weeks’ tour to Gloucester, Bristol, and the west of England. “Thousands
and thousands,” says he, “flocked in Gloucestershire; and here, in
Bristol, the congregations fall little short of those in London.” At
Bath, he preached several times in the house of Lady Gertrude Hotham;
Lord Chesterfield, Mrs. Grinfield, Mrs. Bevan,[368] and other members
of the aristocracy being among his hearers.
On the 1st of July, Lady Anne Hastings, after a short illness, was
removed to her eternal rest, in the sixty-fifth year of her age.[369]
Whitefield heard of this event at Bristol, and, on his return to London,
wrote as follows to the Countess of Huntingdon:――
“LONDON, _July 11, 1755_.
“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――Yesterday, about noon, after being worn
down with travelling, and preaching twice and thrice a day in
Gloucestershire, at Bath, and Bristol, a gracious Providence
brought me to town. At Bristol, I heard of the death of good
Lady Anne. Alas! how many has your ladyship lived to see go
before you! An earnest this, I hope, that you are to live to a
good old age, and be more and more a mother in Israel. A short,
but sweet character. God knows how long I am to drag this crazy
load, my body, along. Blessed be His holy name! I have not
one attachment to earth. I am sick of myself, sick of the
world, sick of the Church, and am panting daily after the full
enjoyment of my God. John Cennick is now added to the happy
number of those who are called to see Him as He is.[370] I do
not envy, but I want to follow after him.
“The fields at Bristol and Kingswood were whiter and more ready
to harvest than for many years past. If the new Tabernacle at
Bristol were as large as that in London, it would be filled.
Thrice last Sunday, and twice the Sunday before, I preached in
the fields to many, many thousands. At Bath, we had good seasons.
Good Lady Gertrude, Mrs. Bevan, and Mrs. Grinfield, were very
hearty. God was with us of a truth. O for an humble, thankful
heart! I am now looking up for direction what course to steer
next. I suppose it will be northward.”
Whitefield spent about another month in London. It was at this period
that Cornelius Winter, then a boy in the thirteenth year of his age,
was induced to hear Whitefield preach. Cornelius was an orphan, whose
father had been a shoemaker, and his mother a laundress. At the age of
eight, he was admitted into the Charity School of St. Andrew’s, Holborn.
He then became the inmate of a workhouse. When his “schooling closed,”
he “had merely learned to write, without being set to put three figures
together, or to learn one line in any of the tables.” The half-hungered
child next became errand boy, and a sort of general drudge in the
kitchen and the workshop of a distant relative, Mr. Winter, watergilder,
in Bunhill Row. His master was bad-tempered, and a drunkard, and often
beat young Cornelius so unmercifully that the lad sometimes wished
to die. The boy regularly attended the Church of St. Luke, in Old
Street, but says, he had “strong prejudices against the Methodists and
Dissenters.” “However,” he writes, “when my clothes were disgracefully
bad, which was sometimes the case, I absconded from my own church,
and occasionally wandered into a meeting-house. At last, I got to
hear Mr. Whitefield, and was particularly struck with the largeness
of the congregation, the solemnity that sat upon it, the melody of the
singing, and Mr. Whitefield’s striking appearance, and his earnestness
in preaching. From this time, I embraced all opportunities to hear
him.”[371]
Whitefield remained in London till the commencement of the month
of August, when, unexpectedly, he was requested, by Colonel and Mrs.
Galatin, and the Countess of Huntingdon, to go to Norwich, and re-open
the Tabernacle built for Wheatley, Wesley’s expelled itinerant preacher.
Wesley already had a mongrel Society in Norwich, and disapproved of
Whitefield’s preaching in an apparently opposition chapel.[372] He
complained to Whitefield, who replied as follows:――
“NORWICH, _August 9, 1755_.
“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,――Till Tuesday evening” (August 5th)
“I knew no more of coming to Norwich than a child unborn. Had
I been well enough, and my private business permitted, I should
have been some miles on my way towards Donington Park. This I
told Mr. Hartley, and acquainted him with every step. He should
have written himself, and not retailed our conversation. As
I expect to be in town some time next week, I choose to defer
writing more till we have a personal interview. My time is too
precious to be employed in hearkening to, or vindicating myself
against, the false and invidious insinuations of narrow and
low-life informers. Never was I more satisfied of my call to
any place than of my present call to Norwich. The Redeemer
knows the way that I take. I came hither purely for His glory,
without the least design to make a party for myself, or to
please or displease any other party whatsoever. In this way, and
in this spirit, through His divine assistance, I hope to go on.
