Chapter X: Part 10

“My hands have been full of work, and I have been among great
company. A privy counsellor of the King of Denmark, and others,
with one of the Prince of Wales’s favourites, dined and drank
tea with me on Monday. On Tuesday, I preached twice at Lady
Huntingdon’s, to several of the nobility. In the morning, the
Earl of Chesterfield[199] was present. In the evening, Lord
Bolingbroke.[200] All behaved quite well, and were in some
degree affected. Lord Chesterfield thanked me, and said, ‘Sir,
I will not tell you what I shall tell others, how I approve
of you,’ or words to this purpose. He conversed with me freely
afterwards. Lord Bolingbroke was much moved, and desired I would
come and see him next morning. I did; and his lordship behaved
with great candour and frankness. All accepted of my sermons.
Thus, my dear brother, the world turns round. ‘In all time of my
wealth, good Lord, deliver me!’”

Before following Whitefield to Scotland, further extracts from his letters must be given.

The friendship between Whitefield and the celebrated Dr. Doddridge has been already noticed. He now commenced an important correspondence with one of the doctor’s converts. James Stonehouse was a year or two younger than Whitefield, and was practising as a physician at Northampton. For seven years, he had been an infidel; and had written a pamphlet against revealed religion, which reached three editions. The death of his young wife, at the age of twenty-five, caused reflection. He read Doddridge’s “Rise and Progress of Religion,” and was converted. He was now a sincere and ardent Christian; and Whitefield began to urge him to become a minister. After much hesitancy, he entered into holy orders, and obtained the lectureship of All Saints’, Bristol. In 1791, he succeeded to the title of baronet. He was a man of great ability, was no mean poet, published several religious pamphlets, and died, in 1795, full of years and honour. He was now living in terms of great intimacy with Doddridge and Hervey, and had written to Whitefield, giving him advice about his health. At present, Whitefield had no leisure to place himself in the hands of a physician. He was soon to start for Scotland; and he wished to publish a new and revised edition of his journals, and of some of his sermons. Hence the following, addressed to Dr. Stonehouse:――

“LONDON, _August 22, 1748_.

“VERY DEAR SIR,――I thank you for your concern about my health.
If it should please God to bring me back from Scotland, to
winter in town, I have thoughts of submitting to some regimen
or other. At present, I think it impracticable.

“I heartily wish that you and Dr. Doddridge[201] and Mr. Hervey
would be pleased to revise my journals and last five sermons. I
intend publishing a new edition soon. I always do as you desire
in respect to Mr. Wesley’s sermons. My prayer for him, for
myself, and for my friends, is this,――‘Lord, give us clear heads
and clean hearts!’

“I would recommend Bishop Beveridge’s sermons more, but they are
too voluminous for the common people, and I have not read them
all. I expect you will do this yourself, by-and-by, from the
pulpit, and recommend his and your Master to the choice of poor
sinners. By your excellent letter, you have publicly confessed
Him. The eyes of all will be now upon you, to see whether the
truths you have delivered to others are transcribed in your own
heart, and copied in your life. Now indeed may you cry――

‘O for a strong, a lasting faith,
To credit what the Almighty saith!’

“Dear sir, let me entreat you to keep from trimming, or so much
as attempting to reconcile two irreconcilable differences,――God
and the world, Christ and Belial. You know me too well to
suppose I want you to turn cynic. No, live a social life; but
beg of the Lord Jesus to free you from love of the world. Thence
arises that fear of man, which now shackles and disturbs your
soul. Dare, dear sir, to be singularly good. If Christ be your
Saviour, make Him a present of your pretty character. Honour Him,
and He will honour you. Never rest till you can give up children,
name, life, and all into His hands, who gave His precious blood
for you. I make you no apology for this: you say you are my
friend.”

Whitefield left London on September 3, and, halting at Olney, wrote, as follows, to a friend in New England:――

“OLNEY, _September 4, 1748_.

“It is always darkest before daybreak. It has been so in England.
Matters, as to religion, were come almost to an extremity. The
enemy had broken in upon us like a flood. The Spirit of the
Lord is now lifting up a standard. The prospect of the success
of the gospel, I think, was never more promising. In the church,
tabernacle, and fields, congregations have been great; and,
perhaps, as great power as ever hath accompanied the word. A
door is also opening for the mighty and noble. I have preached
four times to several of the nobility at good Lady Huntingdon’s.
All behaved exceeding well; and, I suppose, in the winter,
opportunities of preaching to them will be frequent.

“As for returning to America, if I live, I believe there is no
doubt of it. I intend keeping myself free from Societies, and
hope to see you again next year.”

Whitefield arrived in Edinburgh on Wednesday, September 14, and continued in Scotland until October 27.[202] During his stay in London, he had preached regularly, at least once a week, in the Church of St. Bartholomew, of which his quondam enemy, but now ardent friend, the Rev. Richard T. Bateman, was rector. Though now patronized by the Countess of Huntingdon and several of the nobles of the land, Whitefield was not permitted to preach in any metropolitan church except this; and even for granting this permission, Mr. Bateman was likely to be involved in trouble. Dr. Gibson, Bishop of London, died three days after Whitefield set out for Scotland; and it was hoped that Bateman’s troubles would be buried in the bishop’s grave. Two days subsequent to his arrival at Edinburgh, Whitefield wrote to Mr. Bateman as follows:――

“EDINBURGH, _September 16, 1748_.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,――I have met with a hearty welcome. Last
night, I preached to a Moorfields congregation, for numbers;
and the Lord, I believe, was pleased to give His blessing. I
hope all is well in London. The bishop’s death, I suppose, will
prevent any further stir about Bartholomew’s. I shall be glad to
hear how you go on. Pray, dear sir, how are your circumstances?
You will not be offended, if I say that more than one have
informed me of your being in debt. I thought it my duty to
apprize you of this, because I know what a burden it is to be
in debt; not indeed for myself, but for others.”

