Lord Huntingdon--The Bishop of Gloucester--Mr. Whitefield’s
Preaching--its Effects--Dr. Southey--Dr. Hurd--Archbishop
Secker--First Methodist Society--Lady Anne Frankland--Lord
Scarborough--Dr. Young--Lady Fanny Shirley--Mrs.
Temple--Lady Mary Wortley Montagu--Lady Townsend--Mr.
Pope--Mr. Ingham--Mr. C. Wesley--Miss Robinson--Lord
Lisburne--The House of Lords--Hammond the Poet--Somervile the
Poet--Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough--Anecdotes--Duchess of
Buckingham--Anecdotes--Duchess of Queensbury--Lord Oxford--Lady
Hinchinbroke.
The biography of pious persons, who have devoted their lives to the
benefit of mankind and to the glory of God, is an acknowledged source
of pleasure and profit, and a species of writing possessing peculiar
attractiveness, as we trace our subject through the scenes of life
and the chamber of death, to the very gate of heaven! The illustrious
subject of the present memoir was an example of piety, benevolence, and
zeal, in the best of causes, such as succeeding generations may admire,
when the warriors and statesmen who were her contemporaries shall be
known no more.
On Lady Huntingdon’s recovery from the illness adverted to at page 14,
she sent a kind message to Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, who were
then preaching in the neighbourhood, professing to be one with them in
heart, cordially wishing them good speed in the name of the Lord, and
assuring them of her determined purpose to live for Him who had died
for her.
The change which divine grace had wrought upon her Ladyship’s heart
soon became observable to all around, by the open confession which she
made of the faith once delivered to the saints, and by the zealous
support she gave to the cause of God, amidst the torrents of reproach
with which it was attended. To the noble circle in which the Countess
moved, such professions and conduct appeared strange; and there were
not wanting some who, under the guise of friendship, wished Lord
Huntingdon to interpose his authority; but, although he differed
from her Ladyship in her views of religion, he continued to manifest
the same affection and respect, and at his demise left her the entire
management of her children and their fortunes. His Lordship was too
generous to yield to such insidious advice, but he recommended her to
converse with Bishop Benson, who had been his tutor, and with this
request she readily complied. The Bishop was accordingly sent for, and
he attempted to convince her Ladyship of the unnecessary strictness
of her sentiments and conduct. But she pressed him so hard with
Scripture, brought so many arguments from the Articles and Homilies,
and so plainly and faithfully urged upon him the awful responsibility
of his station under the Great Head of the Church, that his temper was
ruffled, and he rose up in haste to depart, bitterly lamenting that he
had ever laid his hands upon George Whitefield, to whom he attributed
the change wrought in her Ladyship. “My Lord! (said the Countess) mark
my words: when you are on your dying bed, that will be one of the few
ordinations you will reflect upon with complacence.” The Bishop’s
conduct at that solemn season verified her prediction: for when near
his death he sent ten guineas to Mr. Whitefield, as a token of regard
and veneration, and begged to be remembered by him in his prayers![6]
Dr. Southey has, with a partiality little to his credit, related
the former, but suppressed the latter portion of this anecdote, and
has prostituted his talents in order to heap sarcasm, ridicule, and
contempt upon the Countess. Her religious feelings, he insinuates,
originated in a “_decided insanity in her family_!”--an assertion
as wicked as it is false--and tells us that all the arguments of Bishop
Benson “were ineffectual to bring her to a saner sense of devotion.” In
the next edition of his caricature of Mr. Wesley, it would be candour
to notice the Bishop’s _dying gift_ to Mr. Whitefield--his
_dying professions of regard_ for Mr. Whitefield--and his _dying
request_ for Mr. Whitefield’s _prayers_; a luminous commentary
on the almost prophetic language of Lady Huntingdon, and a decisive
reproof to the Poet Laureate’s fiction of hereditary insanity, which
indeed is sufficiently disproved by her every act, her every letter,
and her every word.
Though few persons have ever had so just a claim as her Ladyship to
universal approbation, she was far from courting the applause of a
world in which her Lord and Master had been publicly despised and
rejected, or of making an ostentatious display of superior parts and
accomplishments. Her family and connections, her attainments in science
and grace, with whatever else might be considered as tending to her
advantage, she regarded as matters of trivial estimation; while, in the
lowliness of her heart, she adopted the language of the great Apostle;
“God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus
Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.”