Blessed be His name! I trust my feeble labours have not been in
vain. Sin, I hope, has been prevented, errors detected, sinners
convicted, saints edified, and my own soul sweetly refreshed.
But I must add no more. That Jesus may give us all a right
judgment in all things, and keep all parties from giving a
wrong touch to the ark, is and shall be the constant prayer of,
reverend and dear sir, yours most affectionately in our common
Lord,
“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”
The Society at Norwich were the most refractory set of Methodists in
the United Kingdom. It would be a bootless task to write their history.
Suffice it to say, that Whitefield was satisfied with his visit.
“Here,” says he, “there has undoubtedly been a glorious work of God.
Twice a day, both gentle and simple flock to hear the word; and, I
think, it comes with power.”[373] “Notwithstanding offences have come,
I scarce ever preached a week together with greater freedom.”[374]
After he left, the Rev. William Cudworth took his place, and,
henceforth, became Wesley’s enemy, and the dangerous friend of the
gentle Hervey. Cudworth was assisted by Wheatley and Robert Robinson,
the latter a youth of twenty, but afterwards the famous Baptist
minister at Cambridge. They established preaching stations in the
surrounding villages; and, at Forncett, about twelve miles from Norwich,
a Tabernacle was erected. About five years after this, from 1758 to
1763, the Norwich Tabernacle seems to have been occupied by Wesley and
the preachers in connection with him. He then abandoned it, utterly
despairing to keep in order James Wheatley’s “lambs.” Indeed, he
designates them “_bullocks unaccustomed to the yoke_, who had never had
any rule or order among them, but every man did what was right in his
own eyes.” Lady Huntingdon next bought the Tabernacle for £900, and
vested it in seven trustees, who were to manage its secular concerns,
and appoint or dismiss its ministers at their pleasure.[375]
Notwithstanding the foregoing letter addressed to Wesley, there
continued to be misgiving. It also seems that, at first, Cudworth and
Wheatley found it difficult to co-operate. When Whitefield got back to
London, he wrote, as follows, to the turbulent Norwich Methodists:――
“LONDON, _August 26, 1755_.
“MY DEAR FRIENDS,――I received your kind letters, and likewise
one from Mr. Wheatley; and, last night, a long one from Mr.
Cudworth; but, alas! I have no time for controversy. To their
own Master they must both either stand or fall. All I can say,
in your present circumstances, is, that you had best make a
trial, and let matters, for a while, stand as they are. I have
sent letters, if possible, to prevent the spreading, at least
the _publishing_, of any further tales. Meanwhile, do you
strengthen yourselves in the Lord your God. The cause is His. I
believe you honestly embarked in it, for His great name’s sake,
and He will help you out of all. To-morrow, I must away to the
north. Follow me with your prayers; and assure yourselves that
you and yours, and the dear people of Norwich, will not be
forgotten by me. If ever the Redeemer should bring me thither
again, I can then converse with Mr. Wheatley and Mr. Cudworth
face to face; but I beg to be excused from writing, when I think,
by so doing, I can do no service. The Lord clothe us all with
humility, and give us all true simplicity and godly sincerity!”
On August 27, Whitefield left London for the north of England. On his
way, he spent two or three days with his friend Hervey, at the rectory
of Weston-Favell. Hervey had just published, in three octavo volumes,
his “Theron and Aspasio,” part of which work had been submitted
to Wesley in manuscript, for his revision. Wesley and Hervey had
already become alienated, for Wesley had made more corrections in
the manuscript than Hervey liked. At all events, on January 9, 1755,
Hervey wrote to Lady Frances Shirley: “Mr. John Wesley takes me roundly
to task on the score of predestination; at which I am much surprised,
because this doctrine (be it true or false) makes no part of my scheme.
I cannot but fear he has some sinister design. I do not charge such
an artifice, but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion.”[376]
In the interval, Wesley had written to Hervey a long letter, freely
animadverting on “Theron and Aspasio,” and begging him to lay aside
the phrase, “the imputed righteousness of Christ,” adding, “It is not
scriptural, it is not necessary, it has done immense hurt.” Hervey, for
once in his lovely life, neglected to exercise his natural gentleness.
Wesley’s letter offended him, and he declined to acknowledge it; but,
whilst Whitefield was his guest, he wrote to his Baptist friend, the
Rev. John Ryland: “I find, by private intelligence, that Mr. Wesley has
shewn his letter in London, and has thought proper to animadvert upon
me, by name, from his pulpit.”