Except about a dozen days spent at Glasgow and Cambuslang, Whitefield’s labours in Scotland seem to have been confined to Edinburgh. In various letters to the Countess of Huntingdon, he relates, that, at his first coming, he was rather discouraged; for “some of the ministers were shy,” many of his friends were dead, others were backsliders, the weather was boisterous, and he himself was hoarse. “I have met,” said he, on September 29, “with some unexpected rubs, but not one more than was necessary to humble my proud heart.” A fortnight later, he tells her ladyship that, in the Synod of Glasgow, there had been a long debate about him; and that the Presbytery of Perth had “made an act against employing” him. He adds:――

“Ill-nature shews itself in Edinburgh, but I feel the benefit
of it. Congregations are large, and I am enabled to preach with
greater power. My hoarseness is quite gone, and my bodily health
much improved. If my enemies shew themselves, I am persuaded the
blessed Jesus will bless me to His people more and more. Some
give out that I am employed by the Government to preach against
the Pretender; and the seceders are angry with me for not
preaching up the Scotch Covenant. Blessed be God! I preach up
the covenant of grace, and I trust many souls are taught to
profit.”

When at Topcliff, on his way back to London, he wrote to the Countess:――

“Thanks be to the Lord of all lords for directing my way to
Scotland! I have reason to believe some have been awakened, and
many, many quickened and comforted. My old friends are more
solidly so than ever; and, I trust, a foundation has been laid
for doing much good, if the Lord should call me thither again.
Two Synods and one Presbytery brought me upon the carpet; but
all has worked for good. The more I was blackened, the more the
Redeemer comforted me.”

This was the first time that Whitefield had been discussed in the Ecclesiastical Courts of Scotland. Though many of the clergy had been dissatisfied with the countenance given to Whitefield’s preaching, several circumstances had hitherto prevented them from uniting in any public measure to restrain it. The proceedings of “The Associate Presbytery” had been so intemperate, that the clergy of the Establishment naturally felt a reluctance to countenance their calumnies. The great body of the people, also, were so extremely attached to him, that a direct attack upon his ministry could scarcely have been made, without incurring public odium. Further, some of the most distinguished families in Scotland were his constant hearers, and were in the habit of admitting him to their private society. Among these, in particular, was his Majesty’s representative, as Lord High Commissioner, in the General Assembly, who not only attended his ministrations, and invited him to his house, but introduced him to his public table, during the session of the assembly. When these circumstances are added to the long-established practice of the Presbyterian Church, with regard to occasional communion with other churches, it is not surprising that the ministers of the Establishment were not forward to agitate a question on which unanimity was not to be expected, and in which principle and prudence were both involved.

It is difficult to conceive why the subject of Whitefield’s character and preaching were debated now. Perhaps the members of the Glasgow Synod were afraid of a repetition of the marvellous scenes which had been witnessed at Cambuslang and other places, in 1742. Or, perhaps, they were deeply offended, because, during his present visit, Whitefield had been employed to preach for Dr. Gillies in the College Church of Glasgow, and for Dr. Erskine in the Church of Kirkintilloch. Be that as it may, the Synod of Glasgow deemed it right to discuss the matter. The topics introduced were numerous, but stale. He was a priest of the Church of England; he had not subscribed the formula; he had been imprudent; his Orphan-house scheme was chimerical; there was want of evidence that the money he collected was rightly applied; he asserted that assurance was essential to faith; he encouraged a dependence on impulses and immediate revelations; he declared, on slender evidence, some people converted, and others carnal and unregenerated; he often pretended to repent of his blunders, but as often relapsed into them; and, finally, he was under a sentence of suspension by Commissary Garden.[203] These were the accusations. Keen debates occurred; and, at length, the following, almost neutral, proposition was submitted: “That no minister within the bounds of the Synod should employ ministers or preachers, not licensed or ordained in Scotland, till he had had sufficient evidence of their license and good character, and should be in readiness to give an account of his conduct to his own presbytery, when required.” Thirteen voted against the proposition, and twenty-seven for it.[204]

Similar resolutions were adopted by the Synod of Lothian and ♦Tweeddale, the Synod of Perth and Stirling, and by the Presbytery of Edinburgh; and, to complete the whole, six hundred of the followers of the Erskines, by whom Whitefield was first invited to visit Scotland, assembled in Edinburgh on November 16, and swore to observe the League and Covenant; and “solemnly engaged to strengthen one another’s hands, in the use of lawful means, to extirpate Popery, Prelacy, Arminianism, Arianism, Tritheism, Sabellianism, and _George Whitefieldism_.” The service “was conducted by the Rev. Adam Gibb and his helpers, with great solemnity, and the generality of the people evidenced an uncommon seriousness and concern.”[205]

Of course, all this created great commotion; but limited space will only permit the insertion of the following letter, which was printed in the _Edinburgh Courant_:――

“SIR,――On the 27th of October, the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield
set out from this place” (Edinburgh) “to London. During the time
of his stay here, he preached about twenty times in the Orphan
Hospital Park, three times in the Tolbooth Church, and twice
in that of the Cannongate, to very large congregations; and
was much approven of, by the generality of serious Christians,
as a well-accomplished gospel preacher. As his conversation in
private, as well as public, gave entire satisfaction to those
who were most intimate with him, it is not a little surprising
to them to find him represented and asserted to be a person of
suspicious character. He declared, upon his arrival here, that
he was to make no public collections; and he did not. Neither
did he ask money or anything else from any person.[206] As it is
reported he will pay us a visit next summer, it is not doubted
but it will be very acceptable to all who rejoice that Christ is
preached, and sinners are saved through Him.”

