LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN--FOURTH VISIT TO AMERICA--NEW TABERNACLE
IN LONDON, AND TABERNACLE AT BRISTOL.
1750-1754.
At the beginning of the year 1750, Whitefield was still in London.
At this time his intended college at Bethesda occupied much of
his attention. He wrote to his friends in every quarter for help.
His usual appeal was, "We propose having an academy or college at
the orphan-house. The house is large, and will hold a hundred. My
_heart_, I trust, is larger, and will hold ten thousand." Though
in London, his heart was in America. He says, "Ranging seems my
province; and methinks I hear a voice behind me saying, 'This is
the way, walk in it.' My heart echoes back, 'Lord, let thy presence
go with me, and then send me where thou pleasest.' In the midst of
all, America, _dear_ America, is not forgotten. I begin to count the
days, and to say to the months, 'Fly fast away, that I may spread
the gospel-net once more in dear America.'"
Be it here mentioned, that amid the busy scenes of his life, and
while surrounded with the flatteries of the great and noble,
Whitefield did not forget the duties he owed to his mother. A person
whom he had employed to obtain some comforts for her, had neglected
the duty, so that the now aged matron might have felt a week's
anxiety. He wrote to her, "I should never forgive myself, was I, by
negligence or any wrong conduct, to give you a moment's needless
pain. Alas, how little have I done for you. Christ's care for his
mother excites me to wish I could do any thing for you. If you
would have any thing more brought, pray write, honored mother.
* * * Tomorrow it will be _thirty-five_ years since you brought
unworthy me into the world. O that my head were waters, and mine
eyes fountains of tears, that I might bewail my barrenness and
unfruitfulness in the church of God."
While he was now fully engaged in preaching, and was surrounded
with flatteries, he did not forget his duty to conflict with sin.
He writes, "I find a love of power sometimes intoxicates even God's
dear children. It is much easier for me to obey than govern. This
makes me fly from that which, at our first setting out, we are apt
to court. I cannot well buy humility at too dear a rate."
Dr. Philip Doddridge, as every reader knows, was one of the most
pious and accomplished preachers and writers of the Non-conformists
of England in his day. Nor was his _missionary_ zeal small in its
degree. Though he died as early as 1751, he had said, "I am now
intent on having something done among the dissenters, in a more
public manner, for propagating the gospel abroad, which lies near
my heart. I wish to live to see this design brought into execution,
at least into some forwardness, and then I should die the more
cheerfully." It was indeed the passion of his life to promote
the interests of evangelical truth, and save the souls of men.
And though, as his recent eulogist, the Rev. John Stoughton, has
said, condemned by some, and suspected by others for so doing, he
took a deep and sympathetic interest in the evangelical labors of
Whitefield. It seems strange in our day to think of Whitefield
being regarded as an enthusiast by orthodox dissenters. Yet there
were those who did thus regard him. Bradbury poured on him streams
of wit; Barker regarded his sermons as low and coarse; and another
in writing calls him "honest, crazy, confident Mr. Whitefield."
But Doddridge regarded him as far otherwise, and spoke of him as
"a flaming servant of Christ." He prayed on one occasion at the
Tabernacle, but Dr. Watts was much grieved by it; and when, on
Whitefield's visiting Northampton, Doddridge gave him the use of
his pulpit, the managers of the college of which he was president
remonstrated with him for so doing.
The visit of Whitefield to Doddridge was in February, 1750, where
he met with the Rev. Dr. Sir James Stonehouse, and the Rev. Messrs.
Hartley and Hervey. The latter eminent clergyman thus writes: "I
have lately seen that most excellent minister of the ever-blessed
Jesus, Mr. Whitefield. I dined, supped, and spent the evening with
him at Northampton, in company with Dr. Doddridge, and two pious,
ingenious clergymen of the church of England, both of them known to
the learned world by their valuable writings. And surely I never
spent a more delightful evening, or saw one that seemed to make
nearer approaches to the felicity of heaven. A gentleman of great
worth and rank in the town invited us to his house, and gave us
an elegant treat; but how mean was his provision, how coarse his
delicacies, compared with the fruit of my friend's lips: they
dropped as honey from the honey-comb, and were a well of life.