There can be little doubt that Whitefield was Hervey’s informant.
Affairs among these old Oxford Methodists were in a ticklish state. It
is a mournful fact, that, chiefly through the machinations of William
Cudworth, the friendship between Hervey and Wesley was not renewed;
but it was otherwise with the large-hearted Whitefield. In his Journal,
under the date, November 5th, 1755, Wesley wrote: “Mr. Whitefield
called upon me; disputings are now no more; we love one another,
and join hand in hand to promote the cause of our common Master.”
Charles Wesley, also, wrote to his old friend a poetical epistle,[377]
breathing with Christian love, from which the following lines are
taken:――
“Come on, my Whitefield! (since the strife is past,
And friends at first are friends again at last,)
Our hands, and hearts, and counsels let us join
In mutual league, t’ advance the work divine;
Our one contention now, our single aim,
To pluck poor souls as brands out of the flame;
To spread the victory of that bloody cross,
And gasp our latest breath in the Redeemer’s cause.
* * * * *
“In a strange land I stood,
And beckon’d thee to cross th’ Atlantic flood:
With true affection wing’d, thy ready mind
Left country, fame, and ease, and friends behind,
And, eager all heaven’s counsels to explore,
Flew through the watery world and grasp’d the shore.
Nor did I linger, at my friend’s desire,
To tempt the furnace, and abide the fire:
When suddenly sent forth, from the highways
I call’d poor outcasts to the feast of grace;
Urg’d to pursue the work, by thee begun,
Through good and ill report, I still rush’d on,
Nor felt the fire of popular applause,
Nor fear’d the torturing flame in such a glorious cause.
* * * * *
“One in His hand, O may we still remain,
Fast bound with love’s indissoluble chain;
(That adamant which time and death defies,
That golden chain which draws us to the skies!)
His love the tie that binds us to His throne,
His love the bond that perfects us in one;
His love, (let all the ground of friendship see,)
His only love constrains our hearts t’ agree,
And gives the rivet of eternity!”
Just at the time when Whitefield left America, the ministers of
George the Second announced to Parliament that a war with France was
inevitable. The Committee of Supply eagerly voted a million of money
for the defence of their American possessions; and Admiral Boscawen
was sent with a fleet towards the Gulf of St. Lawrence, to intercept
a French fleet which had been prepared in the forts of Rochefort and
Brest, and which was carrying reinforcements to the French Canadians.
America was now in martial confusion. Among others, Whitefield’s old
friend Sir William Pepperell had gone to the field of action; and
Whitefield, while a guest at Hervey’s, wrote to Lady Pepperell and
her daughter, to cheer them in the colonel’s absence, as follows:――
“WESTON-FAVELL, _August 30, 1755_.
“DEAR MISS,――A few days past, as I was going into the Tabernacle
to read letters, yours came to hand. Immediately, I read it
among the rest, and you and my other New England friends had
the prayers of thousands. How did I wish to be transported to
America! How did I long to stir up all against the common enemy,
and to be made instrumental of doing my dear country some little
service! Dear New England,――dear Boston lies upon my heart!
Surely the Lord will not give it over into the hands of the
enemy. He has too many praying ministers and praying people
there, for such a dreadful catastrophe.”
“WESTON-FAVELL, _August 30, 1755_.
“DEAR MADAM,――I find you are once more called to give up your
honoured husband for his country’s good. The God whom you serve
will richly reward you for such a sacrifice, and be better to
you than seven husbands. I long to hear that he is returned
victorious. He is gone upon a good cause, and under the conduct
of the best general, even the Captain of our salvation. To Him
I am praying, night and day, for the temporal and spiritual
welfare of dear, never-to-be-forgotten New England. Courage,
dear madam, courage! A few more partings, a few more changes,
a few more heart-breakings, heart-purifying trials, and we shall
be safely landed.”
Such were Whitefield’s feelings at the commencement of the Seven Years’
War, which was ended by the Peace of Paris, February 10, 1763. The
terrific strife kept Whitefield from his beloved America for the space
of eight long years, and, during this lengthened period, many and great
were his anxieties concerning his Orphan House, and his transatlantic
friends; but more of this anon. An extract from another letter, written
at Hervey’s, and addressed to a rich, but miserly American, is too
characteristic to be omitted.
“WESTON-FAVELL, _August 30, 1755_.
