently of these labors. In London he visits all the members, and from house to house exhorts and comforts them. For some time he visited all the "Bands" and "Select Societies," appointing all the band and class leaders. He had under his personal care tens of thousands of souls.

To these multiplied labors he added the establishment of schools, building of chapels, raising of funds to carry on the work, and a special care over the whole movement. It may be affirmed that neither in his travels, his literary labors, his preaching, nor in his pastoral supervision of the flock of Christ has he often, if ever, been surpassed. "Few men could have traveled as much as he, had they omitted all else. Few could have preached as much without either travel or study. And few could have written and published as much had they avoided both travel and preaching." It is not too much to say that among uninspired men one of more extraordinary character than John Wesley never lived!

It may be asked, How was he able to accomplish so much? He improved every moment of every day to the very best advantage.

Mr. Fletcher, who for some time was his traveling companion, says: "His diligence is matchless. Though oppressed with the weight of seventy years and the care of more than thirty thousand souls, he shames still, by his unabated zeal and immense labors, all the young ministers of England, perhaps of Christendom. He has generally blown the Gospel trumpet and ridden twenty miles before the most of the professors who despise his labors have left their downy pillows. As he begins the day, the week, the year, so he concludes them, still intent upon extensive services for the glory of the Redeemer and the good of souls."

In order to save time he, in the first place, ascertained how much sleep he needed; and when once settled he never varied from it to the end of life. He rose at four in the morning and retired at ten in the evening, never losing at any time, he says, "ten minutes by wakefulness." The first hour of each day was devoted to private devotions; then every succeeding hour and moment was employed in earnest labor. His motto was, "Always in haste, but never in a hurry." "I have," he says, "no time to be in a hurry. Leisure and I have taken leave of each other."

He makes the remarkable statement that ten thousand cares were no more weight to his mind than ten thousand hairs to his head. "I am never tired with writing, preaching, or traveling."

With all his travel, labor, and care, he declares that he "enjoyed more hours of private retirement than any man in England."

At the beginning of his extraordinary career he became the most rigid economist. Having thirty pounds a year, he lived on twenty-eight, and gave away two. The next year he received sixty pounds; he still lived on twenty-eight, and gave away thirty-two. The following year, out of ninety pounds, he gave away sixty-two, and the next year ninety-two pounds out of one hundred and twenty.

CHAPTER IX.

WESLEY'S DOMESTIC RELATIONS.

Divine Providence seems to indicate that some men are ordained or set apart to celibacy; that the special work to which they are particularly called is such as to make it necessary that they should abstain from that otherwise legal, sacred, and highly honorable conjugal relation. Not that this duty is restricted to any order of the clergy—as in the Romish Church—but to particular persons in all the Churches who are divinely selected for special work. This was the case with Elijah and Elisha, with John the Baptist and St. Paul. To John Wesley in the Old World, and Bishop Asbury in the New, Providence seems to have indicated this course of life, though Wesley was slow to see it, and did not until his sad experience made it clear to him.

Though the world was his parish, he had a heart of love which craved deep, pure, soul companionship. He was made to love. Though he was a lamb in gentleness, he was a lion in courage. He was as daring as Richard the Lion-hearted, or as Ney or Murat, in the battle, yet he had a heart as simple as a child and as affectionate as an angel. He loved everybody. He was strongly attached to his mother, his sisters, and brothers. He clung ardently to his old associates, though they sometimes ill-treated him. With such a man a homeless, single life could only be submitted to under a sense of imperative duty.

After forty-seven years of single life, being of the opinion that he could be more useful in the married life than to remain single, and after first consulting his lifelong friend, Rev. Mr. Perronet, vicar of Shoreham, who fully approved his course, he then looked about to see who was a suitable person to become his helpmate. After a time he firmly believed he had found the proper one in the person of Mrs. Grace Murray, of Newcastle. She was the widow of Alexander Murray, of Scotland.

Mrs. Murray had been converted, while on a visit to London, under the ministry of Mr. Whitefield and the Wesleys. She at once joined the Methodists, abandoned all worldly and fashionable society, and devoted herself to the cause of God. It is true she was not allied to the aristocracy, and her husband followed the sea. Her husband, when he learned of her change, became greatly enraged, thinking all his pleasures were at an end, and threatened, if she did not abandon the Methodists and return to her former course of life, that he would commit her to the madhouse. This nearly broke her heart, and under its influence she became prostrated and sick nigh unto death. Her husband, seeing the effects of his treatment, relented, and invited the Methodists to come to his house and pray for his dying wife. Under a change of treatment, and the blessing of God, she recovered. The husband soon after left for a sea voyage, was taken sick, died, and was buried in the ocean. She sadly mourned his untimely death, for, in the main, he was a kind husband.

It was about this time that Mr. Wesley became acquainted with her, and recognized in her a valuable helper. She seems to have been a charming lady. Her deep piety, simplicity of character, amiable disposition, remarkable zeal, and active charity attracted his attention. He maintained at Newcastle a Preachers' House for himself and his preachers while in the city. He had there, also, an asylum for orphans and widows, for whom he made provision. Over this institution he installed Mrs. Murray as housekeeper. Finding her admirably suited to this work, especially among females, he appointed her class leader. She then, under his direction, visited the female classes in Bristol, London, etc. Her duty was to regulate the classes, organize female bands, and inspire her sisters to deeper piety and more active benevolence. Her devotion and unassuming manners won the affection of the people. They hailed her coming with a thousand welcomes, and parted with her with regret.

