A MESSAGE FROM JOHN WESLEY CONCERNING THE ASSAULT OF STREET PREACHERS
The Life of John Wesley by John Telford
CHAPTER XII
ENCOUNTERS WITH THE MOB
NO man was so familiar with the English mobs of his day as John Wesley.
In almost every place he visited opposition was, sooner or later, stirred up against the despised Methodists.
We have already seen how Beau Nash tried to silence him at Bath in June, 1739. Next day Wesley was at Priest Down.
He stood in the open air, where two men, hired for the purpose, began to sing a ballad. Wesley spoke a few mild words, but as they were without effect, he and his friends were compelled to sing a psalm, which drowned the voices of the disturbers, and utterly silenced them. Prayer was then offered, and the men seemed utterly confounded.*
In London and Bristol violent opposition broke out both from high and low.
The beasts of the people, Wesley says, were stirred up almost in all places to knock these mad dogs on the head at once.
At first no magistrate would listen to any complaints against this brutal violence. On April 1st, 1740, however, the rioters in Bristol, who had long disturbed the Methodists, were so increased as to fill, not only the court before the place of meeting, but a considerable part of the street. The Mayor sent them an order to disperse; but they set him at defiance.
He then ordered several of his officers to take the ringleaders into custody. These received a severe reprimand at the Quarter Sessions. When they began to excuse themselves by saying many things against Wesley the Mayor cut them short, saying, What Mr. Wesley is, is nothing to you. I will keep the peace; I will have no rioting in this city. The Methodists of Bristol thus found a deliverer.
Wesley had been in considerable peril at Long Lane, Southwark, in February, 1741, where the mob threw many large stones, one of which went just over his shoulder.
On January 25th, 1742, whilst speaking from the words, He that committeth sin is of the devil, the rabble made all the noise they could, and pushed violently against the hearers. They struck some of them, and broke down part of the house. Wesley had instructed the Methodists to keep their seats and not answer the disturbers. They carefully observed his counsels.
When, however, their enemies began to throw large stones, which forced their way through the roof, and fell with the tiles among the people,
Wesley saw that the people were really in peril of their lives.
He then told the rioters, You must not go on thus; I am ordered by the magistrate, who is, in this respect, to us the minister of God, to inform him of those who break the laws of God and the King. And I must do it if you persist herein; otherwise I am a partaker of your sin.
This appeal only made them more outrageous.
Wesley then said, Let three or four calm men take hold of the foremost, and charge a constable with him, that the law may take its course.
One man was brought in cursing and blaspheming in a dreadful manner. Five or six men took him to Justice Copeland, who bound him over to appear at the next sessions at Guildford. When the rioter was brought into the house some of his companions shouted, Richard Smith! Richard Smith! This man was one of their stoutest champions. Now, however, he made no response. He had been deeply convinced of sin, and came into the room with a woman who also had been actively promoting the disturbance. This woman fell upon her knees and urged Smith never to forget the mercy God had shown him. The prosecution against the man, who had been carried before the magistrate, was suffered to drop, as he submitted and promised better behavior.
When Methodism began to spread over England in 1742, persecution and riot were the order of the day.
Staffordshire has won for itself unenviable notoriety as the headquarters of opposition.
In January, 1743, Wesley visited Wednesbury, where his brother had spent a few days.
He preached in the Town Hall morning and evening, and also in the open air.
About a hundred members were gathered into Society, who increased within two or three months to between three and four hundred.
Mr. Egginton, the Vicar, was at first friendly to the Methodists, and told Wesley that the oftener they came the better he should be pleased. Wesley heard him preach a plain, useful sermon, and almost all the congregation at the church went down to the preaching-place, a large hollow half a mile from the town, which would hold four or five thousand people.
They stood in a semicircle, tier above tier. The hollow would not contain the multitude gathered from all parts, so that they overflowed on all sides.
When Wesley returned in April he found things surprisingly altered.