Dr. Stonehouse, of Northampton, has been mentioned. Whitefield wished him to become a minister; but Stonehouse was timorous, and afraid of being called a Methodist. Whitefield desired to have an interview with him, on his return from Scotland, and hence the following letter:――

“GLASGOW, _September 28, 1748_.

“MY VERY DEAR SIR,――I purpose to preach at Oundle, in my way
to London. Glad shall I be to see two such friends, as you
and Mr. Hervey, though _incog_. I will endeavour to send you
timely notice. I would have neither of you expose yourselves
to needless contempt on my account. I think I can say that I am
willing to be forgotten, even by my friends, if Jesus Christ may
thereby be exalted. But then, I would not have my friends act
an inconsistent part towards that Friend of all――that Friend of
sinners, the glorious Emmanuel. Whilst you are afraid of men,
you will expose yourself to a thousand inconveniences. Your
polite company (unless you converse with them more as their
physician than as their companion) will prevail on you to such
compliances as will make you smart, when you retire into your
closet and reflect on the part you have acted. Before I shook
off the world, I often came out of company shorn of all my
strength, like poor Samson when he had lost his locks. But this
is a tender point.

“Go on, dear sir, and prove the strength of Jesus to be
yours. Continue instant in prayer, and you shall see and feel
infinitely greater things than you have yet seen or felt. I am
of your opinion, that there is seed sown in England, which will
grow up into a great tree. God’s giving some of the mighty and
noble a hearing ear forebodes future good. I do not despair of
seeing you a proclaimer of the unsearchable riches of Christ.
God be praised! that Mr. Hervey is so bold an advocate for his
blessed Lord.”

Whitefield was always in trouble, from one quarter or another. While the ecclesiastical courts of Scotland were interdicting his preaching, without mentioning his name, Lavington, the Bishop of Exeter, was lashed into an unchristian rage against him. His Lordship of Exeter had recently delivered a charge to the clergy of his diocese. Some unknown wag circulated what pretended to be a manuscript copy of the charge, but containing declarations of doctrine and Christian experience worthy of Whitefield and Wesley themselves. Without authority, the _pretended_ charge was printed, and occasioned the publication of several pamphlets in reply and congratulation. Meanwhile, however, Lavington, the inveterate hater of Methodists and Moravians, was dubbed a Methodist. This, to his lordship, was intolerable, and drew forth from him an angry “declaration,” in which he charged the Methodist chiefs with being the authors of the fraud. The charge was utterly unfounded; the Countess of Huntingdon interfered; with great difficulty she obtained a recantation from the infuriated prelate; and this was published in the leading journals of the day. The following letter refers to this disreputable _fracas_.

“GLASGOW, _October 5, 1748_.

“VERY DEAR SIR,――I received yours this morning, and think it my
duty to send you an immediate answer.

“You might well inform my Lord of Exeter that I knew nothing
of the printing of his lordship’s pretended charge, or of the
pamphlets occasioned by it. When the former was sent to me in
manuscript, from London to Bristol, as his lordship’s production,
I immediately said, it could not be his. When I found it printed,
I spoke to the officious printer, who did it out of his own head,
and blamed him very much. When I saw the pamphlet, I was still
more offended. Repeatedly, in several companies, I urged the
injustice as well as imprudence thereof, and said it would
produce what it did,――I mean a ♦declaration from his lordship,
that he was no Methodist. I am sorry his lordship had such an
occasion given him to declare his aversion to what is called
Methodism; and, though I think his lordship, in his declaration,
has been somewhat severe concerning some of the Methodist
leaders, I cannot blame him for saying, that he thought ‘some of
them were worse than ignorant and misguided,’ supposing that his
lordship had sufficient proof that they caused to be printed a
charge which he had never owned nor published.

“If you think proper, you may let his lordship see the contents
of this. I will only add, that, I wish a way could be found,
whereby his lordship and other of the right reverend the bishops
might converse with some of us. Many mistakes might thereby be
rectified, and perhaps his lordship’s sentiments, in some degree,
might be altered. If this cannot be effected, (I speak only
for myself,) I am content to wait till we all appear before the
great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. Meanwhile, I heartily pray,
that their lordships may be blessed with all spiritual blessings,
and wishing you the like mercies, I subscribe myself, very dear
sir, your affectionate, obliged, humble servant,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Whitefield reached London at the beginning of November, and immediately resumed preaching, twice a week, in the house of the Countess of Huntingdon, “to the great and noble.”[207] Here he had to encounter another trouble. In a letter, dated October 20th, 1748, Howell Harris gives an account of his labours, in South and North Wales, during the last nine weeks. He had visited thirteen counties, had travelled a hundred and fifty miles every week, and had preached two sermons every day, and sometimes three or four. During the last week of his tour, he had never taken off his clothes; and, in one instance, had travelled above a hundred miles, from morning to the evening of the ensuing day, without any rest, preaching on the mountains at midnight, in order to avoid the persecution of Sir Watkin William Wynn. Such was the malevolence of the Welsh baronet towards the poor Methodists, that, only a few days before, for simply meeting together to worship God, a number of them had had to pay fines, varying from five shillings to twenty pounds. Encouraged by those who ought to have known better, the mobs, in many places, were almost murderously violent; and, near to Bala, Harris received a blow on the head nearly sufficient to “split his skull in two.”[208] Whitefield was informed of these outrageous proceedings; he reported them to the Countess of Huntingdon; her ladyship laid the particulars before the Government; and, to the no small mortification of Sir Watkin Wynn, the fines he had exacted from the Methodists were ordered to be returned.[209]