Surely people do not know that amiable and exemplary man, or else,
I cannot but think, instead of depreciating, they would applaud
and love him. For my part, I never beheld so fair a copy of our
Lord, such a living image of the Saviour, such exalted delight in
God, such enlarged benevolence to man, such a steady faith in the
divine promises, and such a fervent zeal for the divine glory; and
all this without the least moroseness of humor, or extravagance of
behavior, sweetened with the most engaging cheerfulness of temper,
and regulated by all the sobriety of reason and wisdom of Scripture;
insomuch that I cannot forbear applying the wise man's encomium of
an illustrious woman to this eminent minister of the everlasting
gospel: 'Many sons have done virtuously, but thou excellest them
all.'"
In the month of March, 1750, a general alarm had been awakened
by earthquakes in London, and fears were excited by pretended
prophecies of still greater devastation. These signal judgments
of Jehovah were preceded by great profligacy of manners, and its
fruitful parent, licentiousness of principle. Dr. Horne, afterwards
dean of Canterbury and bishop of Bristol, in a sermon preached at
the time, says, "As to faith, is not the doctrine of the Trinity,
and that of the divinity of our Lord and Saviour--without which
our redemption is absolutely void, and we are yet in our sins,
lying under the intolerable burden of the wrath of God--blasphemed
and ridiculed openly in conversation and in print? And as to
righteousness of life, are not the people of this land dead in
trespasses and sins? Idleness, drunkenness, luxury, extravagance,
and debauchery; for these things cometh the wrath of God, and
disordered nature proclaims the impending distress and perplexity of
nations. And Oh, may we of this nation never read a handwriting upon
the wall of heaven, in illuminated capitals of the Almighty, MENE,
MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN--God hath numbered the kingdom, and finished
it. Thou art weighed in the balances of heaven, and found wanting
the merits of a rejected Redeemer, and therefore the kingdom is
divided and given away."
The shocks felt in London in February and March of this year, were
far more violent than any remembered for a long series of years. The
earth moved throughout the whole cities of London and Westminster.
It was a strong and jarring motion, attended with a rumbling noise
like that of thunder. Multitudes of persons of every class fled
from these cities with the utmost haste, and others repaired to the
fields and open places in the neighborhood. Towerhill, Moorfields,
and Hyde Park were crowded with men, women, and children, who
remained a whole night under the most fearful apprehensions. Places
of worship were filled with persons in the utmost state of alarm.
Especially was this the case with those attached to Methodist
congregations, where multitudes came all night, knocking at the
doors, and for God's sake begging admittance. As convulsions of
nature are usually regarded by enthusiasts and fanatics as the
sure harbinger of its dissolution, a soldier "had a revelation,"
that a great part of London and Westminster would be destroyed
by an earthquake on a certain night, between the hours of twelve
and one o'clock. Believing his assertion, thousands fled from the
city for fear of being suddenly overwhelmed, and repaired to the
fields, where they continued all night, in momentary expectation of
seeing the prophecy fulfilled; while thousands of others ran about
the streets in the most wild and frantic state of consternation,
apparently quite certain that the day of judgment was about to
commence. The whole scene was truly awful.
Under these circumstances, the ministers of Christ preached almost
incessantly, and many were awakened to a sense of their awful
condition before God, and to rest their hopes of eternal salvation
on the Rock of ages. Mr. Whitefield, animated with that burning
charity which shone so conspicuously in him, ventured out at
midnight to Hyde Park, where he proclaimed to the affrighted and
astonished multitudes that there is a Saviour, Christ the Lord. The
darkness of the night, and the awful apprehensions of an approaching
earthquake, added much to the solemnity of the scene. The sermon
was truly sublime, and to the ungodly sinner, the self-righteous
pharisee, and the artful hypocrite, strikingly terrific. With
a pathos which showed the fervor of his soul, and with a grand
majestic voice that commanded attention, he took occasion from the
circumstances of the assembly, to call their attention to that
most important event in which every one will be interested, the
final consummation of all things, the universal wreck of nature,
the dissolution of earth, and the eternal sentence of every son
and daughter of Adam. The whole scene was one of a most memorable
character. Mr. Charles Wesley, Mr. Romaine, and others preached in a
similar manner, and with like happy results.
At this period, Whitefield and his female friends especially,
were the subjects of royal attention at the court of George the
Second. It is said that on one occasion Lady Chesterfield appeared
in a dress "with a brown ground and silver flowers," of foreign
manufacture. The king, smiling significantly, said to her aloud, "I
know who chose that gown for you--Mr. Whitefield; I hear you have
attended on him for a year and a half." Her ladyship acknowledged
she had done so, and professed her approbation of his character and
ministry; and afterwards deeply regretted that she had not said more
when she had so good an opportunity. Whitefield had occasion to wait
on the secretary of state, in company with Dr. Gifford, a Baptist
pastor in London, to ask relief for some persecuted Christians in
Ireland, and was assured that "no hurt was designed by the state to
the Methodists." He also renewed his friendship with the Messrs.
