Soon John was entertaining the idea of marriage for himself. He invited Grace to accompany him the following year on a second trip to Ireland so that she could help by encouraging other Methodist women. At the beginning of April 1749, John and Grace set out on their journey. Their first stop was in Wales, where Charles Wesley was at the time. Charles still believed that it was God’s will for him to marry Sally Gwynne, and John had since come to this understanding as well. In Garth, Wales, on April 8, 1749, John Wesley officiated at the wedding of Charles and Sally.
John and Grace then traveled to Ireland. After seeing how happy his brother was following the wedding, John wanted to pursue marriage with Grace. But this was difficult for him. Although he spent countless hours with Grace on their tour of Ireland, he lacked the courage to have an open conversation with her about his intentions. Most of the time that she was with John, Grace thought that he viewed her as an admirable colaborer in the Methodist work, although John did manage to tell her, “If ever I marry, I think you will be the person.”
Unfortunately for John Wesley, another Methodist preacher, John Bennet, also thought that Grace Murray would make a suitable wife, and he set to wooing her. The entire situation was soon out of control, with both John Wesley and John Bennet assuming they were engaged to Grace.
To make matters worse, John hid the relationship from Charles, even though he and Charles had made a pact to share their romantic hopes with each other. When Charles learned of the relationship, he was furious and set about doing everything he could to prevent the marriage from taking place. Grace had been a servant, and Charles felt that if John married someone from a lower class, it could cause the Methodist movement to split. A marriage to Grace Murray, he argued, was unthinkable for someone as important as John Wesley.
Astonishingly, in the midst of this tug-of-war for Grace’s heart, John Wesley and John Bennet managed to put their personal differences aside and work side by side sharing the gospel in the face of great opposition. In October 1749, as he and John Bennet were in Bolton, John Wesley made the following entry in his journal.
We came to Bolton about five in the evening. We had no sooner entered the main street, than we perceived the lions at Rochdale were lambs in comparison to those at Bolton. Such rage and bitterness I scarce ever saw before, in any creatures that bore the form of men. They followed us in full cry to the house where we went; and as soon as we were gone in, took possession of all the avenues to it, and filled the street from one end to the other. After some time the waves did not roar quite so loud. Mr. Perronet thought he might then venture out. They immediately closed in, threw him down, and rolled him in the mire; so that when he scrambled from them, and got into the house again, one could scarce tell what or who he was. When the first stone came among us through the window, I expected a shower to follow; and the rather, because they had now procured a bell to call their whole forces together. But they did not design to carry on the attack at a distance: Presently one ran up and told us the mob had burst into the house: He added, that they had got John Bennet in the midst of them. They had; and he laid hold on the opportunity to tell them of “the terrors of the Lord.” Meantime David Taylor engaged another part of them with smoother and softer words. Believing the time was now come, I walked down into the thickest of them. They had now filled all the rooms below. 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! O 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!
Eventually it was Grace Murray who made the decision as to whom she would marry. She chose John Bennet, effectively breaking John Wesley’s heart. Still, John didn’t rule out the possibility of marrying one day. And in early 1751 John met Molly Vazeille, a forty-one-year-old widow with four grown children. John had observed her to be a pious woman, dedicated to helping the sick. Surprisingly, John himself was soon in need of Molly’s help. After preaching at the foundry one evening, he slipped on a patch of ice, badly spraining his ankle. Unable to walk, he was carried to Molly’s home to convalesce. On February 19, 1751, John and Molly were married. John hoped that his marriage to Molly marked the beginning of a long and useful partnership. This, however, was not to be the case.
Chapter 14
Troubled Relationships
A Methodist preacher cannot answer to God if he preaches one sermon less or travels one day less in a married state than in a single state,” John told his new wife. And he meant it. Barely a month after marrying Molly, and still limping badly from his ankle injury, John left to clarify his intentions for the Methodist movement. Some Methodist preachers were telling their followers that the Methodists would soon split with the Church of England and become their own denomination. There was nothing John wanted to avoid more.
While he was away, John wrote Molly many letters. The letters were loving, and in them he reminded his new wife to act the part of a preacher’s wife. At first Molly was flattered to receive so much discipleship attention from her husband, but she soon tired of it. Being Mrs. John Wesley was much more work than she had ever imagined.
In an attempt to make their marriage stronger, in 1752 Molly agreed to accompany John on a four-month tour of northern England and the Midlands. She lasted six weeks on the trip before returning to Bristol, where her son had become ill.