Five years ago, Whitefield had formed an acquaintance with Dr. Doddridge, the great Dissenting tutor; he now visited the equally celebrated Dr. Watts, whom the Dissenters of the day might properly have regarded as their _patriarch_. Watts had looked upon Whitefield with disfavour, and had chidden Doddridge for lowering the dignity of the Dissenting minister and tutor, by preaching in Whitefield’s wooden meeting-house. For more than thirty years, Watts had been a beloved and honoured guest in the mansion of Sir Thomas Abney, Stoke Newington. He was now dying, and, on November 25th, away Whitefield went to see him. Being introduced, Whitefield tenderly enquired, “how he found himself?” “I am one of Christ’s waiting servants,” replied the dying Doctor. Whitefield assisted in raising him up in bed, that he might with more convenience take his medicine. Watts apologised for the trouble he occasioned. Whitefield answered, “Surely, I am not too good to wait on a waiting servant of Christ.” Whitefield took his leave; and half an hour afterwards Dr. Watts was dead.[210] Thus met and parted the great hymnist and the great preacher, until they met again in “the palace of angels and God.”[211]

A week after Watts’s death, Whitefield set out for Gloucester and Bristol. In the latter city, his preaching was the means of converting a Welsh shoemaker, who subsequently became one of Wesley’s best itinerant preachers, and who, in his wide wanderings, composed a few of the finest hymns ever sung in the Christian Church,――hymns not surpassed by the best of Dr. Watts’s, and which, after a century’s use, are as much in favour among the Methodists as ever.

Thomas Olivers was now twenty-three years of age. His life had been rambling and wicked. Getting into debt had been a regular practice, and profane swearing had become his habitual sin. The first night that he spent in Bristol he was literally penniless. Having obtained work, he went to lodge in the house of a man who had been a Methodist, but was now “a slave to drunkenness.” In the same house, there was “a lukewarm Moravian.” Olivers and the Moravian disputed “about election,” till they quarrelled. The Moravian, a tall, lusty fellow, struck the Welshman. Olivers says, “I knew I should have no chance in fighting him, and therefore, for a whole hour, I cursed and swore, with all the rage of a fiend, in such a manner as is seldom equalled on earth, or exceeded even in hell itself.” Soon after this, Olivers met a multitude of people in the streets of Bristol, and asked where they had been. One answered, “To hear Mr. Whitefield.” Olivers thought, “I have often heard of Mr. Whitefield, and have sung songs about him: I’ll go and hear him myself.” Accordingly, he went. Whitefield’s text was, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” Olivers was there and then convinced of sin, and resolved to give his heart to God. The next Sunday, he went to the cathedral at six in the morning; and, as the Te Deum was read, “felt as if he had done with earth, and was praising God before His throne.” At eight, he went to hear Whitefield preach; at ten, he went to Christchurch; at two in the afternoon, he again attended church; at five, he heard Whitefield, and concluded the day at a Baptist meeting. He writes: “The love I had for Mr. Whitefield was inexpressible. I used to follow him as he walked the streets, and could scarce refrain from kissing the very prints of his feet.”

Five years after this, Thomas Olivers had paid all his debts, and was one of Wesley’s itinerant preachers. His subsequent history was too remarkable to be condensed in a work like this.

Whitefield’s Orphan House was again causing him anxiety. He wrote to a friend in America: “I want to make it a seminary of learning. If some such thing be not done, I cannot see how the _southern_ parts will be provided with ministers. All here are afraid to come over.”[212] He had also heard that his wife had lessened the Orphan-house family, and was about to return to England.[213] And, further, he had been informed that the trustees were about to allow the employment of slaves in Georgia.[214] These circumstances led him to write a long and remarkable letter to the trustees. The following is an extract:――

“GLOUCESTER, _December 6, 1748_.

“HONOURED GENTLEMEN,――Not want of respect, but a suspicion that
my letters would not be acceptable, has been the occasion of my
not writing to you these four years last past. I am sensible,
that in some of my former letters, I expressed myself in too
strong and sometimes in unbecoming terms. For this I desire to
be humbled before God and man. I can assure you, however, that,
to the best of my knowledge, I have acted a disinterested part.
I have simply aimed at God’s glory, and the good of mankind.
This principle drew me first to Georgia; this, and this alone,
induced me to begin and carry on the Orphan House; and this,
honoured gentlemen, excites me to trouble you with the present
lines.

“I need not inform you, how the colony of Georgia has been
declining, and at what great disadvantages I have maintained
a large family in that wilderness. Upwards of £5000 have been
expended in that undertaking; and yet, very little proficiency
has been made in the cultivation of my tract of land; and that
entirely owing to the necessity I lay under of making use of
white hands. Had negroes been allowed, I should now have had a
sufficiency to support a great many orphans, without expending
above half the sum that has been laid out. An unwillingness to
let so good a design drop induced me, two years ago, to purchase
a plantation in South Carolina, where negroes are allowed. This
plantation has succeeded; and, though I have only eight working
hands, in all probability, there will be more raised in one
year, and with a quarter of the expense, than has been produced
at Bethesda for several years past. This confirms me in the
opinion, I have long entertained, that, Georgia never can be
a flourishing province, unless negroes are employed.

