"There are many instances of these _unauthorised_ teachers
using _fraudulent_ and _unfair_ means of getting into pulpits
against the inclination of the _proper minister_ or _appointed
preacher_. Sometimes they ask the pulpit for a _friend_, and
then send Mr. Whitefield or some other _Methodist_. Another
method has been by slipping up into the pulpit as soon as the
prayers are over, without asking any leave at all. And all these
_disorders_, _irregularities_, and _artifices_ are practised by
persons who have no _warrant_, but _their pretended call from
heaven_, to preach in _any_ church in the diocese."
The reader has thus before him the two conflicting statements. A
fortnight afterwards, in the same newspaper, Mr. Bennett, one of the
stewards of the Society, whose evening lecture at St. Margaret's had
caused so much uproar, declared that the simple facts were these:--
"On Sunday, February 4, Mr. Whitefield, at the desire of
the Friendly Society, came from Spitalfields Church to St.
Margaret's, of Westminster. He would have gone into the
minister's seat, but could not, there being no one to unlock
the door. He then went into the vestry, and stayed there during
prayers. The usual preacher before the Society[175] was out of
town, otherwise they would have acquainted him with their desire
of Mr. Whitefield preaching, which they doubt not but he would
have complied with. That he had desired another to preach, they
knew not, when they asked Mr. Whitefield to do it; but when he
was come, in compliance with their frequently repeated desire,
they did insist upon his preaching."
[175] In another letter, it is stated that "the usual preacher
before the Society" was the Rev. Mr. Morgan. Query: Was this Charles
Morgan the Oxford Methodist?
Mr. Bennett adds, that all the rest of Mr. Venn's letter, relating
to the affront offered to the Reader of Prayers, the Rev. Mr.
Durant; the "_overbearing importunity_" brought to bear upon the
Rev. J. Majendie, the gentleman who had promised to preach for the
absent lecturer; the assumed waiting of Whitefield in a neighbouring
house; the employment of the sexton in Whitefield's interest; the
taking of the pulpit by "force;" and the sentry of lusty fellows
on the pulpit stairs, were not facts, but fiction, created by the
writer's "own ingenuity, purely to heighten and embellish his story."
Much more was printed respecting the St. Margaret's fracas; but
the case, in brief, was this: The Rev. Mr. Morgan, the Lecturer,
having to be out of town, asked the Rev. J. Majendie to supply his
place on February 4, at St. Margaret's, and Mr. Majendie readily
consented to do so. Meanwhile, the officers of the Friendly Society,
ascertaining that their "usual lecturer" would be from home, and
very improperly taking it for granted that he had provided no one to
occupy the pulpit for him, rashly went to Whitefield, and obtained
from him a promise to preach in Mr. Morgan's stead. When Whitefield
found that Mr. Majendie was present, as Mr. Morgan's properly
engaged substitute, he wished to retire, and would have done so, if,
to use Mr. Bennett's own expression, the officers of the Society had
not "_insisted upon his preaching_."
This is all that can be said about this disreputable brawling in
St. Margaret's. Mr. Morgan and Mr. Majendie were blameless. Mr.
Bennett and his friends were highly culpable in setting aside the
arrangement made by their absent Lecturer; and Whitefield, when he
had ascertained that Mr. Majendie had come to preach, would have
acted a more courteous and less ignoble part, if, instead of taking
Mr. Morgan's pulpit, he had at once retired to the Moravian Meeting
House in Fetter Lane.
Some will think that more space has been devoted to this unhappy
affair than its importance merits; but those who have had the
perseverance to make themselves acquainted with all the Methodist
facts of the year 1739, will think otherwise, as there can be no
doubt that this unfortunate _contretemps_ in Westminster was the
real or pretended occasion of much of the clerical opposition which
Whitefield soon encountered in Bristol, Bath, and other places;
and it certainly was the beginning of the furious onslaughts upon
Methodism and the Methodists, which, for so many months, disgraced
the _Weekly Miscellany_ and Dr. Hooker, its trenchant editor.