WESLEY'S CLOCK.

Mr. Wesley observed her spirit and labors, and began to feel that she was the providential companion for him—a real helpmate. Her tastes, temperament, and mission seemed to be one with his own. Without hesitation or reserve he offered her his hand. It was accepted with great cheerfulness. She declared herself ready to go with him to the ends of the earth, and esteemed it a great honor to be allied to him.

The marriage was to be celebrated in October, 1749. But on the first day of that month he met Charles Wesley and Mr. Whitefield at Leeds, and received the astounding intelligence from them that Grace Murray was married the night before, at Newcastle, to John Bennett—one of Wesley's preachers—and that they had been present and witnessed the marriage ceremony.

This singular affair has never been satisfactorily explained. It is evident that Charles Wesley and Mr. Whitefield for some cause encouraged the marriage of Mrs. Murray with Mr. Bennett; but what their motive could have been is not known. Several reasons have been given, but none seem worthy of the men. Whatever their motive, it must be acknowledged to have been entirely unjustifiable. The conduct of the lady was equally inexplicable, and must ever remain so.

In this trying affair we cannot but admire the conduct of Mr. Wesley. Knowing the part that Mr. Whitefield had taken in the matter, he went the next morning to hear him preach, and speaks in high terms of his sermon. The day following he preached himself at Leeds in the morning, and in the afternoon met Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, and of the meeting he writes to a friend, "Such a scene I think you never saw." They never met again, except in London in 1788, when Mr. Wesley was eighty-five years of age, and when Mrs. Bennett had been a widow for nearly twenty-nine years. The meeting was brief, and no mention was made of former years.

Mr. Bennett was treated by Mr. Wesley with the utmost kindness. He, however, became an enemy of Mr. Wesley, withdrew from the Connection, and joined the Calvinists. He lived ten years, and died, leaving Mrs. Bennett a widow with five children, the eldest not eight years old. She lived a widow for nearly forty-four years. She subsequently returned to the Wesleyan Methodists, held class meetings in her house, and had the reputation of being a woman of excellent character and deep piety. She died February 23, 1803. Her last words were, "Glory be to thee, my God; peace thou givest." Dr. Bunting preached her funeral sermon. Whoever reads Mr. Tyerman's account of these events should also read Dr. Rigg's Living Wesley, in order to get an unbiased account of this transaction.

Mr. Wesley, baffled in his first attempt, and still believing it was his duty to marry, made a second effort; and this time he offered his hand to Mrs. Vazeille, the widow of a London merchant. She readily accepted the proposal, and the marriage was at once consummated. Says a recent writer, "He married a widow, and caught a tartar." She was a lady of independent fortune, with four children. Mr. Wesley declined to have anything to do with her wealth, and had it all settled upon herself and her children.

She was a woman of good standing in society, and was supposed to be a suitable person for the position she assumed. She was agreeable in person and quite faultless in manner, and could easily make herself useful to all classes. But appearances are said to be deceptive; at least it proved so in this case. She seems to have possessed a temper which, when aroused, was utterly uncontrollable.

Not four months of married life had passed before she began to complain of her husband. Before their marriage she agreed that he should not be expected to travel a mile less, or preach one sermon less, than before their union. But now she began to complain of everything—long journeys, bad roads, and poor fare. She was not willing to remain at home, for then she was without the attention she had a right to receive; and when he was at home he was preaching two or three times a day, visiting the sick, looking after the societies, and carrying on extensive correspondence.

From fancying herself neglected by her husband she became jealous of him—a most absurd and insane idea. But on this her insanity knew no bounds. She is said to have traveled a hundred miles in order to intercept him at some town, and watch from a window to ascertain who might be in the carriage with him. She went so far as to open his private letters and abstract his papers and place them in the hands of those who would use them to his damage. She would add to his letters—usually those from his female correspondents—to make them appear to contain words of questionable character. She used the newspapers to blacken his reputation. She went so far at times as to lay violent hands upon him, tear his hair, and otherwise abuse him. Said Mr. Hampson (who was not one of Mr. Wesley's warmest friends) to his son one day: "Jack, I was once on the point of committing murder. When I was in the north of Ireland I went into a room, and found Mrs. Wesley flaming with fury. Her husband was on the floor, where she had been trailing him by the hair of his head; she herself was still holding in her hand venerable locks which she had plucked up by the roots. I felt," said the gigantic Hampson, "as though I could have knocked the soul out of her." Even Southey says: "Fain would she have made him, like Mark Antony, give up all for love; and, being disappointed in that hope, she tormented him in such a manner by her outrageous jealousy and abominable temper that she deserved to be classed in a triad with Xantippe and the wife of Job as one of the three bad wives." But finally she gathered up a quantity of his journals and other papers and left him, never to return. The only record which the good man makes is this: "I did not forsake her; I did not dismiss her; I will not recall her."

Wesley may not have been in all respects in this matter faultless. But no one could ever affirm that he was wanting in genuine affection. Charles Wesley, who knew the inwardness of all John's domestic troubles, affirms that "nothing could surpass my brother's patience with his perverse, peevish spouse."