“But, notwithstanding my private judgment, I am determined,
that, not one of mine shall ever be allowed to work at the
Orphan House till it can be done in a legal manner, and with the
approbation of the Honourable Trustees. My chief end in writing
this, is to inform you, that, I am as willing as ever to do all
I can for Georgia and the Orphan House, if either a limited use
of negroes is approved of, or some more indentured servants be
sent from England. If not, I cannot promise to keep any large
family, or cultivate the plantation in any considerable manner.

“I would also further recommend to your consideration, whether,
as the Orphan House is intended for a charitable purpose, it
ought not to be exempted from all quit-rents and public taxes?
And, as most of the land on which the Orphan House is built is
good for little, I would humbly enquire, whether I may not have
a grant of five hundred more acres, not taken up, somewhere near
the Orphan House?

“If you, Honourable Gentlemen, are pleased to put the colony
upon another footing,――I mean in respect to the permission of
a limited use of negroes,――my intention is to make the Orphan
House, not only a receptacle for fatherless children, but also
a place of literature and academical studies. Such a place is
much wanted in the southern parts of America, and, if conducted
in a proper manner, must necessarily be of great service to any
colony. I can easily procure proper persons to embark in such a
cause.”

From such a pen, this is a strange production. Whitefield, with his large heart, urging the introduction of slavery into the province of Georgia, and almost threatening to abandon his Orphan House unless his proposal be granted! Whitefield’s honour is best cared for by saying as little about the incident as possible.

Having spent five days at Gloucester, during which he preached five times, and received the sacrament at the cathedral; and having similarly employed himself for a week at Bristol, Whitefield, at the request of the Countess of Huntingdon, returned to London on December 17th, and resumed his ministry in the Tabernacle, and in the mansion of her ladyship.

“I am now,” he wrote, “thirty-four years of age; and alas! how little have I done and suffered for Him, who has done and suffered so much for me! Thanks be to His great name for countenancing my poor ministrations so much.”[215]

A letter to Dr. Doddridge, to whom Whitefield had submitted his Journals for revision,[216] may properly close the year 1748,――a year, which, like all previous ones of his career, had been thronged with adventures and striking incidents.

“LONDON, _December 21, 1748_.

“REVEREND AND VERY DEAR SIR,――I was glad, very glad, to receive
your letter, dated November 7th, though it did not reach me till
last night. I thank you for it a thousand times. It has led me
to the throne of grace, where I have been crying, ‘Lord, counsel
my counsellors, and shew them what Thou wouldest have me to
do!’ Alas! alas! how can I be too severe against myself, who,
Peter-like, have cut off so many ears, and, by imprudences, mixed
with my zeal, have dishonoured the cause of Jesus! I can only
look up to Him, who healed the high-priest’s servant’s ear, and
say, ‘Lord, heal all the wounds my misguided zeal has given!’
Assure yourself, dear sir, everything I print shall be revised.
I always have submitted my poor performances to my friends’
corrections. Time and experience ripen men’s judgments, and make
them more solid, rational, and consistent. O that this may be my
case!

“I thank you, dear sir, for your solemn charge in respect to my
health. Blessed be God! it is much improved since my return from
Scotland, and I trust, by observing the rules you prescribe, I
shall be enabled to declare the works of the Lord.

“But what shall I say concerning your present trial?[217] I most
earnestly sympathise with you, having had the same trial from
the same quarter long ago. The Moravians first divided my family;
then my parish, in Georgia; and, after that, the Societies which
I was an instrument of gathering. I suppose not less than four
hundred, through their practices, have left the Tabernacle.
But I have been forsaken in other ways. I have not had above a
hundred to hear me, where I had twenty thousand; and hundreds
now assemble within a quarter of a mile of me, who never come
to see or speak to me, though they must own, at the great day,
that I was their spiritual father. All this I find but little
enough to teach me to cease from man, and to wean me from that
too great fondness, which spiritual fathers are apt to have for
their spiritual children. But I have generally observed, that,
when one door of usefulness is shut, another opens. Our Lord
blesses you, dear sir, in your writings;[218] nay, your people’s
treating you as they are now permitted to do, perhaps, is one of
the greatest blessings you ever received from heaven. I know no
other way of dealing with the Moravians, than to go on preaching
the truth as it is in Jesus, and resting upon the promise,
‘Every plant which my heavenly Father hath not planted shall be
plucked up.’ Seven years will make a great alteration. I believe
their grand design is to extend their economy as far as possible.
This is now kept up by dint of money, and, I am apt to think,
the very thing, by which they think to establish, will destroy
their scheme. God is a gracious Father, and will not always let
His children proceed in a wrong way. Doubtless, there are many
of His dear little ones in the Moravian flock; but many of their
principles and practices are exceeding wrong, for which, I doubt
not, our Lord will rebuke them in His own time.

“But I fear that I weary you. Love makes my pen to move too
fast, and too long. Last Sunday evening, I preached at the other
end of the town, to a most brilliant assembly. They expressed
great approbation; and some, I think, begin to feel. Good Lady
Huntingdon is a mother in Israel. She is all in a flame for
Jesus.”

Whitefield’s remarks concerning the Moravians may, perhaps, seem somewhat harsh; but they were not untrue, and will prepare the reader for other critiques hereafter.