Several of these attacks will be noticed hereafter; but one must be
introduced now, inasmuch as its date is nearly the same as that of
the imbroglio at St. Margaret's. In his leading article of February
10, 1739, Mr. Hooker[176] wrote:--
"At first, we only looked upon the Methodists as well-meaning,
zealous people, whom the irreligious boldness of these wicked
times had driven somewhat too far into the contrary extreme of
infidelity. They were a sort of Protestant supererogators, that
would be righteous over-much; and there were hopes that, when
this devotional effervescence had boiled over, they would return
to that proper medium where true piety and Christian prudence
fix the centre. But, instead of that, they have proceeded so
far as to eject the _Liturgy_ and the _usual Expositors_ out of
their meetings, and have declared for _extemporary_ effusions
both in their _prayers_ and _expoundings_. The _laity_ are
allowed to be _teachers_, and even _women_, as I am informed,
begin to usurp public offices. They pretend to a sort of
_sinless perfection_, and boast of _inward joys_ above other
Christians. They distinguish themselves from others by having
_received the faith_, with which, and other cant phrases, they
are united together like a sect of _Religious Freemasons_.
In general, they seem to be practising over the lesson set
them by the _old Puritans_ before the beginning of the _grand
rebellion_."
[176] One of Whitefield's assailants in the _Weekly Miscellany_
of February 10, 1739, died a week after his attack was published.
(Whitefield's Journal, p. 33.)
Three days after he preached at St. Margaret's, Whitefield,
accompanied by William Seward, set out for Bristol.
"I never was more opposed," says he, "and never met with so
great success. I hope I shall learn more and more every day,
that no place is amiss for preaching the Gospel. God forbid
that the word of God should be bound because some deny the use
of their churches! The more I am bid to hold my peace, the more
earnestly will I lift up my voice like a trumpet, and tell the
people what must be done in them before they can be finally
saved by Jesus Christ." [177]
[177] Whitefield's Journal.
Even while travelling, Whitefield could not refrain from preaching.
At Windsor, he "expounded in the school-house to a great number of
people with freedom and power." At Basingstoke, he preached for
an hour in a large room thronged with people, while a mob outside
shouted and threw stones at the windows. The next day, three large
rooms were filled. Some began to interrupt: but "God," says he,
"enabled me to speak with such power that they were quite struck
dumb and confounded. Near twenty came to converse with me, and to
hear the word of God. How thankful ought I to be to my dear Master
for sending me hither! A vestry, I find, was called to stop my
proceedings, and I hear I am to be presented to the Diocesan."
At Basingstoke, also, he wrote a letter to a friend, which contains
a paragraph too valuable to be omitted.
"BASINGSTOKE, _February 8, 1739_.
"Just now God has brought us to Basingstoke, where I hope an
effectual door will be opened before we leave. Oh, my dear
friend, more and more do I see the benefit of confessing our
blessed Lord before men. He has begun, He will carry on, He will
finish the good work in our souls. We have nothing to do, but
to lay hold on Him by faith, and to depend on Him for wisdom,
righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. Not but we must
be workers together with Him; for a true faith in Jesus Christ
will not suffer us to be idle. No: it is an active, lively,
restless principle; it fills the heart, so that it cannot be
easy till it is doing something for Jesus Christ."
At Dummer, the little parish where he once was curate, Whitefield
met his old Oxford friends, Messrs. Kinchin and Hutchins, with whom
he took sweet counsel, sung psalms, and prayed.
At Salisbury, he writes, "I paid a visit to an old disciple, my
brother Wesley's mother," at that time visiting her son-in-law,
Westley Hall.[178] Here also he sought an interview with the
well-known sceptic, Thomas Chubb, resident in an adjoining village,
respecting his "True Gospel of Jesus Christ asserted;" but the
"free-thinker," (who, by the way, regularly attended the services of
his parish church,) happened not to be at home.
