Wesley's Revealing Letters About His Marriage
to Molly
Odilon
Massolar Chaves
Copyright © 2026, Odilon Massolar Chaves
All rights reserved to the author.
It is allowed to read, copy and share for
free.
Article 184 of the Penal Code and Law 96710
of February 19, 1998.
Books published in the Wesleyan Digital
Library: 791
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Address: https://bibliotecawesleyana.blogspot.com
Odilon Massolar Chaves is a retired Methodist
pastor, with a doctorate in Theology and History from the Methodist University
of São Paulo.
Son of Rev. Adherico Ribeiro Chaves and Roza
Massolar Chaves.
He is married to RoseMary.
He has two daughters: Liliana and Luciana.
His thesis dealt with the Methodist revival
in England in the eighteenth century and its contribution as a paradigm for our
days.
==============================
· Introduction
· An unsustainable relationship
· You surely fight against every proof of love
I can give
· Speak softly and smile sweetly
· She faces many trials
· I found such closeness to you that I couldn't
wait
· I didn't expect such a big demand to be made
suddenly
· You should tell me everything you know about
public affairs
· Let's make the most of it
· I'm afraid she's not okay
· Currently, we are on good terms
· You're determined to make me love you more
and more
· This is the way (as I have told you many times)
to win a person's affection
· Beware of prejudice and all cruel temper
· My wife left me
· She still insists on the right to read all
the letters sent to me
· I hope I don't see your evil face anymore
· A point of contention between you and me
· Pick my lock and steal my papers
· It didn't take long for you to rob me again
and show you my private letters
· Prisoner in my own home
· The power to justify yourself and to hurt me
· What need you need to tear the bed apart
· Let's walk hand in hand
· When you spared no effort in caring for and
attending to me
· I wish you to grant Mr. Pine a hundred pounds
of that money that is in his hands
· You left me and settled in Newcastle
==============================
Introduction
"Wesley's Revealing Letters About His Marriage to Molly" is a
49-page book based on Wesley's letters.
"The marriage between John Wesley, founder of Methodism, and Mary
Vazeille (often called Molly) is widely recognized in church history as a
disastrous and unsustainable relationship. Married in 1751, the union was
marked by severe incompatibilities, extreme jealousy and long periods of
separation."[1]
Molly was a widow and had four children. Wesley insisted on getting
married with separation of property.
Wesley and Molly married in 1751. She abandoned it permanently in 1771.
In fact, Molly abandoned him a few times, but she always came back.
Wesley realized that Molly put barriers in the relationship. Early on,
in 1751, he said, "You certainly fight against every proof of love I can
give and every little help that is within my reach." [2]
Wesley always had a loving treatment for Molly, in his letters, called
"MY DEAR MOLLY".
Wesley was absent because of his missionary work. On Molly's part, there
was a lot of jealousy to the point that she opened her mail and delivered it to
several people to read.
After a few years that Molly abandoned him, Wesley still tried to
reestablish the marriage, but put the need for reparation on Molly's part,
which did not happen.
A book that shows us this struggle of Wesley who, even so, continued to
serve the Lord with integrity and fervor for another twenty years.
The Author
==============================
An
unsustainable relationship
Mary Vazielle was born in 1710 in
Wandsworth, London, Greater London, England. He died in 1781. She was a widow
and a Methodist.
In 1768, Wesley
recalled the care Molly took of him when he became ill, which led him to marry
her in a few days: I remember when it was my case in this very place, and when
you spared no pains in caring for and attending to me, until God wanted to make
you the chief instrument to restore my strength."
Wesley and Molly married in 1751. She abandoned it in 1771.
In fact, Molly abandoned him a few times and always came back.
Wesley realized that Molly put barriers in the relationship. Early on,
in 1751, he said, "You certainly fight against every proof of love I can
give and every little help that is within my reach."
Wesley always had a loving treatment for Molly, in his letters, called
"MY DEAR MOLLY". [3]
But some of Wesley's letters to Methodists reveal an instability in his
relationship with his wife, whom he called Molly.
In 1759, Wesley reveals Molly's attitudes that would make the
relationship almost untenable: "again and show my private letters to more
than twenty different people on purpose so that they would have a bad opinion
of me. For the same purpose, you spoke very badly of me while I was hundreds of
miles away." [4]
On June 12, 1760, Wesley wrote
to his brother Charles: "I hope Sally and her little ones are
well. Where and how is my wife? I wrote to her last Saturday. Goodbye!". [5]
In 1760, Wesley writes to Molly and reveals something serious: "For
what is the need for you to break the bed to pieces and what was the need (if
it be torn to pieces) that it should be in the only little room I have when you
have four rooms to yourself". [6]
Wesley
advised her to have a good relationship with people: "My dear, this is the
way (as I have told you many times) to win a person's affection." [7]
But he
warned: "(...) and beware of prejudice and every cruel temper." [8]
Wesley
was concerned with giving a good image of his wife. To Matthew Lowes, on
January 25, 1762, Wesley said, "My wife unites in love to you and
yours.--I am your affectionate friend and brother." [9]
And to his brother Charles,
on January 5, 1763, he said, "We unite in love for you both. My wife gains
ground. She is quite peaceful and loving with everyone. Goodbye!" [10]
But Charles Wesley did not have a good relationship with Molly.
"Charles Wesley (John Wesley's brother) with traces of unconscious humor
gives an idea of this unfortunate woman's ability to fight. He said, "Two
minutes before the preaching I visited Mrs. Wesley at the Foundry and in all
this time we have not had a fight." [11]
On 4 June 1767,
Wesley wrote to Lady Maxwell: "My wife, who is in Newcastle, will be
exceedingly glad to attend to you there. And if you choose to rest a few days,
I would be happy if you used the Orphans' House." [12]
But Mary Bosanquet, on
January 15, 1770, Wesley shows fear in the relationship and speaks of the
cross: "She is still there [His wife, who was in Newcastle. See letter of
November 20, 1769 to Christopher Hopper.]; and it probably will be so, unless I
hired her to come back, which I dare not do. I will not buy a cross, though I
can bear it." [13]
MoIlly felt entitled to
open Wesley's mail and show it to people. Wesley said that this was the point
of contention.
On Wednesday, January 23, 1771, his wife abandoned him for good.
Wesley said:
"- Why I do not know to this
day, [Wesley's wife] left for Newcastle, proposing
'never to return'. Non cam reliqui: non dimisi: non revocabo—[I did not
abandon her: I did not send her away: I will not remember her.]".[14]
Although Molly left Wesley,
on September 1, 1777 he writes to Molly and says: At the beginning of the
letter, Wesley says, "MY DEAR,-- I sincerely wish a reunion with you, if
it can be on good terms. Otherwise, it would not continue; And then the last
mistake would be worse than the first." [15]
Wesley lays out some conditions for her to
return: "Some years ago, without my consent or knowledge, you left me and
settled in Newcastle. I received you again without terms — no, without any
acknowledgment that you had done something wrong. Two years ago you left me
again without my consent or knowledge." [16]
Wesley also said: "I
don't know if you are willing to make any (reparation). If so, what
repair can you make? Very little, in fact; for the water is spires, and cannot
be gathered again." [17]
There was no reparation on
Molly's part. There was also no reunion or reestablishment of the relationship.
