COMMENCEMENT OF OUTDOOR PREACHING. (continued 2)

At Trelegg, Whitefield preached "upon the horse-block before the inn;" at Chepstow, in the church; and at Coleford, in the market-house. On April 9th, he arrived at Gloucester, in the neighbourhood of which he spent the next eight days. Howell Harris, as well as William Seward, was his travelling companion. The following is taken from the Gloucester Journal of April 24, 1739:—

"On the 9th inst., the Rev. Mr. Whitefield came to this city (the place of his nativity) from Wales; having preached in Usk Street; in Pontypool Church and field; in Abergavenny, from a place built on purpose, against a gentleman's wall; in Caerleon field, from a pulpit built for the famous Mr. Howell Harris, who came with him hither, and goes with him to London. He was attended from Usk to Pontypool, and from thence to Abergavenny, and to Caerleon, by sixty or seventy horse, so great was the love of the people to his person, and to his doctrine of the new birth," etc.

Whitefield's ministry in Gloucester and its vicinity was quite as irregular and as remarkable as it had been in Wales. On April 10, besides visiting three Religious Societies in the city, he also preached in St. Michael's Church; but, on the day following, at the conclusion of his sermon, the same church was closed against him, on the ground that "the greatness of his congregations" seriously interfered with public business. With the exception of another instance, to be mentioned shortly, these were the only services that Whitefield was allowed to hold in the Gloucester churches. The result was, he began to preach, to assembled thousands, in the Booth Hall, and in a field attached to the Bell Inn, and belonging to his brother. The newspaper just quoted says:—

"On Tuesday and Wednesday, he preached at the parish church of St. Michael's; but that, as well as one other pulpit, being afterwards denied, and having no prospect of better success with the rest of his brethren, he, on Thursday, Friday, Sunday, and Monday, preached to some thousands in a field belonging to the Bell Inn; also on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights, in the Booth Hall, to about three or four thousand each time. Great power has attended his preaching; great numbers have been strengthened in their Christian faith, and are exceedingly sorrowful at his departure from them."

Whitefield's views and feelings will be best expressed in his own words. He writes:—

"1739, Thursday, April 12th. Preached to nearly three thousand hearers in a field belonging to my brother. Cry out who will against this my frowardness, I cannot see my dear countrymen and fellow-Christians everywhere ready to perish, through ignorance and unbelief, and not endeavour to convince them of both. I call upon them who forbid me to speak to these poor baptized heathens, to give a reason for their so doing—a reason which may satisfy not man only, but God. I am, and profess myself, a member of the Church of England. I have received no prohibition from any of the bishops; and, having had no fault found by them with my life or doctrine, have the same general license to preach which the rectors are willing to think sufficient for their curates; nor can any of them produce one instance of their having refused the assistance of a stranger clergyman, because he had not a written license. And have their lordships, the bishops, insisted that no person shall ever preach occasionally without such special license? Is not our producing our Letters of Orders always judged sufficient? Have not some of us been allowed to preach in Georgia and other places, by no other than our general commission? His lordship of London allowed of my preaching in Georgia, even when I had only received Deacon's Orders; and I have never been charged by his lordship with teaching or living otherwise than as a true minister of the Church of England. I keep close to her Articles and Homilies, which, if my opposers did, we should not have so many dissenters from her. But it is most notorious that for the iniquity of the priests the land mourns. We have preached and lived many sincere persons out of our communion. I have now conversed with several of the best of all denominations; and many of them solemnly protest that they went from the church because they could not find food for their souls. They stayed among us till they were starved out. I know this declaration will expose me to the ill-will, not of all my brethren, but of all my indolent, earthly-minded, pleasure-taking brethren. But were I not to speak, the very stones would cry out against them. Speak, therefore, I must, and will, and will not spare. God look to the event!"

No doubt all this is true; but still, the clergy had a right to refuse the use of their churches to the young evangelist; and it must also be admitted that there is throughout Whitefield's statement a strain of egotism scarcely modest, and at the end of it a tone of censoriousness hardly in harmony with Christian courtesy. Unfortunately, this was not the only imprudent attack of Whitefield on the indolence, the earthly-mindedness, and pleasure-taking habits of his brethren in the ministry. There were ample grounds for it; but the attack was not politic. It resulted in no good, and not unreasonably exposed Whitefield to retaliatory critiques. But more of this anon.

Besides his preaching in the Booth Hall and in his brother's field, Whitefield preached out of doors at Painswick, Chalford, Stroud, Stonehouse, and Oxenhall. Strangely enough, his last service, for the present, was performed in the church he attended in the days of his boyhood. He writes:—

"1739, April 17, Tuesday. About eleven, by the bishop's permission, I baptized, in the Church of St. Mary de Crypt, Mr. Thomas W——d, a professed Quaker, about sixty years of age, who was convinced of the necessity of being born again of water as well as of the Spirit. Many of Christ's faithful servants attended on the prayers around him; and, I believe, the Holy Ghost was with us of a truth. After the solemnity was over, I gave a word of exhortation from the font; and, being the place where I myself not long since had been baptized, it gave me an opportunity of reflecting on the frequent breaches of my baptismal vow, and of proving the necessity of the new birth from the office of our Church.

"After this, and having dined, I prayed with and took leave of my weeping friends. When I came to the city, I found the devil had painted me in most horrible colours; for it was currently reported that I was really mad, that I had said I was the Holy Ghost, and that I had walked bare-headed through Bristol streets, singing psalms. But God was pleased to shew the people that the devil was a liar, and that the words I spoke were not those of a madman, but the words of soberness and truth."

Having baptized the old Quaker, and unnecessarily repudiated the stupid charge of being mad, because he had sung with uncovered head in the streets of Bristol, he set out for Cheltenham, accompanied by about a dozen of his friends. Until recently, Cheltenham had been a poor, straggling hamlet of a few thatched cottages, sheltered by the Cotswold Hills. The first Spa was discovered in 1716, and since then, during a period of twenty years, the insignificant village had been full of bustle, for its site was in the process of being transformed into the squares, crescents, terraces, and promenades of the fashionable Cheltenham of the present day. As Whitefield and his friends passed along, the rustic inhabitants, at the doors of their humble cottages, stood and stared. Whitefield applied for the use of the parish church. His application was refused; and therefore he preached, he says, "to near two thousand people,"[190] on the Plough Inn bowling-green. He adds, "Many were convicted. One woman wept greatly, because she had said I was crazy; and some were so filled with the Holy Ghost, that they were almost unable to support themselves under it."

From Cheltenham, Whitefield proceeded to Evesham, in the neighbourhood of which he spent three days among the relatives of his friend William Seward. He shall relate his own story.

"1739, April 18, Wednesday. Got safe to Evesham (where Mr. Seward's relations live) about seven at night. Several persons came to see me, amongst whom was Mr. Benjamin Seward, whom God has been pleased to call by His free grace very lately. For some years he had been at Cambridge. As touching the law, so far as outward morality went, he was blameless; but he disliked my proceedings, and once had a mind, he said, to write against Mr. Law's enthusiastic notions in his 'Christian Perfection.' Lately, however, he has had an eight days' sickness; in which time he scarce ever ate, or drank, or slept, and underwent great inward agonies and tortures. After this, God sent a poor travelling woman, who came to sell straw toys, to instruct him in the nature of the second birth; and now he is resolved to prepare for Holy Orders. He is a gentleman of very large fortune, which he has devoted to God. I write this to shew how far a man may go, and yet know nothing of Jesus Christ. Here is one who constantly attended on the means of grace, exact in his morals, humane and courteous in his conversation, who gave much in alms, was frequent in private duties; and yet, till about six weeks ago, was as destitute of any saving, experimental knowledge of Jesus Christ, as those on whom His name was never called, and who still sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. How often has my companion and honoured friend, Mr. William Seward, been deemed a madman, even by this very brother, for going to Georgia; but now God has made him an instrument of converting his brother. This, more and more, convinces me that we must be despised before we can be vessels fit for God's use.

"April 19, Thursday. Went to Badsey, about two miles from Evesham, where Mr. Seward's eldest brother lives. We were most kindly received. About four in the afternoon, the churches at Evesham, Bengeworth, and Badsey being denied, I preached from the cross, in the middle of Evesham street, to a great congregation; and then went to Badsey, and preached in Mr. Seward's brother's yard.

"April 20, Friday. Preached about nine in the morning at the cross in Evesham, went to public worship, and received the sacrament. Preached at Badsey at five in the evening, and returned and expounded in the town hall, which was quite thronged. The recorder himself procured the keys for us.

"April 21, Saturday. Preached in the morning at Badsey, to a weeping audience, and set out for Oxford, which I reached at about ten at night."

At Oxford, Whitefield was thrown into amusing perturbation by an event which might have been expected to secure his warm approval. Charles Kinchin, one of the most zealous of the Oxford Methodists, was Rector of Dummer and Fellow and Dean of Corpus Christi College. Greatly to Whitefield's distress of mind, Kinchin had resolved to declare himself a Dissenter. He had left the college, intended to resign his living, and purposed, as soon as he was really converted, to become an itinerant preacher.[191] Whitefield himself was already an itinerant, either by necessity, or choice, or both; and yet he seems to have been ridiculously horrified at the probability of Kinchin following his example. He writes:—

"The step taken by Mr. Kinchin gave me a great shock. For I knew what dreadful consequences would attend a needless separation from the Established Church. For my own part, I can see no reason for my leaving the Church, however I am treated by the corrupt members and ministers of it. I judge of the state of a church, not from the practice of its members, but its primitive and public constitutions; and so long as I think the Articles of the Church of England are agreeable to Scripture, I am resolved to preach them up without either bigotry or party zeal."