[178] In a letter to her son Samuel, dated March 8, 1739, Susannah
Wesley writes:--"Mr. Whitefield has been taking a progress through
these parts to make a collection for a house in Georgia for orphans
and such of the natives' children as they will part with to learn
our language and religion. He came hither to see me, and we talked
about your brothers. I told him, I did not like their way of living,
and wished them in some place of their own, wherein they might
regularly preach. He replied, 'I could not conceive the good they
did in London; that the greatest part of our clergy were asleep;
and that there never was a greater need of itinerant preachers
than now.' I then asked Mr. Whitefield if my sons were not making
some innovations in the Church, which I much feared. He assured me
they were so far from it, that they endeavoured all they could to
reconcile Dissenters to our communion. His stay was short, so I
could not talk with him so much as I desired. He seems to be a very
good man, and one who truly desires the salvation of mankind. God
grant that the wisdom of the serpent may be joined to the innocence
of the dove!" ("Memorials of the Wesley Family," by G. J. Stevenson,
p. 216.)
On February 14th, Whitefield arrived at Bath, and immediately waited
upon Dr. C., desiring the use of the Abbey Church, to preach a
sermon for the Orphan House, the Trustees of Georgia having obtained
the consent of the bishop more than twelve months before. "But," he
writes, "Dr. C. was pleased to give me an absolute refusal to preach
either on that or on any other occasion, without a positive order
from the king or bishop. I asked him his reasons. He said he was
not obliged to give me any. Upon which, I took my leave and retired
with my friends, and prayed for him most fervently." On the evening
of the same day, Whitefield came to Bristol, where his old friends
welcomed him with the utmost joy; but his chief pleasure, on his
arrival, was, not the greetings of his friends, but the calumny of
his enemies. He writes: "Who can express the joy with which I was
received? To add to my comfort, many letters came to my hands from
London friends. But the chiefest pleasure was, some one had thought
me considerable enough to write a letter in the _Weekly Miscellany_
against me, and containing several untruths about my preaching at
St. Margaret's, Westminster. Thou shalt answer for me, my Lord
and my God! Yet a little while, and we shall all appear at the
judgment-seat of Christ!"
Next morning, Whitefield first of all waited upon the Rev. Mr.
Gibbs, Vicar of St. Mary Redcliffe, and asked the loan of his
church, to preach a sermon on behalf of the contemplated Orphan
House in Georgia. Mr. Gibbs refused, saying, "he could not lend
his church without a special order from the chancellor." Nothing
daunted, Whitefield went at once to the chancellor, who declined
to issue an order for Mr. Gibbs, but stated that if any clergyman
thought proper to lend his church to Whitefield, he (the chancellor)
would not prohibit it; nevertheless, he advised Whitefield to go to
some other town until the bishop had been consulted. Whitefield was
far too ardent and impetuous to wait for the bishop's leave, and,
hence, from the chancellor, he proceeded direct to the residence of
the dean. Having shewn him his "Georgia Accounts," he asked, "Can
there be any just objection against my preaching in churches for the
Orphan House?" "I cannot tell," replied the dean, "but I will give
you an answer some other time; now I am expecting company." "Will
you be pleased to fix a time, sir?" "I will send to you," said the
dean; and so ended Whitefield's interview, number three.
It cannot be denied, that, in all this, there was a display of more
self-confidence than is commendable. Whitefield was a young man, not
yet twenty-five; he had neither high rank, nor special scholarship
to recommend him to the Church dignitaries of the day; his
ecclesiastical standing was extremely insignificant--only incumbent
of the distant and small settlement of Savannah. It is true, he had,
a year and a half ago, moved both Bristol and the metropolis by his
earnest, startling, godly eloquence; but, during the interval, his
injudicious friends had published his Journals, written with the
utmost artlessness, but containing much never meant for the public
eye; and, within the last few days, by the rash proceedings of
certain of his admirers, he had been placed in an equivocal position
at St. Margaret's, Westminster. Remembering all this, it was
doubtless a bold--some would call it a presumptuous--act to ask the
loan of the Abbey Church, at Bath, and, next to the Cathedral, of
the finest church in Bristol; and further, it is hardly surprising
that his well-intentioned applications were refused.
Whitefield was baffled, but not discomfited. Churches, for the
present, might be closed against him, but there was Bristol prison;
there were the rooms of the Religious Societies; and there was
Kingswood Hill.