Wesley never married again.
Main
Factors of Marital Failure
"The
decline in the relationship was caused by a series of practical and behavioral factors
on both sides:
- Relentless Pace of Travel: Wesley traveled thousands of miles on horseback every year to preach. He warned Mary before the wedding that he would not slow down her ministry pace, but she could not stand her husband's loneliness and constant absence.
- Unhealthy Jealousy and Invasion of Privacy: Mary developed an obsessive distrust of the letters Wesley exchanged with other women in his congregations. She often opened and stole his mail, even giving it to political and religious opponents to try to publicly defame him.
- Verbal and Physical Abuse: Accounts from Wesley's close friends, such as John Hampson, indicate that Mary was prone to bouts of intense anger. There are historical records documenting that she physically assaulted Wesley, including pulling him by the hair on the bedroom floor.
- Wesley's lack of tact: Wesley also contributed to the unsustainability of the marriage. He refused to give in to Mary's demands, maintained a rigidly obstinate posture, and continued to write long letters to spiritual counselors even though he was aware of his wife's jealousy, showing little emotional intelligence in domestic dealings."[18]
His letters reveal the many difficulties since the beginning of the
marriage.
You surely
fight against every proof of love I can give
Have you
not, above all the people in the world, the right to hear from me as soon as
you can? You certainly fight against every proof of love that I can give and
against every little help that is within my reach.
To your wife
TETSWORTH, 42 miles
from London. March 27, 1751.
You'll be so kind to
send a message to T. Butts [Thomas Butts had been the traveling companion of
the Wesleys. On 19 April 1744, Charles Wesley sent him to Wednesbury with 60,
which he had collected for the victims of the riots. He travelled with John Wesley
in September 1746. On February 8, 1753, proposals were made to transfer all
temporal affairs to the Stewards, and a circular was sent in which Thomas Butts
and William Briggs announced that they had been invested with the care of
printing and publication. A letter from Butts to Wesley (Arminian Mag. 1779, p.
258) dated October 31, 1750, on 'The duty of all to pay their debts,' shows
that he was 'honest as honesty itself.' Mrs. Hannah Butts, about whom Charles
Wesley wrote some memorial verses, may have been his wife. It appears that he
retired around 1759.] that Mr. Williams [Anthony Williams was a Bristol
Methodist, in the house of which Wesley was a frequent guest in 1739. He may
have lent this money to Wesley to pay Richard Thyer. See Diary Diary, ii. 175,
181.] of Bristol will charge you twenty pounds in a few days (which I have paid
in full to Rd. Thyer), and he will be able to call you for the money
If he still wants to
make his will, Brother Briggs [William Briggs, of Customs, had been a Methodist
preacher for some time. He was a leader in the foundry in 1745. See the header
of the letter of February 25, 1769.] I can write to you. It does not require
any form of law — not even stamp paper. But if you notice any difficulty, Mr.
I'Anson [Wesley's friend and legal counsel. See W.H.S. v. 230-7.] I will be
happy to advise you, either for myself or for yourself.
My dear, refer the
matter to Mr. Blisson [Mr. Wesleys, Trustee. See the next three letters.] and
the presentation of the accounts by Mr. Crook [Mr. Crook was evidently giving
some account of Mrs. Wesley's affairs. See the next letter.] As much as possible.
But oh, let no business of any kind hinder dialogue between God and his soul!
Neither of them lets anything stop you from spending at least an hour a day in
private reading, prayer, and meditation. Hearing you do this constantly will
give special satisfaction to the one who blesses God that He is
Always yours.
If any letter comes
to you from the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, [See address at the end of the next
letter.] open it: it is for you. Dear love, goodbye!
To Mrs. Wesley, in Threadneedle Street. [19]
Speak softly and
smile sweetly
-I think it's been a
long, long time since I wrote to you. It seems so, because as I write I see you
in front of me: I can imagine that I am sitting right next to you,
And see and hear you
all the time
Speak softly and smile sweetly.
To your wife
EVERSHAM, March 30,
1751.
MY DEAR LOVE, -- I
think it's been a long, long time since I wrote to you. It seems so, because as
I write I see you in front of me: I can imagine that I am sitting right next to
you,
And see and hear you
all the time
Speak softly and
smile sweetly.
Ah, what a mystery
this is! That I am able to give you to God without a single murmur or
unsettling thought! O that it is so great a God as our God, who is so wise, so
merciful, my dear Molly, who can have as much reason to praise Him as we and I
especially, to whom He has given a help that deserves for me, as well as power
to enjoy you for His glory, and to let you go whenever He calls.
Mrs. Seward,
[Probably widow of William Seward, friend and adjutant of Whitefield in Georgia
(see letter of May 8, 1739). Mr. Keech had been buried on March 20, and 'his
widow and daughter were grieved; but not as hopeless, nor did they abstain from
preaching a day. Then let my surviving friends grieve for me' (Diary, iii.
518).] Mrs. Keech, and many others here wish to be remembered fondly for you.
The first day you were here, one of them said, 'There is a wife for Mr. John
Wesley,' and he sincerely said, 'It would be so.' And when the newspaper
arrived, everyone agreed that 'you were the person'.
Now, my agreement is
the time for you to overcome evil with good. Beat Sally Clay and Sister
Aspernell [Two devout London Methodists. See Diary, vi. 9-10, 390; and letter
of November 9, 1755, to Mr. Gillespie.] in total, with as many as come your
way. Oh, if only God would give us Mr. Blisson too! Spare no effort. Not that
the interview of which Mr. Lloyd spoke [See next letter.] is not forgotten or
postponed. I hope that Mr. Crook [See the preceding letter.] will be involved
in your business, and that you will consider him capable of it. He also had
grace once!
Whatever you do,
don't miss your retirement hour. And then, in particular, let my dear friend
remember me!
I hope my dear Jenny
[Jenny Vazeille, his stepdaughter] gains ground. [20]
She faces
many trials
It faces many trials; but not one more than God knows
and knows will be profitable to those I believe you once were, and will be a
means of removing some. If these
external obstacles were removed, it could be a way for her to spend more time
with me
To Ebenezer Blackwell
LEEDS, May 14. 1751.
DEAR LORD, -- I tend
to think that Mr. Lloyd has found the expedient which, if it is possible, will
bring Mr. Blisson to an amicable conclusion. I have written down a state of
affairs as he advised, and I hope God will give him a blessing.
I am very grateful to
both Mrs. Blackwell and you, on behalf of me and my wife. She faces many
trials; but not one more than God knows and knows will be profitable to those
who believe you once were, and will be a means of removing some. If these
external obstacles were removed, it could be a way for her to spend more time
with me; which would probably be useful and enjoyable for her.
As God's providence
has called you to be continually involved in external things, I trust that you
will find Him continually present with you, so that you can look through
everything, and
Serve with Martha's
careful hands
And loving Mary's
heart.
