FIFTH VISIT TO AMERICA--RENEWED LABORS IN GREAT
BRITAIN--TOTTENHAM-COURT-ROAD CHAPEL.
1754-1763.
On this voyage to America, Whitefield sailed for South Carolina by
way of Lisbon. His health demanded repose; he thought that seeing
Popery as it is when unrestrained by public opinion, might be of use
to him in his future labors; and moreover, he had with him a number
of orphans whom he wished comfortably to settle at Bethesda before
he visited the northern provinces. It would be pleasant, if our
limits would allow it, to furnish the letters he wrote from Lisbon
during nearly four weeks, but a few sentences must suffice: "This
leaves me an inhabitant of Lisbon. We have now been here almost
a week, and I suppose shall stay a fortnight longer. A reputable
merchant has received me into his house, and every day shows me the
ecclesiastical curiosities of the country. O, my dear friend, bless
the Lord of all lords, for causing your lot to be cast in such a
fair ground as England, and giving you such a goodly heritage. It
is impossible to be sufficiently thankful for civil and religious
liberty, for simplicity of worship, and powerful preaching of the
word of God. O for simplicity of manners, and a correspondent
behavior. The air agrees with my poor constitution extremely well.
Through divine assistance; I hope what I see will also improve
my better part, and help to qualify me better for preaching the
everlasting gospel."
In another letter he writes, "Never did civil and religious liberty
appear to me in so amiable a light as now. What a spirit must Martin
Luther and the first reformers be endued with, that dared to appear
as they did for God. Lord, hasten that blessed time when others,
excited by the same spirit, shall perform like wonders. Oh, happy
England! Oh, happy Methodists, who are Methodists indeed! And all I
account such, who, being dead to sects and parties, aim at nothing
else but as holy a method of living to, and dying in the blessed
Jesus."
He was heartily glad to get away from Popish processions and
superstitious rites, and again to visit his "dear America."
Our evangelist arrived with his orphans at Beaufort, in South
Carolina, May 27, 1754, greatly improved in health, with a heart
burning with love and zeal for his Lord and Master. He says, with
his usual energy, "Oh that I may at length learn to begin to live.
I am ashamed of my sloth and lukewarmness, and long to be on the
stretch for God." His family now consisted, "black and white," of
one hundred and six members, all dependent on his personal efforts
and influence. He regarded his charge as a stewardship for God, and
collected accordingly, nothing doubting. It was now summer, and
besides the oppressive heat, "great thunders, violent lightnings,
and heavy rains" frequently beat upon him as he journeyed from
place to place. His health improved, and his spirits rose as he
advanced on his journey. At Charleston, and elsewhere, his labors
were received with the same degree of acceptance as formerly, and
he was much encouraged by the conversion of a clergyman, a faithful
successor to Mr. Smith of the city just named, and the first student
sent forth from Bethesda.
He arrived at New York, by water, July 27, and divided his labors
between that city and Philadelphia almost entirely for nearly two
months. In the latter city, he tells us, he was seized with violent
_cholera morbus_, and brought to the gates of death. To use his own
words, he "had all his cables out, ready to cast anchor within the
port of eternity;" but he was soon "at sea again," although only
able to preach once a day for some time. "Everywhere," he says, "a
divine power accompanied the word, prejudices were removed, and a
more effectual door opened than ever for preaching the gospel." When
he looked at "the glorious range for hunting in the American woods,"
he was at a loss on which hand to turn.... "Affection, intense
affection cries aloud, Away to New England, _dear_ New England,
immediately. Providence, and the circumstances of the southern
provinces, point directly to Virginia."
While thus undecided, he visited his old friend Governor Belcher,
then governor of New Jersey, and residing at Elizabeth town. He
found the good old man ripening for heaven, willing to depart and to
be with Christ. At this time the commencement of New Jersey college
was held, and as a mark of their respect, the president and trustees
conferred on him the honorary degree of master of arts. The meeting
of the synod immediately followed, respecting which body he says,
"I was much refreshed with the company of the whole synod; such a
number of simple-hearted, united ministers I never saw before. I
preached to them several times, and the great Master of assemblies
was in the midst of us."