The inexcusable folly of Mr. Williams, one of Wesley’s preachers, had transformed the Vicar into a bitter enemy.
Williams had abused the clergy and aroused their hatred by his unworthy spirit. But though the Vicar was thoroughly enraged, he had not yet won over the people. They were extremely quiet and attentive to Wesleys preaching. On the Sunday he says that he had never heard so wicked a Sermon, and delivered with such bitterness of voice and manner, as the Vicar preached. Wesley tried to prepare the members of Society for the storm which he was sure must soon break upon them.
Whilst he was speaking a gentleman rode up very drunk, and after many unseemly and bitter words, labored much to ride over some of the people.
The trouble seemed nearer when he learned that this man was also a clergyman in the district. A month later Charles Wesley was with our dear colliers at Wednesbury. He consecrated a piece of ground given for a preaching-place by singing a hymn upon it, and ventured to Walsall, where, he says in his graphic way, the street was full of fierce Ephesian beasts.
In June the storm burst on the poor Methodists.
Wesley received the news of the terrible six days riot on Saturday, June 18th.
It was necessary for him to stay in London for his Sunday services, but he set out early next morning to assist them as far as he could.
He rode over to Tam-worth to consult Counselor Littleton whether his people could be protected from such outrage.
This gentleman told him that there was an easy remedy if the persecutors were rigorously prosecuted. Three months later Wesley visited the sufferers once more. He had preached unmolested at mid-day in the centre of Wednesbury.
In the afternoon, whilst he was busy writing at the house of one of the Methodists, a cry arose that the mob had gathered before the door. The friends prayed that God would disperse the mob, and in half an hour all had melted away. Wesley now said this was the time for him to go, but the people were so urgent that he sat down again.
Before five oclock his worst fears were realized.
The mob beset the house in greater numbers than ever.
One and all shouted,
Bring out the minister; we will have the minister.
Wesley asked someone to take their captain by the hand and lead him in. After a few words the lion became a lamb. Wesley now asked him to bring one or two of the bitterest opponents inside. He soon returned with a couple who were ready to swallow the ground with rage; but in two minutes they were as calm as he. After such skilful preparation, Wesley went out, and calling for a chair, asked, What do any of you want with me?
They told him that they wanted him to go with them to the magistrate. That I will, said Wesley, with all my heart. The few words he spoke had such effect that the mob shouted, The gentleman is an honest gentleman, and we will spill our blood in his defense.
Wesley now set out for the magistrates house with two or three hundred rioters; the rest dispersed to their homes. Darkness and heavy rain came on in less than half an hour, but they pushed on another mile to the justice’s house at Bentley Hall. He sent word that he was in bed, and advised them to go home and be quiet.
The charge as stated to the magistrate’s son was ridiculous enough.
They now went to another magistrate at Walsall. He also sent word that he was in bed. These very magistrates had just issued an order calling all officers of justice to search for and bring to them any Methodist preacher found in the district.
Fifty of the rioters now undertook to convey Wesley home.
They had not gone a hundred yards, when the mob of Walsall burst upon them. It was between seven and eight oclock. Wesleys convoy was weary and greatly outnumbered.
They tried to stand against the new-corners, but many were knocked down, and the rest ran away, so that Wesley was left in the hands of his new enemies.
The woman who led the first mob, however, ran into the thickest of the Walsall rioters, and knocked down three or four of them, but she was overpowered and held down by three or four men, who beat her with all their might.
She would probably have been killed had not honest Munchin, the leader of the Walsall rioters, interposed. She was then allowed to crawl home as well as she could.
It was in vain for Wesley to speak, for the noise was like the raging of the sea.
He was dragged along to the town.
When he attempted to enter an open door, a man caught him by the hair and pulled him back.
He was then hurried through the main street from one end of the town to the other. This was the town which Charles Wesley had found full of fierce Ephesian beasts five months before.