I'm glad Mrs. Dewal
hasn't forgotten me. I hope everyone remembers the throne of grace, dear sir,
Your most
affectionate servant. [21]
I found such
closeness to you that I couldn't wait
And I found such close proximity to you that I
couldn't wait. I hope, my dear love, that you will go in the morning, and that
you will settle all the [business] that nothing can hinder.
To your wife
[Leeds, May 15, 1751]
MY DEAR MOLLY, --
Love is talking. There is more time. For it has been two w[eeks] since the
previous part of my last [letter] to you, but [one]. And I found such close
proximity to you that I couldn't wait. I hope, my dear love, that you will go
in the morning, and that you will settle all the [business] that nothing can
hinder. [But] if God sees that it will be [not so, we can] both say, Not as I
will...
I suppose you know...
Dear Love, goodbye. [22]
I didn't expect such a big demand to be made
suddenly
When I saw you, my dear, I did not expect
that such a great demand would be made suddenly. I will be intrigued to answer
without coming to town on purpose
To your wife
[LEWISHAM, January 7,
1756.]
Wednesday afternoon.
When I saw you, my dear, I
did not expect that such a great demand would be made suddenly. I will be
intrigued to answer without coming to town on purpose, which I am not willing
to do until I have downloaded the Address. I would like you to give John Spencer
[sometimes spelled 'Spenser' by Wesley.] (taking the receipt) or Brother
Atkinson (unless you choose to pay Mr. Davenport personally) what value of the
note is still in your hands. Unless you can help me for a month or two, I need
to borrow more in the city. If you can, you will do it with pleasure. My dear,
farewell. [23]
You should tell me
everything you know about public affairs
From time to time, my love, you should tell
me everything you know about public affairs; for it is hard to depend on the
authority of the newspapers for the truth of anything
To your wife
WAERFORD, May 7, 1756.
MY DEAR MOLLY, -- From
Portarlington we cycled (twenty miles, as they call it) in about eight hours to
Kilkenny. There, our brothers in the Army welcomed us with joy and opened a
door that no one could close. Yesterday afternoon (under heavy rain; but for me
it was nothing) we came here. Here is a poor and shattered society, which for
seven years has been tearing one of the others to shreds. What I can do with
them I do not know; but it is enough if I can surrender my own soul. On Monday
I hope to be in Clonmell, and on Wednesday evening in Cork.
If King George recovers,
[George II lived until 1760. The future George III came of age on June 4,
1756.] I know that there will be an extension of our tranquility. If God takes
it away, for anything I see yet, I should leave this kingdom as soon as possible.
In the meantime, let you and I improve today. Tomorrow will require thinking
about things by itself. [See letter of April 19.]
Sister Cownley [See letter
of January 10.] sends her most affectionate greetings to you and Jenny. Is
there anything remarkable in your dream? I have heard of several other unusual
warnings that have been given to others in this realm. But I'll stay until I
can see the people involved and enjoy the stories from their own mouths.
I dreamed last night that I
was carried to the execution and that I only had a few minutes to live. We
weren't talking about any of this overnight. What I understand from this is: As
long as we live, let us live; that if we don't meet here again, we can be in a
better place -- My dear Molly, goodbye!
Now I have yours from April
29th. At the end of the day, it's to keep the issues of our heart, and by His
strength we can do it. Draw us in, and we will run after You!
Pay the printers yourself;
that is the right way, unless Jo. Spencer [see letters of January 7, March 4,
and June 18.] give him his account as I have written. I hope H. Brown [Brown
was apparently hired in the Book Room.] will do whatever you tell him. Otherwise,
you should send him home. I wrote to Mr. Blackwell of Dublin. Peace be with
your spirit! [24]
Let's make the most of it
Molly, let's make the most
of it. Ah, what enthusiasm! I want to be as much as possible for God! -- My
dear love. Goodbye!
To your wife
LIMERICK, June 18, 1756.
MY DEAR LOVE -- In
Newmarket, on Wednesday evening and last night in Ballingarrane, our lodging
was neither very welcoming nor elegant. But I don't realize that he had a cold.
I'm actually better than when I started. A week or two ago I wasn't very
strong; but now I have no reason to complain anymore. I preach at most twice a
day, and I have never been abroad since I arrived in Limerick. Whether it comes
from the east, west or north, it rains every day; so that I may remain in the
Abbey [An old abbey in Limerick that the Society had secured and adapted as a
place of worship. See Crookshank's Methodism in Ireland i. 50.] whether I do it
or not.
I think the paper would be
15 shillings per ream. I won't regret it if a hundred people return their
subscription money. Let no unsigned copy fall below fifteen sparkles. Many will
be grateful for them, at any cost. They can have the photo (and the errata) or
leave it alone. It's very well done. I saw it before I left London. I am afraid
that not enough copies have been sent to Ireland. The money remitted from there
in four payments was between fifty and sixty pounds. Brother Atkinson [See
letter of January 7.] can calculate early how many subscribers this implies. I
have not yet heard of any book that has reached Dublin. I hope they were
directed to Mr. Powell. [Samuel Powell was his printer in Dublin. See W.H.S.
vi. 90.]
It is not improbable that
poor Sister Atkinson will speak thus. But (unless you have heard it with your
own ears) do not believe a word of it about Jo. Downes or Rob. Windsor. You did
well to send the Notes to G. Whitefield and my brother. I will trust you; Give
a copy to any preacher or anyone else you think fit. Please pay Mr. Wyat and
Brother Birket [Birket may be Bowyer, the printer of the Notes.] as soon as you
can. The next money must pay our printing debts. If J. Spencer [See letter, May
7.] can dispense with him for three weeks, go to Bristol, by all means. It's an
excellent idea. Now, my Molly, overcome evil with good.
In fact, I fear that our
fleets will be bought and sold. Poor King George! Where will he find an honest
man? If I learn of the French landing, or of defeating our fleet on July 14
(the day on which these visions appeared in the air over Cornwall), I shall
wish to enter England directly; otherwise, follow my path.
My brother is not against
preaching in the field in general; but he does not like to preach at
Smithfield: though I do not know why any one would object, unless he is afraid
of the crowd.
I am now writing on
Original Sin [The Doctrine on Original Sin, a reply to Dr. John Taylor of
Norwich, was published in January, 1757. Wesley decided to write it as early as
April 10, 1751. See Diary, iii. 520; Green's Bibliography, nº 182; and letter
of July 3, 1759.]; So the newspapers arrived at the right time. Jn. Haughton is
in Dublin. Michael, with his little intelligence, does very well. Take care of
Jo. Spencer. Go do him a good kindness. You might be able to convince him that
it's in his best interest to be honest and save me all the money he can. Should
not one preacher go immediately to Norwich and another to Portsmouth
Please send Brother
Norton's letter [See the September 3 letter to Nicholas Norton, which refers to
one of his in July.] by mail. [25]
I'm afraid she's not okay
I think it's been fourteen
or fifteen days since my wife wrote to me. I'm afraid that she's not well, or
she's angry with my brother and, consequently, with me
To
Ebezezer Blackwell
WHITEHAVEN,
May 28, 1757
I think it's been fourteen or fifteen days
since my wife wrote to me. I'm afraid she's not well, or she's angry with my
brother and, consequently, with me. If any letter is sent to me to Mr.
