How the Work Spread: Scotland
It was certain, in advance, that a spiritual revolution, such as that which was now in progress, could not be confined within narrow geographical limits. The very winds would carry it over land and sea.
Whitefield was the avant courier of the movement, the Prince Rupert of the new spiritual army. Wesley had less imagination and more practical sense than his great comrade. Remoter horizons did not tempt him. His mind was concentrated on the work immediately under his hands. With the wise instinct of a great leader, he loved to make each step he took secure before taking the next. Ten years, therefore, in advance of Wesley, Whitefield invaded Scotland. The Erskines, who headed a secession from the Scotch Church in the early days of the eighteenth century, and had formed what was known as the Associate Presbytery, urged him to come, and in July, 1741, he visited Dunfermline and had a conference with the elder Erskine.
Whitefield had at least one point of ardent agreement with the Erskines. He was a convinced Calvinist, and intercourse with Jonathan Edwards in America had given his Calvinism a more resolute temper than ever. But there was also one fundamental discord betwixt them. The Seceders, after their stubborn Scottish fashion, were fanatical on the question of Church government. They were as eager for the rights of the people in the election of ministers, as they were for the true doctrine of the eternal decrees, or of the divinity of Christ. The “wickedness” of the patronage laws was to them as detestable as the worst forms of Arianism. Like their natural enemies, the sacerdotalists, their theology had no perspective.
They wished, of course, to capture Whitefield. “Unless you come with a design to meet and abide with us of the Associate Presbytery I would dread the consequence of your coming,” wrote Ralph Erskine. But Whitefield was the last man in the world to be imprisoned within any narrow ecclesiastical boundaries. He met the Associate Presbytery, a set of grave and venerable men. He records that, after a brief donversation, they were proceeding to choose a Moderator: —
“I asked them for what purpose? They answered, to discourse, and set me right about the matter of Church government, and the Solemn League and Covenant. I replied they might save themselves that trouble, for I had no scruples about it, and that settling Church government and preaching about the Solemn League and Covenant was not my plan.”’
Whitetield added that “he had never yet made the Solemn League and Covenant the object of his study, being busy about matters of greater importance.” This, in the ears of the venerable seceders, was nothing less than flat blasphemy. “Every pin in the tabernacle was precious,” cried out several angry divines. In their eyes, indeed, the “pin” was apt to seem more precious than the whole tabernacle! Whitefield was asked to preach only for them, until he had got further light.
“I asked why only for them? Mr. Ralph Erskine said, ‘They were the Lord’s people.’ I then asked whether there were no other Lord’s people but themselves, and, supposing all others were the devil’s people, they certainly had more need to be preached to, and therefore I was more and more determined to go out into the highways and hedges, and that if the Pope himself would lend me his pulpit I would gladly proclaim the righteousness of Christ therein.”*
To one correspondent who had tried to bring Whitefield to correct ecclesiastical views the great preacher expounded with much simplicity his entire theory of Church order. “I wish,” he said, “you would not trouble yourself or me in writing about the corruption of the Church of England. I believe there is no Church perfect under heaven; but as God, by His Providence, is pleased to send me forth simply to preach the Gospel to all, I think there is no need of casting myself out.” The attempt, in a word, to imprison Whitefield in a little net of ecclesiastical theories was like trying to call some widewinged sea-bird from the upper spaces of the air, and to shut it up in a cage.
‘Butler’s “Wesley and Whitefield in Scotland,” p. 23. *Il)id., p. 24.
Whitefield at once commenced open-air preaching in Edinburgh. Scotland is a land of good preachers, but it had never yet listened to such preaching as that of Whitefield. His deep, melodious voice rang over vast crowds as with the vibrations of a great bell. His ardour, the note of passion that ran through his rhetoric, the trembling cadences of his eloquence, the visible tears running down his face, the flame-like zeal which burned in every syllable and gave energy to every gesture — these fairly carried away the Scottish crowds. Scottish preaching, as a rule, appeals to the reason rather than to the emotions, and ordinarily a Scottish audience hates either to see emotion or to express it. But there are fountains of feeling hidden deep in the rugged Scottish character, depths whose very existence is often unsuspected by their own possessors; and Whitefield somehow could reach thesie.
He paid, in all, fourteen visits to Scotland, and never before or since were such oratorical triumphs won by any single voice over Scottish audiences. He preached in the fields round Edinburgh to crowds of 20,000 people. In his second visit great rows of seats were erected in the Hospital I’ark, and let out to hearers at fixed prices. The concentrated and sustained energy of Whitefield’s work in Scotland may well seem in these modern times incredible. On Sunday he preached four times in Edinburgh to vast crowds, and lectured in the evening in a private house. On Monday he preached three times and again lectiired at night. On Tuesday he preached seven times, and writes, at the close of the amazing day, “I am now as fresh as when I arose in the morning!” Of what substance was such flesh and blood built?