Wesley, and several times exchanged pulpits with them. He writes, "I
have now preached thrice in Mr. Wesley's chapel, and God was with us
of a truth."
Again was our evangelist tired of London, and again had he grown
sick for want of field-preaching. Accordingly he set out for Bristol
and other parts of the west of England; and although rain and hail
pelted him in his field-pulpits, he preached "about twenty times
in eight or nine days." As soon as he found himself in his own
element, he saw every thing in his old lights. He says, "Every
thing I meet with seems to carry this voice with it: 'Go thou and
preach the gospel; be a pilgrim on earth; have no party, or certain
dwelling-place.' My heart echoes back, 'Lord Jesus, help me to do
or suffer thy will. When thou seest me in danger of _nestling_, in
pity, in tender pity put a thorn in my nest, to prevent me from it.'"
From Bristol, Whitefield went to Taunton, where he met with the Rev.
Richard Pearsall, an eminent and excellent Presbyterian minister, of
whom he speaks very highly; and from thence, on his way to Plymouth,
he stayed at Wellington, to preach for the Rev. Risdon Darracott,
who has ever since been distinguished as "the star in the west." Mr.
Darracott was the son of a dissenting minister in Dorsetshire, where
he was born in 1717, when Whitefield was three years old. He studied
for the ministry under the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, at Northampton,
and entered on his ministerial course in Cornwall in 1738, which
situation he was most reluctantly compelled to leave two years
afterwards from violent hemorrhage of the lungs. Under this alarming
visitation he spent about six months with his friends in Devonshire,
where his fervent-minded father had preached till his death at the
age of forty. While here, he had a call to succeed a venerable
minister at Wellington, who had recently deceased. He found the
congregation small, and the number of communicants but twenty-eight.
His ministry soon drew a large congregation, many of whom had never
before made a profession of religion, and were first attracted
into the town from the neighboring villages out of mere curiosity
to hear him. The house of worship was soon insufficient to contain
his hearers; and even when it was enlarged, many were frequently
compelled to stand out of doors, unable to obtain an entrance. The
Rev. Benjamin Fawcett, who preached his funeral sermon, said, "I
never knew any congregation which appeared to have so many instances
of abiding religious impressions;" and added, "I have good reason to
believe that his ministry was owned to the effectual conversion of
many hundreds of souls."
The night before the death of this excellent man, which took place
in his forty-second year, he exclaimed, "Oh, what a good God have I,
in and through Jesus Christ. I would praise him, but my lips cannot.
Eternity will be too short to speak his praises." The physician
coming in, he said to him, "Oh, what a mercy is it to be interested
in the atoning blood of Jesus. I come to the Lord as a vile sinner,
trusting in the merits and precious blood of my dear Redeemer. O
grace, grace, free grace!" His last words were, "I am going from
weeping friends to congratulating angels, and rejoicing saints in
glory. He is coming. Oh, speed thy chariot wheels; why are they so
long in coming? I long to be gone!" He left in his church more than
two hundred communicants.
Whitefield and Darracott were congenial spirits, and Darracott, like
his friend, had suffered much reproach in the cause of his Master;
he was what Whitefield called him, "a flaming and successful
preacher of the gospel." He had just at this time lost three lovely
children. "Two of them," says Whitefield, "had died on the Saturday
evening before the sacrament; but weeping did not prevent sowing.
He preached the next day, and administered as usual. Our Lord
strengthened him; and for his three natural, gave him above _thirty_
spiritual children; and he is likely to have many more. He has
ventured his little all for Christ; and last week a saint died who
left him and his heirs two hundred pounds in land. Did ever any one
trust in God, and was forsaken?" This interview with Darracott, and
with good old Mr. Pearsall, who had been a preacher of righteousness
before Whitefield was born, had an inspiring influence upon him. He
says, "I _began_ to take the field again at his dwelling for the
spring! I begin to _begin_ to spend and be spent for Him who shed
his own dear heart's blood for me. He makes _ranging_ exceedingly
pleasant."
