do, even to the mimicking of Raphael’s picture of him at Hampton
Court), I do the same by the old stager――_Hypocrites_, I think
they call him. If you undertake to cleanse and purify the soul,
I do the like by the body. If you are an enemy to the regular
drones of your profession, I am as much to those of ours. If you
profess to serve the public for the sake of the public, so do
I. Do you pocket the fee when it is offered?――I do the same. Are
the mob your customers?――they are mine likewise. Are you called
a quack in _doctrinals_?――I bear the same reproach in practice.
Are you the scorn and jest of men of sense?――I want but very
little of being as much their jest and scorn as you. In a word,
as it is said that you turn the brains of your patients, it is
affirmed, with equal truth, that I destroy the constitutions of
mine.”
Supposing Whitefield might have objections to the proposed partnership,
Rock pretends that he has objections too; for, says he:――
“Nobody, I thank God, can upbraid me with devouring widows’
houses; leading captive silly women; confounding the peace and
ruining the substance of families; preaching up Christ, and
playing the devil; blindly recommending charity, and, at the
same time, guilty of the worst oppression by squeezing the last
mite out of the pockets of the poor.”
Dr. Rock concludes by stating that Whitefield “is a public pest, an
incendiary of the worst kind, and a deceiver of the people.”
This was bad to bear, especially for a man in Whitefield’s state of
health; but more must follow:――
4. “The Crooked Disciple’s Remarks upon the Blind Guide’s Method
of Preaching for some years; being a Collection of the Principal
Words, Sayings, Phraseology, Rhapsodies, Hyperboles, Parables, and
Miscellaneous Incongruities of the Sacred and Profane, commonly,
repeatedly, and peculiarly made use of by the Reverend Dr. Squintum,
delivered by him, _viva voce ex Cathedra_, at Tottenham Court,
Moorfields, etc. A work never before attempted. Taken _verbatim_
from a constant attendance. Whereby the honesty of this Preacher’s
intentions may be judged of from his own doctrine. By the learned
John Harman, Regulator of Enthusiasts. London, 1761.” (8vo. 48 pp.)
This was one of the vilest pamphlets ever published. Its trash cannot
be quoted. It is enough to say that, besides “A Short Specimen of the
Rev. Dr. Squintum’s Extemporary Sermons,” it contains what it calls one
of Whitefield’s prayers, prefaced thus:――
“The following preamble is Dr. Squintum’s fervent, solemn form
of prayer; delivered by him in an attitude similar to that of
_Ajax_, in _Ovid’s Metamorphoses_. His body erect, his hands
extended, his face thrown upwards, with his eyes gazing towards
the stars. _Torvo vulto, tendens ad sidera palmas._ Alternately
changing from his theatrical astonishments into violent
enthusiastical agitations and distortions, accompanied with
weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth! _Strange vicissitudes!_
which he strictly keeps up to, throughout the whole of his
preaching.”
5. “The Spiritual Minor. A Comedy. London.” (8vo. 32 pp.) Another
infamous production, with a “Prologue,” by Mrs. Cole, and an
“Epilogue,” by Dr. Squintum. The _dramatis personæ_ are Mr. Squintum,
Mr. Rakish, Mr. Screamwell, Mr. Scruple, Mr. Cheatwell, Feeble,
Mrs. Cole, and Miss Ogle.
All this is extremely loathsome, and worthy of Foote, the comedian.
Two other names, much more respectable than Doctor Rock and John
Harman, must now be introduced.
6. Jonas Hanway, the distinguished merchant, traveller, and
philanthropist, was now in the fiftieth year of his age. Eight years
before, he had published his travels, in four 4to. volumes, under the
title of “An Historical Account of the Caspian Trade over the Caspian
Sea; with a Journal of Travels from London, through Russia, into
Persia, etc.; to which are added the Revolutions of Persia during
the present Century, with the particular History of the Great Usurper,
Nadir Kouli.” In 1754, he called the attention of the Government to the
bad state of the streets in London and Westminster. In 1756, he took
steps which ultimately led to the establishment of the Marine Society.
In 1758, he made strenuous exertions to improve the Foundling, and
to establish the Magdalen Hospitals. And now, in 1761, he published
“Reflections, Essays, and Meditations on Life and Religion; with a
Collection of Proverbs in Alphabetical Order; and Twenty-eight Letters,
written occasionally on several subjects――viz., The Absurd Notions of
the Sect called Methodists; The Customs of foreign Nations in regard
to Harlots; The Lawless Commerce of the Sexes; The Repentance of
Prostitutes; And the great Humanity and Beneficence of the Magda_lane_
Charity. By Mr. Hanway. London, 1761.” (Two vols., 8vo., pp. 280
and 317.)