In the afternoon of the very day, when his diplomacy with three
of the principal ecclesiastics in Bristol was such a mortifying
failure, he tried his skill with another functionary of a more
humble order. At this period, the keeper of Bristol Prison was a
Mr. Dagge, whom Dr. Johnson has immortalized in his Life of the
poet Savage.[179] Mr. Dagge had been amongst the firstfruits
of Whitefield's ministry in Bristol prison, in 1737,[180] and
Whitefield's application to him was more successful than those he
had made to the vicar, the chancellor, and the dean. He writes:--
"About three in the afternoon, God having given me great favour
in the gaoler's eyes, I preached a sermon on the Penitent
Thief, to the poor prisoners in Newgate, and collected fifteen
shillings for them."
[179] This remarkable man, after a life of strange vicissitudes,
was arrested for debt, on January 10, 1743, and put into Newgate
prison, Bristol, where he remained until his death on the 31st of
July next ensuing. Dr. Johnson writes: "He was treated by Mr. Dagge,
the keeper of the prison, with great humanity; was supported by him
at his own table without any certainty of recompence; had a room to
himself, to which he could at any time retire from all disturbance;
was allowed to stand at the door of the prison, and was sometimes
taken out into the fields; so that he suffered fewer hardships in
prison than he had been accustomed to undergo in the greatest part
of his life. During the whole time of his imprisonment, the keeper
continued to treat him with the utmost tenderness and civility.
Virtue is undoubtedly most laudable in that state which makes it
most difficult, and therefore the humanity of a gaoler certainly
deserves this public attestation; and the man whose heart has not
been hardened by such an employment may be justly proposed as a
pattern of benevolence. If an inscription was once engraved 'to
the honest toll-gatherer,' less honours ought not to be paid 'to
the tender gaoler.'" It ought to be added, to the honour of Dagge,
Whitefield's friend and admirer, that he defrayed the expense of
burying Savage in the churchyard of St. Peter's.
[180] "Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon," vol. ii., p. 357.
This was the beginning. Next morning, he made an arrangement, that,
while he remained in Bristol, he would read prayers and preach
to the prisoners every day, an arrangement which was faithfully
fulfilled, until the 12th of March, when the mayor and the sheriffs
thought it their duty to interfere, and absolutely commanded Mr.
Dagge not to allow Whitefield to preach in the prison-house again,
alleging, as their reason, that he insisted upon the necessity
of our being born again--a thing which those custodians, if not
regenerators, of outcast men, were unable to understand.
Whitefield's preaching to the prisoners, however, was but a small
part of his public labours in Bristol and in the neighbourhood. His
present sojourn here lasted between six and seven weeks, during
which he preached above sixty times, and expounded fifty.
Closing the churches against him was not the way to silence him. His
"heart was hot within him;" while he mused "the fire burned;" and
to speak with his tongue became almost a necessity of life. For the
present, he had the use of the city prison; but fancy a man like
Whitefield being satisfied with a cure of souls all under a single
roof! The opportunity of preaching to Mr. Dagge's domestics was
important, and doubtless useful; but it was not enough; and, hence,
as Whitefield had no other place in which to preach, away he went,
and, for the first time in England, in the bleak month of February,
preached out of doors, to a congregation of colliers, on Kingswood
Hill. He writes:--
"1739. February 17, Saturday. About one in the afternoon, I
went with my brother (William) Seward, and another friend to
Kingswood, and was most delightfully entertained by an old
disciple of the Lord. My bowels have long yearned toward the
poor colliers, who are very numerous, and as sheep having no
shepherd. After dinner, therefore, I went upon a mount, and
spake to as many people as came unto me. They were upwards of
two hundred. Blessed be God that I have now broken the ice! I
believe I was never more acceptable to my Master than when I
was standing to teach those hearers in the open fields. Some
may censure me; but if I thus pleased men, I should not be the
servant of Christ."[181]
[181] In a MS. left behind him, Whitefield remarks in reference
to this service: "I thought it might be doing service to my
Creator, who had a mountain for His pulpit, and the heavens for His
sounding-board; and who, when His gospel was refused by the Jews,
sent His servants into the highways and hedges." It may also be
added here, as an interesting fact, that Whitefield's first sermon
at Kingswood was the means under God of the conversion of Thomas
Maxfield, generally, but incorrectly, said to have been the first
layman whom Wesley authorised to preach. (Vindication of Rev. Mr.