Soon after this, Whitefield went again into Yorkshire. At Rotherham
he says, "Satan rallied his forces. The crier was employed to give
notice of a bear-baiting. You may guess who was the bear! However,
I preached twice. The drum was heard, and several watermen attended
with great staves. The constable was struck, and two of the mobbers
apprehended, but rescued afterwards." Sheffield and Leeds he found
to be a new and warmer climate. Lancashire, however, was still but
cold to him. All was quiet at Manchester, and he "humbly hoped some
had enlisted," but no great impression was then made. At Bolton, a
drunkard stood up behind him to preach; and the wife of the man who
lent him the field, twice attempted to stab the workman who put up
the stand for him. This roused him, and he bore down all opposition
by a torrent of eloquence, which quite exhausted him. In the night,
however, some rude fellows got into the barn and stables where his
chaise and horses had been put, and cut them very shamefully. This
conduct he called, "Satan showing his teeth."
To narrate the particulars of this journey would be little more
than a repetition of scenes of insult and of success with which the
reader has already become familiar. At Ulverston he says, "Satan
made some small resistance. A clergyman, who looked more like a
_butcher_ than a minister, came with two others, and charged a
constable with me; but I never saw a poor creature sent off with
such disgrace."
One of the most remarkable conversions recorded in the history of
the church occurred during this journey by the ministry of Mr.
Whitefield. The full particulars are recorded in the Life of the
Countess of Huntingdon, and can only be briefly mentioned here.
In the early period of Whitefield's ministry, many of the taverns
became places where his doctrines and zeal were talked of and
ridiculed. A Mr. Thorpe, and several other young men in Yorkshire,
undertook at one of these parties to mimic the preaching of Mr.
Whitefield. The proposition met with applause; one after another
stood on a table to perform his part, and it devolved on Mr. Thorpe
to close this irreverent scene. Much elated, and confident of
success, he exclaimed, as he ascended the table, "I shall beat you
all." Who would have supposed that the mercy of God was now about to
be extended to this transgressor of his law? The Bible was handed to
him; and by the guidance of unerring Providence, it opened at Luke
13:3: "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." The moment
he read the text his mind was impressed in a most extraordinary
manner; he saw clearly the nature and importance of the subject;
and as he afterwards said, if he ever preached with the assistance
of the Holy Spirit, it was at that time. His address produced a
feeling of depression in his auditors; and when he had finished,
he instantly retired to weep over his sins. He soon after became
associated with the people of God, and died a successful minister of
Christ, at Masborough, in Yorkshire, in 1776, about six years after
the death of Mr. Whitefield. He was the father of the distinguished
Rev. William Thorpe, of Bristol.
Passing on to Edinburgh, Whitefield was, as usual, received with the
most unfeigned tenderness and joy, preaching to great multitudes
of attentive and serious people, whose earnest desire to hear him
made him exert himself beyond his strength. He says, "By preaching
always twice, once thrice, and once four times in a day, I am quite
weakened; but I hope to recruit again. Christ's presence makes me
smile at pain." He returned to London, having preached about one
hundred times, it was believed to not less than one hundred thousand
people.
Among the occasional hearers of Whitefield when in Scotland, was
the celebrated infidel historian, David Hume. An intimate friend
having asked him what he thought of Mr. Whitefield's preaching, he
replied, "He is, sir, the most ingenious preacher I ever heard; it
is worth while to go twenty miles to hear him." He then repeated
the following passage, which occurred towards the close of the
discourse he had been hearing. "After a solemn pause, Mr. Whitefield
thus addressed his numerous audience: 'The attendant angel is just
about to leave the threshold, and ascend to heaven. And shall he
ascend, and not bear with him the news of one sinner, among all
this multitude, reclaimed from the error of his ways?' To give
the greater effect to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot,
lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven, and with gushing tears cried
aloud, 'Stop, Gabriel! stop, Gabriel! stop, ere you enter the sacred
portals, and yet carry with you the news of one sinner converted to
God.' He then, in the most simple but energetic language, described
what he called a Saviour's dying love to sinful man, so that almost
the whole assembly melted into tears. This address was accompanied
with such animated, yet natural action, that it surpassed any thing
I ever saw or heard in any other preacher."
In the summer of 1751, Whitefield paid a second visit to Ireland,
and was most hospitably received in Dublin by a respectable and
opulent gentleman named Lunell, who had been brought to Christ by
the first Methodist itinerant preacher in that city. During this
excursion, Whitefield preached about eighty sermons, fourteen
of them in Dublin, and seven in Limerick. His hearers in Dublin
organized themselves into a public society, which does not seem
to have met his approbation. He says, "This morning I have been
talking with dear Mr. Adams, and can not help thinking that you
have run before the Lord, in forming yourselves into a public
society as you have done. I am sincere when I profess that I do
not choose to set myself at the head of any party. When I came to
Ireland, my intention was to preach the gospel to all; and if it
should ever please the Lord of all lords to send me thither again,
I purpose to pursue the same plan. For I am a debtor to all of
every denomination, and have no design, if I know any thing of this
desperately wicked and deceitful heart, but to promote the common
salvation of mankind. The love of Christ constrains me to this."
