Wesley’s rencontre with Beau Nash at Bath is a fair illustration of his quiet and almost obscurely sarcastic method of confounding a troublesome person. Preaching in the open air at Bath, the King of Bath, the Master of the Ceremonies, Nash, was so unwise as to attempt to put down the apostolic man. Nash’s character was bad; it was that of an idle, heartless, licentious dangler on the skirts of high society. He appeared in the crowd, and authoritatively asked Wesley by what right he dared to stand there. The congregation was not wholly of the poor; there were a number of fashionable and noble persons present, and among them many with whom this attack had been pre-arranged, and who expected to see the discomfiture of the Methodist by the courtly and fashionable old dandy. Wesley replied to the question simply and quietly that he stood there by the authority of Jesus Christ, conveyed to him “by the present Archbishop of Canterbury, when he laid hands on me and said, ‘Take thou authority to preach the Gospel!’” Nash began to bustle and to be turbulent, and he exclaimed, “This is contrary to Act of Parliament; this is a conventicle.” “Sir,” said Wesley, “the Act you refer to applies to seditious meetings: here is no sedition, no shadow of sedition; the meeting is not, therefore, contrary to the Act.” Nash stormed, “I say it is; besides, your preaching frightens people out of their wits.” “Sir,” said Wesley, “give me leave to ask, Did you ever hear me preach?” “No!” “How, then, can you judge of what you have never heard?” “Sir, by common report.” “Common report is not enough,” said Wesley; “again give me leave to ask is your name not Nash?” “My name is Nash.” And then the reader must imagine Wesley’s thin, clear, piercing voice, cutting through the crowd: “Sir, I dare not judge of _you_ by common report.” There does not seem much in it, but the effect was overwhelming. Nash tried to bully it out a little; but, to make his discomfiture complete, the people took up the case, and especially one old woman, whose daughter had come to grief through the fop, in her way so set forth his sins that he was glad to retreat in dismay. On another occasion, when attempts were made to assault Wesley, there was some uncertainty about his person, and the assailants were saying, “Which is he? which is he?” he stood still as he was walking down the crowded street, turned upon them, and said, “I am he;” and they instantly fell back, awed into involuntary silence and respect.