As Mr. Hanway became so notable a man, that, two years after his death,
a monument, by public subscription, was erected to his memory, in
Westminster Abbey; his sentiments on Whitefield deserve insertion. At
all events, the critique of the benevolent old bachelor, who had the
courage to be the first who appeared in the streets of London carrying
an umbrella, will, perhaps, amuse the reader.
“I intended, a long while since,” says he, “to hear Mr.
Whitefield at Tottenham Court, and I have at length compassed
my design. The _prayers_ were performed with as much devotion
as one generally finds at any church, and, as well as I remember,
without any _excursions_ foreign to the Church Service. Fame
had represented him to me as a great _orator_; but in this I
was a little disappointed, not but he performs, upon the whole,
_tolerably well_. The _tunes_ and _concordance_ of the singing
are also very _proper_ and agreeable; though I thought that
_psalms_, or _anthems_, would be better than _hymns_; or the
true harmony of sense and numbers, than such _poor poetry_ as
was sung.
“When he began his _sermon_, the oddness of some of his
_conceits_, his _manner_, and turn of _expression_, had I not
been in a place of public _worship_, would have excited my
laughter. As he went on, I became _serious_, then _astonished_,
and at length _confounded_. My confusion arose from a mixture
of _sorrow and indignation_, that any man bearing the name of
a _minister_ of our _meek and blessed Redeemer_, or the dignity
of the _Christian priesthood_, should demean himself like an
inhabitant of _Bedlam_. I thought I saw human nature in distress,
as much as in the cells of _lunatics_; with this difference,
that he was permitted to go abroad, and make others as _mad_ as
himself; which he might be able to accomplish by means of the
_credulity of his audience_, joined to the _art_ of making them
think that himself and his _fraternity_ are the only people _in
their senses_.
“I must inform you, that, opposite to this _celebrated_ preacher,
sat a dozen or more of old women, of that class who, within this
half-century, might easily have been persuaded, by _threats_ or
_promises_, that they had rode in the air on _broomsticks_, and,
confessing it, might have been put to death by people as much
bewitched as themselves. Their intellectual powers are so far
decayed, that they do not distinguish between _receiving alms_,
in relief of their misery, and _receiving hire_, as _hummers
and hawers_. This is the denomination given, by many sober
persons, to these _old women_, some of whom, I am assured, have
_confessed_ that they are retained ♦by hire, for _sighing and
groaning_.”
Mr. Hanway proceeds to say that he had been to the Haymarket, to see
“The Minor” acted, but “had not health, nor patience to sit out above
half of it.” He adds:――
“I wish the _principles_ of the Methodists may be understood
more clearly by being brought on the _stage_; but I question if
the character of the _bawd_, in ‘The Minor,’ has any existence,
and, if so, the whole fabric of the _drama_ is built on false
grounds. If it does exist, is it so proper a subject for the
theatre, as for _St. Luke’s Hospital_? This dramatic piece
may possibly intimidate some from becoming _Methodists_; but,
however _popular_ it may be, I am very doubtful concerning the
_propriety_ of the measure, as to the end of correcting the
_enthusiasm_ in question. It is said, that, this comedy ‘has
shaken the _pillars of Tottenham Tabernacle_,’ and I must add,
that, I believe no harm would happen were it to tumble, provided
the poor people, who frequent it, were at their _work_, or
saying their prayers in their parish churches.
“As to the _peruke_ and _shoemaker_ declaimers, whose
recommendation is consummate impudence, warm imaginations,
and the remembrance of texts which they have no capacity to
understand, it would be an indignity offered to the Christian
priesthood to call such persons _Teachers_ or _Preachers_ of the
Gospel. And as to the _gentlemen_ of Methodistical tenets, who
have had a scholastic education, how few among them are there
who would not _face about to the right_, for the consideration
of a good ecclesiastical benefice. I have very _particular
reasons_ to believe the major part of them would conform to
Church orthodoxy and _intelligible_ Christianity, if they did
not find a better living in another way.”
7. So much for the eccentric Jonas Hanway. Another pamphleteer――much
more able, though not so well known to fame――must now be introduced.