During this visit, Whitefield a few times ventured out of the city
to Oxmantown-green, then a large open place, situated near the
royal barracks, where the Ormond and Liberty boys, two factions
among the lowest class of the people, generally assembled on the
Sabbath to fight with each other. The congregations at first were
very numerous, and deeply affected, nor did any disturbance occur.
Thus encouraged, the preacher ventured again, and gave notice of
his intention to resume his labors. He went through the barracks,
the door of which opened into the green, and pitched his tent near
the barrack walls, not doubting of the protection, or at least of
the interposition of the officers and soldiers, if there should be
occasion for it. The multitude in attendance was indeed vast. After
singing and prayer, Whitefield preached without molestation, except
that now and then a few stones and clods of dirt were thrown at
him. It being war-time, he took occasion to exhort his hearers,
as was his usual practice, not only to fear God, but to honor the
king; and prayed for the success of the king of Prussia. When the
service was over, he thought to return home by the way he came,
but, to his great surprise, a passage through the barracks was
denied; and he was compelled to pass from one end of the green to
the other, through thousands of Roman-catholics. He was unattended;
for a soldier and four preachers who came with him had fled from
the scene of danger, and he was seriously attacked by the mob.
They threw vollies of stones upon him from all quarters, and he
reeled backwards and forwards till he was almost breathless and
covered with blood. At length, with great difficulty he staggered
to the door of a minister's house near the green, which was kindly
opened to him. For a while he continued speechless, and panting for
breath; but his weeping friends having given him a cordial, and
washed his wounds, a coach was procured, in which, amidst the oaths,
imprecations, and threatenings of the rabble, he got safe home,
and united in a hymn of thanksgiving with his friends. In a letter
written to a friend soon after this event, he says, "I received many
blows and wounds; one was particularly large, and near my temple: I
thought of Stephen, and was in hopes, like him, to go off in this
bloody triumph to the immediate presence of my Master."
Unpromising, however, as things were in Ireland, the labors of
Whitefield, followed as they were by those of the Wesleys, became
the foundation of a number of Christian societies that proved vast
blessings to Ireland; and some of them grew into large churches,
which continue to flourish till this day.
The society to which reference has been made, which assembled
in Skinner's alley, secured ministerial aid from the late Rev.
John Edwards, who was one of Whitefield's converts, and among
the earliest preachers at the Tabernacle in London; and who also
itinerated over nearly the whole of England, Scotland, and Ireland.
The period was one of great persecution, and this good man had
several remarkable preservations from death. At one time, while he
resided in Dublin, he was returning from preaching at a village,
when he was seized by a party of rude fellows, who declared they
would throw him over the bridge into the Liffey. This was observed
by an opposite political party, residing on the other side of the
river, who encountered his assailants, and rescued him out of their
hands, saying he lived on their side the river, and none should hurt
him. At another time, having preached out of doors, a furious mob
of the _White-boys_, a political party so called, beset the house
in which he was, and threatened to burn it to the ground, unless he
was driven out of it. His anxious friends could see but one way for
his escape, which was through a window that opened into a garden
belonging to a justice of the peace, who was himself a violent
persecutor of the Methodists. Through this window Mr. Edwards was,
like the apostle Paul, let down in a basket. Here he stood some
time in great consternation, fearing the family might observe him,
and charge him with breaking into the garden for improper purposes,
and so both religion and himself would be injured. At length he
ventured to knock at the door, and asked for the magistrate, to
whom he ingenuously stated the facts, and who most generously
protected and extended to him the hospitalities of his house for two
days.
One fact more must be told of this excellent man. He resolved to
visit a town to which had removed a number of soldiers who had
received benefit from his ministry. He was met, however, by some of
these pious men, who told him that the inhabitants were determined
to take his life. Edwards was not to be dissuaded from his purpose;
and on his arrival he immediately preached in the street, and
several distinguished persons, including the mayor of the town, came
to hear him, and by their influence prevented disturbance. After
the service, the mayor invited him to breakfast with several of
the principal inhabitants, and told him they were very glad he was
come--that the people were extremely dissolute in their manners, and
the clergy, both Protestants and Catholics, exceedingly remiss in
their duty, and they hoped the Methodists would succeed in reforming
the town. These gentlemen subscribed to the support of stated
preaching, and extensive and lasting good was done.