Maxfield's Conduct, 1767, p. 3.)
Thus began, apparently without intention, the marvellous outdoor
services which distinguished the career of Whitefield and the
Wesleys. This was only three days after Whitefield came to Bristol.
He would have preferred the churches; but, even in the midst of
winter, was thankful for the open fields. It is a remarkable fact,
however, that, though when he arrived in Bristol, every church was
closed against him, on the very day immediately succeeding that on
which he set his pulpit on Kingswood Hill, the pulpits of three of
the Bristol churches were freely offered him. Hear what he says:--
"1739. February 18, Sunday. Arose this morning about six, being
called up by near fifty young persons, whom I appointed to meet
at my sister's house, and with whom I spent above an hour in
prayer, psalm-singing, and a warm exhortation. Soon after this,
I read prayers and preached at Newgate, to a large and very
attentive congregation. At ten, I preached at St. Werburg's, to
a large audience. I thought yesterday I should not have the use
of any pulpit; but God, who has the hearts of all men in His
hands, disposed the Rev. Mr. Penrose to lend me his; and the
Rev. Mr. Gibbs sent to me and offered me the use both of St.
Thomas's and St. Mary Redcliffe. I accepted the latter of these,
and preached to such a congregation as my eyes never yet saw.
Many went away for want of room, and Mr. Gibbs and his lady were
exceeding civil both to me and Mr. Seward."
On the following day, Whitefield had the use of another church, the
parish church of St. Philip and Jacob, where he preached, to a
great multitude, in the afternoon, and collected £18 for the Orphan
House in Georgia. "Thousands," says he, "went away, because there
was no room for them within."
This was too much for the equanimity of the Chancellor of the
Bristol Diocese. Only four days before, he had virtually prohibited
Whitefield preaching in any of the Bristol churches, without the
bishop's leave being first obtained; and yet already had the young
preacher had the hardihood to occupy three of the city churches,
and was not at all unlikely to preach in others. Official patience
with the ordained upstart was exhausted, and the apparitor was sent
to summons Whitefield to the court of the Rev. Mr. R----l, the
ecclesiastical lawyer of the Bishop of Bristol, versed in civil
and canon law, and solemnly appointed to direct the bishop in the
criminal and civil causes of the Church.
The summons was served on Tuesday, February 20, and was immediately
obeyed. On Whitefield's appearance, the chancellor informed him that
he intended "to stop his proceedings;" and that the registrar of the
court was present to take down his answers.
_Chancellor._ "By what authority do you preach in the diocese of
Bristol without a license?"
_Whitefield._ "I thought that custom was grown obsolete. Pray,
sir, why did you not ask the Irish clergyman this question, who
preached for you last Thursday?"
_C._ "That is nothing to you." Then, reading part of the
Ordination Office, and the canons forbidding ministers to preach
in private houses, he asked, "What do you say to these?"
_W._ "I apprehend these canons do not belong to professed
ministers of the Church of England."
_C._ "But they do."
_W._ "There is a canon forbidding all clergymen to frequent
taverns, and play at cards. Why is not that put in execution?"
_C._ "Why does not somebody lodge complaints? In such a case it
would."
Referring to his printed sermons for his principles, Whitefield
asked, "Why am I singled out?"
_C._ "You preach false doctrine."
_W._ "I cannot but speak the things that I know, and am resolved
to proceed as usual."
_C._ "Mr. Registrar, observe his answer." Then turning to
Whitefield, "I am resolved, sir, if you preach or expound
anywhere in this diocese, till you have a license, I will first
suspend, and then excommunicate you."
Upon this, Whitefield says, "I took my leave. He waited upon me very
civilly to the door, and told me, 'What I do is in the name of the
clergy and laity of the city of Bristol;' and so we parted."