Meanwhile, friction was growing between John and Charles Wesley. Charles, always the more conservative of the two, resented the level of control John tried to exert over him and other Methodist preachers. In secret Charles called his brother “Pope John,” and he urged others to stand against him. Of course this led to conflict between the two brothers, and John wrote a stern letter to Charles about the issue.
Either act really in connection with me, or never pretend it. Rather disclaim it, and openly avow you do and will not. By acting in connection with me, I mean take counsel with me once or twice a year as to the places where you will labor. Hear my advice before you fix [your destinations], whether you take it or not. At present you are so far from this that I do not even know when and where you intend to go.
The second anniversary of John and Molly’s marriage passed on February 19, 1753, but by November that year, John believed that he would never see his third anniversary. He had contracted an infection in his lungs from preaching in the freezing open air. A Quaker doctor prescribed country air, rest, ass’s milk, and daily riding, but even though John followed this advice, he was convinced that he was dying. So sure, in fact, was he that he wrote an epitaph for his tombstone:
Here Lieth the Body
of
JOHN WESLEY
A brand plucked from the burning
Who died of consumption in the fifty-first year of his age
Not leaving after his debts are paid
Ten pounds behind him.
God be merciful to me, an unprofitable servant
The entire Methodist movement was affected by John’s illness, and the question was raised as to who would or should be John’s successor. Charles Wesley’s name was brought forward, but Charles rejected the idea outright, arguing that he did not have his older brother’s physical stamina, intellect, or preaching talents. Besides, Charles had other matters pressing on his mind. His only child, eighteen-month-old Jackie, had died of smallpox, and now his wife was seriously ill with the same disease.
As it turned out, the question about leadership succession didn’t need to be resolved, at least for the time being, because John did not die from the infection. He began to make a recovery, and by March 1754 he was well enough to begin preaching again, though it would be another year before he would leave southern England for places farther afield. And Sally Wesley, Charles’s wife, also made a full recovery from her bout of smallpox.
In April 1755 John and Molly set out on an extensive tour of the Midlands and northern England. But Molly, who was unaccustomed to the way of life on the road, proved to be a poor choice of traveling companion for John. John wrote to a friend explaining why the difficult traveling conditions strained his and Molly’s relationship.
In my last journey north all of my patience was put to the proof, again and again.… I am content with whatever…I meet with…and this must be the spirit of all who take journeys with me. If a dinner ill-dressed, a hard bed, a poor room, a shower of rain or a dirty road, will put them out of humor, it lays a burden on me.… To have such persons at my ear, fretting and murmuring at everything, it is like tearing the flesh off my bones.
The annual conference for Methodist leaders was held that year in Leeds, and the conference proceedings revolved most around the issue of whether the Methodists should stay a part of the Church of England or sever that connection. John presented sixty-two reasons why the societies should stay within the Church of England. But even though he labeled himself a reformer within the Church of England and not the founder of a new denomination, John outlined four reasons that would serve as grounds to split off and become a separate group: Methodists should always be free to (1) preach outdoors, (2) pray without using the Book of Common Prayer, (3) form and manage their own societies, and (4) allow laymen to preach.
John acknowledged that if the Church of England authorities tried to restrict any or all of these activities, Methodists might well have to leave and form their own denomination. He made clear, however, that that time had not yet come. Charles was displeased that John would even open the door to the possibility of leaving the Church of England at some future time. As a result, he walked out of the conference in protest, declaring, “I have done with conferences forever.”
John, though, was adamant that he would make the Methodist societies independent before he would allow the leaders of the Church of England to dictate to those societies what they could and could not do. He bid Charles farewell with the words, “It is probable the point will now speedily be determined concerning the Church. For if we must either dissent or be silent, it is all over. Adieu.”
As he continued his travels after the conference, John found that the message of staying within the Church of England had not always made it to the rank-and-file members of the Methodist societies. When he next visited Newcastle, he discovered that a number of the societies there had already quit the church, with the false understanding that this move had John’s blessing. John tried to correct the members’ wrong impression of what he thought about the matter, but he could see that it was only a matter of time before the situation would come to a head and a split from the Church of England would possibly take place. But for the time being, John reminded himself that he indeed did not want to be labeled as the founder of a new denomination but recognized as a reformer from within the existing state church.
Later in 1755 John toured Ireland once again, encouraged by the new Methodist societies springing up there and trying to win over Catholics to Methodist ways.
Charles Wesley, on the other hand, spent the year touring England, trying to undo what his brother had done in his refusal to fully and unconditionally endorse the Church of England. It was a thankless task, as he found that many members of the societies he visited were eager to separate and form their own denomination. In frustration, Charles ended his years of being an itinerant preacher and settled in Bristol to oversee the Methodist societies there and to write hymns.