Amid Whitefield's innumerable engagements and declining health,
Bethesda and his beloved America could not be forgotten. While
he was at Glasgow during this summer of 1751, he was greatly
delighted to hear that Mr. Dinwiddie, brother-in-law to the Rev. Mr.
M'Culloch, of Cambuslang, was appointed governor of Virginia. The
gospel had been much opposed there, and he thought the appointment
now made would greatly tend to check persecution.
Whitefield, as it appears to us, now very suddenly determined on
another voyage to America. He arrived in London from Edinburgh in
the early part of August, with improved health, the country air
having healed his hemorrhage. He took a hasty leave of his friends,
and set sail for Georgia, in the Antelope, Captain M'Lellan, taking
several orphans with him. He arrived at Savannah Oct. 27, and had
the happiness of finding the orphan-house in a prosperous condition.
Here, however, he did not stay long; as in November we hear of
him in his usual labors, and with his usual ardor engaged in his
constant work of preaching. Having formerly suffered much from the
climate of America in the summer, he determined again to embark for
London, which he did in April. We can scarcely trace his object in
this journey to and from America, except in some designs of the
government to place Georgia on a new footing.
In June, 1752, Mr. Whitefield was found in the society of the
Countess of Huntingdon at Bath, where he continued about three
weeks, preaching every evening to great numbers of the nobility.
Here he became acquainted with Mrs. Grinfield, a lady who attended
on the person of Queen Caroline. "One of Cæsar's household,"
he writes, "hath been lately awakened, through her ladyship's
instrumentality, and I hope others will meet with the like
blessing." He afterwards visited her at the palace of St. James,
and says, "The court, I believe, rings of her, and if she stands, I
trust she will make a glorious martyr for her blessed Lord."
The Moravians, or United Brethren, were at one period on terms of
very cordial friendship with the Messrs. Wesley and Whitefield. At
the time of which we are writing, a series of strange absurdities,
resembling the adoration of saints and other superstitions of
popery, developed themselves among members of that body, at the head
of which then stood Count Zinzendorf, to whom Whitefield wrote an
urgent remonstrance on the subject. An open separation took place,
and Mrs. Grinfield, the Rev. John Cennick, and some others, adhered
to the count, while Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon endeavored to
bring him back to what they believed the simplicity of the gospel.
Lady Huntingdon, speaking of her final interview with him, says,
"Our conference was long, and as the count honored me with his
company for a few days, was resumed at intervals, always closing
with a solemn scriptural prayer to our great and glorious Head,
for the illuminating influences of his Spirit to guide us into all
truth. We parted with the utmost cordiality."
"Dear Mr. Whitefield's letter," says Lady Huntingdon, "has much
grieved the count. But his remonstrance is faithful, and the awful
exposures he has reluctantly been forced to make, may be productive
of the highest good in opening the eyes of many to the miserable
delusions under which they lie."
A correspondence, indeed we may say friendship, had for years
existed between Whitefield and the eminent philosopher Dr. Benjamin
Franklin. The following, from a letter of Whitefield, August 17,
1752, shows his fidelity to the eminent citizen and statesman:
"I find you grow more and more famous in the learned world. As
you have made a pretty considerable progress in the mysteries
of electricity, I would now humbly recommend to your diligent,
unprejudiced pursuit and study, the mystery of the new birth. It
is a most important, interesting study, and when mastered, will
richly answer and repay you for all your pains. One, at whose bar
we are shortly to appear, hath solemnly declared that, without it,
we cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. You will excuse this
freedom. I must have _aliquid Christi_--something of Christ, in
all my letters." This honest letter ought to have delighted the
philosopher in his closet, even more than the eulogium he heard
while standing behind the bar of the House of Lords, when Earl
Chatham said of him, "Franklin is one whom Europe holds in high
estimation for his knowledge and wisdom; one who is an honor, not to
the English nation only, but to human nature."
In the course of the summer of 1752, and the following one,
Whitefield visited Scotland twice, and preached much also throughout
England and Wales. As usual, he greatly rejoiced in the presence
and service of God, and never appears to have been more happy than
in this period of his life. "Since I left Newcastle," he writes, "I
have scarcely known sometimes whether I have been in heaven or on
earth. Thousands and thousands flock twice or thrice a day to hear
the word of life. God favors us with weather, and I would fain make
hay while the sun shines. Oh that I had as many tongues as there are
hairs in my head. The ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus should have
them all. Fain would I die preaching."