Influenced by what he saw and heard in New Jersey, Whitefield
determined to go to New England, and to return from thence by
Virginia to Georgia, and made his arrangements accordingly; it would
comprise a circuit of more than two thousand miles, but he said,
"The Redeemer's strength will be more than sufficient."
It has been thought that it was during this visit of Whitefield
to New Jersey, and probably at the table of Governor Belcher,
that he dined in company with a number of ministers, and held the
often-reported conversation with "Father Tennent." After dinner,
Mr. Whitefield adverted to the difficulties attending the Christian
ministry; lamented that all their zeal availed but little; said that
he was weary with the burden of the day; and declared his great
comfort in the thought, that in a short time his work would be done,
when he should depart and be with Christ. He then appealed to the
ministers, if it was not their great comfort that they should soon
go to rest. They generally assented, except Mr. Tennent, who sat
next to Mr. Whitefield in silence, and by his countenance indicated
but little pleasure in the conversation.
Seeing this, Mr. Whitefield, gently tapping him on the knee, said,
"Well, brother Tennent, you are the oldest man among us; do you not
rejoice to think that your time is so near at hand, when you will
be called home?" Mr. Tennent bluntly answered, "I have no wish about
it." Mr. Whitefield pressed him again. Mr. Tennent again answered,
"No, sir, it is no pleasure to me at all; and if you knew your
duty, it would be none to you. I have nothing to do with death; my
business is to live as long as I can, as well as I can, until He
shall think proper to call me home." Mr. Whitefield still urged for
an explicit answer to his question, in case the time of death were
left to his own choice. Mr. Tennent replied, "I have no choice about
it; I am God's servant, and have engaged to do his business as long
as he pleases to continue me therein. But now, brother, let me ask
you a question. What do you think I should say, if I was to send my
servant into the field to plough; and if at noon I should go to the
field, and find him lounging under a tree, and complaining, 'Master,
the sun is very hot, and the ploughing hard; I am weary of the work
you have appointed me, and am overdone with the heat and burden of
the day. Do, master, let me return home, and be discharged from this
hard service?' What should I say? Why, that he was a lazy fellow,
and that it was his business to do the work that I had appointed
him, until I should think fit to call him home."
Accompanied by President Burr, Whitefield set out, October 1, for
Boston, and arrived there on the 9th. Here he stayed a week, and
saw there, morning after morning, three or four thousand people
hanging in breathless silence on his lips, and weeping silent tears.
Whitefield himself calls it "a lovely scene," and says he "never
saw a more effectual door opened for the gospel. Sinners have been
awakened, saints quickened, and enemies made at peace with me.
Grace, grace! Surely my coming here was of God. Convictions _do_
fasten, and many souls are comforted." Such were the crowds at the
early sermons, that in order to reach the pulpit, he had to get
in at the windows of the churches. In a letter to the Countess of
Huntingdon, he wrote, "In Boston, the tide ran full as high as ever
your ladyship knew it at Edinburgh, or in any part of Scotland."
While at Boston, Whitefield heard with much pleasure of the
appointment of his friend Habersham as secretary to the new governor
of Georgia, and wrote to him, "I wish you joy of your new honor.
May the King of kings enable you to discharge your trust as becomes
a good patriot, subject, and Christian. You have now a call, I
think, to retire from business, and to give up your time to the
public." Our evangelist travelled north as far as Portsmouth, in
New Hampshire, generally preaching two or three times a day, till
November 7, when he took his farewell at Boston, at four o'clock in
the morning. Speaking of this journey, he says, "What have I seen?
Dagon falling everywhere before the ark; enemies silenced, or made
to own the finger of God; and the friends of Jesus triumphing in
his glorious conquests. A hundredth part cannot be told. We had
scarcely one dry meeting." When he arrived in the neighborhood of
Portsmouth, the northern boundary of his journey, he was overwhelmed
with humility as well as joy, by the large cavalcade which came out
to meet and welcome him. He says of them, "They were too many;" and
of this northern journey, "It seems to me the most important one I
was ever engaged in."
