Volume 2 — EIGHT YEARS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. 1755 TO 1763. (continued 3)

Whitefield spent nearly seven weeks in Scotland, a fortnight in Glasgow, and the remainder of the time in Edinburgh. Of course, his cathedral in the latter city was the Orphan Hospital Park, as usual, where he preached every morning and evening without exception. He did the same in Glasgow, only on the two Sundays that he was there, he preached ten times! He set out for London on Tuesday, August 14;461 but, before following him, further extracts from his letters must be given. To the Rev. John Gillies, he wrote:—

“Edinburgh, July 7, 1759. I purpose to see Glasgow; but cannot as yet fix the day. I preach, and people flock as usual; but Scotland is not London. The Redeemer is doing wonders there. Every post brings fresh good news. God’s Spirit blows when and where it listeth. O for a gale before the storm! I expect one is at hand. The refuge is as near. Jesus is our hiding-place. O for a hiding-place in heaven! When will my turn come? Some say, not yet; for I am growing fat. So did Mr. Darracott a little before he died.”

Whitefield’s obesity was one of his troubles. He disliked it; for it was cumbersome, and made his work more difficult. It was not the result of less labour, or of more physical indulgence. Disease had already seized the strong, active man, and, as Whitefield judged, this was one of its early symptoms. It helped, however, to cure him of a fault. “My friend Mr. Whitefield,” says Romaine, “one day told me, that there was a time in his life when he thought he had never well closed a sermon without a lash at the fat, downy doctors of the Establishment. ‘At that period,’ said he, ‘I was not lean myself, though much slenderer than since. I went on, however, and seldom failed to touch pretty smartly upon the objects of my dissatisfaction, till one day, on entering the pulpit at Tottenham Court Road, I found the door apparently narrowed, and moved in obliquely. The idea then struck me, that I was becoming, at least in appearance, a downy doctor myself; and, from that time, I never more made the downy doctors a subject of castigation.’”462

“Edinburgh, July 12, 1759. It is well that there is a heaven to make amends for our disappointments on earth. It is a dead time in Scotland. There is little or no stirring among the dry bones. It is not so in London, and several other parts of England. On Monday, God willing, I go to blow the gospel trumpet at Glasgow. Lord, what am I, that I should be one of Thy run-abouts! If this be to be vile, Lord, make me more vile.”

“Glasgow, July 18, 1759. I see the disease, but know not how to come at a cure. I dread a corpulent body; but it breaks in upon me like an armed man. O that my heart may not wax gross at the same time! Congregations in Scotland are very large.”

During his present visit to Scotland, Whitefield preached nearly a hundred times, to ever-increasing congregations. His collections, for the Orphan Hospital, amounted to £215. In most of his sermons, he stirred up the zeal of the people for God, for King George II., and for their country. His last service, on Sunday evening, August 12, was a thanksgiving sermon for the victory of Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick over the French, at Minden, on July 31. Another fact also must be mentioned. Miss Henderson, a young lady of considerable fortune, offered him a gift of £700, which he courteously refused. She then proposed to give it to his Orphan House; but, for some reason, this offer also was declined.463 This was the mercenary man, who, according to his enemies, was always endeavouring to amass a fortune for himself!

At the end of August, Whitefield was once more in London, and, a fortnight afterwards, wrote the following concerning his Orphan House:—

“London, September 13, 1759. Your letter, dated May 25, which I received yesterday, gave me unspeakable satisfaction. God be praised for your success in silk-worms! God be praised that Bethesda is out of debt! God be praised for all His tender mercies to me and mine! Praise the Lord, O our souls! I wish some of the children could be bred up for the ministry. What a pity that I cannot have a grammar school! I shall think and pray, and then write to you on this head. It is a most discouraging thing, that good places cannot be found for the boys when fit to go out. By this means, they are kept in the house beyond their time, both to their own hurt, and to the further expense of the institution. Could you let me know what stock of cattle you have, and what hogs you kill? The more particular you are about everything, the better. I long for the account. I am glad you received the books. More are to be sent from Scotland. I do not much care for R――’s being at Bethesda, unless he is a true penitent. How does my nephew go on?”

It is a remarkable fact, that hardly anything is known of Whitefield’s public ministry for the next five months. During this interval, however, he is not entirely shrouded from the public eye.