About this period also, Mr. Hervey and he were employed in revising
each other's manuscripts; the former was then preparing his "Theron
and Aspasio," a work which, though florid in its style, has been
eminently useful in conducting many of its readers to a saving
knowledge of the doctrines of the gospel. Of his friend's writings
Mr. Whitefield says, "For me to play the critic on them, would be
like holding up a candle to the sun. However, I will just mark a
few places, as you desire. I foretell their fate; nothing but your
scenery can screen you. Self will never bear to die, though slain
in so genteel a manner, without showing some resentment against its
artful murderer.... I thank you a thousand times for the trouble you
have been at in revising my poor compositions, which I am afraid you
have not treated with a becoming severity. How many pardons shall I
ask for mangling, and, I fear, murdering your 'Theron and Aspasio?'
If you think my two sermons will do for the public, pray return them
immediately. I have nothing to comfort me but this, that the Lord
chooses the weak things of this world to confound the strong, and
things that are not, to bring to naught things that are. I write for
the poor; you for the polite and noble. God will assuredly own and
bless what you write."
Whitefield was now also very busy in erecting his second London
Tabernacle, which he dedicated, June 10, 1753. We have, for the sake
of completing the narrative of its first building, already given in
our third chapter a statement of the second tabernacle, to which the
reader is referred.
Both the judgment and inclination of Mr. Whitefield concurred to
induce him to persevere in his itinerant course, correctly judging
that in this way he best employed his peculiar talents. After
preaching, therefore, with his usual fervor and success for a short
time in his newly erected Tabernacle, he again set out towards
Scotland, where he spent some days at Edinburgh and Glasgow, and
preached generally twice, sometimes three times a day, and once five
times. He says, "Attention sat upon all faces, and friends came
round like bees, importuning me to stay another week." This he found
too much for his strength, but still went forward, often expressing
his desire to serve his divine Master to the utmost limit of his
power, and his hopes to be with him soon in heaven. During this
journey, including his return to London, where he arrived the latter
end of September, he travelled about twelve hundred miles, and
preached one hundred and eighty times, to many thousands of hearers.
As converts increased in Bristol and its neighborhood, Mr.
Whitefield felt compelled to erect there also a "tabernacle." Lady
Huntingdon was one of the earliest contributors to this important
object, and through her influence Lord Chesterfield gave twenty
pounds to it. He had no taste for religion, but he well understood
oratory, and in his letter to Lady Huntingdon covering his
remittance, he said, "Mr. Whitefield's eloquence is unrivalled, his
zeal inexhaustible." The Earl of Bath sent fifty pounds, saying,
"Mocked and reviled as Mr. Whitefield is by all ranks of society,
still, I contend that the day will come when England will be just,
and own his greatness as a reformer, and his goodness as a minister
of the most high God."
The Tabernacle at Bristol was dedicated November 25, 1753, with a
sermon from Whitefield. Its history is one of deep interest. Its
early ministers were worthy of any age, but remarkably fitted for
that in which their lot was cast; men of pith and power, undismayed
at dangers, braving all kinds of difficulty and toil, and prepared
equally for labor and sufferings in the cause of their great Master.
Nor have later ministers dishonored their predecessors; the cause
still flourishes, and the hallowed house has been the birthplace of
many eminent Christians. What Whitefield then said of this house
might often be said of it now: "It is large, but not half large
enough; for if the place could contain them, nearly as many would
attend as in London." He always delighted in his visits to this
place, and laid here a foundation for vast benefits, even to the
present day. On one of his visits to preach here, he began a series
of sermons on the evening before the commencement of the fair. His
text was, "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and
he that hath no money, come ye, buy and eat; yea, come buy wine and
milk without money, and without price." Isa. 55:1. The congregation
was large, and thus he began: "My dear hearers, I fear that many of
you are come to attend Bristol fair. So am I. You do not mean to
show your goods until to-morrow; but I shall exhibit mine to-night.
You are afraid purchasers will not come up to your price; but I am
afraid my buyers will not come down to mine; for mine," striking his
hand on the Bible, "are 'without money, and without price.'"