Belchier, [See letter of April 9, 1755.] I will be grateful to you if you do
not send them to her, but direct them to me in Newcastle, where I hope to be in
a few days. Wishing all grace and peace to you and yours, I, dear sir, [26]
Currently, we are on good terms
Currently, we are on
good terms; and I am not without hope that this good understanding will
continue for some time longer if He who has the hearts of all men in His hands
sees fit for me.
March 12, 1759.
DEAR SIR,-- You have
completely satisfied me about what I feared. [See the March 2 letter and
Blackwell's reply. His relations with his wife were easier for the time
being.]. I'm sure so, currently, we're on good terms; and I am not without hope
that this good understanding will continue for some time longer if He who has
the hearts of all men in His hands sees fit for me. [27]
You're
determined to make me love you more and more
I
see clearly, my dear Molly, that you are determined to make me love you more
and more. Be as careful as possible (just not to make yourself sick) and as
diligent as you can
To
your wife
LIVERPOOL,
April 24, 1757. [April 24 was a Sunday, and Wesley heard 'two very useful
sermons in St. Thomas' Church.' See the Diary, iv. 203.]
I
see clearly, my dear Molly, that you are determined to make me love you more
and more. Be as careful as possible (just not to make yourself sick) and as
diligent as you can. This is one of the talents that God has given you. Use it
to the fullest! Put all your strength into temporary things as well as
spiritual things. Whatever your hand decides to do, do it with your strength.
What a blessed rule is that of Kempis. 'Do what is in you, and God will supply
what is lacking'! Only, my love, take care of your own spirit! Be careful that
it is not sharp. Do not worry about the wicked, but in stillness and patience
possess your own soul.
I
believe my letter to the Butlers will stir them up. And if you would give it to
T. Butts [See letter of March 27, 1751.] and desire him and John Matthews [John
Matthews died of tuberculosis December 28, 1764. For twenty years, Wesley could
not remember saying or doing anything that he would like to see undone or
undone. See the Journal v. 93, 103; and letter of April 24, 1761.] to
reinforce: If you speak to William Atkinson [See letter of March 9, 1765] with
great sincerity, you will certainly do well, one way or another. [Mrs. Wesley apparently made
some suggestion of business arrangements.]
Now
I have burned your letter. My health continues like a miracle. Ten days from
now I shall probably see John Haime [See letter of March, 1744, and June 21,
1748.]; and Joseph Jones [Joseph Jones was for a time one of Wesley's
preachers. He married and settled in Somersetshire as a farmer. See Atmore
Memorial, pp. 225-6; Diary, iv. 328; and for Bilbrook, Staffordshire, iii. 519
iv. 14.] if he finds his way back from Bilbrook.
It's
late: but I couldn't convince myself to miss a post; though I can't tell you
how much I am, dear Molly,
Her
affectionate Husband, Lover and Friend. [28]
This is
the way (as I have told you many times) to win a person's affection
My dear, this
is the way (as I have told you many times) to win a person's affection. Let all
your ways be cleared, and slam your lock on his mind ['she' in Prior's English
Padlock.]. Believe me, there is no other way: to leave each one to their own
conscience
To your wife
COLCHESTER, October
27, 1758.
MY DEAR LOVE,-- I had
a pleasant journey to Ingatstone in the carriage. Then I got on horseback and
arrived at Maldon at dinner time. [See Diary, iv. 289.] Between ten and eleven
this morning we left Maldon, and in three hours we found the honest Brother
Arvin here. If I don't find a special reason to change my project, I plan to
head towards Norwich on Monday.
You pleased me on
Tuesday afternoon by inviting my sister Hall [the 24th, the day before he left
London] to have tea with you; and also leaving Betty Duchesne 3 with me until
she said what she had to say. My dear, this is the way (as I have told you many
times) to win a person's affection. Let all your ways be cleared, and slam your
lock on his mind ['she' in Prior's English Padlock.]. Believe me, there is no
other way: to leave each one to their own conscience. For why am I judged, says
St. Paul, of the conscience of another? Each one must give an account of
himself to God. And even if a man acts against a good conscience, can you
recover him by violent methods? Vain thinking! By force the beasts act, and are
restrained by force: the human mind is conquered by gentle means. Either by
gentle means or without any path. Or, if there is an exception, if the rod goes
to the back of a fool, the wife is not the person who should use it against her
husband.
If God wills to bring
me safely to Norwich, I hope to receive a letter from you there. Peace be upon
your spirit.--I am
Her affectionate
husband. To Mrs Wesley, at Foundery, London. [29]
Beware of prejudice
and all cruel temper
Listen to any
preacher you want; but listen to the voice of God, and beware of prejudice and
every cruel temper: beware of foolish and painful desires, or they will go
through you with many sorrows. In a word, be anything but insignificant, an
insignificant with God and your own soul
For Miss Helena.
LONDON, February 21, 1759.
Probably, Miss Helena
Sánchez. -- , this may be the last nuisance of the kind you'll get from me. So
you can forgive me that, and more than that, when you consider my motives. You
know I can't have temporal vision; I can have nothing but a faint, distant hope
(for with God all things are possible) of rendering some service to the one I
love. And that might answer the question you would naturally ask: 'What would
you have! What do you want with me!' I want you to be not a convert to my
opinions, but a member of Christ, a child of God, and an heir of His kingdom.
Be anything as to the outward profession, that you may be humble of heart, to
resist and conquer every gesture of pride, and have that mind in you which was
also in Christ Jesus. Be what you want, moreover; only be meek and gentle, and
possess your soul with patience: so that someone can really say to you: You are
always calm inside, serene and serene. Listen to any preacher you want; but
listen to the voice of God, and beware of prejudice and every cruel temper:
beware of foolish and painful desires, or they will go through you with many
sorrows. In a word, be anything but insignificant, an insignificant with God
and your own soul. That is not why God gave him a mind superior to that of the
ordinary herd. No, Miss -- , not! but that you may employ all your talents for
the glory of Him who gave them. O grieve not the Holy Spirit of God! He's not
even fighting with you! striving to make you not almost, but completely
Christian! In fact, you must be all or nothing—a saint or a devil, eminent in
sin or holiness! May the good Lord deliver you from every snare, and guide your
feet in the way of peace! What a great pleasure this would give to all his true
friends, and in particular to his affectionate servant, for God's sake. [30]
My wife left me
After many stern
words, my wife left me, swearing she would not see me again.
For Ms. Ryan
LONDON,
January 27, 1758.
MY DEAR SISTER,--
Last Friday, [January 20th, the day the previous letter was written. See the
letter of December 23.] After many stern words, my wife left me, swearing she
would not see me again. As I wrote to you the same morning, I began to argue
with myself, until I almost doubted whether I had done well in writing or
whether I should write to you. After the prayer, this doubt was removed. Still,
I almost regretted writing that morning. In the evening, while I was preaching
in the chapel, she entered the chamber [Of the chapel at West Street, Seven
Dials. See letter of July 12.] Where I had left my clothes, I searched in my
pockets and found the letter that I had finished but would not seal. As he read,
God broke his heart; and then I found her in such an angry temper as I had not
seen her for several years. It has remained so ever since. So I think God gave
a sufficient answer regarding our writing to each other.