Of no portion of Whitefield's life are we so ignorant as of the
journey he now made from New England to the South. Journal, letters,
historians, and newspapers alike fail us. Gillies tells us only that
from Boston he "proceeded to Rhode Island, and went onward through
Maryland and Virginia, with a prospect so pleasing, that he lamented
he had not come sooner. The whole country seemed eager to hear the
gospel, many coming forty or fifty miles, and a spirit of conviction
and consolation appeared in every congregation. Prejudices seemed
to have fled; churches were opened to him; high and low, rich and
poor, now seemed to think favorably of his ministrations; and
many acknowledged what God had done for their souls through his
preaching, when he was there before." It scarcely appears probable
that he went from Rhode Island to Maryland by water; but if he
did not, he must have passed through New York, New Jersey, and
Philadelphia, and we feel somewhat of surprise that no records of
the journey appear to have been preserved.
Dr. Franklin relates a very characteristic anecdote of Mr.
Whitefield, which probably occurred in Philadelphia or its
neighborhood at a period not later than this. "The eloquent orator"
was preaching in an open field, when a drummer was present, who
was determined to interrupt the preacher, and rudely beat his drum
in a violent manner, in order to drown his voice. Whitefield spoke
very loud, but could not make so much noise as the instrument.
He therefore called out to the drummer, "Friend, you and I serve
the two greatest masters existing, but in different callings. You
beat up for volunteers for King George, I for the Lord Jesus: in
God's name, then, let us not interrupt each other; the world is
wide enough for both, and we may get recruits in abundance." This
speech had such an effect on the drummer, that he went away in great
good-humor, and left the preacher in full possession of the field.
Virginia, alike from the success of his former labors there, and
from the general characteristics of the people, must have presented
a scene of intense interest to Whitefield at this time. Everywhere
great preparations were made for his coming, and large congregations
assembled to hear him. It is said, that on one occasion, as he was
speaking on the banks of one of the rivers of this noble province,
and spoke of the strength of human depravity, and the insufficiency
of the means of grace to convert the sinner without the influence
of the Holy Spirit: "Sinners," said he, "think not that I expect to
convert a single soul of you by any thing that I can say, without
the assistance of Him who is 'mighty to save.' Go and stand by that
river, as it moves on its strong and deep current to the ocean, and
bid it stop, and see if it will obey you. Just as soon should I
expect to stop that river by a word, as by my preaching to stop that
current of sin which is carrying you to perdition. Father in heaven,
see! they are hurried on towards hell; save them, or they perish!"
The impression which this address produced on his hearers was so
strong, that they were ready to respond with trembling, "Save,
Lord; we perish!"
Whitefield must have been highly gratified on reaching Charleston,
in attending the ordination of the young minister there, his first
student from Bethesda, of whom we have already spoken as succeeding
Mr. Smith; and not less would he rejoice that one of the actors
at the Charleston theatre had been "snatched as a brand from the
burning."
Though we have not the exact date of his arrival at Savannah, we
know that he remained there but a very short time. His health
again declined, his former vomitings returned with violence, and
his animal spirits failed with his strength. In February, 1755, we
again find him at Charleston; and in the latter end of March, he
embarked for England, arriving, after a comparatively short voyage,
at Newhaven, in Sussex, May the eighth.
Two strong impressions were made on the mind of Whitefield as he now
looked on his native land. The first was that of grief on account of
its condition. Nothing less than war with France was daily expected,
for the French threatened to invade Britain, and were constantly
making encroachments on her American colonies. "At this time," he
says, "next to Jesus Christ, my king and my country were upon my
heart, I hope I shall always think it my duty, next to inviting
sinners to the blessed Jesus, to exhort my hearers to resist the
first approaches of popish tyranny and arbitrary power. O that we
may be enabled to watch and pray against all the opposition of
antichrist in our own hearts; for, after all, there lies the most
dangerous man of sin." His second feeling was one of holy joy; for
during his absence the preaching of the gospel had been abundantly
successful. He writes, "Glory be to the great Head of the church!
The poor despised Methodists are as lively as ever; and in several
churches the gospel is now preached with power. Many in Oxford are
awakened to the knowledge of the truth; and I have heard almost
every week of some fresh minister or another, who seems 'determined
to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.'"