Their hour had now come. Wesley felt neither pain nor weariness, but continued to speak to all who could hear.
At last he stood at the door of a shop and gained a hearing.
When he asked them to let him speak, many cried out,
No, no! knock his brains out; down with him! kill him at once.
Others said, Nay, but we will hear him first.
For a quarter of an hour Wesley spoke.
Then his voice failed, and the tumult began once more.
His voice soon returned, and he broke out in prayer.
The man who led the mob now turned and said, Sir, I will spend my life for you. Follow me, and not one soul here shall touch a hair of your head.
Two or three of his companions confirmed this, and got close to Wesley; the gentleman in the shop, who had prevented his entrance lest the mob should pull it to the ground, shouted, For shame! for shame! Let him go, and an honest butcher pulled back four or five of the fiercest rioters.
The mob now fell back, and Wesley passed through them, surrounded by his champions. On the bridge the opposition rallied again. Wesley and his friends therefore went down one side, crossed the mill-dam, and a little before ten oclock safely reached Wednesbury.
During these five terrible hours Wesley was as selfpossessed as if he had been in his study. It came into his mind once that if he were thrown into the river, the papers in his pockets would be spoiled, but he knew that he could swim across, as he had a thin coat and light boots.
Though he had to go downhill on a slippery road, he never stumbled nor made the least slip.
A lusty man just behind him struck at the back of his head several times with a
large oaken stick, but every time the stroke was turned aside.
He escaped many blows through his low stature, and his enemies were knocked down by them.
One man raised his arm to strike, but suddenly dropped it, and stroked his head, saying, What soft hair he has! The gentleman in the shop where Wesley stopped was the mayor.
Wesley, of course, was not aware of this, but the mob knew the chief magistrate, and were somewhat checked by his presence. The first whose hearts were touched were the captains of the rabble, one of whom had been a prizefighter at the bear-garden of the district.
Four members of Society three men and one woman stood by Wesley from first to last. None received a blow save William Sitch, who held Wesleys arm from one end of the town to the other.
He was knocked down, but soon got to his friends side again. Wesley asked him what he looked for when the mob came upon them. To die for Him who had died for us, was his noble answer. Joan Parks, the heroic young woman who shared Wesleys perils, was as free from fear as if she had been quietly at home.
All through the struggle she felt a confident persuasion that God would deliver them.
Wesley lost one flap of his waistcoat and a little skin from his hand in this tumult. The flap of the other pocket, in which was a bank-note, was only half torn off.
Wesley had been hardened by encounters with the mob.
Two years before, he says, a piece of brick grazed his shoulders;
a year later a stone struck him between the eyes at the Great Gardens;
a month before his Walsall experiences he received a blow in a riot.
This night he received two: one as the rioters bore him into Walsall, the other as he came out.
One man struck him on the breast with all his might,
another hit him in the mouth with such force that the blood gushed out, yet he felt no more pain from either blow than if, to use his own illustration, they had touched him with a straw.
When he reached Wednesbury the friends were praying for him in the house from which he had started.
His sufferings awoke general sympathy.
Many whom he had never seen came to rejoice in his escape. Next morning, as he rode through the town, he says, Everyone I met expressed such a cordial affection that I could scarce believe what I saw and heard. Charles Wesley met him at Nottingham.
He says that his brother looked like a soldier of Christ. His clothes were torn to tatters.
Charles Wesley, who went straight from Nottingham to the scenes of the rioting, adds some interesting particulars.
The greatest profligate of the country was his brothers deliverer, and carded him through the river on his shoulders. This man, honest Munchin, Charles Wesley admitted on trial into the Methodist Society five days after the riot.
Since that night he had been constantly under conviction of sin.
Charles asked what he thought of his brother. Think of him? was the answer; that he is a man of God; and God was on his side, when so many of us could not kill one man.
The real name of this convert was George Clifton.
He died in Birmingham in 1789, two years before Wesley, at the age of eighty-five.