I still
feel a little afraid towards you. How have you found yourself since we
separated? Didn't you suffer any loss for nothing? Has nothing diminished the
vigor of your spirit? Honor is a blessing, and dishonor is also the frowns and
smiles of men. You are one and the same in ease or in pain, always attentive to
God's voice. What kind of humility do you feel? What has it to humble you, if
you have no sin You are wise in how you spend your time You use everything, not
only well, but in the best possible way What time do you have to read I want
you to live like an angel here below, or rather, like the Son of God. Woman,
walk as Christ walked; then you cannot help but love and pray for His
affectionate brother. [31]
She still
insists on the right to read all the letters sent to me
I suppose
my wife is now in London, for the letters I received from there at the last
franchise were open; for she still insists on the right to read all the letters
sent to me. And I have no friend or servant where she is who has the honesty
and courage to stop it.
To Ebenezer Blackwell
CASTLEBAR, June 5,
1758. DEAR SIR,-- I suppose my wife is now in London, for the letters I
received from there in the last franchise were open; for she still insists on
the right to read all the letters sent to me. And I have no friend or servant
where she is who has the honesty and courage to stop it. I find that since I
left England, all my servants have changed their minds, and are convinced that
she is a poor and quiet creature, used in a barbarous way. I wouldn't wonder if
my brother and you were led to the same opinion. [See next letter.]
Since I entered this
realm, I have written several times; but I did not receive a single line in
response. So I stand still. I learned by the grace of God, in every state, to
be content. In this sense, I did what I should and what I could. Now let God do
what He looks good at. What peace we find in every circumstance when we can
say, 'Not as I will, but as You will'!
Now I have passed
through most of this kingdom—Leinster, Ulster, and most of Connaught. Only time
is a foul. If my brother could take care of England and give me just one year
for Ireland, I think every corner of this nation would receive the truth as it
is in Jesus. They just want to listen; And they'll listen to me, high and low,
rich and poor. What a mystery of Providence this is! In England they may hear,
but they will not. In Ireland, they would like to hear it, but they can't.
Thus, in both, thousands perish for lack of knowledge. As much as the more
blessed are their ears, for they hear; if you not only listen to the word of
God, but keep it.
I hope you realize
that public affairs are changing for the better. In this corner of the world,
we know little about them; we are only told that the great little king of
Moravia has not yet been swallowed up. [Frederick the Great began the campaign
of 1758 by invading Moravia and attempting to take Olmutz. It was defended by
Marshal Daun, who cut off supplies to the Prussian Army.]
By almost the middle
of next month, I hope to be at Mr. Beauchamp's house in Limerick. [There he met
Thomas Walsh, 'alive, but only alive.' See the Diary, iv. 275.] I hope you have
a fruitful season in all aspects. My best wishes to you all.--I am, dear sir,
Your affectionate servant. [32]
I hope I don't see
your evil face anymore
"I hope I don't
see your evil face anymore." You can be safe from being deceived by
someone like that, but not believe a word you hear
To Ebenezer Blackwell
BANDON, July 12,
1758. Seriously, sir, you almost made me angry at an innocent person—I mean,
innocent of the supposed guilt. I wrote to Mr. Downing [See letter of April 6,
1761.] about the same time as I wrote to you; and without a name, I read part
of your letter as his, and thought that my wife did a great deal of wrong by
bothering him with matters of this kind, which might do her more harm than
good. Time and patience will eliminate many other problems and show that they
have no basis more than that.
Though you have so
eloquent a person [Mrs. Wesley] by your side, and I am two or three hundred
miles away, I have little to say: perhaps it is time for me to go back to
London. At the moment, I would make only two or three cursory observations.
(1) This letter was
not left on a chair, but taken out of my pocket. [See letter of January 27.]
(2) They were not
letters, but a letter of mine (and one that did not mean a straw) which Sarah
Crosby showed some time ago to three or four persons, and which she will hear
of for ten years. I write to her when I think it my duty to do so; but I did
not write these ten or twelve weeks.
(3) If you have
softened or lightened something I wrote in the Bedford letter, [He was in
Bedford on the 9th of March, and had to wait a day before he could preach his
sermon from the 'Great Assize.' See the Diary, iv. 254.] You have caused
irreparable damage to her. What I am is not the question there, but what it is;
of which I need to be a better judge than you, for I wear the shoe: just as you
need to be a better judge of Mrs. Blackwell's temper than I am.
(4) 'She is now
filled with anger.' Eigh day! Anger! Why? Why? Because, when Captain Dancey
visited me in Dublin (on the 7th of April) and asked, 'Sir, do you have any
order that I am now embarking for Bristol,' I said, 'Yes; Here's a letter. Will
you give it up with your own hands?' He promised that he would; And that was
our whole conversation.
(5) But suppose he
delivered it about the 12th of April, why didn't she write it for a month? What
excuse or presence for that
(6) Certainly, as
long as I can hold a pen, I will assert my right to talk to whomever I want.
Reconciliation or none, let her look at it. If the unbeliever is going to
leave, let her go. This right I will exercise precisely when I judge correctly,
being accountable only to God and to my own conscience. Although (as it
happens) the last letter I wrote to Sarah Ryan was in early May.
(7) My conscience
bears witness to me before God that I have been 'cautious as I should have
been'; for I have strictly complied with my rule: 'Do everything and omit
everything you can with a sure conscience and for peace.'
But there is no fence
against a flail, against one who can say to T. Walsh calmly and deliberately
(he asks that this not be mentioned again, nor his name mentioned in the
matter), 'Your parting words to me were, "I hope I shall see your wicked
face no more."' You can be safe from being deceived by someone like that,
but not believe a word you hear
In a week or two I'll
be looking for a ship. You in England are bad correspondents. Both Mr. Downing,
Mr. Venn, [Henry Venn.] and Mr. Madan [Martin Madan (1726-90), cousin of
Cowper, the poet, were converted under Wesley's ministry, became clergyman and chaplain
of the Lock Hospital in London from 1750 to 1780. His book in favor of polygamy
made him notorious. See the Diary, iv. II n, vi. 313.] they are a letter in
debt from me; and yet I think they have no more business than I do. How
unevenly things are distributed here! Some want time, others want work! But
everything will be fine from now on. There is no disorder on that bank.
Wishing all happiness
to you and to all those who are with you, I remain, dear sir, with all the
affection. [33]
A point of contention
between you and me
You accused me of
cruelty, cruelty and all that. And why? Because I insist on choosing my own
company! because I insist on talking, speaking or writing, with those that I
(not you) deem appropriate! For more than seven years, this has been a point of
contention between you and me
To your wife
NORWICH, December 23,
1758.
DEAR MOLLY,-- I was
very worried, the night before he left London, [He left London on December
18th. See letters of January 27, 1758 and March 2, 1759.] with his cruel and
unjust accusation. You accused me of cruelty, cruelty and all that. And why?