At the Tabernacle in London, as might be expected, Whitefield
enjoyed what he terms "golden seasons;" but by this time not a few
of the London clergy had begun to preach Christ with holy fidelity;
and as this was the principal thing he desired, he says his "call to
go abroad was still more clear." Indeed, so little did he now esteem
London as a sphere of labor, and so much did he regard places by the
amount of their destitution, that he wished at once to return to
America, without ranging through England or Scotland. Hence he says,
"Methinks I could set out for America to-morrow, though I have not
yet entered upon my country range."
But if he loved America most, England loved herself more, and he
was drawn again into Gloucestershire and Bristol. He went also, at
the request of Lady Huntingdon, to dedicate the new Tabernacle at
Norwich, to which we have already referred. At this last place,
he says, August 30, 1755, "Notwithstanding offences have come,
there has been a glorious work begun, and is now carrying on. The
polite and great seem to hear with much attention; and I scarcely
ever preached a week together with greater freedom." For a long
period the work of God abundantly prospered in connection with this
"Tabernacle." Two years after its dedication, the Hon. and Rev.
Walter Shirley preached some time in it, and had eight hundred
communicants in fellowship, and he said of them, "Their experience,
lives, and conversation are so excellent, that there is nothing like
it in the whole kingdom."
On Whitefield's return to London, there were those who urgently
entreated him to engage in a new controversy with the Messrs.
Wesley, some of whose followers had been jealous of his success at
Norwich. He declined, with his common remark, "I have no time for
controversy," and reserved what he had to say till he could see them
"face to face," simply writing to assure them that he had no party
designs on foot.
Very soon after this, he set out for his northern circuit; and
wonderfully indeed did the Lord grant him success. One thing,
however, on this journey grieved him. His friends at Leeds, without
his knowledge, had built a large church edifice. He saw at once,
that this circumstance would create an "awful separation among
the societies" formed by the Messrs. Wesley and his own friends;
and lost no time in writing to those ministers, that they might
endeavor to prevent a breach. Both the plan and the spirit of this
undertaking so grieved him, that he exclaimed, "Oh this self-love,
this self-will, is the _devil of devils_." This he wrote to Lady
Huntingdon, a proof that party was not their object; and it is
pleasant to add, that Whitefield's fears were groundless. Leeds,
even then, contained population sufficient to fill both houses,
and the whole movement "fell out rather to the furtherance of the
gospel." During two months he preached twice, and some days three
times, to greater numbers than ever before, inviting them to Christ,
and "exhorting them to pray for King George, and the dear friends
in America." He heard at this time, that the American ladies were
making the soldiers' coats; and he immediately wrote to urge his own
female friends in the new world to be "some of the most active in
this labor of love."
Though Mr. Whitefield stood very high in the esteem of that class
of ministers who embraced his views of evangelical truth, and who
approved the plans he pursued for the evangelization of the world,
they never considered him perfect, nor were some of them backward,
when they deemed it needful, to reprove him. In a sermon he once
preached in Haworth church, Yorkshire, of which his friend Grimshaw
was the minister, having spoken severely of those professors of the
gospel who, by their loose and evil conduct, caused the ways of
truth to be evil spoken of, he intimated his hope, that it was not
necessary to enlarge much on that topic to the congregation before
him, who had so long enjoyed the labors of an able and faithful
preacher; and he was willing to believe that their profiting
appeared to all men. This latter expression roused Mr. Grimshaw's
spirit, and notwithstanding his great regard for the preacher, he
stood up and interrupted him, saying, with a loud voice, "O sir,
for God's sake, do not speak so; I pray you, do not flatter. I fear
the greater part of them are going to hell with their eyes open."
Notwithstanding the astonishing labors of Whitefield on this
tour, he returned to London apparently in full flesh, and was
congratulated by his friends on his improved appearance. Alas, all
this, as he well knew, was disease, which indeed very soon became
apparent. He was seized with inflammatory sore throat, that was
followed by quinsy, assuming an almost fatal aspect. One physician
prescribed silence and warmth, and the preacher "promised to be
very obedient," but a few days afterwards, another recommended a
perpetual blister: this proposal roused him, and he determined to
try his own remedy--perpetual preaching. The remedy itself was
painful, but he said, "When this grand catholicon fails, it is
all over with me." At this time the sad news of the earthquake at
Lisbon arrived in London; he was unable to preach on the subject,
but when told of it he said, "Blessed be God, I am ready; I know
that my Redeemer liveth. Oh that all in Portugal had known this!