Whitefield mentions his “brilliant assembly” in the mansion of the Countess of Huntingdon. In a letter to the Countess of Bath, he wrote, “It would please you to see the assemblies at her ladyship’s house. They are brilliant ones indeed. The prospect of catching some of the rich, in the gospel net, is very promising. I know you will wish prosperity in the name of the Lord.”[219]

No wonder that, after one of his first services at Lady Huntingdon’s, Whitefield said, “I went home, never more surprised at any incident in my life.”[220] Such congregations were unique. Nothing like them had heretofore been witnessed. There were gatherings of England’s proud nobility, assembled to listen to a young preacher, whose boyhood had been spent in a public-house; whose youth, at the university, had been employed partly in study, and partly in attending to the wants of fellow-students, who declined to treat him as an equal; and whose manhood life, for the last thirteen years, had been a commingling of marvellous popularity and violent contempt,――a scene of infirmities and errors, and yet of unreserved and unceasing devotion to the cause of Christ and the welfare of his fellow-men. Such was the youthful preacher,――a man of slender learning, of mean origin, without Church preferment, hated by the clergy, and maligned by the public press. Who were his aristocratic hearers? The following list is supplied by the well-informed author of “The Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon”:――

Lady Fanny Shirley, who had long been one of the reigning beauties of the court of George the First; the Duchess of Argyll; Lady Betty Campbell; Lady Ferrers; Lady Sophia Thomas; the Duchess of Montagu, daughter of the great Duke of Marlborough; Lady Cardigan; Lady Lincoln; Mrs. Boscawen; Mrs. Pitt; Miss Rich; Lady Fitzwalter; Lady Caroline Petersham; the Duchess of Queensbury, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, and celebrated for extraordinary beauty, wit, and sprightliness, by Pope, Swift, and Prior; the Duchess of Manchester; Lady Thanet, daughter of the Marquis of Halifax, and wife of Sackville, Earl of Thanet; Lady St. John, niece of Lady Huntingdon; Lady Luxborough, the friend and correspondent of Shenstone, the poet; Lady Monson, whose husband, in 1760, was created Baron Sondes; Lady Rockingham, the wife of the great statesman, a woman of immense wit and pleasant temper, often at court, and possessed of considerable influence in the higher circles of society; Lady Betty Germain, daughter of the Earl of Berkeley, and through her husband, Sir John Germain, the possessor of enormous wealth; Lady Eleanor Bertie, a member of the noble family of Abingdon; the Dowager-Duchess of Ancaster; the Dowager-Lady Hyndford; the Duchess of Somerset; the Countess Delitz, one of the daughters of the Duchess of Kendal, and the sister of Lady Chesterfield; Lady Hinchinbroke, granddaughter of the Duke of Montagu; and Lady Schaubs.

Besides these “honourable women not a few,” there were also the Earl of Burlington, so famed for his admiration of the works of Inigo Jones, and for his architectural expenditure; George Bubb Dodington, afterwards Lord Melcombe, a friend and favourite of the Prince of Wales, and whose costly mansion was often crowded with literary men; George Augustus Selwyn, an eccentric wit, to whom nearly all the current _bon-mots_ of the day were attributed; the Earl of Holderness; Lord (afterwards Marquess) Townshend, named George, after his godfather, George the First, a distinguished general in the army, member of Parliament for Norfolk, and ultimately a field-marshal. Charles Townshend, now a young man of twenty-three, whom Burke described as “the delight and ornament of the House of Commons, and the charm of every private society he honoured with his presence;” Lord St. John, half-brother to Lord Bolingbroke; the Earl of Aberdeen; the Earl of Lauderdale; the Earl of Hyndford, Envoy Extraordinary to the King of Prussia; the Marquis of Tweeddale, Secretary of State for Scotland; George, afterwards, Lord Lyttelton, at one time member for Okehampton, and secretary of Frederick, Prince of Wales, and who had recently published his well-known book, “Observations on the Conversion of St. Paul;” William Pitt, the distinguished first Earl of Chatham; Lord North, in his twenty-first year, afterwards First Lord of the Treasury, and ultimately Earl of Guildford; Evelyn, Duke of Kingston; Viscount Trentham (a title borne by the Duke of Sutherland); the Earl of March (one of the titles of the Duke of Richmond); the Earl of Haddington; Edward Hussey, who married a daughter of the Duke of Montagu, and was created Earl of Beaulieu; Hume Campbell, afterwards created Baron Hume; the Earl of Sandwich, subsequently ambassador to the court of Spain, First Lord of the Admiralty, and Secretary of State for the Home Department; and Lord Bolingbroke, the friend of the Pretender, a man of great ability,――a statesman, a philosopher, and an infidel.

Gillies adds to this long list the name of David Hume, who had recently returned from Italy in great chagrin, because the people of England “entirely overlooked and neglected” his “Inquiry concerning Human Understanding.” It is said that Hume considered Whitefield the most ingenious preacher he ever listened to, and that twenty miles were not too far to go to hear him. “Once,” said the great infidel, “Whitefield addressed his audience thus: ‘The attendant angel is about to leave us, and ascend to heaven. Shall he ascend and not bear with him the news of one sinner reclaimed from the error of his way?’ And, then, stamping with his foot, and lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he cried aloud, ‘Stop, Gabriel, stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the tidings of one sinner being saved.’ This address surpassed anything I ever saw or heard in any other preacher.”

The Earl of Chesterfield and the Earl of Bath have been previously noticed as being among Whitefield’s hearers. One more name must be mentioned. Lady Townshend was one of Whitefield’s earliest admirers. Her wit and eccentricities were notorious. Of course she was a member of the Church of England; but Horace Walpole tells a story of George Selwyn detecting her crossing herself and praying before the altar of a popish chapel. Alternately, she liked and disliked Whitefield. “She certainly means,” said Walpole, “to go armed with every viaticum――the Church of England in one hand, Methodism in the other, and the Host in her mouth.”[221] Whitefield had the moral courage to tackle even this eccentric lady; and, towards the close of 1748, wrote to her as follows:――

“Yesterday, good Lady Huntingdon informed me that your ladyship
was ill. Had I judged it proper, I would have waited upon your
ladyship this morning; but I was cautious of intrusion. My
heart’s desire and prayer to God is, that this sickness be not
unto death, but to His glory, and the present and eternal good
of your precious and immortal soul. O that from a spiritual
abiding sense of the vanity of all created good, you may cry
out,――

‘Begone, vain world, my heart resign,
For I must be no longer thine:
A nobler, a diviner guest
Now claims possession of my breast.’