“Your friends everywhere take notice, that the sin which doth
most easily beset you is a too great love of money; and this,
in many cases, makes you act an unfriendly part. If God should
suffer our enemies to prevail, you will wish you had laid up
more treasure in heaven. Blessed be God, mine is out of the
reach of men or devils. Strange that five per cent. from man
should be preferred to a hundredfold from Christ! A word to the
wise is sufficient. I am looking out for more news from dear
America. May the late defeat be sanctified! Adieu, my dear Mr.
V――――! _Non magna loquimur, non magna scribimus, sed vivimus_,
is the Christian’s motto. Mr. D―――― can _English_ it.”
On Sunday, August 31st, Whitefield preached twice, not in his
friend Hervey’s church, but at Northampton. He then proceeded to
Lady Huntingdon’s, at Donington Park. At Liverpool, on September 12th,
“some fallow ground was broken up;” at Bolton, “the cup of many ran
over;” at Manchester, “people heard most gladly;” at Leeds and Bradford,
“what many felt was unutterable;” and at York, “a smart gentleman
was touched.” On reaching Newcastle-on-Tyne, Whitefield wrote to the
Countess of Huntingdon, as follows:――
“NEWCASTLE, _September 24, 1755_.
“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――I know not how long it is since I left
your ladyship; but this I know, a sense of the satisfaction
I felt when at Donington still lies upon my heart. Were I
not called to public work, waiting upon, and administering to
your ladyship in holy offices would be my choice and highest
privilege.
“The only new ground that has been broken up is Liverpool. There
the prospect is promising. I preached in a great square on the
Lord’s-day, and the alarm, I hear, went through the town. At
Bolton, the cup of God’s people ran over; and at Manchester we
had large auditories and blessed seasons. At Leeds, we felt what
is unutterable; and at Bradford, last Sunday, the congregation
consisted of at least ten thousand.[378] But, oh, how has my
pleasure been alloyed at Leeds! I rejoiced there with trembling;
for, unknown to me, they had almost finished a large house,
in order to form a separate congregation.[379] If this scheme
succeeds, an awful separation, I fear, will take place amongst
the Societies.[380] I have written to Mr. Wesley, and have done
all I could to prevent it. O this self-love, this self-will! It
is the devil of devils!
“I write this from Newcastle, where the people, twice a day,
hear the gospel gladly. What to do now, I know not. Calls on all
sides are very loud, and it is too late to go either to Ireland
or Scotland. O my God! winter is at hand, and, in the summer,
how little has been done for Thee! I cannot bear to live at this
poor dying rate.”
Whitefield spent ten or a dozen days in the neighbourhood of Newcastle,
and then set out for London, where he arrived on October 30th. The
following are extracts from his letters:――
“LONDON, _October 31, 1755_.
“Last night, a never-failing God brought me from the north of
England, where I have been enabled to preach twice and thrice
a day to many, many thousands, for two months past. And yet
I cannot die. Nay, they tell me I grow fat. Never did I see
the word more blessed, or so many thousands run after it with
greater greediness. Next to inviting them to Christ, I have
always taken care to exhort them to pray for King George, and
our dear friends in America.”
“LONDON, _November 1, 1755_.
“On Thursday evening, I came to town, after having preached
about a hundred times, and travelled about eight hundred miles.
For more than ten days together, I preached thrice a day. O that
I could preach three hundred times! All would be infinitely too
little to testify my love to Jesus. After about a week’s stay
here, I hope to move westward. O winter! winter! Haste and fly,
that I may again set out! Yesterday, I waited upon the Countess
Delitz, and, on Thursday, I am to dine with her ladyship.”
“LONDON, _November 8, 1755_.
“I hear you have been sitting night and day in council.
All we can do on this side the water is to pray. This, I
trust, thousands are doing every day. I seldom preach without
mentioning dear New England. Blessed be God! the prospect is
promising here. In the north of England, the word runs and is
glorified more than ever. In London, people flock like doves to
the windows.”
To Lady Huntingdon, who had gone to Clifton Hotwells, Bristol,
Whitefield wrote:――
“LONDON, _November 10, 1755_.
“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――Your ladyship’s kind and condescending
letter found me just returned from Chatham. The court, in the
best sense of the word, is now removed to Clifton. For there
only is the real court kept, where Jesus reigns, and where He
has erected a spiritual kingdom in the heart. All besides this
is only tinsel and glitter. Here alone is real and abiding
happiness to be found. O for further searches into the heights
and depths of God! O for further leadings into the chambers of
that selfish, sensual, and devilish imagery, that yet lie latent
in my partly renewed heart! This self-love, what a _Proteus_!