Then an earthquake would only be a _rumbling_ chariot to carry the
soul to God. Poor Lisbon, how soon are thy riches and superstitious
pageantry swallowed up!"
In the winter of 1755-6, he was applied to to preach in the vicinity
of the two great theatres, which he began to do in Long Acre chapel.
Disturbances took place, and the Bishop of London interposed to stop
him. In the end he erected Tottenham Court-road chapel, as already
detailed in our third chapter.
Mr. Whitefield's ministry in London at this time was still
successful. Thousands hung on his lips with delight, not a few of
whom were won to the service of Christ. He tells us, among many
similar facts, of the conversion of a Mr. Crane, who was afterwards
appointed steward of the orphan-house in Georgia. This gentleman
had one evening determined to visit the theatre, and set out
for Drury-lane; that house being crowded, he resolved to go to
Covent-garden; that also being so full that he could not obtain
admittance, he changed his plan, and resolved on being entertained
with one of Whitefield's sermons, and hastened to Tottenham
Court-road chapel. It pleased God to impress the word on his heart,
and he became an eminent Christian. So truly is the prediction
verified, "I am found of them who sought me not."
During this year he published "A Short Address to Persons of all
Denominations, occasioned by an Alarm of an intended Invasion."
We have examined it, and not without pleasure. It is a faithful
exposure of Popery and its bitter fruits.
It is a charge often preferred against the faithful ministers of
Christ, by those whose consciences testify to their own guilt,
that they are _personal_ in their remarks, and mean to censure
particular individuals. It is certain that this was often done by
Mr. Whitefield, and sometimes with very happy effect. He once drew,
from the conduct of his female servant, the picture of a Christian
failing in his duty, which painfully distressed her, till he gave
her an assurance of his entire forgiveness.
Nor was this the only time when his hearers were compelled to
feel, "he means _me_." The celebrated comedian, Shuter, had a great
personal regard for Mr. Whitefield, and not unfrequently attended
his ministry. At one period of his popularity he was acting in
a drama under the character of _Ramble_. During the run of the
performance, he attended service at Tottenham Court chapel, and was
seated in a pew exactly opposite the pulpit. Mr. Whitefield on that
occasion gave full vent to his feelings, and in his own energetic
manner invited sinners to the Saviour. While doing this, fixing his
eye full on Shuter, he added, "And thou, poor _Ramble_, who hast
long rambled from him, come also. Oh, end your rambling by coming
to Jesus." Shuter was exceedingly struck, and going afterwards to
Whitefield, he said, "I thought I should have fainted; how could you
serve me so?"
In the early part of 1756, Whitefield was engaged in London,
preaching and collecting for the poor not only at Bethesda, but
also for the French Protestants. At the Tabernacle, a man came up
to him in the pulpit, threatening his life, and handing him three
anonymous letters denouncing sudden and certain death, unless he
ceased to preach and to pursue the offenders by law. One of these
letters Whitefield sent to the government, who at once offered a
reward, and his majesty's pardon, to any one who would discover
the writer. While this fact gratified, it also embarrassed him. He
wrote to Lady Huntingdon, "My greatest distress is to act so as to
avoid rashness on the one hand, and timidity on the other." For his
own sake, he would not have cared about the matter; but looking at
it as connected with the cause of civil and religious freedom, he
wisely allowed the law to take its course at the hazard of his own
life by assassination. Agreeably with the advice of the government,
he carried the whole affair into the court of the King's Bench; this
alarmed the offenders, and the annoyance ceased.
We next find him at Bristol, but not to rest, though the labors
and anxieties of the winter and spring had nearly worn out his
strength and spirits. Here he preached as usual, and then returned
to London. During this journey he preached in several places
in Gloucestershire, his native county, and in Bradford, Frome,
Warminster, and Portsmouth, spending about three months in the tour.