In 1738, the first Methodist Society was formed in the (now Moravian)
chapel, a plain but venerable building, in Neville’s-court,
Fetter-lane, London: Messrs. Wesley, Whitefield, Ingham, Howell Harris,
and many other eminent men, preached there with amazing power and
success; Messrs. Cennick and Oakley, and others who afterwards made
a distinguished figure in the Church of Christ, were members of the
congregation at this time. It was at this place that Lord and Lady
Huntingdon first attended the Society meetings. Sir John Phillips
and Sir John Thorold were amongst the awakened, and members of the
Fetter-lane Society. Mr. Whitefield, who had lately returned from
Bristol, where he had been preaching in the open air, was now in
London, and, with Howell Harris, preached frequently at Fetter-lane.
This was the central place of meeting. Here they had their love-feasts,
and encouraged each other in devotedness to God. “On the first night
of the new year (says Mr. Wesley), Messrs. Hall, Kineton, Ingham,
Whitefield, Hutchins, and my brother Charles were present at our
love-feast, with about sixty of our brethren. About three in the
morning, as we were continuing intent in prayer, the power of God came
mightily upon us, insomuch that many cried out for exceeding joy, and
many fell to the ground. As soon as we recovered a little from our awe
and amazement at the presence of the Divine Majesty, we broke out with
one voice, ‘_We praise thee, O God! we acknowledge thee to be the
Lord!_’” “It was a pentecost season indeed (says Mr. Whitefield):
sometimes whole nights were spent in prayer: often have they been
filled as with new wine, and often have I seen them overwhelmed with
the Divine Presence, and heard them cry out, ‘_Will God indeed dwell
with men upon earth? How dreadful is this place! This is no other than
the house of God and the gate of heaven!_’”
The preaching of Mr. Whitefield now excited an unusual degree of
attention among persons of all ranks. In many of the city churches
he proclaimed the glad tidings of great joy to listening multitudes,
who were powerfully affected by the fire which displayed in the
animated addresses of this man of God. Lord and Lady Huntingdon
constantly attended wherever he preached, and Lady Anne Frankland
became one of the first fruits of his ministry amongst the nobility
in the metropolis.[7] Her Ladyship spent much of her time with Lady
Huntingdon, from whose society and conversation she derived great
comfort; but was so affected by the many mortifications she met with,
that she survived her brother, Lord Scarborough, but a few days, and
her separation from Mr. Frankland only eight months.
The illustrious author of the “Night Thoughts” lived at this time
among the great with that respect to which his literary talents
justly entitled him. He had married Lady Elizabeth Lee, daughter of
the Earl of Lichfield, and widow of Colonel Lee.[8] With Mrs. Temple,
the amiable daughter of Lady Elizabeth, by her former husband, Lady
Huntingdon had been extremely intimate; and having met Dr. Young at
the residence of Lord Bolingbroke, soon after his return from abroad,
their conversation had reference to the death of this lady, who died
of a consumption at Montpelier, the year after her marriage with Mr.
Temple, son of Lord Palmerston. It is more than poetically true, that
the Doctor and Lady Elizabeth accompanied her to the continent.
“I flew, I snatched her from the rigid north,
And bore her nearer to the Sun.”
But in vain. Her funeral was attended with the difficulties painted in
such animated colours in “Night the Third.”[9]
Lady Huntingdon, who had many opportunities of seeing Dr. Young at this
time, observed a settled melancholy in his disposition, and with a
view to remove the load of domestic grief which seemed to oppress his
spirits, introduced him to Mr. Charles Wesley, with whom he conversed
freely, and of whom he afterwards spoke to her Ladyship in times of
high commendation. From the preaching of the great Methodist leaders,
whose ministry he occasionally attended, he appeared to derive some
consolation and support. But another breach in his domestic happiness
was soon after made by the decease of Lady Elizabeth; and to the sorrow
Dr. Young felt from these losses, religion and morality are indebted
for the “Night Thoughts.”
“There is a pleasure in sadness which mourners only know!”