Later, and when in the full rush of crowded services, he calmly records in his Journal. “I am exceedingly strengthened, both in soul and boi]y, and cannot now do well without preaching three times a day.” Preaching did not exhaust his strength; it seemed to renew it!
Butler, in his very interesting work, “John Wesley and George Whitefield in Scotland,” says that Whitefield affected the Scottish towns by his preaching as Savonarola affected Florence; but Whitefield’s preaching was more intensely spiritual than that of the great Florentine, and took a loftier flight. Perhaps Whitefield’s work in Scotlaud reached its highest point in Cambuslang. Here a Scottish divine, McCulloch, a man of fine gifts and intense zeal, had prepared the way for Whitefield. The scene when Whitefield preached may be told in his own words: —
“At mid-day I came to Cambuslang and preached at two to a vast body of people; again at six, and again at nine at night. Such commotions, surely, were never heard of, especially at eleven o’clock at night. For an hour and a half there was much weeping, and so many falling into such deep distress, expressed in various ways, as cannot be described. The people seemed to be slain in scores. Their agonies and cries were exceedingly affecting. In the fields all night might be heard the voices of prayer and praise.’”
Later, still more extraordinary effects were produced: —
“I never before saw such a universal stir. The motion fled as swift as lightning from one end of the auditory to the other. Thousands were bathed in tears — some wringing their hands, others almost swooning, and others crying out and mourning over a pierced Saviour. All night, in different companies, persons were praying to God and praising Him.”
That Whitefield taught the spiritual life of the whole Scottish Church to beat for the moment with quicker pulse, cannot be doubted. And yet he left no permanent mark on Scottish religion. Edinburgh to-day no more bears his signature than does Florence that of Savonarola.
The Seceders who had invited Whitefield to Scotland viewed his success with alarm and digust. Since he would not march under their flag he was to them nothing less than an enemy. They appointed a day of fasting and humiliation for the countenance given to Whitefield, “a priest of the Church of England who had sworn the oath of supremacy and abjured the Solemn League and Covenant.” All the results of his preaching they bluntly ascribed to the devil — so blind can fanaticism be!
In 1751, ten years after Whitefield had crossed the Border, Wesley was invited by a pious soldier quartered at Musselburgh, Captain Gallatin, to visit him. Whitefield strongly advised him not to go. He told him bluntly: —
“You have no business there, for your principles are so well ‘Butler, p. 36.
known that If you spoke like an angel none would hear you; and If they did. you would have nothing to do but to dispute with one and another from morning to night.”
Wesley, it must be admitted, had some obvious disqualifications for a Scottish tour. He was known to abhor the Calvinistic theology. He was himself a preacher of what might be called the Scottish type, appealing to the reason and the conscience rather than the emotions, and he lacked the overwhelming emotional power of Whitefield. His preaching, therefore, would, for his hearers in Scotland, be without the charm of novelty. But as Wesley wrote to Whitefield: —
“If God sends me, people will hear. And I will give them no provocation to dispute; for I will studiously avoid controverted points and keep to the fundamental truths of Christianity; and if any still begin to dispute, they may, but I will not dispute with them.”
Wesley’s first visit to Scotland lasted two days, but he returned two years afterwards, in 1753, and from that time a visit to Scotland every second or third year formed part of his regular work. He visited Scotland in all twenty-two times, and if his preaching never produced the immediate and wonderful effects of Whitefield’s, yet he more permanently influenced Scotland than did his great comrade. He created Scottish Methodism, a branch of the great Methodist tree which, if dwarfed in mere bulk by other branches, has borne very rich fruit.
The elder Erskine succeeded for a moment in kindling much wrathful feeling against Wesley by reviving the Calvinistic controversy. He republished in Scotland, with an angry preface, the letters which had passed betwixt Wesley and Hervey, the author of “Theron and Aspasio,” and Wesley had to realise of what shrewish bitterness in theological matters the Scottish temper is capable.
“‘The Seceders,’ he says, ‘who have fallen In my way are more uncharitable than the Papists themselves. I never yet met a Papist who avowed the principle of murdering heretics. But a Seceding minister being asked, “Would not you, if it was in your power, cut the throats of all the Methodists?” replied directly, “Why, did not Samuel hew Agag in pieces before the Lord?” I have not yet met a Papist in this kingdom who would tell me to my face all but themselves must be damned;, but I have seen Seceders enough who make no scruple to affirm none but themselves could be saved.”