Already Hervey, another of the Oxford Methodists, had written to Kinchin a letter, of more than a dozen printed octavo pages,[192] and had strongly and lovingly entreated him not to leave the Church. Whitefield wrote to the same effect. His letter is thoroughly characteristic, and abbreviation would injure it.

"Oxon, April 22, 1739.

"Dearest Mr. Kinchin,—Just now I have received the blessed sacrament, and have been praying for you. Let me exhort you, by the mercies of God in Christ Jesus, not to resign your parsonage till you have consulted your friends in London. It is undoubtedly true that all is not right when we are afraid to be open to our dear brethren.

"Satan has desired to sift you as wheat. He is dealing with you as he did with me some years ago, when he kept me in my closet near six weeks, because I could not do anything with a single intention. So he would have you not to preach till you have received the Holy Ghost in the full assurance of it; and that is the way never to have it at all. God will be found in the use of means; and our Lord sent out His disciples to preach before[193] they had received the Holy Ghost in that most plentiful manner at the day of Pentecost.

"Besides, consider, my dear brother, what confusion your separation from the Church will occasion. The prison doors" (at Oxford) "are already shut" (against us). "Our Society is stopped; and most are afraid almost to converse with us. I can assure you, that my being a minister of the Church of England, and preaching its articles, is a means, under God, of drawing so many after me.

"As for objecting about habits, robes, etc., good God! I thought we long since knew that the kingdom of God did not consist in any externals, but in righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.

"Oh! my dear brother, I travail in pain for you. Never was I more shocked at anything than at your proceedings. I doubt not that you will pray to God to be kept from delusion at the reading of this. I am not ignorant of Satan's devices, and I know he never more successfully tempts us, than when he turns himself into an angel of light. Oh! my dearest Mr. Kinchin, do nothing rashly. Consult your friends, and do not break the heart of your most affectionate, though unworthy brother in Christ,

"George Whitefield."

Though it is not necessary to pursue the subject, it may be added, 1. That Kinchin was prompted to act as he did chiefly by three Moravian brethren;[194] 2. Though there can be little doubt that he resigned his Fellowship and his office of Dean of Corpus Christi College, it is not certain that he resigned his living; 3. When he died, on January 4, 1742, he left behind him a young widow of the age of thirty, who, ten months afterwards, was one of the enrolled members of "the Congregation of the Lamb, in London;" and, within eighteen months after that, became the wife of Ludolph Ernest Schlicht,[195] who officiated as one of the principal Moravian ministers in London, Dublin, and other places.

Whitefield spent two days at Oxford, trying to put wrong things right. Of course, he was not allowed the use of any of the Oxford churches; but he says:—

"I visited two Societies, at the first of which many gownsmen did me the honour of coming to hear. Before I began, I desired them to behave like gentlemen and Christians. I also prayed particularly for them, and applied myself in meekness and love to them at the end of my discourse. They behaved quietly; but afterwards followed me to my inn, and came uninvited up into my room. I took that opportunity to give them a second exhortation; and though some, no doubt, mocked, yet, I believe, some will remember what was said. Blessed be God for sending me hither! Our dear brother Kinchin, falling into such an error, has given such a shock, that, unless I had come, in all probability the brethren would have been scattered abroad like sheep having no shepherd."

Next morning, before setting out for London, Whitefield conducted another religious service; during which the Vice-Chancellor of the University came and sent a message, requesting Whitefield to come downstairs to see him.[196] As soon as the young preacher presented himself, the learned Don angrily exclaimed, "Have you, sir, a name in any book here?" "Yes, sir," said Whitefield, "but I intend to take it out soon." "Yes," replied the wrathful magnate, "and you had best take yourself out too, or otherwise I will lay you up by the heels. What do you mean by going about, alienating the people's affections from their proper pastors? Your works are full of vanity and nonsense. You pretend to inspiration. If you ever come again in this manner among these people, I will lay you first by the heels, and these shall follow." Having delivered himself of this official threat, the Vice-Chancellor "turned his back, and went away." "I exhorted the brethren," says Whitefield, "not to forsake the assembling of themselves together, though no pastor should be permitted to come amongst them; for, so long as they continued steadfast in the communion of the Established Church, I told them, no power on earth could justify hindering them continuing in fellowship, as the primitive Christians did, in order to build up each other in the knowledge and fear of God. Oh, what advantage has Satan gained over us by our brother Kinchin putting off his gown!"

The ungentlemanly menace of the Vice-Chancellor was an empty one, and yet it evidently caused Whitefield some anxiety. Hence, on the same day, he wrote as follows to his friend Harris:—

"I rejoice to hear Mr. Cole[197] builds you up in your most holy faith. Who knows but you may, under God, keep up religion in Gloucester? Mr. Kinchin's conduct, in leaving the Church and giving up the parsonage, has sadly grieved the spirit of many good people here. My heart is drawn towards London most strangely. Perhaps you may hear of your friend's imprisonment. I expect no other preferment. God grant I may behave so, that when I suffer, it may not be for my own imprudencies, but for righteousness' sake! Then, I am sure, the spirit of Christ and of glory will rest upon my soul."

On April 25th, Whitefield and his friends, William Seward and Howell Harris, arrived in London, where (excepting one or two brief excursions made to other places) he continued until the end of June. This was a most important epoch in Whitefield's history, and must be carefully examined.

It is a significant fact, that, though it was through three Moravians that Charles Kinchin was (as Whitefield thought) so disastrously led astray, Whitefield still maintained a close connection with the Moravian Society in Fetter Lane, and, up to the time of his second embarkation for Georgia, attended their assemblies, and assisted in their services. He was really, if not nominally, one of their brotherhood; and, on Sunday, May 20, made the following entry in his Journal: "Went with our brethren of Fetter Lane Society to St. Paul's, and received the holy sacrament, as a testimony that we adhered to the Church of England."

It was not, however, as a Moravian that Whitefield became so notable; but as an outdoor preacher, whose congregations, voice, and oratory were unparalleled.

At this period, the vicar of Islington was the Rev. George Stonehouse, who had recently been converted, chiefly by means of Charles Wesley; and who, like Whitefield and the Wesley brothers, evinced great affection for the Moravian fraternity. In fact, he soon afterwards so identified himself with the Brethren, that he sold his living, and retired to Sherborne, in the west of England, where he fitted up a Moravian meeting house capable of accommodating five hundred people.

Mr. Stonehouse was now the only clergyman in London willing to lend his pulpit to poor outcast Whitefield; and even he was not able to carry out his wishes. Whitefield, the day after he reached London, wrote as follows:—

"Thursday, April 26. Assisted in administering the blessed sacrament at Islington, where the vicar, in conformity to the rubric, takes care to observe the octaves of Easter.

"Friday, April 27. Went this morning to Islington to preach, according to the appointment of my dear brother in Christ, the Reverend Mr. Stonehouse; but, in the midst of the prayers, the churchwarden came, demanding me to produce my license, or otherwise he forbad my preaching in that pulpit. I believe I might have insisted upon my right to preach, being in priest's orders, and having the presentation of the living at Savannah, which is in the Bishop of London's diocese,—a stronger license than that implicit one by which hundreds of the inferior clergy are by his lordship permitted to preach. However, for the sake of peace, I declined preaching in the church; but, after the communion service was over, I preached in the churchyard, being assured my Master now called me out here, as well as in Bristol.[198] God was pleased so to assist me in preaching, and so wonderfully to affect the hearers, that, I believe, we could have gone singing of hymns to prison. Let not the adversaries say I have thrust myself out of their synagogues. No, they have thrust me out. And since the self-righteous men of this generation count themselves unworthy, I go out into the highways and hedges, and compel harlots, publicans, and sinners to come in, that my Master's house may be filled. They who are sincere will follow after me to hear the word of God."[199]

Thus was Whitefield driven to outdoor preaching in London, as well as in Bristol. Perhaps he would have preferred a church; but now he must either preach out of doors, or not at all. His spirit might be vexed, but was not depressed. On the very day when the imperious churchwarden thrust him out of Islington Church into the churchyard, he wrote to his friend Harris at Gloucester:—

"To-day, my Master, by His providence and Spirit, compelled me to preach in the churchyard at Islington. To-morrow, I am to repeat that mad trick, and, on Sunday, to go out into Moorfields. The word of the Lord runs and is glorified. People's hearts seem quite broken. God strengthens me exceedingly. I preach till I sweat through and through. Innumerable blessings does God pour down upon me. Oh that I had a thankful heart!"

When Sunday came, Whitefield, not surprisingly, did more than he intended. He writes:—

"Sunday, April 29. Preached in the morning at Moorfields, to an exceeding great multitude. At ten, went to Christ Church, and heard Doctor Trapp preach most virulently against me and my friends, upon these words, 'Be not righteous over-much: why shouldest thou destroy thyself?' God gave me great serenity of mind; but, alas! the preacher was not so calm as I wished him. His sermon was founded upon wrong suppositions, not to say that there were many direct untruths in it. And he argued so strenuously against all inward feelings, that he plainly proved that, with all his learning, he knew nothing yet as he ought to know. At five, I preached at Kennington Common, about two miles from London, where thirty thousand people were supposed to be present. The wind carried my voice to the extremest part of the audience. All stood attentive, and joined in the Psalm and the Lord's Prayer most regularly. I scarce ever preached more quietly in any church. The word came with power. The people were much affected. All agreed it was never seen on this wise before. I hope a good inroad has been made into the devil's kingdom this day.[200]

"Monday, April 30. Declined preaching to-day, that I might have leisure to write to some of my correspondents, and make preparations for my poor orphans in Georgia. Heard that Mr. Kinchin had got over his scruples, and of the wonderful success of my honoured friend Mr. John Wesley's ministry in Bristol, and of much opposition at Oxford. Certainly God is about to bring mighty things to pass."