In the county which gave Whitefield birth, is still to be seen
a chair on which he often sat, and on which may be yet read the
following lines:
"If love of souls should e'er be wanting here,
Remember me, for I am Whitefield's chair;
I bore his weight, was witness to his fears,
His earnest prayers, his interesting tears.
His holy soul was fired with love divine:
If thine be such, sit down and call me _thine_."
A very few weeks passed, and we find him in Kent. In a letter
written July 27, after his visit to that county, he says, "The
gospel flourishes in London. I am just returned from preaching at
Sheerness, Chatham, and in the camp." On the next day he set off
towards Scotland. On August 14, he writes from Sunderland, "How
swiftly doth my precious time pass away! It is now a fortnight since
I came to Leeds, in and about which I preached eight days, thrice
almost every day, to thronged and affected auditories. On Sunday
last at Bradford, in the morning, the auditory consisted of about
ten thousand; at noon and in the evening, at Birstal, to nearly
double the number. Though hoarse, I was helped to speak so that all
heard. Next morning I took a sorrowful leave of Leeds, preached at
Doncaster at noon, and at York the same night. On Wednesday, at
Warstall, about fifty miles off; on Thursday, twice at Yarm; and
last night and this morning, here." Wherever he labored, he heard
of the good effects of his preaching in those places last year, and
was constantly finding "many trophies of redeeming love." Such was
the effect of the two sermons he preached at Birstal, that "several
hundreds rode eight miles with him in the evening, singing and
praising God."
In a day or two after this, we find him at Edinburgh and Glasgow,
preaching, as usual, to vast crowds, and with his accustomed
success. At the former places especially, even politicians gave him
a cordial welcome, and thronged to hear him, while the newspapers
applauded him for his spirit-stirring exposures of "Popish
tyranny and arbitrary power." He preached twice every day in the
Orphan-hospital park, and blended with almost every sermon rousing
appeals to the Protestantism, courage, and loyalty of the Scotch.
At the close of one of his sermons he pleaded the cause of the poor
Highlanders, and collected at its close about three hundred dollars.
On his way back to London, Whitefield held a peculiarly solemn
and refreshing meeting with his friends at Leeds; and after it,
he braced his nerves by a tour of _mountain preaching_ in company
with his friend Grimshaw. But it was now late in October, and
as he found "these cold countries bringing on his last year's
disorder," and having, as he significantly says, "grown very
prudent," he returned to London, and dedicated Tottenham Court-road
church edifice. Another errand also had taken him to that city.
The new governor of Georgia had sent for him, to consult with him
before sailing to that colony. Whitefield met him, and was so much
delighted with him, that he wrote off to Bethesda to prepare them
for a _state_ visit. He says, "Waited upon his excellency, and gave
him, and all whom he pleases to bring, an invitation to Bethesda.
Dear Mrs. C---- will make proper provision." He went even farther,
and proposed that the governor, if possible, should be received at
Bethesda with military honors.
The success of his new house of worship in Tottenham Court-road
showed the necessity and propriety of its erection on that spot.
Several persons of distinction came, and engaged permanent seats;
and the place was often so crowded, that hundreds were unable to
obtain admission. It was now usual with him to preach about fifteen
times every week, which, with a weak appetite, want of rest, and
much care upon his mind, greatly enfeebled him. He writes, "But the
joy of the Lord is my strength; and my greatest grief is, that I can
do no more for Him who hath done and suffered so much for me."
In the following year, 1757, Whitefield planned another journey to
Scotland, at the time the general assembly of the church was held.
Before leaving London, he had placed the affairs of his projected
college in the hands of Lord Halifax, and he now seems to have
hoped that this journey to Scotland would have promoted that object,
as well as others. It is said, that about a hundred ministers at a
time attended his sermons, thirty of whom invited him to a public
entertainment. Lord Cathcart, his majesty's commissioner to the
assembly, also invited him to his own table. Whitefield says that he
preached "just fifty times" on this visit, which extended to about a
month.
From Scotland he went, in June, as we have seen, to Ireland, and
enjoyed, in the midst of no small persecution, much preaching, and
much success. On his return to London, he found that the governor
of Georgia had visited Bethesda, and promised to communicate
his sentiments to Lord Halifax, "concerning its being enlarged
into a college;" but the pressure of public affairs hindered his
application to the government. Bad news arrived from America, "about
the fleet," and therefore Whitefield kept a fast-day at his houses
of worship.