This self-will, what a _Hydra_! This remaining body of sin and
death, what an _Antichrist_! what a scarlet whore! what a hell!
what a red dragon! what a cursed monster is it! How hard, how
slow, he dies! O what gratitude do I owe to the Bruiser of this
serpent’s head! O for a heart gladly to embrace every cross,
every trying dispensation, that may have a tendency to poison,
or starve the old man, and cherish, promote, or cause to bloom
and blossom the graces and tempers of the new! Ordinances,
providences, doctrines are of no service to believers, except
as they are attended with this mortifying and life-giving power.
Happy family, who have this one thing in view! Happy retirement,
that is improved to this blessed purpose! Happy, therefore, good
Lady Huntingdon, and the other elect ladies, who are determined
thus to go hand in hand to heaven! All hail, ye new-born,
heaven-born souls! Ye know, by happy experience, that Jesus is
an inward as well as outward Saviour. Were even annihilation
to follow death, who would not but have this redemption whilst
they live? But glory, glory be to God! it is only the dawning
of an eternal day, the beginning of a life that is ere long
to be absorbed in never-ceasing, uninterrupted fruition of the
ever-blessed Triune Deity. O the depth, the height of this love
of God! It passeth human and angelic knowledge. My paper only
permits me to add, that I am, ever-honoured madam,
“Your ladyship’s most dutiful and ready servant,
“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”
Soon after this, Whitefield joined her ladyship at Bristol, where he
spent about a month, but, to a great extent, was prevented preaching.
Hence the following:――
“BRISTOL, _November 30_.
“For near ten days past, I have preached in pain, occasioned by
a sore throat, which I find now is the beginning of a quinsy.
The doctor tells me silence and warmth may cure me; but (if I
had my will) heaven is my choice, especially if I can speak no
longer for my God on earth. However, painful as the medicine of
silence is, I have promised to be very obedient, and, therefore,
I have not preached this morning.”
Whitefield returned to London towards the end of December, and closed
the year by writing to the Countess of Huntingdon:――
“LONDON, _December 31, 1755_.
“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――Your ladyship’s kind and condescending
letter should not have been so long unanswered, had not bodily
weakness, and my Christmas labours, prevented my writing. It has
been a joyful-mourning season. Saturday last being my birthday,
my soul was deeply exercised, from morning till evening, in
thinking how much, in one-and-forty years, I had sinned against
God, and how little I have done for Him. This impression yet
lies deep upon my heart, and, therefore, I purpose to end the
old year by preaching on these words, ‘I abhor myself, and
repent in dust and ashes.’ O that all things belonging to the
old man may die in me, and all things belonging to the new man
may live and grow in me! But, alas! this is a work of time.
Every day and every hour must we be passing from death to life.
Mortification and vivification make up the whole of the Divine
work in the new-born soul.
“But shall I conceal the goodness of my long-suffering Master?
No, I dare not; for, in spite of my unworthiness, He still
continues to smile upon my poor ministrations. A noble chapel is
now opened in Long Acre, where I am to read prayers and preach
twice a week. Hundreds went away last night, who could not come
in; but those who could, I trust, met with Jesus.”
Long Acre has just been mentioned,――Long Acre, with the London theatres
on the left, and Wesley’s West Street chapel on the right,――then a
fashionable street; now, to a great extent, consisting of workshops
for making and exhibiting all kinds of carriages. In the theatres, John
Rich, the harlequin, with a kind of dumb eloquence, was electrifying
his audiences by the mere gesticulations of his body. Catherine
Clive was cleverly acting the characters of chambermaids, fashionable
ladies, country girls, romps, hoydens, dowdies, superannuated beauties,
viragoes, and humorists. David Garrick, who once said “I would give a
hundred guineas if I could only say ‘Oh!’ like Mr. Whitefield,” was the
celebrated manager of the theatre in Drury Lane. Margaret Woffington
was an admired favourite at Covent Garden. And Samuel Foote was at the
height of his popularity.
The chapel in Long Acre[381] was rented by the Rev. John Barnard, one
of Whitefield’s early converts, who was now an Independent minister,
but afterwards became a Sandemanian, and was ultimately expelled by
that Society for entertaining too exalted notions of his preaching
powers.[382]