So ended this eventful month of April. Wesley, whom Whitefield had left as his successor, was preaching to thousands upon thousands in Bristol and its vicinity, and already numbers were falling on the ground as if "thunderstruck," and in the greatest excitement calling upon God for mercy. Whitefield had prepared Wesley's way in Bristol, and he was now doing the same in London. Moorfields—a park laid out in grass plots, intersected by broad gravel walks, and shaded by rows of well-grown elms—was "the city mall." Kennington Common—a mile beyond the small hamlet of Newington, and situated at the end of a vast conglomerated garden which extended to what is now Westminster Bridge—was the rendezvous of London riff-raffs, and the ghostly locale where hundreds of condemned felons had been hanged and gibbeted. These, henceforth, were two of Whitefield's grand cathedrals.[201]

Doctor Trapp has just been mentioned. This gentleman, like Whitefield, was born in Gloucestershire, and educated at Oxford; but he was thirty-six years Whitefield's senior. He was a culpable pluralist. In 1721, he became vicar of Christ Church, Newgate Street, and rector of St. Leonard's, Foster Lane. In 1733, the famous Lord Bolingbroke made him rector of Harlington, in Middlesex; and, a year later, he was elected a joint lecturer of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. These were the church-preferments of the fervent ecclesiastic, who deemed it his high duty to belabour the poor Methodists. Turbulence was an element in which Dr. Trapp liked to live. He had acted as manager for Dr. Sacheverell on his memorable trial in 1709. Several of his principal publications had been of a controversial character. There can be no question that he had a keen relish for a scuffle. He was a man of extensive learning, and Bishop Pearce pronounced him to be of all English students the most diligent. His wit was considerable, but his temper hasty. The one sharpened the other, and made it more gashing.

The sermon by Trapp, which Whitefield heard in Christ Church, on Sunday, April 29th, was probably the first of the series. At all events, the Gentleman's Magazine announced that the "fourth and last sermon against Mr. Whitefield and the Methodists" was "preached on Sunday, May 20th," and that the sermons were to "be printed at the earnest request of the audience."[202]

Dr. Trapp, in compliance with "the earnest request" of his hearers, immediately issued an octavo pamphlet of sixty-nine pages, with the title, "The Nature, Folly, Sin, and Danger of being Righteous over-much; with a particular view to the Doctrines and Practices of certain Modern Enthusiasts. Being the Substance of Four Discourses lately preached in the Parish Churches of Christ Church, and St. Lawrence Jewry, London, and St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, Westminster. By Joseph Trapp, D.D." Before the end of the year, the work reached a third edition. A few extracts, obviously aimed at Whitefield, may be useful.

In a paragraph censuring "ignorant, illiterate people who presume to expound the Scriptures," the learned Doctor says:—

"Suppose another, though in holy orders, yet a raw novice very lately initiated into them, shall take upon him, at his first setting out, to execute, as it were, the office of an apostle,—to be a teacher, not only of all the laity in all parts of the kingdom, but of the teachers themselves, the learned clergy, many of them learned before he was born,—to reflect upon and censure them as if they did not know their duty, or would not do it without being instructed and reproved by him,—what is this but an outrage upon common decency and common sense? the height of presumption, confidence, and self-sufficiency; so ridiculous as to create the greatest laughter, were it not so deplorable and detestable as to create the greatest grief and abhorrence; especially if vast multitudes are so sottish, and wicked too, as, in a tumultuous manner, to run madding after him? Surely it is shocking and prodigious for so young a son of Levi to take much upon him."

Such seems to have been the winding-up of the first sermon—the one which Whitefield himself heard in Christ Church. No wonder Whitefield wrote, "The preacher was not so calm as I wished him."

The next extract is equally personal and offensive.

"There is a mighty difference between appearance and reality. There is often the deepest pride where there is no high or lofty look, and the height of confidence and self-sufficiency under the guise of the greatest modesty. But how shall we distinguish? 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' A pharisaical ostentation, and outward show of piety, praying, or singing psalms in the corners of the streets, to be seen of men, is one undoubted sign of pride, and that the worst sort of it—spiritual pride. Again, he is proud who 'exercises himself in great matters which are too high for him,'—who pretends to be more than ordinarily knowing in things which he knows nothing of,—who peremptorily censures his betters, and takes upon him to teach his teachers. All this is contrary to the spirit and genius of the Gospel, to the modesty and humility of the Christian religion. These are indications of the worst sort of pride; or if not pride, it is a folly that approaches very near to madness."

In reference to the Moravian and other Religious Societies, in whose meetings Whitefield so frequently expounded, the zealous, censorious preacher says:—

"The Church itself is, by these irregular, upstart Societies, even by the best of them, and much more by the worst, greatly weakened and impaired. For though they do constantly attend divine service, as prescribed in the public offices, yet I appeal to all discerning and judicious persons, whether, in the nature of things, they are not likely to set a greater value upon their own particular meetings and exercises, set up purely by their own fancies, and commanded by no authority of God or man. To be plain, if what I am informed of these meetings be true, they are schismatical, in their tendency at least, though not so designed; for there may be a schism in the Church, as well as a schism from the Church. If it be true that they consist of considerable numbers, that they have prayers (some, too, extemporary ones), and preaching, or something like it, I do not see how they can be deemed legal assemblies. The public meetings of Protestant Dissenters from the Church are tolerated by law, and licensed by authority; but I never heard that these are either. If they should be, I doubt there would be more danger to the Church from a kind of half-dissenters in it, than from those who are total dissenters from it."

Whitefield's open-air preaching occasioned great disquietude to the minister of three churches in London and one in the country. Dr. Trapp remarks:—

"We have heard of Field-Conventicles in Scotland, among the enthusiasts of that country; which yet, I think, were there always suppressed by the authority of Church or State, or both. We have had, in former times, something of this nature in England, as practised by Brownists, Anabaptists, Quakers, Ranters, or such like. But for a clergyman of the Church of England to pray and preach in the fields in the country, or in the streets in the city, is perfectly new; never heard of before; a fresh honour to the blessed age, in which we have the happiness to live. To pray, preach, and sing psalms in the streets and fields is worse, if possible, than intruding into pulpits by downright violence and breach of the peace; and then denying the plain fact with the most infamous prevarication.[203] I could say much here; but am quite ashamed to speak upon a subject which is a shame and reproach, not only to our Church and country, but to human nature itself. Can it promote the Christian religion, to turn it into riot, tumult, and confusion?—to make it ridiculous and contemptible, and expose it to the scorn and scoffs of infidels and atheists? If it be alleged, as I think it is, that Christ and His apostles prayed and preached in the fields, on mountains, and on the sea-shore,—I ask, Have these creatures the same spirit and power that they had? Is Christianity now in its infancy, as it was then? Was the Church then established as it is now? Are we now to be converted to Christianity, from Judaism or heathenism, as people were in those days? Or if we were, are such false and spurious apostles as these able to convert us? I might here very properly urge the canons of the Church of England, and the laws of the civil state. But the thing, though detestable and of most pernicious tendency, is, in another view, too contemptible to be longer insisted upon. It would likewise be endless, as well as nauseous, to make reflections upon that rhapsody of madness, spiritual pride, and little less than blasphemy, if not quite so, which this field preacher calls his Journal; and so I say no more of it. Go not after these impostors and seducers; but shun them as you would the plague. Those who run after them are the enemies of our religion and Church. These Protestant enthusiasts, with all Protestant heretics, schismaticks, and false teachers, on the one hand; and the free-thinkers, infidels, deists, and atheists, on the other, are doing the work of Papists for them, to their hearts' desire."

In this fit of nausea and disgust Dr. Trapp might be dismissed; but, before parting with him, another of his virulent outpourings must be noticed.

Three months later in the year, the following was published:—"The Nature, Usefulness, and Regulation of Religious Zeal. A Sermon preached at St. Mary's, Oxon; before the Right Honourable Mr. Justice Fortescue Aland and Mr. Baron Thompson; and before the University of Oxford; at the Assizes held there, on Thursday, August 2nd, 1739. By Joseph Trapp, D.D., Minister of Christ Church and St. Leonard's, Foster Lane, London. Published at the desire of the Judges and the Vice-Chancellor." (8vo. 32 pp.)

One extract from this highly patronized sermon must suffice.

"No false zeal is more abusive than that of our modern infidels, on the one hand, and our modern enthusiasts, pretending to be the only true believers, on the other: Christianity and Christians by the former, and our Established Church and clergy by both; being outraged with such virulence and malice, such insolence and contempt, as was never heard of before; and would not be endured by any Christian nation under heaven, but this in which we live. Some emotion in the affections, and in the blood and spirits, is both becoming and useful; but rage and fury is neither. The good Christian may have, and should have, some warmth and even heat; but not be like a red-hot iron, hissing and sparkling from the forge, and dropping fire wherever it reaches. A brisk gale at sea is one thing, but a storm is another. Let false zealots be like raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; but let the truly zealous Christian carefully avoid these exorbitances. Let Popery and Protestant enthusiasm, infidelity, and atheism, all leagued against Christianity in general and the Church of England in particular, rage like a possessed pythoness; but let every good Christian know and consider what manner of spirit he is of, which is not such a manner of spirit as that."

