_Harley Place, Bow._
About two years ago a friend of mine, wishing to enjoy an hour or two of
Mr. Berridge's company, rode over to Everton for that purpose. He was
introduced by a dissenting minister in the neighbourhood, with whom Mr.
B. lived upon terms of friendship. When seated, my friend requested Mr.
B. if agreeable, to favour them with a few outlines of his life. The
venerable old man began, and related several things as narrated in the
first number of the Evangelical Magazine. But as some are there
unnoticed, I have selected the following, which I think will not be
uninteresting.
Soon after I began, said he, to preach the gospel of Christ at Everton,
the church was filled from the villages around us, and the neighbouring
clergy felt themselves hurt at their churches being deserted. The
esquire of my parish, too, was much offended. He did not like to see so
many strangers, and be so incommoded. Between them both, it was
resolved, if possible, to turn me out of my living. For this purpose
they complained of me to the bishop of the diocese, that I had preached
out of my own parish. I was soon after sent for by the bishop. I did not
much like my errand, but I went. When I arrived, the bishop accosted me
in a very abrupt manner: "Well, Berridge, they tell me you go about
preaching out of your own parish; did I institute you to the livings of
A----y, or E----n, or P----n?" No, my lord, said I, neither do I
claim any of these livings, the clergymen enjoy them undisturbed by me.
"Well, but you go and preach there, which you have no right to do." It
is true, my lord, I was one day at E----n, and there were a few poor
people assembled together, and I admonished them to repent of their
sins, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ for the salvation of their
souls; and I remember seeing five or six clergymen that day, my lord,
all out of their own parishes, upon E----n bowling-green. "Poh!" said
his lordship, "I tell you, you have no right to preach out of your own
parish; and if you do not desist from it, you will very likely be sent
to Huntingdon." As to that, my lord, said I, I have no greater liking to
Huntingdon gaol than other people; but I had rather go there with a good
conscience, than live at my liberty without one. Here his lordship
looked very hard at me, and very gravely assured me that I was beside
myself, and that in a few months I should either be better or worse.
Then, said I, my lord, you may make yourself quite happy in this
business; for if I should be better, you suppose that I shall desist
from this practice of my own accord; and if worse, you need not send me
to Huntingdon gaol, as I shall be provided with an accommodation in
Bedlam.
His lordship now changed his mode of attack: instead of threatening, he
began to entreat: "Berridge," said he, "you know I have been your
friend, and I wish to be so still. I am continually teazed with the
complaints of the clergymen around you; only assure me, that you will
keep to your own parish; you may do as you please there. I have but
little time to live; do not bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the
grave." At this instant two gentlemen were announced, who desired to
speak with his lordship. "Berridge," said he, "go to your inn, and come
again at such an hour, and dine with me." I went, and, on entering a
private room, fell immediately upon my knees. I could bear threatening,
but knew not how to withstand entreaty, especially the entreaty of a
respectable old man. At the appointed time I returned. At dinner I was
treated with great respect. The two gentlemen also dined with us. I
found they had been informed who I was, as they sometimes cast their
eyes towards me in some such manner as one would glance at a monster.
After dinner, his lordship took me into the garden. "Well, Berridge,"
said he, "have you considered of my request?" I have, my lord, said I,
and have been upon my knees concerning it. "Well, will you promise me
that you will preach no more out of your own parish?" It would afford me
great pleasure, said I, to comply with your lordship's request, if I
could do it with a good conscience. I am satisfied the Lord has blessed
my labours of this kind, and I dare not desist. "A good conscience!"
said his lordship, "do you not know that it is contrary to the canons of
the church?" There is one canon, my Lord, I replied, which saith, "Go,
preach the gospel to every creature." "But why should you wish to
interfere with the charge of other men? one man cannot preach the gospel
to all men." If they would preach the gospel themselves, said I, there
would be no need of my preaching it to their people; but as they do not,
I cannot desist. His lordship then parted with me in some displeasure;
and I returned home not knowing what would befall me, but thankful to
God that I had preserved a conscience void of offence.
I took no measures for my own preservation; but Divine Providence
wrought for me in a way that I never expected. When I was at Clare Hall,
I was particularly acquainted with a fellow of that college, and we were
both upon terms of intimacy with Mr. Pitt, the late Lord Chatham, who
was at one time also at the university. This fellow of Clare Hall, when
I began to preach the gospel, became my enemy, and did me some injury in
some ecclesiastical privileges which beforetime I had enjoyed. At
length, however, when he heard I was likely to come into trouble, and to
be turned out of my living at Everton, his heart relented. He began to
think, it seems, within himself, "We shall ruin this poor fellow among
us." This was just about the time that I was sent for by the bishop. Of
his own accord he writes a letter to Mr. Pitt, saying nothing about my
Methodism, but to this effect: "Our old friend Berridge has got a living
in Bedfordshire, and I am informed he has an esquire in his parish that
gives him a deal of trouble; has accused him to the bishop of the
diocese; and, it is said, will turn him out of his living; I wish you
would contrive to put a stop to these proceedings." Mr. Pitt was at that
time a young man, and not choosing to apply to the bishop himself, spoke
to a certain nobleman to whom the bishop was indebted for his promotion.
This nobleman, within a few days, made it his business to see the
bishop, who was then in London. "My lord," said he, "I am informed you
have a very honest fellow, one Berridge, in your diocese, and that he
has been ill treated by a litigious esquire who lives in his parish; he
has accused him, I am told, to your lordship, and wishes to turn him out
of his living; you would oblige me, my lord, if you would take no
notice of that esquire, and not suffer the honest man to be interrupted
in his living." The bishop was astonished, and could not imagine in what
manner things could have thus got round: it would not do, however, to
object; he was obliged to bow compliance; and so I continued ever after
in my sphere of action.
The squire, having waited on the bishop to know the result of the
summons, had the mortification to learn that his purpose was defeated;
on his return home, his partisans in this prosecution fled to know what
was determined on, saying, "Well, have you got the old devil out?" He
replied, "No, nor do I think the very devil himself can get him out."
After this interesting narration was ended, which had alternately drawn
smiles and tears from my friend and his companion, they requested him to
pray with them one five minute's before they departed. "No," said the
good old man to my friend, you shall pray with me. "Well, but if I
begin, perhaps you will conclude." He consented: after my friend had
ended, he, without rising from his knees, took up his petitions, and
with such sweet solemnity, such holy familiarity with God, and such
ardent love to Christ, poured out his soul, that the like was seldom
seen. They parted, and my friend declares he thinks he shall never
forget the savour of this interview to his dying day.