Lady Huntingdon’s intimacy with Lord Bolingbroke, and her frequent
visits to Twickenham, the residence of her aunt, Lady Fanny Shirley,
brought her acquainted with most of the literary characters of that
day.[10] Lady Fanny had long been one of the reigning beauties of the
Court of George the First, and her only rival was the Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu, whose talents, wit, literary genius, and eccentricities,
have made her fame as extensive as the English language. Lady Fanny
frequently attracted the notice of his Majesty, and likewise that of
the Prince of Wales.[11]
Previous to any decided religious impression having been made on her
mind, Lady Huntingdon was much at Court, but took no part in the
fashionable levities of the great and gay. Amongst her acquaintances,
at that period, we find Lady Betty Finch, daughter of Daniel, Earl
of Nottingham, who had just espoused Mr. Murray, afterwards Lord
Mansfield; Lord Townshend’s Lady, whose wit and eccentricities made so
much noise during a great part of the last century,[12] and Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu (the rival of Lady Fanny Shirley), who was the life and
soul of the Court circle, and at one period very intimate with Lady
Huntingdon, though her senior by seventeen years.[13]
At one period of her life, Lady Huntingdon appears to have been much
occupied with political questions. Her sentiments were conformable
with those of Sir Robert Walpole and his Administration; and she was
much connected with the courtiers of that day. A little incident which
occurred at this period will serve to mark the natural ardour of her
character. There were some stormy debates in the House of Lords, in May
1738, on the depredations of the Spaniards, in which Lord Huntingdon,
Lord Hervey, and others of his intimate friends, took a leading part.
Her Ladyship expressed her intention of being present, though ladies
were excluded. “At the last warm debate in the House of Lords (says
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu), it was unanimously resolved there should
be no unnecessary auditors; consequently the fair sex were excluded,
and the gallery destined to the sole use of the House of Commons.
Notwithstanding which determination, a tribe of dames resolved to
show, on this occasion, that neither men nor laws could resist them.
These heroines were Lady Huntingdon, the Duchess of Queensbury, the
Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Westmoreland, Lady Cobham, Lady Charlotte
Edwin, Lady Archibald Hamilton and her daughter Mrs. Scott, Mrs.
Pendarves, and Lady Frances Saunderson. I am thus particular in their
names, since I looked upon them to be the boldest assertors and
most resigned sufferers for liberty I ever read of. They presented
themselves at the door at nine o’clock in the morning, when Sir William
Saunderson respectfully informed them that the Chancellor had made an
order against their admittance. The Duchess of Queensbury, as head
of the squadron, ‘pished’ at the ill-breeding of a mere lawyer, and
desired Sir William to let them up stairs privately. After some modest
refusals, he swore he would not admit them. Her Grace, with a noble
warmth, answered, they would come in, in spite of the Chancellor and
the whole House. This being reported, the Peers resolved to starve
them out; an order was made that the doors should not be opened till
they had raised their siege. These Amazons now showed themselves
qualified for the duty even of foot-soldiers; they stood there till
five in the afternoon, without sustenance, every now and then plying
volleys of thumps, kicks, and raps, with so much violence against the
door, that the speakers in the House were scarce heard. When the Lords
were not to be conquered by this, the two Duchesses (very well apprised
of the use of stratagems in war) commanded a silence of half an hour;
and the Chancellor, who thought this a certain proof of their absence
(the Commons also being very impatient to enter), gave orders for the
opening of the door, upon which they all rushed in, pushed aside their
competitors, and placed themselves in the front rows of the gallery.
They stayed there till after eleven, when the House rose; and during
the debate gave applause, and showed marks of dislike, not only by
smiles and winks (which have always been allowed in these cases), but
by noisy laughs and apparent contempts, which is supposed the true
reason why poor Lord Hervey[14] spoke so miserably.”