Public attacks like these were hard to bear; especially in the case of a young man of twenty-four, ardent, enthusiastic, ambitious, and somewhat overweening, like Whitefield. In his sermon on "The Marriage of Cana," Whitefield writes:—

"What a sad inference one of our masters of Israel, in a printed sermon, has lately drawn from this commendation of the bridegroom! His words are these: 'Our blessed Saviour came eating and drinking, was present at weddings, and other entertainments; nay, at one of them, worked a miracle to make wine, when it is plain there had been more drank than was absolutely necessary for the support of nature; and consequently something had been indulged to pleasure and cheerfulness.'[204]

"I am sorry such words should come from the mouth and pen of a dignified clergyman of the Church of England. Alas! how is she fallen! or, at least, in what danger must her tottering ark be, when such unhallowed hands are stretched out to support it! Well may I bear patiently to be styled a blasphemer, and a setter forth of strange doctrines, when my dear Lord Jesus is thus traduced, and when those who pretend to preach in His name urge this example to patronise licentiousness and excess!"

A more lengthy and less temperate critique by Whitefield will be mentioned shortly. Meanwhile, a reply was published by the Rev. Robert Seagrave, M.A., in an octavo pamphlet of 32 pages, with the title, "An Answer to the Reverend Dr. Trapp's four Sermons against Mr. Whitefield, shewing the Sin and Folly of being Angry over-much." The title-page also bore the following text from the Apocrypha: "He was made to reprove our thoughts. He is grievous unto us even to behold; for His life is not like other men's; His ways are of another fashion (Wisdom ii. 14, 15)." This pamphlet passed through two editions in the year 1739.

Mr. Seagrave was born on November 22, 1693, at Twyford, in Leicestershire, where his father was vicar from 1687 to 1720. At the age of seventeen, he was admitted sizar of Clare Hall, Cambridge, where he subsequently took the degrees of B.A. and M.A.[205] He heartily sympathised with Whitefield; and failing to obtain a church, or, perhaps, not desiring to be the minister of one, he became, in 1739, a sort of extra parochial clergyman, and occupied the Lorimers' or Leather-Cutters' Hall, situated at the north end of Basinghall Street. This hall, for at least forty years, had been used as a dissenting meeting-house, first by the Particular Baptists, and next by a Society of Independents. Here, in 1706, the celebrated Dr. Daniel Neal was ordained, and officiated as minister, until his increasing congregation rendered it necessary to remove to a larger meeting-house in Jewin Street.[206]

For some years, Mr. Seagrave preached in Lorimers' Hall with much success. "He was a good minister of Jesus Christ, a workman who needed not to be ashamed. He was a man of eminent piety, great humility, and remarkable zeal and diligence, and very exemplary in the whole of his conversation. Besides his Answer to Dr. Trapp, he was the author of "Observations upon the Conduct of the Clergy in Relation to the Thirty-Nine Articles, with an Essay towards a Real Protestant Establishment;" also "A Letter to the People of England;"[207] and likewise "Hymns for Christian Worship, 1742." He was also the author of about half a dozen other pamphlets, tracts, and sermons.

Want of space makes it impossible to give an outline of Mr. Seagrave's reply to Dr. Trapp; but three brief extracts from this scarce production may be welcome.

"Little or nothing was objected to the Methodists, by the clergy, while they continued in our churches, excepting some disorders and inconveniences arising, by their means, to our places of worship; but, from the time they unexpectedly undertook to preach in fields, and in a manner not altogether favourable to ecclesiastical maxims and church authority, they have commenced impostors, enthusiasts, and novelists. They have likewise acquired very additional blame for asserting that they discern several valuable and worthy Christians amongst Dissenters of every branch. To which I reply: (1) Does preaching in a field annul that character or commission of a minister, in all respects ordained like the rest, which divines themselves call an indelible character? A discovery seems to be made, that the exercise of a minister's function subsists no longer than he shall absolutely coincide with the majority of his brethren, or shall think as his diocesan thinks. (2) The Dissenters have mostly kept the old truths which now begin to be discovered. Why should we confine all religion, and all learning, and all knowledge to our own Church? The Methodists think they see more religion and real knowledge at present amongst the Dissenters than (I am sorry to say it) is commonly seen in our own Church; and they have the impartiality not to deny it."

"I shall not deny that instances of folly are imputable to the Methodists. Persons have sung psalms in streets and corners; an indiscretion this, but no crime. We ought to balance the bad part with the good. Nothing but obstinacy and envy can deny that a great reformation has arisen upon the manners of the age by the itinerant's preaching. If the gospel be preached in the church, it is well and desirable; but, when our clergy leave the old truths, and are fallen into the scheme of Deism, though they may not discern it, men have a right to hear the truth in the field, or in a meeting-house, supposing they can find it nowhere else."

One more extract, partly aimed at Dr. Trapp as a pluralist, must suffice.

"Nothing can weaken the credit of any clergy so much as their own indiscretions and exorbitancy of ambition. When they afford suspicion of their being lovers of themselves, and negligent of their respective flocks; when they break the regularity of their own church by pluralities, dispensations, and other enormities; and, above all, when they are actually fallen aside from their foundation by departing from their own constituent articles, a solemn subscription notwithstanding,—this really may and ought to weaken and impair, if not the Church, yet certainly the reputation of such in it, who harbour the present rash and overbearing principles.[208]

It is time to return to Whitefield on the playground of the London rabble, Kennington Common. He writes:—

"1739, Wednesday, May 2. Preached this evening to above ten thousand, at Kennington Common, and spent the remainder of the evening in conference with our brethren in Fetter Lane Society. Our brethren, who have fallen into errors, have left us voluntarily.

"Thursday, May 3. Preached, at six in the evening, at Kennington, and great power was amongst us. The audience was more numerous and silent than yesterday.

"Saturday, May 5. Preached yesterday and to-day at Kennington Common, to about twenty thousand hearers, who were very much affected.

"Sunday, May 6. Preached this morning in Moorfields, to about twenty thousand people, who were very quiet and attentive, and much affected. Went to public worship morning and evening; and, at six, preached at Kennington. Such a sight I never saw before. I believe there were no less than fifty thousand people, near four-score coaches, besides great numbers of horses. There was an awful silence among the people. God gave me great enlargement of heart. I continued my discourse for an hour and a half.

"Tuesday, May 8. Preached in the evening, as usual, on Kennington Common. Before I set out from town, it rained very hard; but when I came to the Common, I saw, to my great surprise, above twenty thousand people. Except for a few moments, the sun shone out upon us; and I trust the Sun of righteousness arose on some with healing in His wings.

"Wednesday, May 9. Waited at noon upon the trustees for Georgia. They received me with the utmost civility, agreed to everything I asked, and gave a grant of five hundred acres of land, to me and my successors for ever, for the use of the Orphan House. At night, God enabled me to preach to about twenty thousand, for above an hour, at Kennington. The hearers contributed most cheerfully and liberally towards the Orphan House. I was one of the collectors. It would have delighted any one to see with what eagerness and cheerfulness the people came up both sides of the eminence on which I stood, and afterwards to the coach doors, to throw in their mites. When we came home, we found we had collected above £47, amongst which were £16 in halfpence.

"Thursday, May 10. Preached at Kennington, but it rained most part of the day. There were not above ten thousand people, and thirty coaches.

"Friday, May 11. Preached at Kennington to a larger audience than last night, and collected £26 15s. 6d. for the Orphan House.

"Saturday, May 12. Agreed to-day, for myself and eleven others, to go on board the Elizabeth, Captain Allen, to Pennsylvania, where I design to preach the gospel in my way to Georgia, and to buy provisions for my Orphan House. Many came to me in the morning, telling me what God had done for their souls by my preaching in the fields. In the evening, I preached to about twenty thousand at Kennington. I offered Jesus Christ to all that could apply Him to their hearts by faith.

"Sunday, May 13. Preached this morning to a prodigious number of people in Moorfields, and collected for the orphans £52 19s. 6d., above £20 of which was in halfpence. Indeed, they almost wearied me in receiving their mites, and they were more than one man could carry home. Went to public worship twice, and preached in the evening to near sixty thousand people.[209] Many went away because they could not hear. After sermon, I made another collection of £29 17s. 8d.

"Monday, May 14. Spent most of this day in visiting some friends, and settling my Georgia affairs. Spent the evening very agreeably with several Quakers. How much comfort do those lose who converse with none but such as are of their own communion!

"Tuesday, May 15. Preached this evening at Kennington. Notwithstanding the rain, the people stood very attentive.

"Wednesday, May 16. Sent a Quaker to be baptized by my dear brother, Mr. Stonehouse. Waited upon the honourable trustees, who still treated me with the utmost civility. Dined with some serious Quakers, and preached at Kennington, and have reason to bless God, more and more, for the order and devotion of those that come to hear the word.[210]

"Thursday, May 17. Preached, after several invitations thither, at Hampstead Heath, about five miles from London. The audience was of the politer sort. Most were attentive, but some mocked.

"Friday, May 18. Dined with several of the Moravian Church, and could not avoid admiring their great simplicity, and deep experience in the inward life. At six, I preached in a very large open place in Shadwell, being much pressed by many to go thither. I believe there were upwards of twenty thousand people. At first, through the greatness of the throng, there was a little hurry; but afterwards all was hushed and silent. Near £20 was collected for the Orphan House. Received an excellent letter from Mr. Ralph Erskine, a field-preacher of the Scots Church, a noble soldier of the Lord Jesus Christ.

"Saturday, May 19. Dined at Clapham with a Quaker. Preached in the evening at Kennington Common, to about fifteen thousand people, who were very attentive and affected.[211] Afterwards, I spent two hours at Fetter Lane Society, where we had a most useful conference concerning the necessity of every Christian to have some particular calling, whereby he may be a useful member of the society to which he belongs. We all agreed to this. For my own part, I think if a man will not labour, neither ought he to eat. To be so intent on pursuing the one thing needful, as to neglect providing for those of our own households, is to be righteous over-much.