The health of our evangelist now sadly failed. He was brought to
live on the "short allowance of preaching but once a day, and thrice
on the Sunday;" very "short allowance" for _him_. Once, however, he
broke through the restraint, and preached three times on the success
of the king of Prussia; which, he says, "somewhat _recovered_" him,
after he had been for a week at the gates of the grave. He was not
able this winter to attempt what he considered great things; but
Tottenham Court was his _Bethel_, as he called it. This house was
then surrounded by a beautiful piece of ground, and he formed the
plan of building on it an almshouse for "twelve godly widows,"
as a "standing monument that the Methodists were not against good
works." This charity he soon carried into effect. His thoughts,
however, were not confined to home. Although broken down in health
and spirits, by weakness and want of rest, he watched the affairs of
Prussia with intense interest, and assured the German Protestants,
through Professor Francke, that "we looked on their distresses as
our own."
In the spring of 1758, he laid the foundation-stone of his
almshouse, and in June of the same year began to select its inmates.
Pointing to these houses, some years afterwards, he said to a
gentleman who was visiting him, "Those are my redoubts. The prayers
of the poor women who reside in them, protect me in my house."
Having arranged for the supply of his London pulpits, Whitefield
went into the west of England, and proceeded from thence into Wales.
But his health was so feeble, that he could not bear to drive, nor
even ride in a one-horse chaise. The roads were rough, and riding
shook him nearly to pieces. "Every thing," he says, "wearies this
shattered bark now." A friend purchased for him a close chaise,
advancing the money until he could conveniently repay it. He
deeply felt this kindness, because by no other means could he have
itinerated. "I would not," he says, "lay out a single farthing but
for my blessed Master; but it is inconceivable what I have undergone
these three weeks. _I never was so before._ O for a _hearse_ to
carry my weary carcass to the wished for grave." During all this
tour he was unable to sit up in company even once; yet he often
preached to ten or fifteen thousand people, and made their "tears
flow like water from the rock." His views of himself at this time
were more than usually humble. He said to Lady Huntingdon, "Oh, I
am sick--sick in body, but infinitely more so in mind, to see so
much dross in my soul. Blessed be God, there is One who will sit as
a refiner's fire, to purify the sons of Levi. I write out of the
burning bush. Christ is there; Christ is there!"
Among the many illustrations of Scripture which Whitefield often
introduced into his sermons, one is truly worthy of record.
Preaching from the words, "Wherefore, glorify ye the Lord in the
fires," Isa. 24:15, he says, "When I was, some years ago, at
Shields, I went into a glass-house, and standing very attentively,
I saw several masses of burning glass of various forms. The workman
took one piece of glass, and put it into one furnace, then he put
it into a second, and then into a third. I asked him, 'Why do you
put that into so many fires?' He answered me, 'Oh, sir, the first
was not hot enough, nor the second, and therefore we put it into the
third, and that will make it transparent.' 'Oh,' thought I, 'does
this man put this glass into one furnace after another, that it
may be rendered perfect? Oh, my God, put me into one furnace after
another, that my soul may be transparent, that I may see God as he
is.'"
In the month of July, Whitefield again set out for Scotland,
preaching on his way in many pulpits, including "Bishop Bunyan's,"
as he used to call him, at Bedford, Berridge's at Everton, and
Doddridge's at Northampton. Four Episcopal clergymen lent him their
pulpits. His health received, for some time, little benefit, so that
he sometimes feared he must return. But he adds, "Through divine
strength, I hope to go forward; and shall strive, as much as in me
lies, to die in this glorious work." He preached and collected in
Scotland with his accustomed energy and success, and returned to
London with his health somewhat renovated. This year he lost by
death some of his earliest and warmest friends, including Hervey in
England, and Presidents Burr and Edwards, and Governor Belcher, in
America. Such removals gave him also "a desire to depart," but his
work on earth was not yet done.