He was never weary of telling the story of the night when God saved him from laying his hand on His servant
Cornwall vied with Staffordshire in the fierceness of its opposition to the Methodists. But the brunt of the Cornish opposition was borne by Charles Wesley. The story of his visit to St. Ives in July, 1743, is one of the most interesting pages of his itinerant life.
The resolute mayor of that town saved the Methodists from outrages such as their brethren in Staffordshire groaned under
Wesley, who was at St. Ives two months later, had one brush with the mob.
They rushed into the room where he was preaching, roaring and striking those that stood in the way.
He tried to inspire his friends with his own calmness, but they were not so familiar with such scenes.
Finding the uproar increase, he went into the midst and brought the captain of the mob up to the desk.
Wesley received one blow on the side of the head.
He and the leader of the rabble reasoned together, till the man was quite won over, and undertook to quiet his companions. When Wesley visited the place again in April, 1744, he found that the mob had pulled down the preaching-place, for joy that Admiral Matthews had beat the Spaniards. Such, he adds, with his keen satire, is the Cornish method of thanksgiving.
I suppose if Admiral Lestock had fought too, they would have knocked all the Methodists on the head. For a time there was great peace, but Wesley received news from Cornwall six months later which made him say that the war against the Methodists was everywhere carried on with far more vigor than that against the Spaniards.
The riot at Falmouth in July, 1745, was one of the most serious Wesley ever faced. His tact and courage were never more conspicuous. He escaped without the slightest injury. I never saw before, he says” not at Walsall itself”the hand of God so plainly as here.
At Bolton, in Lancashire, Wesley had also to face bitter opposition. But the disturbers came in for the worst blows themselves. Wesley took his stand at the Cross in August, 1748, when the great wild mob tried to throw him down from the steps on which he stood.
They pushed him off once or twice, but he stepped up again and continued his discourse.
Stones now began to fly.
Some of the rioters got behind Wesley on the Cross to thrust him down.
They thus enjoyed the sweets of persecution. One man was bawling at Wesleys ear, when a stone struck him on the cheek, and he was still.
Another was forcing his way down to push the preacher off, when a missile struck him on the forehead.
The blood ran down from the wound, and his course was stayed.
A third man had got close to Wesley and stretched out his hand, when a sharp stone hit him smartly on the joints of his fingers.
He was thus effectually disabled.
Fourteen months later Wesley gained a signal victory over the Bolton mob.
He had come from Rochdale, where multitudes of people filled the streets, shouting, cursing, blaspheming, and gnashing upon us with their teeth.
Their rage had compelled him to abandon his intention of preaching in the street, and to hold his service in a large room.
He found, however, that the people at Rochdale were but lambs compared with those at Bolton.
Such rage and bitterness, he says, I scarce ever saw before in any creatures that bore the form of men.â€
They followed in full cry to the house where Wesley stayed, and filled the street from end to end.
When there was a slight lull in the storm, one of the party ventured out, but he was rolled in the mire by the rioters, so that when he scrambled into the house again he could scarcely be recognized.
The friends inside heard the ringing of a bell which summoned all the forces together, and quietly awaited the attack.
Wesley was upstairs when news was brought that the mob had rushed into the house.
Two of his friends were busy reasoning with them. Wesley quietly walked down into their midst. They had filled every room below. The scene can only be described in his own words. I called for a chair. The winds were hushed, and all was calm and still. My heart was filled with love, my eyes with tears, and my mouth with arguments. They were amazed; they were ashamed; they were melted down; they devoured every word. What a turn was this! Oh, how did God change the counsel of the old Ahithophel into foolishness, and bring all the drunkards, swearers, Sabbath-breakers, and mere sinners in the place to hear of His plenteous redemption.