After the dedication of this Bristol Tabernacle, Whitefield preached
in the open air in various parts of Somersetshire, at seven o'clock
at night. "My hands and body," says he, "were pierced with cold; but
what are outward things, when the soul is warmed with the love of
God? The stars shone with exceeding brightness; by an eye of faith
I saw Him who 'calleth them all by their names.' My soul was filled
with a holy ambition, and I longed to be one of those who 'shall
shine as the stars for ever and ever.'"
At this time he had a fine opportunity to show his Christian
attachment to his old friends. Mr. John Wesley had, by a series
of extraordinary labors, brought his life into great danger, and
Whitefield, hearing of this while at Bristol, wrote a sympathizing
letter to his brother Charles, in which he prays for the descending
garment of Elijah to rest on the surviving Elisha, and encloses
an ardent and solemn farewell to the invalid, who was supposed
to be dying. He says, "The news and prospect of your approaching
dissolution have quite weighed me down. I pity myself and the
church, but not you. A radiant throne awaits you, and ere long you
will enter into your Master's joy. Yonder he stands with a massy
crown, ready to put it on your head, amidst an admiring throng of
saints and angels. But I, poor I, that have been waiting for my
dissolution these nineteen years, must be left behind to grovel here
below. Well, this is my comfort, it cannot be long ere the chariots
will be sent even for worthless me. If prayers can detain you, even
you, reverend and very dear sir, shall not leave us yet. But if the
decree is gone forth that you must now sleep in Jesus, may he kiss
your soul away, and give you to die in the embraces of triumphant
love. If in the land of the living, I hope to pay my best respects
to you next week. If not, reverend and dear sir, farewell." He had
soon the satisfaction of witnessing the recovery of his friend, who
was to survive him more than twenty years.
We have already intimated that Whitefield used his influence in
Scotland in favor of the New Jersey college, located at Princeton.
In accordance with his advice, the friends of the college in this
country sent over the Rev. Samuel Davies, afterwards president of
the college, and the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, to promote its interests
in the British islands. A few extracts from the manuscript diary of
Davies, with the use of which we have been favored for this volume,
will show the readiness of Whitefield to labor, or to "be nothing,"
so that the cause of Christ might be advanced. The deputation
arrived in England in the closing month of 1753, and thus writes
Davies:
"Wednesday, December 26. Mr. Whitefield having sent us an invitation
last night to make his house our home during our stay here, we
were perplexed what to do, lest we should blast the success of our
mission among the dissenters, who are generally disaffected to him.
We at length concluded, with the advice of our friends and his, that
a public intercourse with him would be imprudent, in our present
situation, and visited him privately this evening; and the kind
reception he gave us revived dear Mr. Tennent. He spoke in the most
encouraging manner as to the success of our mission. And in all
his conversation discovered so much zeal and candor, that I could
not but admire the man as the wonder of the age. When we returned,
Mr. Tennent's heart was all on fire, and after we had gone to bed,
he suggested that we should watch and pray; and we rose and prayed
together till about three o'clock in the morning.
"Jan. 1. Went in the evening to hear Mr. Whitefield in the
Tabernacle, a large, spacious building. The assembly was very
numerous, though not equal to what is common. He preached on the
parable of the barren fig-tree; and though the discourse was
incoherent, yet it seemed to me better calculated to do good to
mankind than all the accurate, languid discourses I ever heard.
After sermon I enjoyed his pleasing conversation at his house."
It would seem that Messrs. Davies and Tennent had their trials, as
well as their encouragements. Writing Jan. 14, Mr. Davies says,
"Spent an hour with Mr. Whitefield. He thinks we have not taken
the best method in endeavoring to keep in with all parties, but
should 'come out boldly,' as he expressed it, which would secure the
affections of the pious people, from whom we might expect the most
generous contributions." On the evening after this, they dined with
Whitefield at the house of a common friend, and he rejoiced in the
abundant success they afterwards met with from nearly all parties.
"Jan. 25. Dined with Mr. Bradbury, who has been in the ministry
about fifty-seven years. He read us some letters which passed
between Mr. Whitefield and him, _anno_ 1741; occasioned by Mr.
Whitefield's reproving him in a letter for singing a song in a
tavern, in a large company, in praise of old English beef. The old
gentleman sung it to us, and we found it was partly composed by
himself, in the high-flying days of Queen Anne. He is a man of a
singular turn, which would be offensive to the greatest number of
serious people; but for my part I could say,
'I knew 'twas his peculiar whim,
Nor took it ill, as't came from him.'"
In March, 1754, Whitefield, in company with twenty-two poor
destitute children, sailed the fifth time for America.