Because I insist on choosing my own company! because I insist on talking,
speaking or writing, with those that I (not you) deem appropriate! For more
than seven years, this has been a point of contention between you and me. And
it's so still. Well, I won't, I can't, I don't dare give up on this. 'But then
you'll be furious, worried and cursing me.' I'm sorry about that. But I can't
help it. I still do and must insist that I have the right to choose my own
company. Then 'you will renounce against me all curses from Genesis to
Revelation.' Maybe. But you don't gain ground here; because I still can't give
up my right. No, but 'you're going to say all kinds of evil about me.' Be that
as it may; but I'm still exactly where I was. So 'you will show my private
letters to the whole world.' If you do, I'll still have to claim my right. All
this will not extort this from me; Nor anything else you can do. So it's better
to allow it now than after we've discussed it (if we live that long) seven
years longer. For it is my right by all the laws of God and man, and a right I
can never get rid of. O do not continue to trouble yourself and me, and to
disturb the children of God still by clinging to a power which must be denied
you by Him who, however, is Your true affectionate Husband. [34]
Pick my lock and
steal my papers
My wife picks my lock
and steals my papers. Then she says, 'You can't trust me.' I reply, 'I cannot,
until you restore what you have stolen and promise not to steal any more.' She
answers: 'I will burn them, or lodge them with another, in such conditions.'
EVERTON, March 2, 1759.
DEAR SIR,-- When it
is likely that I may alter my judgment or practice, I am very willing to speak
on any point. But when I am clearly and totally fixed, then I do not speak;
because it would be lost labor. So I didn't speak the other night; because I was
totally fixed. My wife picks my lock and steals my papers. Then she says, 'You
can't trust me.' I reply, 'I cannot, until you restore what you have stolen and
promise not to steal any more.' She answers: 'I will burn them, or lodge them
with another, in such conditions.' I don't answer anything. You ask? Why! I
answer you: (1) I will not consent to my goods being burned, much less accept
them as a favor: I demand that she return them. I will not thank you for
hosting them with another: I demand that they be returned to me. (3) I will not
even consider the terms: I demand the restitution of my own property without
any terms. And I know you would do it if it were your case. And so can any man
of common sense. 'But she won't restore them.' So she must keep them. But let
her not blame me because I can't trust her.
Let me add a word to
you. You think you are compatible with it; But you're not. By her exquisite
artistry, she has already made you think badly of two very deserving women.
[Mrs. Ryan and Mrs. Crosby. See the next letter and that of July 12, 1758.] And
you've been more than once very intrigued about what to think of me! Nor could
you help but think that I was a little wrong. I am almost afraid that it will
also entertain you with the faults of many in the Society; Knowing this
(whether real or false) is of no use to you. O Lord, let us look within; Let us
live at home! The more we know of our own faults and less of those of others,
the more will God's work in our hearts prosper. Wishing you and you every
happiness, I am, dear sir, -- Your affectionate servant. [35]
It didn't take long
for you to rob me again and show you my private letters
But it didn't take
long for you to rob me again and show my private letters to more than twenty
different people on purpose so that they would have a bad opinion of me. For
the same purpose, you spoke very badly of me while I was hundreds of miles
away.
To your wife
GRIMSBY, April 9,
1759.
MY DEAR MOLLY,-- I
need to write one more time. So, if I don't hear from you, I've already done
it.
About a year ago,
while I didn't suspect anything less, you opened my desk and took many of my
letters and papers. Mr. Blackwell advised me, before you, if you refused to
restore them, to send at once for a blacksmith, break into your box, and take
mine. To avoid this, you have restored them. But it didn't take long for you to
rob me again and show my private letters to more than twenty different people
on purpose so that they would have a bad opinion of me. For the same purpose,
you spoke very badly of me while I was hundreds of miles away.
It was in their
presence that I talked with Sister Ryan and Crosby. [See letters of July 12,
1758, March 2, and October 23, 1759.] I know it was just a presence, and I told
your friends that the mood you here would leave things exactly where they were.
I knew that giving someone a drink wouldn't cure the dropsy. However, at their
request, I did the experiment. I cut off all correspondence with them, whether
by speech or writing. For a while, having understood your point, you were in a
good mood. After that, it was just like I said. You stole me again; and your
sin (as before) brought its own punishment: for the papers you had stolen shook
your soul, and tore your poor restless spirit to pieces.
Despite this, you
wrote me two letters of affection. (I hope not with the intention of reading
them to other people; which I will not suspect if you assure me that you have
not read them or shown them in part or in whole to anyone.) So I was a little
surprised when, at our meeting in Colchester, I found you completely out of
humor. It really seemed that you were deeply annoyed by the papers you had
taken, and so you were determined to work it out with me. So you couldn't
restrain yourself from throwing squibs at me even in company, [He was at
Colchester on March 19.] and talking with such affinity when we were alone, as
I think no wife should talk to a husband—as I presume you couldn't have used
decently with anyone but Noah Vazeille. [Her first husband.] Perhaps you can
now take more liberty, because, having stripped myself of all my papers, you
imagine that it is now absolutely impossible for me to justify myself. But
you're making a mistake. For everyone who knows me, my word is a sufficient
justification. And if anything more is needed, I know One who can say to the
Grave, 'Return the damage!' Yes, and if He says this to Jealousy, cruel as the
Grave, she will hear and obey His voice.
Wishing you the
blessing you now desire above any other—that is, deep, unfeigned repentance ,--
I remain your very wounded, but still affectionate, husband. To Mrs. Wesley, at
the Foundy, London. [36]
Prisoner in my own
home
I don't like to be a prisoner in my own house
myself; To have my bedroom door guarded continuously so that no one could enter
or leave except who had their good license
COLEFORD, October 23, 1759.
DEAR MOLLY,--I'll
tell you simply and clearly the things I don't like. If you remove them, fine.
If not, I'm where I was. I do not like (1) That you show my private letters and
papers without my permission. That has never done anything yet, not for you, not
for me, not for anyone. This only sharpens and embitters his own spirit. And
the same effect that this naturally has on others. The same as I would have
with me, but that (by the grace of God) I don't think about it. It's no use. It
can never bring me closer, although it can push me further away. And if you do
what you frequently threaten, then the issue is over. I know what I have to do.
In all of this, you are fighting against yourself. You're thwarting your own
purpose if you want me to love you. You're on the wrong track. No one has ever
been forced to love another. It cannot be: love can only be conquered by
softness; lack means it's worth nothing. But you say, 'I tried fair means, and
they did not succeed.' If they don't, none will. Then he only needs to say:
'This evil is from the Lord: I am clay in His hand.'