"Sunday, May 20. Went with our brethren of Fetter Lane Society to St. Paul's, and received the holy sacrament, as a testimony that we adhered to the Church of England. Preached at Moorfields[212] and Kennington Common, and, at both places, collected near £50 for the Orphan House. A visible alteration is made in the behaviour of the people; for, though there were near fifteen thousand in the morning, and double the number in the afternoon, they were as quiet as though there had not been above fifty persons present. I did not meet with a moment's interruption. I could say of the assembly, as Jacob did on another occasion, 'Surely God is in this place.'"

On Monday, May 21st, Whitefield set out on a short preaching excursion into the three counties of Hertford, Buckingham, and Northampton; but, before following him, it may be useful to pause, and to ponder these marvellous extracts from the young preacher's Journal. Are they not unique? Is there any other man, except Whitefield, whose diary, for nineteen consecutive days, contains a series of statements like the foregoing? There can be little doubt that Whitefield was always in danger of over-estimating the number of his hearers. It is one of the peculiarities of his Journal and letters to say there were nearly a certain number, rather than to say there were more than a lower number. But, after making ample deductions on this account, the crowds attending his ministry were enormous. Dr. Trapp, during these three weeks, was doing his utmost, in his three metropolitan churches, to bring upon Whitefield the ridicule and contempt of the London populace; but his priestly effort was a failure. The more Trapp denounced the preacher, the greater were the congregations that ran to hear him. Dr. Trapp was vigorously assisted by Dr. Hooker, the conductor of the Weekly Miscellany, which was then the principal newspaper of the Church of England. On May 5th, one of its columns was filled with "Queries to Mr. Whitefield," concerning "Principles, Doctrines, Articles of Faith, Motives, and Extraordinary Light," full of banter and ridicule. On May 12, nearly two pages of the comparatively small newspaper were used in denouncing Whitefield and his proceedings. Speaking of Whitefield, it says:—

"Immediately after his ordination to the priesthood; without a license from any bishop; contrary to all the rules of the Christian Church; contrary to the canons and constitutions of our own Church, which so lately gave him his orders; contrary to the laws of the land,—he goes strolling about the kingdom, shewing the greatest contempt for our excellent liturgy, and all forms of prayer, and using extemporary effusions; preaching doctrines different from those which he subscribed before the bishop, with an unparalleled degree of vanity and vainglory; extolling himself, and, with the most unchristian spirit of censoriousness, undervaluing and blaming the established clergy."

In reference to the immense congregations daily assembled on Kennington Common, the same article remarks:—

"If Whitefield and the Wesleys are permitted to hold their conventicles at pleasure, and to ramble up and down, singing psalms, and preaching in the open streets, or in the more open fields, wanton curiosity will carry thousands to hear them; hundreds of the ignorant multitude will innocently be corrupted; and the preachers' vanity and enthusiasm, if possible, will be still more inflamed by a fond imagination that their hearers are all admirers, whereas most of them would as eagerly attend any other monster equally as strange as that of a clergyman preaching in a gown and cassock on a common."

On May 26, nearly two pages of the same newspaper were again filled with virulent abuse of Whitefield. The following is an extract:—

"I am told that this unfortunate young man is forced upon this method of preaching. Hard, indeed, if it be so; but I take it to be much harder upon us that we must be forced to answer such impertinence. Have the bishops, from whom alone he ought to take directions, commanded him to turn mountebank? Is he compelled by military force, or by the violence of the people, to mount the stage? On the contrary, does he not put out bills in the daily papers, and invite people to assemble together contrary to law? I know of no force but an internal one—an impetuous impulse, from a degree of pride and vanity that is equalled by nothing but his weakness and folly."

This turbid wrathfulness was far from pleasant; but it failed in its purpose to put an end to Whitefield's preaching in the open air, and equally failed in diminishing the number of Whitefield's hearers. No doubt his action was irregular; perhaps, also, in his impetuous zeal, he sometimes indulged in censorious remarks respecting the clergy of the Established Church. As yet he was not a Dissenter; but his open connection with the Moravian brotherhood in Fetter Lane, and his repeated interviews with Quakers, fairly exposed him to the reasonable suspicion of his enemies, that he had Dissenting proclivities. He himself seems to have seen and felt this, and hence the somewhat ostentatious sacramental attendance at St. Paul's on May 20th. All this must be conceded; and it must likewise be allowed, that one of Whitefield's besetting sins, or rather one of his infirmities, was an unconsciously indulged inflatedness of mind, which led him (innocently enough on his own part) to the employment of bombastic expressions, and to the utterance of sentiments often silly, sometimes fanatical, and generally such as a more prudent and worldly wise man would not have used. It would be idle, it would be dishonest, to deny that his published Journals abound in such-like faults, though they have not in the present work been quoted. But what then? Was it right, was it fair, to treat him with so much contempt and ridicule? His moral character was without a speck. His intellect and literary attainments, though not equal to those of his friend Wesley, made him immensely superior to scores and hundreds who were enjoying rich livings in the Established Church. He had no wish to share their ecclesiastical emoluments, but was quite content with his mongrel parish among the swamps of far-distant Georgia. It is true, he desired to have the use of some of their churches, to which he was not at all entitled; but he desired even this not for his own benefit, but rather that he might have the opportunity of proclaiming, trumpet-tongued, some of the forgotten truths of the word of God, and that he might collect a little money for the orphans in Georgia. The clergy had a perfect right to deny him the use of their churches. Perhaps, being so young a man, it was hardly modest for him to expect the privilege of using them; but, having no other place in which to preach, why should he not be allowed to preach in Kingswood, at Rose Green, on Hannam Mount, in Moorfields, on Kennington Common, and Hampstead Heath? His zeal in the cause of Christ, and his love for the souls of men, were not fictitious. They were divinely implanted principles, the results of a genuine conversion, and which ought not to be repressed. Wherever Whitefield met a man, he met a sinner redeemed by the sacrificial death of his Divine Redeemer. As yet he had not become a Calvinist. On Kennington Common, he felt no restraint in "offering Jesus Christ to all" the thousands there assembled. Christ had died for them. Whitefield longed to save them. Why should doctors of divinity, and the writers of anonymous articles in the Church of England newspaper, dare to hinder him?

Whitefield has mentioned his collections for the Orphan House in Georgia; and some, considering the hugeness of his congregations, may think them scarcely worth recording; but two other facts must be borne in mind. The age in which Whitefield lived was not one remarkable for its charitable contributions; and, further, money then was at least three or four times more valuable than money now. Multiply by such a number the amount of Whitefield's collections, and their comparison with some of the Methodist collections of the present day will not dishonour them.

It may reasonably be asked, what was there in this youthful evangelist to draw around him such prodigious congregations? His warmest friends must admit that he was far from being perfect. Not only Churchmen, but Dissenters, saw his faults. It is a curious fact, that Dr. Doddridge, in some respects the most distinguished Nonconformist of the age, was present at one of the Kennington Common meetings which have been already mentioned. In a letter dated "Epsom, May 24, 1739," he writes:—

"I saw Mr. Whitefield preaching on Kennington Common, last week, to an attentive multitude, and heard much of him at Bath; but, supposing him sincere and in good earnest, I still fancy that he is but a weak man,—much too positive, says rash things, and is bold and enthusiastic. I think, what he says and does comes but little short of an assumption of inspiration or infallibility."[213]

In this unfavourable opinion, Dr. Doddridge was not alone. Dr. Watts, the other great Dissenter then living, in a letter dated "August 15, 1739," wrote as follows:—

"I wish Mr. Whitefield would not have risen above any pretences to the ordinary influences of the Holy Spirit, unless he could have given some better evidences of it. He has acknowledged to me in conversation that he knows an impression on his mind to be divine, though he cannot give me any convincing proofs of it. I said many things to warn him of the danger of delusion, and to guard him against the irregularities and imprudences which youth and zeal might lead him into; and told him plainly that, though I believed him very sincere, and desirous to do good to souls, yet I was not convinced of any extraordinary call he had to some parts of his conduct. He seemed to take this free discourse in a very candid and modest manner."[214]

A witness of another kind may be introduced. Samuel Johnson was nearly of the same age as Whitefield. Both had been students in Pembroke College, Oxford. Johnson was fallible, faulty, and full of personal prejudices; but he was a man of great ability, and of unblemished truthfulness. He knew Whitefield, and was not unqualified to pronounce an opinion concerning him. That opinion must be judged by its own merits; but being expressed by a distinguished contemporary, it deserves attention. Boswell, Johnson's biographer, writes:—

"Of his fellow-collegian, the celebrated Mr. George Whitefield, he said: 'Whitefield's popularity is chiefly owing to the peculiarity of his manner. He would be followed by crowds, were he to wear a night-cap in the pulpit, or were he to preach from a tree."[215] "He never drew as much attention as a mountebank does; he did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by doing what was strange. Were Astley to preach a sermon standing upon his head on a horse's back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but no wise man would say he made a better sermon for that. I never treated Whitefield's ministry with contempt: I believe he did good. He devoted himself to the lower classes of mankind, and among them he was of use. But when familiarity and noise claim the praise due to knowledge, art, and elegance, we must beat down such pretensions.'"[216]