Then, and not till then, will your ladyship with cheerfulness
wait for the approach of death. It is a true and living faith
in the Son of God that can alone bring present peace, and lay
a solid foundation for future and eternal comfort. I cannot
wish your ladyship anything greater, anything more noble, than
a large share of this precious faith. When, like Noah’s dove, we
have been wandering about in a fruitless search after happiness,
and have found no rest for the sole of our feet, the glorious
Redeemer is ready to reach out His hand and receive us into
His ark. This hand, honoured madam, He is reaching out to you.
May you be constrained to give your heart entirely to Him, and
thereby enter into that rest which remains for the happy, though
despised, people of God.”

The foregoing were _some_, not all, of Whitefield’s aristocratic hearers. Others will be mentioned hereafter. The gatherings, in Chelsea and in North Audley Street, were profoundly interesting spectacles; and never, till the day of judgment, when all secrets will be unfolded, will it be ascertained to what extent the preaching of the youthful Whitefield affected the policy of some of England’s greatest statesmen, and moulded the character of some of its highest aristocratic families. Who will venture to deny that, in some of these families, the effects of Whitefield’s ministry is felt to the present day? Let us pursue his history.

Whitefield continued his correspondence with Hervey and Stonehouse. On January 13, 1749, he wrote to the former as follows:――

“The prospect of doing good to the rich, who attend the house of
good Lady Huntingdon, is very encouraging. I preach there twice
a week, and yesterday Lord Bolingbroke was one of my auditors.
His lordship was pleased to express very great satisfaction. Who
knows what God may do? He can never work by a meaner instrument.
I want humility, I want thankfulness, I want a heart continually
flaming with the love of God.

“I thank you for your kind invitation to your house and pulpit.
I would not bring you or any of my friends into difficulties,
for owning poor, unworthy, hell-deserving me; but, if Providence
should give me a clear call, I shall be glad to come your way.
I rejoice in the prospect of having some ministers in our church
pulpits who dare own a crucified Redeemer. I hope the time will
come when many of the priests will be obedient to the word.”

It is a humiliating fact, that Whitefield, an ordained clergyman, and under no official censure, was not able to avail himself of Hervey’s invitation without the probability of involving his gentle friend in trouble; and it is a beautiful trait in Whitefield’s character, that, however great the gratification of preaching in a church might be, he was unwilling to indulge himself in such a pleasure at the expense of any of his friends.

Dr. Stonehouse occasioned Whitefield sorrow and anxiety. The Doctor was a sincere, earnest, and devout Christian, but he was afraid of being branded as a Methodist; and, for the same reason, he was afraid of being known as one of Whitefield’s friends. Hence the following, written four days after the date of the letter just quoted:――

“The way of duty is the way of safety. Our Lord requires of us
to confess Him in His gospel members and ministers. To be afraid
of publicly owning, associating with, and strengthening the
hearts and hands of the latter, especially when they are set
for the defence of the gospel, is, in my opinion, very offensive
in His sight, and can only proceed from a want of more love
to Him and His people. You say, ‘We are most of us too warm;’
but I hope you do not think that being ashamed of any of your
Lord’s ministers is an instance of it. Thanks be to God! that
Mr. Hervey seems, as you express it, ‘to court the enmity of
mankind.’ It is an error on the right side. Better so than to
be afraid of it. The Lord never threatened to spew any church
out of His mouth for being too hot; but, for being neither hot
nor cold, He has. It is too true, my dear sir, ‘we have but
few faithful ministers;’ but is keeping at a distance from one
another the way to strengthen their interest? By no means. To
tell you my whole mind, I do not believe God will bless either
you or your friends, to any considerable degree, till you are
more delivered from the fear of man. Alas! how were you bowed
down with it, when I saw you last! And your letter bespeaks you
yet a slave to it. O my brother, deal faithfully with yourself,
and you will find a love of the world, and a fear of not
providing for your children, have gotten too much hold of your
heart. Do not mistake me. I would not have you throw yourself
into flames. I would only have you act a consistent part, and
not, for fear of a little contempt, be ashamed of owning the
ministers of Christ. After all, think not, my dear sir, that I
am pleading my own cause. You are not in danger of seeing me at
Northampton. I only take this occasion of saying a word or two
to your heart. You will not be offended, as it proceeds from
love. I salute Mr. Hervey, and dear Doctor Doddridge, most
cordially.”

Towards the end of January, Whitefield set out, from London, to the west of England, where he spent the next five weeks. By appointment, he and Howell Harris held an “Association” at Gloucester,[222] where, he says, “affairs turned out better than expectation.” From Gloucester, he proceeded to Bristol, where he employed the next ten days.

Whitefield was singularly devoid of envy. On leaving London, his place at Lady Huntingdon’s was occupied by his friend Wesley,[223] whose preaching secured her ladyship’s approval. Robert Cruttenden also introduced the Rev. Thomas Gibbons, D.D.,[224] a young man of twenty-eight, who, at this time, was the officiating minister of the Independent Church at Haberdashers’ Hall. Cruttenden, in a letter to Whitefield, told him that their two hours’ interview with the Countess had been exceedingly pleasant.[225] With his large heart, Whitefield was delighted by such intelligence as this, and wrote to her ladyship as follows:――

“BRISTOL, _February 1, 1749_.