With this ended Whitefield's ministry in Bristol churches.
Meanwhile, however, he had written both to the Bishop of Bristol,
and the Bishop of Bath and Wells. From the former, the celebrated
Dr. Butler, author of the well-known "Analogy of Religion," etc.,
he received an answer on February 24, with which he again waited on
the chancellor; but without success. Bishop Butler's letter is not
preserved; but Whitefield's reply was as follows:--
"BRISTOL, _February 24, 1739_.
"MY LORD,--I humbly thank your lordship for the favour of your
lordship's letter. It gave abundant satisfaction to me, and many
others, who have not failed to pray in a particular manner for
your lordship's temporal and eternal welfare. To-day, I shewed
your lordship's letter to the chancellor, who (notwithstanding
he promised not to prohibit my preaching for the Orphan House
if your lordship was only neutral in the affair) has influenced
most of the clergy to deny me their pulpits, either on that
or any other occasion. Last week, he was pleased to charge me
with false doctrine. To-day, he has forgotten that he said so.
He also threatened to excommunicate me for preaching in your
lordship's diocese. I offered to take a license, but was denied.
"If your lordship should ask, What evil have I done? I answer,
None, save that I visit the Religious Societies, preach to the
prisoners in Newgate, and to the poor colliers in Kingswood,
who, I am told, are little better than heathens. I am charged
with being a Dissenter; though many are brought to the Church by
my preaching, not one taken from it. The chancellor is pleased
to tell me my conduct is contrary to the canons; but I told him
that the canons, which he produced, were not intended against
such meetings as mine are, where His Majesty is constantly
prayed for, and every one is free to see what is done.
"I am sorry to give your lordship this trouble; but I thought it
proper to mention these particulars, that I might know wherein
my conduct is exceptionable.
"I heartily thank your lordship for your intended benefaction.
I think the design is truly good, and will meet with success,
because so much opposed.
"God knows my heart. I desire only to promote His glory. If I
am spoken evil of, for His sake, I rejoice in it. My Master
was long since spoken evil of before me. But I intrude on your
lordship's patience.
"I am, with all possible thanks, my lord, your lordship's
dutiful son and servant,
"GEORGE WHITEFIELD."
So the matter ended. Curiosity would like to know what a man so
eminent as Bishop Butler thought of the young Methodist, and what
he said to him; but, unfortunately, the bishop's sentiments are not
producible.
What was Whitefield to do next? He might at once have gone back to
Georgia; but he wanted money to erect his Orphan House, and was
not content to return without it. Besides, he seemed to consider
the prohibition to preach in churches a kind of call to preach
elsewhere. Preach he must. God had called him to the work. By the
Bishop of Gloucester, he had been ordained to it. If churches were
inaccessible, his only alternative was to make use of private
houses, public rooms, and open fields.
The Religious Societies gladly accepted his services. He speaks of
the Room of the Baldwin Street Society, together with the stairs and
the court below, being crowded with people, profoundly attentive
and powerfully affected. Here his expositions, more than once, were
of two hours' duration; and, at one of the meetings, upwards of £5
was collected for his Orphan House. At his farewell service, the
crowd about the place was such, that he had to climb a ladder, and
go over the roof of an adjoining house, in order to get into the
Room. The meeting-place of the Nicholas Street Society was quite as
thronged as that of Baldwin Street; and here, by his recommendation,
a charity school was opened, for which, he says, "I collected at the
door myself, and few passed by without throwing in their mites."
The Room of the Society without Lawford's Gate seems to have been
connected with the parish poorhouse, and was sometimes so crowded,
that Whitefield had to preach from the steps leading to the door,
and sometimes to stand at the window, and there preach to those
outside and those within. On one occasion, at the poorhouse, he made
a collection for his contemplated orphanage; "and the poor people,"
says he, "so loaded my hat, that I wanted some one to hold up my
hands. The cheerfulness with which they gave was inexpressible; and
the many prayers they joined with their alms will, I hope, lay a
good foundation for the house intended to be built."