Whitefield had already been attacked by the Bishop of London, the
Bishop of Lichfield, and the Bishop of Exeter. Now, he came under
the lash of the Rev. John Green, D.D., Bishop of Lincoln. In 1760,
Dr. Green published an 8vo. pamphlet of seventy pages, addressed to
Berridge, of Everton; but that must be passed without further notice. A
year later, he issued another pamphlet with the title, “The Principles
and Practices of the Methodists farther considered; in a Letter to the
Reverend Mr. George Whitefield. Cambridge, 1761.” (8vo. 74 pp.) The
Bishop of Lincoln wrote with great ability. The chief fault to be found
with him is, that, he based his strictures upon the first editions of
Whitefield’s Journals, and his “Short Account of God’s Dealings with
him,” published in 1740. This was hardly fair, because Whitefield,
since then, had, more than once, publicly expressed his regret
for having used certain loose and extravagant expressions in these
productions. Dr. Green was either not acquainted with Whitefield’s
apologies, or he chose, for some hidden purpose, not to acknowledge
them. Anyhow, remembering that such apologies had been made, and that
Whitefield’s health was now even dangerously affected, paragraphs, like
the following, were neither courteous nor fair:――
“In that curious repository of religious anecdotes, called your
Journals, I have often seen and pitied the distress you have
been in between strength of inclination and want of ability;
when you have recited several things, which bordered on the
marvellous, and which, notwithstanding, you did not care to
vouch for miraculous.
“All the exalted things you have said, and all the wonderful
things you have done, will pass, I fear, with many, only for the
frenzy and rant of fanaticism. They will be apt to think your
journeyings the effects of a roving and itinerant temper, and
ascribe them to a strong tincture of that heroical passion, by
which so many saints of the Romish communion have been actuated.
“Though possessed of so happy a talent at opening the hearts
and purses of the people, that you were traduced under the
name of ‘the Spiritual Pickpocket,’ yet you have not ventured
to trust your support to the precarious offerings of voluntary
contribution. Though you have not chosen to put yourself in a
situation to claim any legal dues; yet you have lately dispensed
your instructions, on the stipulation of certain periodical
payments, and under the sanction of that unquestionable truth,
‘that the labourer is worthy of his hire.’
“We have instances on record, how an audience has been dissolved
into tears by an orator, without knowing a single syllable of
that which he uttered; have been moved by the efficacy of words
which they did not understand, and by the goodly appearance of
the speaker, whom they knew nothing of, to yield the sincerest
proofs of their convictions by a liberal supply of such good
things as he wanted. Some incidents of the same sort are said
to have happened to yourself, and that the bare sight of your
blessed gown and wig, though out of the reach of that elocution
which so much surprises, and that pathos which so much moves,
has not only softened the hearts and moistened the eyes, but
drawn large pecuniary supplies to your charitable designs from
the pity and benevolence of your female disciples.”
These were taunts unworthy of a bishop of the Established Church, and
undeserved by poor afflicted Whitefield. Doubtless, they were painful;
but they were patiently endured.
Whitefield’s health was somewhat better. On January 8, 1762, he wrote:
“The Scotch journey did me service. I preached on New Year’s Day, and
am to do so again to-morrow. I had a violent fall upon my head, from
my horse, last Thursday, but was not hurt. Mr. Berridge is here, and
preaches with power. Blessed be God that some can speak, though I am
laid aside!”
No information exists as to how Whitefield spent the first three months
of 1762. He still, however, was the subject of disgraceful persecution.
During this interval, there was published a small 8vo. volume (price 2s.
6d.), entitled, “A Plain and Easy Road to the Land of Bliss, a Turnpike
set up by Mr. Orator ――――.” No good end would be answered by quotations
from it. “It is,” said the _Monthly Review_, “contemptible for its
stupidity. It is a filthy, obscene thing, for which the dirty author
ought to be washed in a horse-pond.”[490]
In April, Whitefield went to Bristol, where he continued for about a
month. The following extracts from his letters will shew the progress
he was making:――
“Bristol, April 17, 1762. Bristol air agrees with me. I have
been enabled to preach five times this last week, without being
hurt. Were the door open for an American voyage, I believe it
would be serviceable in bracing up my relaxed tabernacle. But
He who knoweth all things, knoweth what is best. I see more and
more, that grace must be tried. O for a heart to be made willing
to be nothing, yea, less than nothing, that God may be all in
all!”
“Bristol, April 18, 1762. Sunday. This morning I have been
administering the ordinance; and this evening I hope to be upon
my throne again. Who knows but I may yet be so far restored as
to sound the gospel trumpet for my God? The quietness I enjoy
here, with the daily riding out, seems to be one very proper
means. Be this as it will, I know ere long I shall serve our
Lord without weariness. A few more blows from friends, and from
foes, and the pitcher will be broken. Then the wicked one will
cease from troubling, and the weary traveller arrive at his
wished-for rest.”