“I am glad your ladyship approves of Mr. Wesley’s conduct,
and that he has preached at your ladyship’s. The language of
my heart is, ‘Lord, send by whom Thou wilt send, only convert
some of the mighty and noble, for Thy mercy’s sake!’ Then I care
not if I am heard of no more. I am, also, glad your ladyship
approves of Mr. Gibbons. He is, I think, a worthy man. By taking
this method, you will have an opportunity of conversing with the
best of all parties, without being a bigot, and too strenuously
attached to any. Surely, in this, your ladyship is directed
from above. The blessed Jesus cares for His people of all
denominations. He is gathering His elect out of all. Happy
they who, with a disinterested view, take in the whole church
militant, and, in spite of narrow-hearted bigots, breathe an
undissembled catholic spirit towards all.”

In the same month, Lady Huntingdon wrote to Whitefield a cheering account of the death of one of his noble converts:――

“My last,” says she, “mentioned the sudden illness of my Lord
St. John. A few days after, her ladyship wrote to me in great
alarm, and begged me to send some pious clergyman to her lord.
Mr. Bateman went. His lordship enquired for you, to whom he said
he was deeply indebted. His last words to Mr. Bateman were: ‘To
God I commit myself. I feel how unworthy I am; but Jesus Christ
died to save sinners; and the prayer of my heart now is, God be
merciful to me a sinner!’ His lordship breathed his last about
an hour after Mr. Bateman left. This, my good friend, is the
firstfruits of that plenteous harvest, which, I trust, the great
Husbandman will yet reap amongst the nobility of our land. Thus
the great Lord of the harvest has put honour on your ministry.
My Lord Bolingbroke was much struck with his brother’s language
in his last moments. O that the obdurate heart of this desperate
infidel may yet be shaken to its very centre! May his eyes be
opened by the illuminating influence of Divine truth! May the
Lord Jesus be revealed to his heart as the hope of glory and
immortal bliss hereafter! I tremble for his destiny. He is a
singularly awful character.”[226]

Whitefield’s preaching in Bristol was again successful.

“The power of the Lord,” he writes, “attended the word, as in
days of old, and several persons, who never heard me before,
were brought under great awakenings.”[227]

On February 8th, he proceeded to Exeter, where he found the Society affairs in great confusion; but, winter though it was, and though his health was far from being vigorous, he began to preach in the open air. Large crowds assembled; and, he says, “I trust real good was done.”[228] He also preached at Bovey-Tracey, where he “found several poor simple souls;” and at Marychurch, where there were about a score of converted people who had been greatly persecuted. At Kingsbridge, at eight o’clock at night, he found a thousand people assembled in the street, and at once commenced preaching, from the words, “I must work the works of Him that sent me while it is day; the night cometh, when no man can work.” He writes:――

“I preached in the street. The moon shone. All were quiet; and,
I hope, some began to think of working out their salvation with
fear and trembling. The next morning, I preached again. Four
ministers attended. Our Lord was pleased to make it a fine
season. I had the pleasure of hearing, that, by two or three
discourses preached at this place about five years ago, many
souls were awakened. One young man, then called, has become a
preacher. He was in a tree, partly to ridicule me. I spoke to
him to imitate Zaccheus, and come down and receive the Lord
Jesus. The word was backed with power. He heard, came down,
believed, and now adorns the gospel.”[229]

On February 15, Whitefield arrived at Plymouth,[230] being escorted, the last ten miles of his journey, by a cavalcade of his “spiritual children,” who had gone out to meet him. He found “many hundreds, in the tabernacle, waiting to hear the word;” and, though the hour was late, he immediately commenced preaching. Here he remained a week. The following was addressed to Lady Huntingdon:――

“About two thousand attend every night. Last Sunday evening, in
the field, there were above five thousand hearers. Affairs bear
a promising aspect. I hear much good has been done at Bristol.
Everywhere, fresh doors are opening, and people flock from all
quarters. Prejudices subside, and strong impressions are made on
many souls. I have not been so well, for so long a season, for
many years, as I have been since I left London: a proof, I think,
that the Lord calls me into the fields.”

Whilst at Plymouth, Whitefield wrote several letters, full of interest, but too long for insertion here. To Lady Betty Germain, he said:――

“Of the honourable women, ere long, I trust there will be not
a few who will dare to be singularly good, and will confess the
blessed Jesus before men. O with what a holy contempt may the
poor despised believer look down on those who are yet immersed
in the pleasures of sense, and, amidst all the refinements of
their unassisted, unenlightened reason, continue slaves to their
own lusts and passions! Happy, thrice happy, they who begin
to experience what it is to be redeemed from this present evil
world! You, honoured madam, I trust, are one of this happy
number.”

To the Countess of Delitz, he wrote:――

“Your ladyship’s answering my poor scrawl was an honour I did
not expect. Welcome, thrice welcome, honoured madam, into the
world of new creatures! O what a scene of happiness lies before
you! Your frames, my lady, like the moon, will wax and wane;
but the Lord Jesus will remain your faithful friend. You seem
to have the right point in view, to get the constant witness and
indwelling of the Spirit of God in your heart. This the Redeemer
has purchased for you. Of this, He has given your ladyship a
taste. O that your honoured sister may go hand in hand with you!
Wherefore doth she doubt?”

It has been previously stated that, on Whitefield’s arrival at Bermudas, he was warmly welcomed by the Church clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Holiday. Unfortunately, Mr. Holiday’s friendship was shortlived. Hence the following:――

“PLYMOUTH, _February 20, 1749_.