Three principal facts connected with our evangelist may be said to
mark the year 1759. One was, that he had the satisfaction to clear
off all his debts for the orphan-house. "Bethesda's God," he writes,
"lives for ever, and is faithful and all-sufficient." He longed
again to visit America, but several difficulties intervened for the
present.
A second event which marked the year, was another journey to
Scotland. He complains in his letters, that though his congregations
at Edinburgh and Glasgow were never more numerous and attentive,
yet, with respect to the power of religion, it was a dead time in
Scotland, in comparison with London and several other parts of
England. His presence in Scotland, however, at this time was very
important, especially in collecting for his orphan-house and the
Highland Society for the support of children. Many Scottish soldiers
were now in America, which greatly increased the interest felt in
every thing relating to it.
In this year, 1759, Mr. Whitefield also for the first time
visited Brighthelmstone, now called Brighton, a very fashionable
watering-place, where George IV. afterwards, while regent, built a
tawdry tasteless palace. The preacher's first sermon was delivered
under a tree in a field behind the White Lion inn. Among his
congregation on that day was a young man named Tuppen, about
eighteen years of age. He had been educated by a pious mother in
the strict observance of the external parts of religion, but was
entirely destitute of its power. He attended not so much from
curiosity, as from the intention to insult and interrupt the
preacher. He tells us, "I had therefore provided myself with stones
in my pocket, if opportunity offered, to pelt the preacher; but
I had not heard long, before the stone was taken out of my heart
of flesh; and then the other stones, with shame and weeping, were
dropped one by one out upon the ground." The words, "Turn ye, turn
ye," became the means of turning him from sin to God. Mr. Tuppen
became an excellent Christian minister, and labored as a pastor for
some years in Portsmouth. He then removed to the city of Bath, where
he originated a congregation, and built a house for public worship.
He was succeeded in this important sphere by the late distinguished
William Jay, who labored there for about sixty-four years.
Such was the prosperity attendant on the efforts of Messrs.
Whitefield, Madan, Romaine, Berridge, Venn, and Fletcher, at
Brighton, that Lady Huntingdon felt it her duty to erect a church
edifice there, and being unable to do it in any other way, sold her
jewels to the amount of nearly three thousand five hundred dollars.
The cause still flourishes there, and very many have been turned to
righteousness.
While Whitefield's ministry at the Tabernacle was at its height of
popularity, Foote, a comedian of eminent talent for mimicry, who
was frequently in difficulties on account of his love of ridicule,
by which indeed his life was shortened, employed his wit to bring
the distinguished preacher into contempt. One of his biographers
says, that "very pressing embarrassments in his affairs compelled
him to bring out his comedy of '_The Minor_,' in 1760, to ridicule
Methodism, which, though successful, gave great offence, and was at
last suppressed." Of this miserable piece of buffoonery, it may be
enough to say, that Foote, and the agents employed at the Tabernacle
and Tottenham Court-road chapel to collect materials from Whitefield
for the accomplishment of their object, were so disgracefully
ignorant of the inspired writings, as not to know that what they
took for Mr. Whitefield's peculiar language was that of the word of
God.
Lady Huntingdon interposed in the matter, first with the Lord
Chamberlain, by whose license alone any play could then be performed
in London, and then with Mr. Garrick, the latter of whom assured her
that he would use his influence to exclude it, and added, that had
he been aware of the offence it was adapted to give, it should never
have appeared with his concurrence. The representation of this piece
of mummery, as might have been expected, considerably increased
Whitefield's popularity, and brought thousands of new persons to
hear the gospel: thus Providence gave him the victory over his
opposers.
To report the sicknesses, the labors, and the successes of
Whitefield from this time to that of his sixth embarkation for
America, would be little more than a repetition of the past. Suffice
it to say, that in England, and in Scotland, he labored amid much
ill-health, and surrounded with many dangers; but at length, having
found an Episcopal clergyman, the Rev. John Berridge, a man of
somewhat eccentric manners, but of great learning, of eminent piety,
and of burning zeal, who was willing to labor for a time in London,
Whitefield set sail in the ship Fanny, Captain Archibald Galbraith,
bound from Greenock to Virginia, June 1, 1763, and arrived at
Rappahannock, after a tedious, but otherwise pleasant voyage of
about twelve weeks, in the last week of August.