Doubtless there is truth in Johnson's opinion, that, one reason why Whitefield had such crowds to hear him was because it was a perfect novelty to have a clergyman of the Church of England preaching, in gown and cassock, in the open air. It was a further novelty to see such a clergyman standing up to preach without reading the appointed liturgy of the Church, and using extemporaneous prayers in lieu of it. It is also probable that Whitefield created considerable sensation by employing language such as the clergy in their churches were not wont to use. All this may be conceded; and it might likewise be allowed, that, to a large extent, Dr. Trapp and the editor of the Weekly Miscellany defeated their own purposes, and that, by their virulent attempts to dishonour Whitefield, they helped to make him more popular. On the other hand, however, it must be borne in mind that opinions like those of Doddridge and Watts were widely entertained both by Churchmen and Dissenters, and that such a fact was not likely to contribute to the largeness of Whitefield's congregations. The reasons above assigned, for Whitefield's popularity, may be perfectly correct, but they are not complete; for to them must be added the following: (1) Whatever his faults might be, Whitefield was a natural orator of the highest order. (2) The truths which distinguished his preaching were truths exactly adapted to the wants and yearnings of human nature,—such as meet the necessities of human beings of all classes, in all lands, and belonging to all ages. (3) Speaking generally, these truths, until recently, had been forgotten, and were not preached in the churches and chapels of England. (4) Whitefield preached them with a fervour which shewed that he believed them. (5) Above all, in answer to the long-continued prayers of the Religious Societies, and by the sovereign grace of God, the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, was now moving the masses of the people, and making them anxious concerning their personal salvation; and, further, He was connecting with Whitefield's ministry a "power from on high," like that which distinguished the Apostles' ministry at Pentecost, and making it the means of turning men "from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God." Let the reader ponder such facts as these, and, perhaps, his wonder will cease at the tens of thousands who tramped from London to Kennington Common to hear the unpolished and imperfect sermons of this youthful Methodist, whose years had not yet reached twenty-five.

While Whitefield was preaching to his large congregations on Kennington Common and in Moorfields, Wesley was similarly employed at Bristol and Kingswood. It is a curious fact that, though Whitefield was forbidden to preach in Newgate Prison, Bristol, Wesley was admitted. Another notable incident must be mentioned. In Bristol and its neighbourhood, Wesley was daily witnessing the most remarkable conversions,—conversions accompanied by those mysterious convulsions that have perplexed all his biographers. In London, Whitefield had prodigious congregations, and his oratorical powers were far greater than those of his friend Wesley; but where were his conversions? His congregations were often powerfully affected; and, on May 12th, he speaks of "many" coming to him, and telling him "what God had done for their souls by his preaching in the fields;" but this, in substance, is all that he himself records. Perhaps this difference in ministerial results may be accounted for by the fact, that nearly the whole of the conversions under Wesley's ministry took place in the meetings of the Religious Societies, where united prayer was always joined to scriptural exposition. On the other hand, during this month of May, Whitefield devoted himself almost exclusively to the work of preaching to vast crowds in the open air, where private spiritual enquiries and united prayers for penitents were impracticable. Besides, at the first, Whitefield strongly objected to such conversions as his friend Wesley was witnessing; and plainly told him that, though he doubted not that God was in the work, yet he equally believed the devil was interposing. He wrote:—

"Were I to give so much encouragement to those convulsions as you have given, how many would cry out every night? I think it is tempting God to require such signs."[217]

Whitefield, however, was not without conversions; and two notable instances must be mentioned here.

Wesley, a few months before he died, said, "Joseph Humphreys was the first lay preacher that assisted me in England, in the year 1738."[218] Who was Joseph Humphreys? The following particulars are gleaned from a pamphlet of forty-four pages, published in 1742, and entitled, "An Account of Joseph Humphreys' Experience of the Work of Grace upon his Heart. Bristol: printed by Felix Farley."

Joseph Humphreys was born at Burford, in Oxfordshire, October 28, 1720, where his father, for nearly thirty years, was the minister of a Dissenting congregation. Joseph was educated at a grammar school at Fairford, in Gloucestershire. His father died in 1733; and being, says Joseph, "uncommonly zealous in his day both for faith and holiness, he was almost universally despised both by Church-people and Dissenters." After his father's death, Joseph was sent to a school in London, "where young men were trained for the ministry." At this early period of his life, he had determined to be a minister, and says, "I used to write sermons of my own composing, thundering exceedingly against all unrepenting sinners." "The pupils every evening took their turns in prayer;" and Joseph thought himself "highly blessed in having his lot cast with such pious, serious young men." He was soon shocked, however, by the fact "that these same young men indulged in light and foolish talking and jesting, playing at draughts, fives, blindman's buff, hunt the shoe, and such-like ludicrous games, quite unbecoming such as professed godliness." By degrees, Joseph grew to be as light-hearted as the rest, and, without confessing it, became an infidel. After indulging in a frightful excess of wickedness, he again began to be religious; and writes:—

"I was for joining the Papists, Church-people, and Dissenters of all denominations in one; I was for reconciling the Arians, Socinians, Arminians, and Calvinists altogether; I would have had them lay aside all disputable points, and harmonize in those things wherein they were all agreed. I liked those men who were for reducing the Christian Articles to a few; and if any one called the Pope Antichrist, I thought he was very ignorant and uncharitable."

In the year 1737, Joseph became a member of the Independent Church, in London, presided over by the Rev. Dr. Guyse; but was still unconverted. Notwithstanding this, however, on June 18, 1738, he began to preach. Six months afterwards, Whitefield returned to England, and Humphreys writes:—

"About this time there was great talk of Mr. Whitefield; and, accordingly, on May 2, 1739, I went to hear him on Kennington Common. I liked him, because he so affectionately invited poor guilty sinners to come to Jesus Christ by faith. I afterwards heard him several times. I felt the power of the Lord to be with him; and was much affected to see the seriousness and tears of many in the congregations. The flocking of the multitudes to hear the word made me think and say, 'It was never so seen in Israel.' One evening, as I was coming home from hearing him, I wept exceedingly, thinking what a hearty, pious minister he was (though educated at such a wicked place as Oxford) in comparison of what any of us at our academy were like to be. I earnestly sought his acquaintance; and, accordingly, one evening I supped with him and Mr. Howell Harris, and several more brethren, at a public-house on Blackheath, just after his preaching to a most numerous congregation. The public-house seemed to be turned into a church; and to me it was like heaven upon earth. One Sabbath-day, I think it was June 3, as we were singing a hymn at the academy, I had such a taste of the dying love of Christ as I never had before. My heart was quite melted, and my eyes were a fountain of tears. When I came forth, one of the pupils asked me what was the matter with me? I told him I was happy. When another enquired the same, I signified that I felt more than I could express."

Humphreys was still a student in the Dissenting Academy (which had been removed to Deptford), and, though he was not nineteen years of age, yet, being intended for the ministry, he began, in the month of the ensuing August, to preach in "a large dancing room." He had crowded congregations, and soon formed a Religious Society consisting of a hundred and forty members. He writes:—

"I insisted chiefly upon a sinner's justification before God, through the Redeemer's merits; and shewed the nature, necessity, and blessedness of it. For this, I was soon violently opposed. I became the butt of the common people; I was singular in the school; was threatened by my tutor; dropped by most of my old friends; deemed beside myself by some; and at last, December 25, 1739, was expelled the academy, for no other crime but this."

For about a year, Humphreys found a refuge in the academy of Mr. J. Eames, in Moorfields; and, while pursuing his studies, ministered to the Religious Societies of Deptford, Greenwich, and Ratcliffe. The clergy preached against him; and two pamphlets were published, which, says he, "were not worth reading, much less answering."

"The rude mob," he writes, "treated both me and the people most roughly; haling us about, throwing us upon the ground, beating us, and pelting us with stones or brickbats, rotten eggs, apples, dung, and fireworks. Officers sent their men to press me. I was hooted at along the streets; spit upon; called names; threatened, reviled, and belied; hated of all, and counted the filth of the world, and the offscouring of all things. I was frequently in danger, not only of having my eyes, but also my brains, beat out by the large flints that were continually thrown upon the roof of the barn where I preached."

Often while young Humphreys was preaching, numbers of his hearers were thrown into convulsions similar to those which occurred under Wesley's ministry at Bristol. Humphreys writes:—

"Their bodies were strangely agitated; their bones would sometimes seem to be out of joint; their breasts would heave prodigiously; some would bite, tear, and beat themselves, and do mischief to others also, unless they were forcibly held down; and some would roar hideously, crying out that the devil was coming to fetch them, or to torment them. That it was no feigned thing, at least in most of them, is most certain. That it was occasioned in some by sympathy, I will not deny; but I do really believe that in others it was occasioned by a discovery of their undone condition; and was followed by true conversion to the Lord. I own that the cases of some who were thus affected was so unaccountable, to this day, I am at a stand to determine how or what it was. For what I know, they might be torn by the devil. God might suffer Satan to be let loose upon them for a season; generally, however, it was so awful, that the beholders durst not make game of it. I only relate matters of fact; and do not pretend to say that all were renewed or converted who were thus affected, for I believe no such thing, but the contrary. Neither could I ever look upon these things as signs from heaven for the establishment or confirmation of any particular doctrine. I rather think the case was often this: the word of God would come with a convincing light and power into the consciences of sinners, whereby they were so far awakened, as to be seized with dreadful terrors. The rebellion of their natures would be raised; the peace of the strong man armed would be disturbed; hell within would begin to roar; the devil, that before, being unmolested, lay quiet in their hearts, would now be stirred up, and be most outrageously angry, because of this convincing light and power of the word. Hence, I believe, proceeded some of these agonies of body. And all this might be, and perhaps frequently was, without any real change of heart; for I depend upon no such things as proofs of a person's conversion to God. Rather let this be made manifest by the fruits of righteousness, in all gracious tempers and conversation, with perseverance therein unto the end.

