John North: Unholy desires

IT IS a story of intrigue and of dangerous liaisons, of wagging tongues and pointing fingers, of broken hearts, eternal triangles and of a strange sort of brotherly love.

If not a scandal, then there were many who thought it scandalous; if not necessarily shocking, then still an almighty surprise.

It is the extraordinary tale of John Wesley and Grace Murray - amazing Grace, hereinafter - and even those who envision Coronation Street could scarce have written the script.

We'd hinted at it a couple of weeks ago in acknowledging the appearance of Geoffrey Milburn's captivating account of Wesley's 46 North-East pilgrimages, republished to mark the tercentenary of his birth. Chapter VI tells it like it was.

There'd been unholy desires and inordinate affections, Wesley confided to his Journal, and, he added, he never entirely conquered them.

Methodism's effective founder was a bachelor, and single-mindedly determined to remain one, until he reached his mid-40s.

Geoffrey Milburn, a retired lecturer from Sunderland, concedes that he was "susceptible to feminine charms", however, and none harder to resist than Grace Murray's.

Grace was a widow 12 years his junior, appointed in 1742 as housekeeper at Wesley's Orphan House in Newcastle.

"She seemed to have combined masculine independence with feminine grace," writes Milburn. "It is not surprising that he adored her, and that women were jealous of her."

With Wesley there was a "special relationship". Soon she was at his side on journeys throughout the country and to Ireland. "The darkest conclusions were drawn by some," says Milburn, and without need of enlightenment.

Though it were madness then there was Methodism in it, as Prince Hamlet almost observed.

Wesley had finally decided that Grace was the woman for him when she nursed him, in Newcastle, through one of his frequent illnesses. "I observed her narrowly both as to her temper, sense and behaviour and loved her more and more," he wrote in his Journal and thereafter, in the cack-handed sort of way that might be expected from a man unaccustomed to such things, he proposed holy matrimony to the minx.

"It is to John Wesley's credit that, though he could have chosen a gentlewoman, he had instead opted for a woman from the lower orders of society whose qualities he had tested and whom he deeply admired," writes Milburn.

Charles Wesley wasn't so sure. Neither was John Bennett, whom Grace had also nursed and in whom similar affections and aspirations had been stirred in the sick room.

Though Charles had himself married in 1749, when news of his brother's intentions reached him he took immediate, though not necessarily fraternal, action to thwart him.

Leaving John in Whitehaven, he rode to Hindley Hill, near Allendale, where Grace was staying, convinced her that the marriage to John would be a disaster for Methodism, swept her back to Newcastle and persuaded her without delay to marry the bounder, Bennett.

The ceremony took place on October 27, 1749, at St Andrew's church, Newcastle.

What would The Sun have made of it all, or what the Methodist Recorder?

Charles, Milburn argues, acted largely with good intentions - not least because he'd been told that John loved Grace Murray "beyond all sense and reason" and that Newcastle was in uproar "with all the (Methodist) societies ready to fall to pieces".

A Methodist historian 100 years ago thought Grace a flirt; Milburn believes the judgement too harsh. "It does remain true that she kept the hopes of both men alive - keeping her options open as we would call it."

Wesley, desolate, turned to verse, written - like so many other things he did - on horseback.

Such was the friend, than life more dear,

Whom in one luckless, baleful hour

(Forever mentioned with a tear)

The tempest's unresisted power

(Oh, the unutterable smart!)

Tore from my inly-bleeding heart.

In 1751, as surely on the rebound as a church hall ping-pong, he married Mary Vazeille - another, wealthier, widow. Historians agree that it was the biggest mistake of his life.

"She had no desire to be part of a travelling caravan," says John Munsey-Turner in another history, at one point "behaving like a Hogarthian virago" in a rumpus, in Bolton, with Bennett.

Not even Mary Wesley, however, could be blamed for the incident in Barnard Castle on May 1752 when they called out the fire engine to dampen the non-conformists' ardour.

The couple spent much time apart, had countless arguments and on at least one occasion Mary pulled out his hair. Probably poor Wesley was tearing his own out, anyway. She died in 1781, the funeral having taken place before he even learned of her passing.

John Wearmouth, chairman of the North-East branch of the Wesley Historical Society, reckons the story quite helpful. "Wesley had had close associations with women before and people put two and two together. It still happens in churches today.

"You put people up on pedestals as if they'd been lowered down from the sky. A bloke like John Wesley was clearly human; these stories simply prove it."

* The Travelling Preacher by Geoffrey Milburn (£4.75) is published by the Methodist Historical Society, North-East branch and is available from bookshops or by post (£5.50, inclusive) from G M Milburn, 8 Ashbrooke Mount, Sunderland SR2 6SD. Cheques should be made payable to the Society.