“Bristol, May 4, 1762. I see it is always darkest before the
break of day. O that we could always remember that blessed
promise, ‘At evening-tide it shall be light’! The archers have
of late shot sorely at me and grieved me; but blessed be God for
a little revival in my bondage. For these three weeks past, I
have been enabled to preach four or five times a week; but you
would scarce know me, I am so swollen, and so corpulent. Blessed
be God for the prospect of a glorious resurrection!”
On his way back to London, Whitefield wrote as follows:――
“Rodborough, May 21, 1762. I hope to be in London on Tuesday
or Wednesday next. Through Divine mercy, preaching four or five
times a week has not hurt me; and twice or thrice I have been
enabled to take the field: in my opinion, a greater honour than
to be monarch of the universe. London cares and London labours,
I expect, will bring me low again; but I hope soon to slip away,
and to get strength, and then to hunt for precious souls again.
How gladly would I bid adieu to ceiled houses, and vaulted
roofs! Mounts are the best pulpits, and the heavens the best
sounding-boards. O for power equal to my will! I would fly from
pole to pole, publishing the everlasting gospel of the Son of
God. I write this at a house built for dear Mr. Adams.[491] From
his window is a prospect perhaps of thirty miles. I have wished
you here with your telescope. But if the footstool is so
glorious, what must the throne be!”
“London, May 28, 1762. I am just now come to town for a few days,
sensibly better for my country excursion. Once more, I have had
the honour of taking the field, and have now some hopes of not
being as yet quite thrown aside as a broken vessel. Help me to
praise Him, whose mercy endureth for ever.”
In the month of June, Whitefield sailed to Holland, where his health
was further benefited. At the end of July, he was preaching at Norwich,
and wrote:――
“Norwich, July 31, 1762. The trip to Holland, last month, was
profitable to myself, and, I trust, to others. If my usefulness
is to be continued in London, I must be prepared for it by a
longer itinerancy both by land and water. At present, blessed
be God! I can preach once a day; and it would do your heart good
to see what an influence attends the word. All my old times are
revived again. On Monday next, God willing, I shall set forwards
to Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, etc.”
Ten days after this, Whitefield attended the annual Conference of
Wesley and his itinerants, in the town of Leeds. This was a notable
assembly, for, besides the brave band of Wesley’s helpers, there were
present the two Wesleys, Whitefield, Romaine, Madan, Venn, and, last
but not least, the Countess of Huntingdon![492] Wesley wrote:――
“We had great reason to praise God for His gracious presence,
from the beginning to the end.”
From Leeds, Whitefield proceeded to his beloved Scotland, where he
wrote:――
“Edinburgh, September 2, 1762. I am just this moment returned
from Glasgow, where I have been enabled to preach every day,
and twice at Cambuslang. Auditories were large, and Jesus smiled
upon my feeble labours.”
“Edinburgh, September 9. I came here a week ago. Since then, I
have been helped to preach every day. The kirk has been a Bethel.
Grace! Grace! On Monday, the 13th inst., I shall set off. Follow
me with your prayers.”
On Sunday, September 19, Whitefield was at Sunderland;[493] and on the
following Sunday at Leeds. Here he wrote to his friend, Mr. Robert Keen,
as follows:――
“I am just now setting forwards towards London, but fear I
cannot reach it before Sunday. My chaise wanted repairing here.
O how good hath Jesus been to a worthless worm! Once a day
preaching, I can bear well; more hurts me. What shall I do with
the Chapel and Tabernacle? Lord Jesus, be thou my guide and
helper! He will! He will! Send word to the Tabernacle that you
have heard from me. We have had sweet seasons.”
The “Seven Years’ War” was now nearly ended. The campaign of 1762 was
eminently successful. Frederick the Great and Prince Ferdinand had
been victorious in Germany; Burgoyne had aided Portugal in repelling
the Spaniards; and the English fleet and army in the West Indies
had taken the Carribbean Islands and Havannah. Lord Bute, the prime
minister of England, strongly desired peace, for the English people
were complaining loudly of increased taxation. He engaged the neutral
king of Sardinia to propose to the court of France negotiations for
a termination of the war. Louis XV., like a drowning man, caught at
the proposal. The Duke of Bedford was selected as plenipotentiary and
ambassador extraordinary to Paris; and the high-born and gallant Duke
de Nivernois came to London in the same capacity. This was in September;
and the negotiations proceeded with such rapidity, that _preliminaries_
for peace were signed at Fontainebleau on the 3rd of November following.