Next morning the preaching-place was crowded to excess at five oclock. Wesley spoke a good deal longer than he was accustomed to do. But the people were not satisfied. He therefore promised to preach again at nine, in a meadow near the town. Hearers flocked from all sides. Wesley adds, Oh, how have a few hours changed the scene. We could now walk through every street of the town, and none molested or opened his mouth, unless to thank or bless us.
The Irish mobs sometimes gave Wesley a warm reception on his visits to their country. At Cork, in 1750, the mayor sent the town drummers and his sergeants to disturb the congregation. They came down to the preaching-place with an innumerable mob. The drummers were noisy enough, but Wesley continued his discourse. When he went out he asked one of the sergeants to keep the peace; but he answered, Sir, I have no orders to do that. The rabble threw whatever came to hand, but nothing hit the preacher. He walked forward quietly, looked every man in the face, the rioters opening right and left as he passed along. When he reached his friends house a Papist stood in the door to prevent his entrance.
Just then one of the mob aimed a blow at Wesley, which knocked this woman down flat.
He had nothing to do but step in. No one followed him. Ten days later another immense mob assembled near the barracks in Cork, where Wesley was preaching.
When he had done seven or eight of the soldiers marched in front, and a whole troop behind, so that he passed safely through the rabble with his military body-guard.
Wesley never failed in tact and resource during his encounters with the rioters.
It was his rule, confirmed by long experience, always to look a mob in the face.
However much the mob threatened, he never swerved.
In Cornwall, in July, 1745, as he stood preaching on a high wall, the rabble appeared. He kept his eye steadily on them. Many were softened, and grew calmer and calmer. One of their champions, however, who feared that all their plans were going to be defeated, went round and suddenly pushed Wesley off the wall.
He fell on his feet without any hurt, and finding himself beside one of the warmest opponents, who was on horseback, took hold of his hand and reasoned with him. The man refused to be convinced, but he and all the rest grew much milder, and parted from the preacher with great civility.
At Bath, in February, 1742, many noisy persons were gathered at one end of the room. Wesley slipped from his place and took up a position amongst them. Seeing this, the greater part of them stole to the end from which Wesley came, and began to cry aloud again. He paused to give them full scope, then began a particular application, which very soon put them to silence.
His Congregations were sometimes disturbed by a single noisy Opponent.
In the market-place at Nottingham a man thus began to contradict and blaspheme. I was standing close to the preachers back, but when Wesley turned he slunk behind a pillar and disappeared. The opposer sometimes played his part so badly that even his comrades disowned him or thrust him out of the place.
As Wesley became known throughout the kingdom, the people themselves disposed of the disturbers. One man at Lisburn, in July, 1756, contradicted him while he was preaching, but the mob handled him so roughly that he was soon glad to hold his peace.
A clergyman at Bandon planted himself near Wesley in the main street, with a large stick in his hand, and interrupted the service. Before he had uttered many words two or three women dragged him into a house and sent him away through the garden. This maudlin opponent was about to indulge in familiarities with the woman who conducted him, and she had to cuff him soundly before she could escape.
A young gentleman of the town next presented himself, along with two companions, who had pistols in their hands, but the people quietly bore him away. A third disturber was more furious, but a butcher of the town, who was not a Methodist, effectually cooled his courage by two or three hearty blows on the head.
At Grimsby a young gentleman and his companions once quite drowned Wesleys voice, so that his large audience was kept without a sermon. A poor woman at last disposed of him by reciting a few passages of his life so wittily and keenly that the laugh of his companions was turned against him, and he was only too glad to slink away.
A popish miller at Athione got up once to preach just opposite to Wesley, but when some of his comrades threw a little dirt at him he leaped down to fight them, and was roughly handled in the fray.