Her high birth of course entitled Lady Huntingdon to the society
and respect of her equals; and Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, and
Catherine, Duchess of Buckingham, were her correspondents. The former
and her sister, the Countess of Tyrconnell, were two of the most
remarkable beauties of their day. The Duchess of Marlborough was, in
early life, appointed maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and to her
external attractions added, what was rarely met with in those days, all
the witchery of mind and all the dignity of conscious rectitude. Her
conversation and deportment were alike irresistible, from a just and
delightful mixture of softness and sprightliness: a little petulance
and caprice of temper; a little heedlessness of manner; a good deal of
her sex’s pride, yet more of its vanity; a quickness of imagination,
which sometimes hurried her to the verge of imprudence, and a natural
acuteness and readiness of wit which as often extricated her--
“Yielding by nature, stubborn but for fame,”
were the characteristics of this woman’s masculine mind and intriguing
spirit, which, by her influence in the Cabinet, may be said to have
swayed the destinies of Europe with greater effect than did her husband
by his talents in the field. Her name is introduced in this place,
however, to show the vanity of earthly triumphs. Two letters from her
Grace of Marlborough to Lady Huntingdon, written about this time, refer
principally to the preaching of the great Methodist leaders, whom her
Ladyship had invited the Duchess to hear:--
“My dear Lady Huntingdon is always so very good to me, and I
really do feel so very sensibly all your kindness and attention,
that I must accept your very obliging invitation to accompany
you to hear Mr. Whitefield, though I am still suffering from
the effects of a severe cold. Your concern for my improvement
in religious knowledge is very obliging, and I do hope that I
shall be the better for all your excellent advice. God knows
we all need mending, and none more than myself. I have lived
to see great changes in the world--have acted a conspicuous
part myself--and now hope, in my old days, to obtain mercy from
God, as I never expect any at the hands of my fellow-creatures.
The Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Townshend, and Lady Cobham were
exceedingly pleased with many observations in Mr. Whitefield’s
sermon at St. Sepulchre’s Church, which has made me lament ever
since that I did not hear it, as it might have been the means of
doing me some good--_for good, alas_! I DO WANT:
but where among the corrupt sons and daughters of Adam am I to
find it? Your Ladyship must direct me. You are all goodness
and kindness, and I often wish I had a portion of it. Women
of wit, beauty, and quality, cannot hear too many humiliating
truths--they shock our pride. But we must die--we must converse
with earth and worms.
“Pray do me the favour to present my humble service to your
excellent spouse. A more amiable man I do not know than Lord
Huntingdon. And believe me, my dear Madam, your most faithful
and most humble servant,
“S. MARLBOROUGH.”
“Your letter, my dear Madam, was very acceptable. Many thanks to
Lady Fanny for her good wishes. Any communications from her, and
my dear good Lady Huntingdon, are always welcome, and always,
in every particular, to my satisfaction. _I have no comfort
in my own family_, therefore must look for that pleasure and
gratification which others can impart. I hope you will shortly
come and see me, and give me more of your company than I have
had latterly. In truth, I always feel more happy and more
contented after an hour’s conversation with you, than I do after
a whole week’s round of amusement. _When alone, my reflections
and recollections almost kill me_, and I am forced to fly
to the society of those I detest and abhor. Now there is Lady
Frances Saunderson’s[15] great route to-morrow night--all the
world will be there, and I must go. I do hate that woman as much
as I do hate a physician; but I must go, if for no other purpose
than to mortify and spite her. This is very wicked, I know, but
I confess all my little peccadillos to you, for I know your
goodness will lead you to be mild and forgiving, and perhaps my
wicked heart may gain some good from you in the end.
“Make my kindest respects to Lord Huntingdon. Lady Fanny has
my best wishes for the success of her attack on that crooked,
perverse little wretch at Twickenham.[16] Assure yourself, my
dear good Madam, that I am your most faithful and most obliged
humble servant,
“S. MARLBOROUGH.”
This very conspicuous, very assailable, and very irritable woman, so
celebrated for quarrelling with all the rest of human kind, always took
in good part whatever Lady Huntingdon said or wrote, and never appears
to have been affronted or offended by the home-truths which she must
have heard from her.[17]
The Duchess of Buckingham, a woman perfectly mad with pride, was
distantly connected with Lady Huntingdon’s family. Her first husband,
the Earl of Anglesea, from whom she was separated by the unanimous
consent of the King and Parliament, was cousin-german to Charles
Annesley, Esq., Captain of the Battle-Axe-Guard, who married Lady
Levinge, the second wife of the Right Hon. Sir Richard Levinge, the
grandfather of Lady Huntingdon. A few years after this she was married
to John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, died at her house in St. James’s
Park (now Buckingham Palace), March 13, 1742, and was publicly
interred about a month after in Westminster Abbey. During the early
days of Methodism, her Grace occasionally attended the preaching of
Mr. Whitefield and the Wesleys, but she was decidedly opposed to the
doctrines which they promulgated. In a short epistle to Lady Huntingdon
she says:--
“I thank your Ladyship for the information concerning the
Methodist preachers; their doctrines are most repulsive, and
strongly tinctured with impertinence and disrespect towards
their superiors, in perpetually endeavouring to level all ranks,
and do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to be told,
that you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches that
crawl on the earth. This is highly offensive and insulting;
and I cannot but wonder that your Ladyship should relish any
sentiments so much at variance with high rank and good breeding.