In consequence of these events, Whitefield now had a prospect of
carrying out his long-cherished wish to visit his Orphan House, and
his numerous friends, across the Atlantic. He wrote, as follows, to
the housekeeper of his Orphanage:――
“London, October 15, 1762. I wish to answer your letter in
person. I hope the time is now drawing near. I count the weeks,
and days, and hours. Blessed be God that you live in such
harmony! A house thus united in Jesus will stand. I write this
in great haste. I am enabled to preach once a day. Give thanks!
give thanks!”
In November, Whitefield went to Bristol, where his “congregations were
large, and a most gracious gale of Divine influence attended the word
preached.” Having promised to visit Plymouth, he wrote to his friend
there, the good Andrew Kinsman:――
“Let grand preparations be made,――as a candle, a book, and a
table; above all, much prayer, that I may not again relapse at
Plymouth, as the Bristol people say I shall do, by coming at
this season of the year.”
On reaching Plymouth, he wrote:――
“Plymouth, December 4, 1762. Being under a positive promise to
come here before I left England, I embraced this opportunity.
Through mercy, I preached last night, and find no hurt this
morning. Many young people, I hear, are under great awakenings.
O to begin to wage an eternal war with the devil, the world, and
the flesh! I would fain die sword in hand.”
Whitefield had an old trusty servant, Mrs. Elizabeth Wood,[494] to whom
he wrote as follows:――
“Plymouth, December 5, 1762. You did very wrong, in not letting
me know of your mother’s necessities. She was a widow indeed;
but now she is above the reach of everything. I am weary of the
world, of the Church, and of myself. I cannot get up to London
till near Christmas Day. As affairs are there circumstanced,
everything there tends to weigh me down. O that patience may
have its perfect work! Let me always know your wants. It is your
own fault if you lack anything, whilst I have a farthing.”
Kind-heartedness was a prominent trait in Whitefield’s character. It
was during this, or some other visit to Plymouth, that an incident
occurred which is worth telling. “Come,” said Whitefield to his
friend and host, Andrew Kinsman, “come, let us go to some of the poor
and afflicted of your flock. It is not enough that we labour in the
pulpit; we must endeavour to be useful out of it.” Away the two friends
went, and Whitefield not only gave counsel to those they visited,
but monetary aid. Kinsman reminded him that his finances were low,
and that he was more bountiful than he could afford. “Young man,”
replied Whitefield, “it is not enough to pray, and to put on a serious
countenance: ‘pure religion and undefiled is this, to visit the
fatherless and widows in their affliction,’ and to administer to their
wants. My stock, I grant, is nearly exhausted, but God will soon send
me a fresh supply.” In the evening, a gentleman called, and asked to
see Whitefield. “Sir,” said he, “I heard you preach yesterday: you are
on a journey, as well as myself; and, as travelling is expensive, will
you do me the honour of accepting this?” The present was five guineas,
and came from a man noted for his penuriousness. “Young man,” cried
Whitefield, on his return to Kinsman, “young man, God has soon repaid
what I bestowed. Learn, in future, not to withhold when it is in the
power of your hand to give.”[495]
Whitefield, on his way to London, halted at Bristol, and wrote to
Kinsman, as follows:――
“Bristol, December 12, 1762. We got here yesterday, all well,
excepting that I lost my watch in the way. If it teach me to be
more on my _watch_ in the best things, the loss will be a gain.
Lord, help me in everything to give thanks! I do not repent my
Plymouth journey. Thanks to you all for your great kindnesses.
Thanks, eternal thanks, to the God of all, for giving us His
presence! It is better than life. I have not yet seen your
daughter; but I hear she is well. Tell Sarah not to murder so
dear a child. Hugging to death is cruelty indeed. Adieu! I must
away to sacrament. O for such a one as we had last Sunday! Mind
and get up in a morning to pray, before you get into shop.”
Whitefield wished to embark for America; but, before doing so, had
a difficulty to encounter. He had erected two large and flourishing
chapels in London, which, in consequence of the sites on which they
stood being granted to himself on lease, were practically his own
property. The money by which the chapels had been built was not his;
and he felt that it would be unjust if, by his decease, they came into
the possession of his heirs and successors. Hence, as he was hoping
soon to sail, and as his health was such as to render his return to
England a doubtful matter, he was anxious to have the Tabernacle and
the Tottenham Court Road chapel so settled, that the purpose for which
they had been erected might never be frustrated. Hence the following to
Mr. Robert Keen:――
“_January 15, 1763._