"September 1, 1740. I began to preach at the Foundery in London, to Mr. Wesley's congregation, and many a powerful opportunity there was. In the private society also we had many sweet meetings. At this time, I had a very great intimacy with the Rev. Mr. John Wesley. We were together almost continually night and day. There were many things very exemplary in him—worthy, indeed, of every minister's and every Christian's imitation. But, on account of some important doctrines of grace wherein we differed, I was obliged, on April 25, 1741, to separate from him.

Space forbids further details respecting Joseph Humphreys. Suffice it to say that, in the month of May, 1741, he joined himself to Whitefield, and acted as one of his itinerant preachers. Such he was in the twenty-first year of his age. In the pamphlet, from which these facts are taken, he declares himself a Dissenter. In some respects, he was a remarkable man; and the reader will meet with him again. The following is Wesley's summary of his life:—

"1790. September 9. I read over the experience of Joseph Humphreys, the first lay teacher that assisted me in England, in the year 1738. From his own mouth, I learn that he was perfected in love, and so continued for at least a twelvemonth. Afterwards, he turned Calvinist, and joined Mr. Whitefield, and published an invective against my brother and me in the newspaper. In a while, he renounced Mr. Whitefield, and was ordained a Presbyterian minister. At last he received Episcopal ordination. He then scoffed at inward religion, and when reminded of his own experience, replied, 'That was one of the foolish things which I wrote in the time of my madness.'"

At the risk of wearying the reader, another of Whitefield's converts, belonging to this period, must be introduced.

Joseph Periam was the son of respectable parents, who appear to have resided at Bethnal Green. Joseph had been articled to an attorney, and intended to devote himself to the legal profession. He read Whitefield's sermon on the New Birth, and was converted. The change in him was so great, that his father and friends thought him mad. The "symptoms" or proofs of his madness were three. 1. He had fasted for a fortnight. 2. He had prayed loud enough to be heard all over a house four storeys high. 3. He had sold his clothes and given the money to the poor. The first of these allegations was probably a fact exaggerated. The second, in all likelihood, was perfectly correct. The third also was literally true; for, says Whitefield,—

"Joseph ingenuously confessed to me, that, under his first awakenings, he was one day reading the story of the young man whom our Lord commanded to sell all he had, and to give to the poor, and, thinking it must be taken in the literal sense, out of love, to Jesus Christ, he sold his clothes, and gave the money to the poor."

For such reasons, Joseph Periam was put into the general receptacle of all London lunatics—Bethlehem Hospital; an old edifice founded in 1547, and standing in St. George's Fields, Lambeth. The institution was a disgrace to all connected with it. The miserable inmates were treated most brutally. Their terrible affliction was turned into pecuniary profit, and the hospital received about £400 a year, in the form of fees, collected by exhibiting the poor maniacs, chiefly naked, and uniformly chained to the walls of their respective dungeons. The practice of entertaining the outside public by thus shewing the inside patients of this infernal prison house was not abolished until the year 1770; and, even then, the abolition was unaccompanied by any other improvement of the usage of the unhappy sufferers.[219] If men were not mad when they entered, there was enough to make them mad before they left.

Joseph Periam became the occupant of No. 50 in this dismal dungeon, miscalled an hospital. "His room," says Whitefield, "was a cold place, without windows, and had a damp cellar under it." On entering, Joseph's first refection was a dose of physic. Whitefield writes:—

'Being sensible that he wanted no physic, Joseph was unwilling at first to take it; upon which four or five men took hold of him, cursed him most heartily, put a key into his mouth, threw him upon the bed, and said, 'You are one of Whitefield's gang,' and so drenched him."

Poor Periam wrote to Whitefield as follows:—

"Bethlehem Hospital, No. 50.

"Dear Sir,—I have read your sermon on the New Birth, and hope I shall always have a due sense of my dear Redeemer's goodness to me. May Almighty God bless and preserve you, and prosper your ministerial function! I wish, sir, I could have some explanatory notes upon the New Testament, to enlighten the darkness of my understanding, to make me capable of becoming a good soldier of Jesus Christ; but, above all, I should like to see you.

"I am, dear Sir, yours affectionately with my whole heart, "Joseph Periam."

Whitefield writes:—

"According to his request, I paid him a visit, and found him in perfect health both in body and mind."

On the 5th of May, 1739, in the midst of his marvellous services on Kennington Common, Whitefield received another letter from Periam, stating that he was "surrounded with nothing but profaneness and wickedness;" that he had to go into his "cell at seven or eight o'clock at night, and was not let out till six or seven in the morning;" and that, being "debarred the use of candles, and consequently books, all that time, except what was spent in prayer and meditation, was lost; and though these exercises were good, yet by constant repetition, and for want of change, they were deadened." He also asked whether his objections to being thus "imprisoned were inconsistent or wicked, and whether he might not, without offence to God, make use of endeavours to be discharged?" He likewise wished to know whether, being discharged, he might, "without offence to the gospel of Jesus Christ, follow the business of an attorney?" And, finally, the poor fellow asked, "If I cannot be discharged by proper application, how can I best spend my time to the glory of God and my own and my brethren's welfare?"

To this lengthened letter, Whitefield sent the following reply:—

"May 7, 1739.

"Dear Sir,—The way to salvation is by Jesus Christ, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The way to Christ is by faith. 'Whosoever liveth and believeth in me,' says our Lord, 'though he were dead, yet shall he live.' But this faith, if it is saving faith, will work by love. Come, then, to Jesus Christ as a poor sinner, and He will make you a rich saint. This, I think, serves as an answer to your first query.

"It is, no doubt, your duty, whilst you are in the house, to submit to the rules of it; but, then, you may use all lawful means to get yourself out. I have just now been with your sister, and will see what can be done further. Watch and pray.

"As for the business of an attorney, I think it unlawful for a Christian; at least, exceeding dangerous. Avoid it, therefore, and glorify God in some other station.

"I am, dear Sir, your affectionate friend and servant, "George Whitefield."

On May 9, Periam wrote again to Whitefield as follows:—

"My father was with me last night, when I shewed him your letter. I told him, I utterly renounced the business, of an attorney. He then asked me what profession I chose; which I submitted to him, on condition it might prove agreeable to the will of God. He was pleased to say, he thought me not mad, but very well in my senses, and would take me out, if Doctor Monro and the committee were of his opinion. Then he varied again, and thought it convenient for me to stay the summer, and to take physic twice a week, fearing a relapse. I told him, as a father, he should be obeyed; but when, at parting, he mentioned my leaving religion, I was somewhat stirred in my spirit, and told him nothing should prevail upon me to leave Jesus Christ.

"This is the substance of what passed between us. Upon the whole matter, sir, God gives me perfect resignation, and, I trust, when He shall see fit, will discharge me. I find His love daily more and more shed abroad in my heart. All things will work together for my good. If opportunity will let you, I should be glad to see you before you set out for America. May Almighty God, in His infinite goodness, prosper, guide, and protect you through this transitory life, and hereafter receive you triumphantly into the heavenly Jerusalem, there to converse with, and see the ever-blessed Jesus!"

Your loving and sincere friend, "Joseph Periam."

"Upon reading this," says Whitefield, "I was sensibly touched with a fellow-feeling of his misery; and, at my request, Mr. Seward and two more friends waited upon the committee. But, alas! they esteemed my friends as much mad as the young man, and frankly told them, both I and my followers were insane. My friend Seward urged the examples of the young persons, who called the prophet, that was sent to anoint Jehu king, a mad fellow; of our Lord, whom His own relations, and the scribes and Pharisees, took to be mad; and of Festus's opinion of St. Paul. He further urged, that, when young people were under their first awakenings, they were usually tempted by the devil to run into some extremes. In the midst of the conference, the committee mentioned Periam's going to Georgia, and said, if I would take him with me, they would engage that his father should give leave to have him released. A day or two after, Mr. Seward waited upon his father, who gave his son an excellent character, and consented to his going abroad. After this, he waited upon the doctor, who pronounced him well; and, on May 19th, he waited again upon the committee, who behaved very civilly, and gave the young man a discharge. He is now with me, and I hope he will be an instrument of doing good. The hardships he has endured at Bethlehem will, I hope, prepare him for what he must undergo abroad."

Thus was Joseph Periam put into an execrable madhouse; and thus was he taken out. It is not necessary to trace his subsequent career; and this apparently long digression will be pardoned, when it is remembered that, at the time, Periam's case caused great excitement, and that it occupied a prominent position in a hostile pamphlet, of ninety-six pages, entitled "The Life of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, by an Impartial Hand."

It is time to return to Whitefield in London. In the midst of his unequalled popularity, he wrote to his friend Harris, of Gloucester, as follows:—

"London, May 10, 1739.

"Dear Mr. Harris,—The hour for my imprisonment is not yet come. I am not fit as yet to be so highly honoured. God only knows the treachery of my heart; but, amidst all my late success, I have scarce felt one self-complacent thought. I speak this to the honour of God's free grace.

"In about three weeks, God willing, we embark for Pennsylvania. The trustees have granted to me land, and everything upon my own terms. The officers and general are exceeding kind to my friend Habersham, upon my account, so that all things succeed beyond my expectations.

"Ever, ever yours, "George Whitefield."