“Your Ladyship does me infinite honour by your obliging
inquiries after my health. I shall be most happy to accept your
kind offer of accompanying me to hear your favourite preacher,
and shall wait your arrival. The Duchess of Queensbury insists
on my patronizing her on this occasion; consequently she will be
an _addition_ to our party.
“I have the honour to be, my dear Lady Huntingdon, your
Ladyship’s most faithful and obliged,
“C. BUCKINGHAM.”[18]
During her last illness, Lady Huntingdon made some efforts to see her,
but from a short note which remains, written by one of her maids of
honour, there is reason to believe the attempt was vain:--
“The Duchess of Buckingham presents her compliments to the
Countess of Huntingdon, is extremely obliged by her kind offer
and attentions, but regrets exceedingly her entire inability to
undergo the fatigue of conversation.
“_March 2, 1742._”
The Duchess of Queensbury, to whom allusion has been made, was a very
conspicuous figure in the circles of fashion at this period; she was
second daughter of the Earl of Clarendon and Rochester, and celebrated
for extraordinary beauty, wit, and sprightliness, by Pope, Swift, and
other poets, particularly by Prior, in one of his well-known ballads.
She and the Duke were forbid the Court by George II., for their
patronage of the poet Gay, but were received by Frederick, Prince of
Wales, and the Duke had an appointment in his household.
At one period of her life, the Duchess was much affected by the
preaching of the first Methodists, whose ministry she constantly
attended. But her wit and beauty drew her back into the vortex of
dissipation, and she appears to have lost all trace of the impressions
which had been made on her mind in early life. She was particularly
partial to the preaching of Mr. Charles Wesley and Mr. Ingham, who
occasionally visited London, and were extremely popular. Her Grace
survived both her children, one of whom shot himself by accident, and
the other died from the fright and fatigue he underwent at Lisbon, at
the time of the destruction of that city by the great earthquake, in
1755.
A deep gloom was cast over the family and connections of Lady
Huntingdon at this time, by the sudden and very alarming illness of
Charles Cotes, Esq., Member of Parliament for Tamworth, then on a visit
at Lord Huntingdon’s house, whilst attending his parliamentary duties.
Dr. Battie and Mr. Cheselden, head surgeons to Chelsea hospital, were
in daily attendance on Mr. Cotes, who was soon pronounced out of
danger, and in a few weeks completely convalescent. Religious subjects
were frequently discussed during the visits of these medical gentlemen;
and, on one occasion, a passage in the beginning of Mr. Locke’s
“Reasonableness of Christianity,” which implies the eternity of that
death which all the race of Adam were exposed to by his transgression,
until redeemed by Christ, became the subject of warm debate. Mr. Locke
explains 1 Cor. v. 22--“As in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all be
made alive”--thus: as the death that all men suffer is owing to Adam,
so the life that all shall be restored to again is procured them by
Christ. Dr. Battie differed from Lady Huntingdon and Mr. Cheselden in
the interpretation of this passage; and some time after communicated to
his friends the result of his reflections, in a pamphlet printed for
private circulation. Both these medical gentlemen were men of singular
excellence, and esteemed the first men in their profession. One of the
daughters of Dr. Battie was the wife of Admiral Sir George Young, one
of the bravest officers in the British service. The only child of Mr.
Cheselden was married to the above-mentioned Mr. Cotes, the cousin of
Lady Huntingdon, and nephew of Lady Fanny Shirley.
Some time prior to this period, Lady Huntingdon, who was distinguished
by that superiority of demeanour which is acquired by the habit of
intercourse with persons of the most cultivated talents and the most
polished manners, had formed an intimacy with Margaret Cavendish
Harley, only daughter and heir of the Earl of Oxford, who had married
the Duke of Portland, a lady well known for her love of the arts
and her patronage of literature. Their friendship was cemented by
her Ladyship’s frequent visits to Wimpole, in Cambridgeshire, the
seat of Lord Oxford, a nobleman eminently distinguished for his
disinterestedness both in public and private life, and respected as
one of the principal patrons of literature in his age. His Lordship
had a high opinion of the singular worth of Lady Huntingdon, whom he
had known from his earliest days, and, when near his death, sent for
her to attend him and administer consolation in his last moments.