I don't like (2) not
having the command of my own house, not being able to invite even my closest
relatives to the point of having a plate of tea without displeasing you. I
don't like (3) being a prisoner in my own house myself; To have my bedroom door
guarded continuously so that no one could enter or leave except who had his
good license. I don't like (4) to be just a prisoner on the loose, even when I
go abroad, to the extent that you are deeply disgusted if I don't give you an
account of every place I visit and every person I talk to. I don't like (5) Not
being safe in my own home. My house is not my castle. I can't even call my
office, nor my dresser, my own. They can be looted every day. You say, 'I
plunder you of nothing but papers.' I'm not sure about that. How is it possible
that I also fail to lose money, and whoever steals a pin steals a pound? But if
that were the case, a scholar's articles would be his treasure—my Journal in
particular. 'But I only accepted documents related to Sarah Ryan and Sarah
Crosby.' This is not true. What are Mr Landey's letters to them? In addition,
you have taken parts of my Diary that do not refer to one or the other. I do
not like (6) your treatment of my servants (although, in fact, they are not
properly mine). You do all this in your lies to make their life a burden to
them. You intimidate, harass, evaluate them as dogs, make them afraid to talk
to me. You treat them with such haughtiness, severity, bitterness, ill-temper,
as you have never met in any house of mine for nearly twelve years. You forget
even good parenting, and use such coarse language as befits no one but a
fish-wife. I do not like (7) That you speak against me behind my back, and that
every day and almost every hour of the day; Making my failures (real or
supposed) the recurring theme of your conversation. I don't like (8) You defame
me, you accuse me of things you know to be false. Such are (to go a few days
ago)—'that I have overcome thee,' as you said to James Burges [One of the
masters of Kingswood. Wesley visited the school in 1739 and was there during
the fire of 1757. See Diary in Diary, ii. 206, 240, 302; iv. 242.]; that I went
to Kingswood with Sarah Ryan, that you told Sarah Crosby; and that I demanded
that, when we were married, you should never sit in my presence without my
permission, which you said to Mrs. Lee, [Eleanor Lee, 'a mother in Israel,'
whom Wesley buried in 1778. See Diary, vi. 213.] Mrs. Fry, and several others,
and placed it before my face. I don't like (9) Your common habit of saying
things that aren't true. To mention only two or three details. You told Mr.
Ireland [James Ireland, of Brislington, near Bristol. See the next letter.]
'Mr. Vazeille learned Spanish in two weeks.' You told Mr. Fry, 'Mrs. Ellison
[Wesley's sister, Susanna, who spent her last years in London. Apparently some
reference to Sophia Hopkey.] was the author of my interest in Georgia.' You
said to Mrs. Ellison, 'you never said any of that; you never accused her of
that.' You also told her 'that I had devised a plan to serve her just as
Susanna was served by the two elders.' I do not like (10) His extreme and
immeasurable bitterness towards all who attempt to defend my character (such as
my brother, Joseph Jones, Clayton Carthy [See letter of June 12.]), even to
filthy and impolite language, as if I should not profane the lips of a lady if
she did not believe a word of the Bible.
And now, Molly, what
would anyone advise you to really care about your happiness? Certainly (1)
show, read, touch these letters more, if you do not return them to their true
owner; (2) allow me the command of my own house, with free permission to invite
whomever I please; (3) grant me my liberty there so that anyone who wills may
come to me unhindered or hindered; (4) let me go where I want and to whomever I
want, without giving explanations to anyone; (5) assure me that you will no
longer accept my papers or anything from me without my consent; (6) To treat
all servants where you are, whether you like it or not, with courtesy and
humanity, and to speak (if you speak at all) with them, as well as with others,
with good character and good manners; (7) not to speak ill of me behind my
back; (8) never falsely accuse me; (9) to be extremely cautious in saying
anything that is not strictly true, as far as matter is concerned; and (10)
avoid all bitterness of expression until you can avoid all bitterness of spirit.
These are
the counsels I now give you in the fear of God and with the affection of love
for your soul. Nor can I give you stronger proof that I am your loving husband.
[37]
The power
to justify yourself and to hurt me
You gain
the power to justify yourself and to hurt me (at least by irritating me); You
gain reason to make people think badly of me and to make them think well of
you. And that's why you make more friends and I more enemies
To his wife BEDFORD,
November 24, 1759.
MY DEAR MOLLY,-- You
have been very present in my thoughts this morning. Do you want me to tell you
what I thought? So take it for the most part. Take this kindly, for it is kind.
What do you gain by
keeping my papers [See letter of October 23.] or, at least, think you gain Why,
this: you gain the satisfaction of showing them, or parts of them, to others;
You gain the power to justify yourself and to hurt me (at least by irritating
me); You gain reason to make people think badly of me and to make them think
well of you. And that's why you make more friends and I more enemies.
Very well. But are
you sure of that? Is it pure satisfaction you get from showing them? There is
always no doubt that you do the right thing, a secret doubt that spoils the
satisfaction. Will showing this justify you for accepting them? Is this not
what adds sin to sin? And not even the men of the world will say, 'What a
wretch is this, first to steal, then to expose one's own husband.' If,
therefore, you make them think evil of me, you do not make them think evil of
yourself. If you make me more enemies, you don't make a friend anymore — no,
all those after a while are less your friends than before.
But what if you won
with everything you suppose, would that make up for what you lost? You totally
lose my esteem; You violently shock my love; You destroy my confidence. You
force me to lock everything up like a thief; always be on my guard; Watch all the
time that you're close to me, not knowing what you can steal next and expose to
the whole world. You cut yourself off from joint prayer. For how can I pray
with someone who watches me daily to hurt me? You turn away from all friendly
intercourse with many who would otherwise rejoice to converse with and serve
you. You rob yourself of many precious opportunities for public prayer and to
participate in the Lord's Table. Now, how much you must love to justify
yourself and hurt me, if you are going to do it at this cost! O Molly, put out
the fire in your chest! Avoid as if it were a serpent those who agitate it. And
see in true light Her loving Husband. To Mrs. Wesley, at the Foundy, London. [38]
What need you need to
tear the bed apart
For what was the need for you to tear the bed to pieces and what was the
need (if it is torn to pieces) that it should be in the only little room I have
when you have four rooms to yourself
To your wife
LIVERPOOL, March 23,
1760.
Poor Molly! You
couldn't take it any longer! not a month, not twenty days. Have you ever found
a presence to speak in the old line? A weak one, indeed: but, as it is, it can
serve the curve for lack of something better. 'You destroyed a bed. And you
want to put it in my office. And I don't say if you can or not! I really can't
look at this whole situation as anything other than a presence. For what was
the need for you to tear the bed to pieces and what was the need (if it is torn
to pieces) that it should be in the only little room I have when you have four
rooms to yourself
Unfortunately, that
until this hour you should not know your duty nor be willing to learn it! In
fact, if you were a wise woman, good woman or not, you would have already given
me carte blanche: you would have said: 'Tell me what to do, and I will do it;
Tell me what to avoid, and I'll avoid it. I have promised to obey you, and I
will keep my word. Tell me to do anything, everything. In everything that is
not sin, I obey. You drive, I follow the direction.'
That was his wisdom
to do a long time ago, instead of fighting for almost those ten years. This is
both your wisdom and your duty to do now; And certainly better late than never.
This must be his indispensable duty, until (1) I am an adulterer; (2) You can
prove it. Until then, I have the same right to claim obedience from you that
you have to claim from Noah Vazeille. [Her son.] Consequently, every act of
disobedience is an act of rebellion against God and the King, as well as
against His affectionate Husband. [39]
Let's walk hand in hand
If you really think
with me, if you want to make the most of a few days, to improve the night of
life, let's start today! And what we do, let us do it with our strength.
Yesterday has passed, and it should not be remembered: tomorrow is not ours.