A few days later Wesley met with more noise and stupid, senseless impudence than he had experienced since he left England; but the chief man of the town silenced one of the disturbers, and another was knocked down by a hearer who was not a Methodist, so that the congregation soon had peace
At another place a gentleman gave those who would not attend to his signs a stroke on the head with his stick, and thus effectually quieted a congregation that was inclined to be noisy
At Burnley in 1784, high and low, rich and poor, flocked from all quarters to hear Wesley. All were eager to listen save the town-crier, who began to bawl again. His wife, however, ran up, clapped one hand on his mouth, and seized him with the other, so that he could not utter a word
Wesleys character and work, joined to the consistent lives of his members, gradually won happier days for the persecuted Methodists. Peace was not, however, secured without further appeals to law. Sometimes a threat was enough. In March, 1745, as Wesley was walking up Pilgrim Street, Newcastle, a man called after him.
Wesley stood still The fellow came up, used much abusive language, pushed Wesley once or twice, and then went away. Wesley found that this man had long annoyed the members of the Orphan House. Next day, therefore, he sent the following note
"ROBERT Y0UNG,-I expect to see you between this and Friday, and to hear from you that you are sensible of your fault; otherwise, in pity to your soul, I shall be obliged to inform the magistrates of your assaulting me yesterday in the street
.
"I am, your real friend,
"JOHN WESLEY."
Within two or three hours the offender came and gave ample promise of amendment. In 1751 the Methodists of Wrangle, in Lincolnshire, were violently assaulted by the mob, their goods destroyed, and their lives endangered.
The magistrate refused redress.
Wesley wrote a calm remonstrance, but Mr. B—†was not wise enough to accept advice. The sufferers, therefore, applied to the Court of Kings Bench, and he was afterwards glad to let them worship God in their own way.
A mob at Staibridge was effectually quieted by the same means.
The rioters got the hearing of the case postponed for eighteen months on one pretext after another, but this only increased their bill of costs when they were found guilty.
The Methodists were now left in peace.
At Faversham, where he was informed that the mob and the magistrates had agreed to drive Methodism out of the town, Wesley told the people after his sermon what they had been constrained to do with the magistrate at Rolvenden, who perhaps would have been richer by some hundred pounds had he not meddled with the Society. Since we have both God and law on our side, he concluded, if we can have peace by fair means, we had much rather; we should be exceeding glad; but if not, we will nave peace.
The journals often allude to the attitude of the magistrates.
Wesley says that the baser sort stood at a distance, but made no disturbance, when he preached at Colchester in 1758, because they knew that the magistrates were determined to suffer no riot.
He gratefully acknowledges the quiet enjoyed at Scarborough, since God put it into the heart of an honest magistrate to still the madness of the people.
When speaking of a Gloucester magistrate who had tamed the rioters, he adds, So may any magistrate, if he will; so that wherever a mob continues any time, all they do is to be imputed not so much to the rabble as to the justices.
At Manchester in 1759 he notes that wretched magistrates,
who, by refusing to suppress, encouraged the rioters,
had long occasioned constant trouble, but some were now of a better mind.
In the later years of Wesleys itinerancy it was rare to find an unfriendly magistrate.
At Drogheda, in June, 1785, the mayor and several of the magistrates took care that no one should disturb his congregation.
At Waterford, in May, 1787, a file of musketeers paraded at the door of the Court House, where he preached, at the order of the mayor. At Newark, in February of the same year, Wesley deferred his service for half an hour at the request of the mayor, who wished to attend with some of the aldermen.
At Congleton, in April, 1790, the minister, mayor, and all the heads of the town were at the service. The mayor of Bristol invited Wesley to preach at his chapel and dine with him at the Mansion House. Everywhere Wesley now found a welcome. The reproach of the Cross had ceased, for him at least, long before his itinerancy closed. His visits to all parts of the country assumed the character of public holidays, when all classes united to welcome the venerable itinerant. The particulars grouped together in this chapter illustrate Isaac Taylors verdict, When encountering the ruffianism of mobs and of magistrates, he showed a firmness as well as a guileless skill which, if the martyrs praise might admit of such an adjunct, was graced with the dignity and courtesy of the gentleman.
MIKE ANDERSON 