Whitefield's expectation of sailing so soon was not realized. On May 21, he left London, and reached Hertford, between eight and nine o'clock at night. His fame had gone before him, and, late as was the hour, he preached, on a common near the town, to four or five thousand hearers. Next morning, he preached in the same place, to nearly as large a congregation; then he breakfasted with a Dissenting minister; and then proceeded to Olney, where he arrived about ten p.m. Being denied the use of the church pulpit, he, on the day following, "preached in a field, near the town, to about two thousand people." At five in the evening, he reached Northampton, and "was most courteously received by Doctor Doddrige," the famous Dissenting minister; and, "at seven, according to appointment, preached, on a common, to about three thousand hearers." On Thursday, May 24, he "preached again in the same place, at about eight in the morning, but to a much larger audience." He then hastened back to Olney, and, in the midst of an incessant rain, preached "upon an eminence in the street." At seven in the evening, he got to Bedford, and says, "I found the town fully alarmed. About eight, I preached from the stairs of a windmill (the pulpit of my dear brother and fellow-labourer, Mr. Rogers),[220] to about three thousand people. Friday, May 25, preached at seven in the morning to rather a larger congregation than before. Reached Hitchin about one o'clock; and, at two, got upon a table in the market-place, near the church; but some were pleased to ring the bells in order to disturb us. Upon this, we removed into the fields; but, the sun beating intensely on my head, I became exceedingly sick, and was obliged, in a short time, to break off. I lay down for about two hours, and then came and preached near the same place, and God was with us. It was surprising to see how the hearts of the people were knit to me. I could have continued longer with them; but, being under an engagement to go to St. Albans, I hastened thither, but could not preach on account of my coming in so late. Great numbers had been there expecting me; and it grieved me to think how little I could do for Christ." The people of St. Albans, however, were not wholly disappointed; for, at seven next morning, he preached, in a field, to about fifteen hundred people; and then "got safe to London by two in the afternoon." In the evening of the same day, his congregation on Kennington Common numbered "about fifteen thousand."

Thus did Whitefield spend the six days between Sunday, May 20, and Sunday, May 27. The toil of travelling was not a trifle; but, besides this, a dozen sermons were delivered, and all in the open air. Whitefield writes:—

"Blessed be God! this has been a week of fat things: many sinners convicted; and many saints much comforted, and established in their most holy faith. I find there are some thousands of secret ones yet living amongst us, who have not bowed the knee to Baal; and this public way of acting brings them out. It much comforts me, wherever I go, to see so many of God's children, of all communions, come and wish me good luck in the name of the Lord. I perceive the people would be everywhere willing to hear, if the ministers were ready to teach them the truth as it is in Jesus. Lord, do Thou spirit up more of my dear friends and fellow-labourers to go out into the highways and hedges, to compel poor sinners to come in! Amen!"

The Weekly Miscellany—the recognized newspaper of the Church of England—could not allow even this brief country excursion to pass unnoticed. On June 2, it had a short article to the following effect:—

"On Tuesday last week, Mr. Whitefield called at Hitchin, on his way to Bedford, and, at the desire of several Dissenters, was prevailed on to return there on Friday last, at which time several hundred Dissenters of that parish, and the neighbouring Dissenters, attended him; but, being denied the use of the church, he mounted a table in the market-place, on which the bells were set a-ringing. He afterwards returned to the place of execution, and, according to his usual method, sung a psalm, and began to harangue his auditors from, 'We would see Jesus;' but, being overcharged——, he was obliged to break off abruptly."

There can be no doubt, that, not only at Hitchin, but throughout the whole of this week's tour, the Dissenters were Whitefield's chief auditors; but the sneer at the end of the extract just given, was a foul and filthy falsehood, altogether unworthy of the Church of England's chief newspaper.

Being returned to London, Whitefield resumed his field-preaching with as much zest as ever. On Sunday morning, May 27, he preached, for nearly two hours, "to about twenty thousand at Moorfields." During the day, he "went twice to public worship, and received the blessed sacrament." In the evening, at Kennington Common, he addressed a congregation of thirty thousand.

The following are extracts from his Journal:—

"Monday, May 28. Preached, after earnest and frequent invitation, at Hackney, in a field belonging to Mr. Rudge, to about ten thousand hearers. I insisted much upon the reasonableness of the doctrine of the new birth, and the necessity of our receiving the Holy Ghost, in His sanctifying gifts and graces, as well now as formerly; and I could not help exposing the impiety of those letter-learned teachers, who say, we are not now to receive the Holy Ghost, and who count the doctrine of the new birth, enthusiasm. Out of your own mouths will I condemn you, you wicked blind guides. Did you not, at the time of ordination, tell the bishop, that you were inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost, to take upon you the administration of the Church? Surely, at that time, you acted the crime of Ananias and Sapphira over again. You lied, not unto man, but, unto God."

Thus did Whitefield openly attack the clergy of his own Church; for the Journal containing this was immediately published, and, before the end of the year 1739, passed through three editions. No wonder that there were clerical replies of an angry sort. It was unwise, for so young a man, to make such assaults; and, in many instances, the castigations he received were not unmerited. His business was not to annoy and irritate the clergy; but to preach forgotten truths, and to convert sinners.

"Tuesday, May 29. Went to public service at Westminster Abbey. Afterwards despatched business for my orphans, and preached, at Kennington, to a most devout auditory, with much sweetness and power.

"Wednesday, May 30. Waited upon the Bishop of Bristol,[221] (who treated me with the utmost civility,) and received his lordship's benefaction for Georgia. At the request of many, I preached, in the evening, at Newington Common, to about fifteen thousand people. The word came with power; and, seeing a great multitude, I thought proper to collect for the Orphan House; and £16 9s. 4d. were gathered on that occasion.

"Thursday, May 31. I preached at Kennington, to my usual congregation; and three of my brethren in the ministry were pleased to accompany me, which filled the people with exceeding great joy.

"Friday, June 1. Dined at Old Ford, and gave a short exhortation to a few people in a field. In the evening, preached at a place called Mayfair, near Hyde Park Corner. The congregation, I believe, consisted of near eighty thousand people. It was, by far, the largest I ever preached to yet. In the time of my prayer, there was a little noise; but they kept a deep silence during my whole discourse. A high and very commodious scaffold was erected for me to stand upon; and God strengthened me to speak so loud, that most could hear, and so powerfully, that most, I believe, could feel. All love, all glory be to God through Christ!

"Saturday, June 2. Sent another Quaker to be baptized by Mr. Stonehouse. Collected, by private contributions, nearly £50 for the orphans. In the evening, preached at Hackney to about ten thousand; and £20 12s. 4d. were gathered for the same objects.

"Sunday, June 3. Preached at Moorfields to a larger congregation than ever, and collected £29 17s. 9d. for the Orphan House. Went twice to public worship, and received the sacrament. Preached in the evening at Kennington Common, to the most numerous audience I ever yet saw in that place, and collected £34 5s."[222]

This, for the present, was Whitefield's farewell sermon on Kennington Common. During the last five weeks, he had preached twenty-one times in this open-air cathedral; the crowds who had flocked to hear him were marvellous; upon the whole there had been no disturbances worth mentioning; God had abundantly blessed the young preachers' labours; and the services throughout had astonished, not only Whitefield, but likewise Whitefield's friends and enemies. The scene, when, on June 3, he took his leave of this memorable spot, was profoundly affecting. He writes:—

"When I mentioned my departure from them, the people were melted into tears. Thousands of ejaculations and fervent prayers were poured out to God on my behalf, which gave me abundant reason to be thankful to my dear Master. O what marvellous great kindness has God shewn me in this great city! Indeed, I have seen the kingdom of God come with power."

At this point, Whitefield concluded his "Journal from his Arrival at London to his Departure from thence on his way to Georgia." This, as already stated, was immediately published. All the important facts in it have been narrated. Many juvenile reflections on passing occurrences, and imprudent remarks respecting himself, have been omitted. They were perfectly artless, and in an unpublished journal would have been innocent. It is difficult to determine whether Whitefield did right or wrong by giving his Journals to the public. No doubt, they were read with the utmost avidity by his friends; and it can hardly be questioned that they were, in many instances, the means of arousing slumbering piety. They are also of essential service to Whitefield's biographers, and no adequate life of the great preacher can be written without a liberal use of them. On the other hand, however, they created enormous prejudices against the Methodists in general, and, as will soon be seen, brought upon Whitefield in particular an amount of personal abuse almost without parallel.

Before leaving the subject, it must be added that Whitefield's two Journals of his "Voyage from London to Savannah in Georgia," extending from December 28, 1737, to May 7, 1738, were printed by his injudicious friends, without his knowledge, in 1738. During the year 1739, three other Journals were published by himself. 1. The "Journal from his Arrival at Savannah to his Return to London." (8vo. 38 pp.) 2. His "Journal from his Arrival at London to his Departure from thence on his Way to Georgia." (8vo. 115 pp.) In both instances the printer was James Hutton, the Moravian. The title of the last mentioned, however, is not correct, for (through no fault of his) Whitefield did not embark for Georgia until ten weeks after he preached his farewell sermon on Kennington Common. Hence, 3. During the same year, appeared the following: "A Continuation of the Reverend Mr. Whitefield's Journal during the Time he was detained in England by the Embargo." (8vo. 40 pp.) This extended from June 4 to August 3, 1739; and from it and from other sources of information the following facts are gleaned.

It has been already stated that Dr. Trapp's "fourth and last Sermon against Mr. Whitefield and the Methodists," was preached on Sunday, May 20. Soon after this, Whitefield published the following: "A Preservative against unsettled Notions, and want of Principles, in regard to Righteousness and Christian Perfection. An explanatory Sermon on that mistaken text, 'Be not righteous over-much, neither make thyself over-wise: why shouldest thou destroy thyself?' Being a more particular Answer to Dr. Trapp's four Sermons upon the same text than have yet been published. By George Whitefield, A.B., of Pembroke College, Oxford. London: printed for G. Whitefield, in the year 1739." (12mo. 33 pp.)