But the Seceders, with their bitter spirit, did not reflect the general temper. Wesley was listened to everywhere by great crowds, and was shown great honour. Only once, while preaching in the open air, was an act of rudeness shown to him. More than one Scottish city presented him with its freedom. He found in Lady Maxwell, in Edinburgh; and in Dr. (jillies, at Glasgow, friends and helpers of quenchless loyalty and great influence. Whitefleld says in one of his letters at the time that Wesley was making in Scotland “a great mistake” in forming societies after the pattern of his English work. But Wesley had too profound a knowledge, both of human nature and of the religious life, to believe that his converts would survive if they were left without the shelter and the stimulus of spiritual fellowship. And what Whitefleld regarded as Wesley’s “mistake” in Scotland was in reality’ the secret of his enduring work there.
In organising these societies, as a matter of fact, Wesley was but following a noble Scottish precedent. The Scottish reformers of the sixteenth century, like the Lollards of the fifteenth century, formed meetings for “prophesying,” which were almost the exact analogue of Wesley’s class-meetings. These religious societies were strong in Scotland during the Covenanting period, and were the deep and vigorous roots which kept religion alive on Scottish soil. It is possible, indeed, to say that the Scottish reformers had anticipated many features of Wesley’s own work. Intense spiritual life, of course, under any sky, and set in any historical conditions, will naturally express itself in living fellowship. And the meetings for “prophesying” in Knox’s time, with the class-meetings in Wesley’s Church, are independent expressions of a universal spiritual impulse.
It is still amusing to read Wesley’s descriptions of his Scottish audiences. They astonished him by their order, their gravity, and their absence of emotion. “They hear much, know everything, and feel nothing,” he says. “They are so wise that they need no more knowledge, and so good that they need no more religion.” The impassibility of his Scottish hearers provoked Wesley to the plainest speech. “I seldom speak,” he says, “so roughly as in ‘Scotland, but I never knew any in Scotland offended at plain dealing; in this respect the North Britons are a pattern to all mankind.” “I am amazed at this people,” he writes again. “I use the most cutting words, and apply them in the most pointed way; still they hear, but feel no more than the seats they sit upon.”
He learned to cherish the highest respect for Scottish sense. “Only show them,” he says, “the reasonableness in Scotland, and they will conform to anything.” But Wesley was not in the least disposed to vary his methods to suit Scottish tastes. The Scotch love a fixed pastorate; if only because the stubborn instinct of property in the average Scotsnum is affronted by having to share even his minister with somebody else. So Wesley was urged to modify the itinerancy of his helpers. He wrote in reply : —
“While I live, itinerant preachers shall be itinerants; I mean, if they choose to remain in connection with me. The society at Greenock are entirely at their own disposal; they may either have a preacher between them and Glasgow, or none at all. But more than one between them they cannot have. I have too much regard both for the bodies and souls of our preachers to let them be confined to one place any more. I have weighed the matter, and will serve the Scots as we do the English, or leave them.”
One of his helpers in Glasgow had so far conformed to Scottish usage as to organise a kirk-session. Wesley writes to him from Cork: —
“‘Sessions!’ ‘Elders!’ We Methodists have no such custom, neither any of the Churches of God that are under our care. I require you, Jonathan Crowther, immediately to dissolve that session (so-called) at Glasgow. Discharge them from meeting any more. And if they will leave the society, let them leave it. We acknowledge only preachers, stewards, and leaders among us, over which the assistant in each circuit presides. You ought to have kept to the Methodist plan from the beginning. Who had my authority to vary from it? If the people of Glasgow, or any other place, are weary of us, we will leave them to themselves. But we are willing to be still their servants, for Christ’s sake, according to our own discipline, but no other.”
Wesley loved his Scottish work and his Scottish hearers, and he maintained his tours in Scotland to the last years of his life. Some of the most touching pictures we have of Wesley in old age. pressing on with quenchless ardour in his work, when his very .senses began to fail him, are under Scottish skies. He was eighty-seven years of age when he paid his twenty-second visit to Scotland,
WESLEY AND HTS CENTURY
and he planned his journey and his preaching services on as daring a scale as ever. Here is a picture given by one of his helpers of his last visit to a Scottish town, Dumfries: —
“He came from Glasgow that day (about seventy miles), but his strength was almost exhausted, and when he attempted to preach very few could hear him. His sight was likewise much decayed, so that he could neither read the hymn or text. The wheels of life were ready to stand still; but his conversation was agreeably edifying, being mixed with the wisdom and gravity of a parent and the artless simplicity of a child.”
Wesley’s own record of the service is, “I travelled yesterday nearly eighty miles, and preached in the evening without any pain. The Lord does what pleases Him.”
Butler, in his work on the influence of the Oxford Methodists on Scottish religion, says that Wesley was for Scotland “a spiritual splendour”; and if Methodism as a separate body does not bulk large on the Scottish landscape, yet its influence on the spiritual life of Scotland has been deep and enduring.