Now, Molly, let's go: Let's walk hand in hand to the land of Immanuel!
To your wife
ENNIS, NEAR LIMERICK,
12 July 1760.
MY DEAR,-- Although
you have not answered my last two times, I will not be formal. Now I am looking
at England again, having almost passed through this kingdom. In a few days, I
intend to go to Cork, where I will probably embark for Bristol. There the
Conference is due to begin (if God grants me a prosperous journey) on
Wednesday, August 27. If there is no ship ready to set sail from Cork around
August 20th, I intend (God willing) to go straight back to Dublin and embark
there. [He returned via Dublin. See the letter of June 23.]
My desire is to live
in peace with all men; with you in particular. And (as I have told you several
times) everything in my power I do and will do to meet you; whatever they
desire, unless I judge that it would injure my own soul, or yours, or the cause
of God. And there is nothing I should rejoice more than to have him always with
me; as long as I could keep you in a good mood and that you didn't talk against
me behind my back.
I still love you for
your tireless dedication, your exacting frugality, and your unusual cleanliness
and tidiness, both in your person, in your clothes, and in everything around
you. I value you for your patience, skill, and tenderness in helping the sick.
And if you could submit to follow my advice, I could make it a hundredfold more
useful to both the sick and the healthy in all places where God has willed to
act by my ministry. O Molly, why should these opportunities be lost? Why
shouldn't you Capture the golden moments as they fly, And for a few fleeting
hours secure eternity [Adapted from his brother Samuel's poem about William
Morgan. See Diary, i. 104.]
If you really think
with me, if you want to make the most of a few days, to improve the night of
life, let's start today! And what we do, let us do it with our strength.
Yesterday has passed, and it should not be remembered: tomorrow is not ours.
Now, Molly, let's go: Let's walk hand in hand to the land of Immanuel! If God
wants us to meet again, let us meet again. If he preferred, we should stay in
the room [When they were together in Bristol, the Rev. George Stonehouse lived
there for some time. See the Diary of C. Wesley, ii. 215n, 223, &C.] or at
Mr. Stonehouse's house. Peace be upon your spirit--I am, dear Molly, your
affectionate husband. [40]
When you
spared no effort in caring for and attending to me
I can make
allowances for fainting, weakness, and pain. I remember when it was my case in
this very place, and when you spared no effort in caring for and attending to
me, until God wanted to make you the chief instrument to restore my strength
To your wife
NEWLYN, September 5,
1768.
MY DEAR LOVE,--I can
make allowances for fainting, weakness, and pain. I remember when it was my
case in this very place, and when you spared no effort in caring for and
attending to me, until God wanted to make you the chief instrument to restore
my strength. [For this illness at Newlyn, in July, 1753, see Journal, iv. The
'we' in the July 12 and 18 entries evidently included his wife, to whom he had
been married for just over two years. It was apparently the beginning of the
serious illness that led to his retirement at Lewisham, where he wrote his own
epitaph on 26 November.] I'm glad you have the advice of a skilled doctor. But
you should not be surprised or discouraged if you do not regain your strength
as soon as you would like, especially at this time of year. What is most
desired is that God should sanctify all His dispensations for you: that they
may all be means for you to be more fully devoted to him whose favor is better
than strength, health, or life itself. "I am, dear Molly,
Her ever-loving
Husband. [41]
I wish you to grant
Mr. Pine a hundred pounds of that money that is in his hands
I wish you to grant
Mr. Pine one hundred pounds of that money which is in his hands, provided he
will give you the full account first: which I ask you to send to London for
John Atlay, together with fifty pounds for Mr. Nind, the papermaker, and fifty
pounds for Robert Hawes.
To
your wife
EDINBURGH, May 18, 1774.
MY DEAR LOVE,-- I have just
come from Glasgow and I have taken this opportunity to write two or three
lines. I wish you to grant Mr. Pine one hundred pounds of that money which is
in his hands, provided he will give you the full account first: which I ask you
to send to London for John Atlay, together with fifty pounds for Mr. Nind, the
papermaker, and fifty pounds for Robert Hawes. There is no point in leaving
money dead. If I don't manage it, I can only pay it again. I'm just going to
preach, and I'm in a hurry.--My dear Molly,
Her affectionate husband.
To Mrs. Mary Wesley, in
Bristol. [42]
You left me and settled in
Newcastle
A few years ago, without my
consent or knowledge, you left me and settled in Newcastle.
I received you again
without terms — no, without any acknowledgment that you had done something
wrong.
Two years ago you left me
again without my consent or knowledge.
To your wife
GWENNAP, September 1, 1777.
MY DEAR,--I sincerely wish
you a reunion if it can be on good terms. Otherwise, it would not continue; And
then the last mistake would be worse than the first. But what would be these
terms in which it would probably continue? To know, we need to expose the case;
which I will do as soon as possible, leaving out all unnecessary circumstances.
[See letters of July 15, 1774, and October 2, 1778.]
A few years ago, without my
consent or knowledge, you left me and settled in Newcastle.
I received you again
without terms — no, without any acknowledgment that you had done something
wrong.
Two years ago you left me
again without my consent or knowledge. A few days later, I met you and (to my
great surprise) you seemed willing to come back. I was willing to receive it
under these terms: (1) to restore my papers; (2) promise not to take anything
else.
But on reflection, I see
that I have been too hasty. Because you gave copies of my papers, and you don't
remember them. In the same way, you have spoken all kinds of evil against me,
especially to my enemies and to the enemies of the cause I live to support.
Thus many wicked men have triumphed and been confirmed in their evil ways; and
many good but weak men were overthrown, and some returned to perdition. A sword
was placed in the hands of God's enemies, and God's children were armed against
one another.
Given that things are so,
if I were to receive them now without any acknowledgment or reparation of these
errors, it would be considered by all reasonable men to be a confirmation of
all that I have said.
But it may be asked, 'What
reparation can or are you willing to make?' '
All you can do now, if
you're willing, is undo what you've said. For example, you have said several
times that I have lived in adultery in these twenty years. Do you believe it or
not? If you do, how can you think of living with such a monster? If you don't,
give me a hand. Isn't that the least you can do? [43]
[1] Overview of Google's AI mode.
[2]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1751/
[3]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1751/
[4]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[5]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1760/
[6]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1760/
[7]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1750/
[8]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1750/
[9]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1762/
[10]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1763/
[11]
https://cafeebonslivros.home.blog/2015/10/10/a-esposa-de-joao-wesley-2/
[12]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1767/
[13]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1770/
[14]
https://www.visionofbritain.org.uk/travellers/J_Wesley/16
[15]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1777/
[16]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1777/
[17]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1777/
[18] Overview of Google's AI mode.
[19]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1751/
[20]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1751/
[21]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1751/
[22]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1751/
[23]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1756/
[24]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1756/
[25]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1756/
[26]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1757/
[27]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[28]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1757/
[29]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1758/
[30]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[31]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1758/
[32]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1758/
[33]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1758/
[34]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1758/
[35]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[36]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[37]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[38]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1759/
[39]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1760/
[40]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1760/
[41]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1768/
[42]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1774/
[43]
https://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-letters-of-john-wesley/wesleys-letters-1777/
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