He was a great admirer of Mr. Whitefield’s eloquence, and often
attended his ministry; but barren admiration seems to have been the
utmost effect produced on the mind of his Lordship. What might have
been the result of Lady Huntingdon’s faithful and heart-searching
conversations with him, in his dying hours, we are not informed. He
died at his house in Dover-street, June 16, 1741, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, speaking of his death,
says he refused all remedies till too late. His Lordship’s valuable
collection of manuscripts was preserved by his Countess, at her
residence in Dover-street, till her Ladyship, for the service of the
public, consented to their purchase by the Parliament, in 1754, and
they are now deposited in the British Museum. The Harleian Library was
the choicest and most extensive in England; and the catalogue of its
literary treasures was printed in two large folio volumes. Lord Oxford
was only forty-two years of age at the time of his decease.
It was during one of Lady Huntingdon’s visits to Wimpole that she
first became acquainted with Miss Robinson, a lady perhaps better
known in her time in the circles of fashion and genius than any
of her contemporaries. She was afterwards married to Mr. Montagu,
a man eminent for his acquirements in science, particularly in
mathematics, and much beloved and respected for his amiable character
and strong understanding. Lady Huntingdon, with a large circle of her
acquaintance, was present at the marriage ceremony; and her Ladyship,
many years after, had the pleasure of seeing that she was an exemplary
wife to a man much older than herself, and proved herself worthy to be
the bosom friend of a husband whose strict honour and integrity, as a
gentleman and a member of Parliament, were not less conspicuous than
his unwearied diligence and deep research as a man of science.
Lord Lisburne dying about this time, without male issue, was succeeded
in title and estates by his next brother, Wilmot, the third Viscount.
This nobleman was on terms of great intimacy with the family of
Lord Huntingdon, to whom he had been introduced by his cousin, Lady
Hinchinbroke, the mother of John, fourth Earl of Sandwich. Lord
Lisburne had married Miss Watson, of Berwick-upon-Tweed, a woman of
great excellence, and a frequent attendant on the preaching of the
first Methodists. Roused by their powerful ministry to a lively concern
for eternal things, she zealously sought to diffuse in the circle
of her acquaintance the savour of those truths which she loved and
believed. Her Ladyship’s intimacy with Lady Huntingdon was considerably
increased some years after by the marriage of her son, Lord Lisburne,
with Miss Nightingale, the only daughter of Lady Elizabeth Nightingale,
and the niece of Lady Huntingdon.
Lady Hinchinbroke, the granddaughter to the Duke of Montagu, and
nearly allied to those ladies of epistolary genius, Lady Mary Wortley
and Mrs. Montagu, was early left a widow, and was afterwards married
to the second son of the renowned Sir Edward Seymour, Bart., and
brother to the eighth Duke of Somerset. Her Ladyship had many domestic
afflictions, which she bore with patient resignation to the will of
Heaven. Her mind was deeply imbued with a sense of religion, under
the powerful ministry of these great Methodist leaders, and there
is abundant reason to believe that she was truly converted to God.
Her early acquaintance with Lady Huntingdon was of essential service
in directing her attention to the great and important concerns of
eternity; and, in one of her letters to the Countess, we find her thus
expressing herself:--
“My dear Madam,--I am extremely sensible of the honour your
Ladyship has done me by the book which you have sent, from
which I expect to derive much gratification and instruction. I
am deeply indebted to your kindness, and the anxiety you have
manifested at all times for my spiritual improvement. Indeed,
I stand in need of all your sympathy and all your unwearied
exertions; for I feel myself utterly helpless, miserable, and
guilty, in the sight of Heaven; and were it not for the ray of
hope which I have in the atoning sacrifice of Christ, would be
driven to despair and ruin.
“I shall have much pleasure in waiting on your Ladyship
to-morrow. Have you heard where Mr. Whitefield and Mr.
Wesley are to preach this week? With kindest regards to Lord
Huntingdon, I remain, my dear Madam, your faithful friend and
most humble servant,
“E. HINCHINBROKE.”[19]