Nearly sixty years ago, had died the Rev. Samuel Clarke, M.A., one of the noble brotherhood of Christian clergymen, ejected from their pulpits by the Act of Uniformity in 1662. His father was one of the best oriental scholars of the age; and father and son combined quitted livings worth £600 a year. The son settled at High Wycombe,—“a man of considerable learning; a good critic, especially in the Scriptures; a great textuary; an excellent preacher; a great enemy of superstition and bigotry; yet zealous for unaffected piety and extensive charity.”464 He was the author of several works, but his principal publication was “Annotations on the Bible,”—a work designed at the Oxford University, and the labour of his life. A new edition of this valuable, but almost unknown, Commentary, was published in 1759; and, for the new edition, Whitefield wrote a recommendatory preface, which is dated “London, October 1, 1759.” No useful end would be answered by the insertion of Whitefield’s preface. A brief extract from it must suffice:—

“In my poor opinion, next to holy Mr. Matthew Henry’s incomparable Comment upon the Bible, the Rev. Samuel Clarke’s Annotations seem to be the best calculated for universal edification. Though short, they contain, generally speaking, a full and spiritual interpretation of the most difficult words and phrases. A great many parallel scriptures are most judiciously inserted. And an analysis of the contents of every book and chapter is added. It may be, that, the curious and very critical reader may meet with a few exceptionable expressions; but, alas! if we forbear reading any book or comment, till we meet with one that will suit every taste, and is liable to no exception, I fear, we must never read at all. The best of men’s books, as well as the best of men themselves, are but men and the books of men, at the best. It is the peculiar property of Thy life, and of Thy Book, O blessed Jesus! to be exempt from all imperfections.”

News having arrived of Boscawen’s capture of the Toulon fleet off Cape Lagos, in Portugal; and of the victory on the heights of Abraham, and the surrender of Quebec, Whitefield, too impulsive to wait for royal proclamations, preached three thanksgiving sermons, on Friday, October 19. This, forsooth! gave great offence to the notorious anti-Methodist, Dr. Free, who wrote:—

“From Mr. Whitefield’s great booth, we had a pompous article in St. James’s Evening Post, of October 20, 1759, stating that, the day before, ‘the Rev. Mr. Whitefield preached three thanksgiving sermons, two in the morning at the Tabernacle, and one at his chapel at Tottenham Court, to numerous audiences of persons of distinction.’ By which, it appears, that, being without law, he did not think it decency to wait till his Majesty appointed the day of thanksgiving; but pert,—forward,—an enthusiast,—he sounds his own trumpet, sets up his own standard, and is attended in his irregularities by numerous persons of distinction.”465

Dr. Free was not the only clergyman who pleased himself by attacking Whitefield. The Rev. Mr. Downes, rector of St. Michael’s, Wood Street, and lecturer of St. Mary-le-Bow, published his “Methodism Examined and Exposed” (8vo. 106 pp.), in which Whitefield and Wesley were abused with a vehemence unbefitting a Christian minister.466

Towards the end of the year, Whitefield stirred a nest of hornets. He preached a sermon against attending theatres. This evoked a sixpenny pamphlet, with the title, “A Discourse concerning Plays and Players. Occasioned by a late and very extraordinary Sermon, in which some sentiments relative to the above subjects were delivered in a very copious and affecting manner, from the Pulpit of a certain popular Preacher of the Society called Methodists.” The writer of the pamphlet professed to be a Methodist himself. As such, he had long entertained an “ignorant” zeal against theatres; but he had recently been cured of his “blind prejudice,” by conversing with a comedian, and by seeing Garrick act. In consequence of this conversion, he had been much offended by the sermon in question, because it threatened attenders at theatres with damnation. Whitefield’s sermon brought upon him other attacks, besides this of a professed Methodist; but it must suffice at present to insert an extract from the Monthly Review, for November, 1759, in which the “Discourse” of the theatre-going Methodist is noticed:—

“We hope the pious orator, Mr. Whitefield, made some reserve in favour of those who frequent the theatres in the neighbourhood of Moorfields, Tottenham Court, Cow Cross, and Broad St. Giles. But, after all, it were no wonder, that a Whitefield, or a Wesley should be jealous of so powerful a rival as a Garrick; or even a Woodward, a Shuter, or a Yates. However, it must be allowed uncharitable in any performers, or managers, thus to consign each other’s audiences to the devil. We hope our good friends of Drury Lane and Covent Garden have never been chargeable with such unfair and unchristian dealings. Emulation is certainly commendable, while accompanied with honesty and decency; and if we can improve and extend our traffic by furnishing a better commodity than another can, why, it is all fair; but neither decency nor honesty will allow us to break the windows, or to abuse or frighten away the customers, of our rivals in trade.”

These were the first mutterings of one of the most violent storms that ever burst upon the head of Whitefield; but more of this anon.

Whitefield began the year 1760 by enlarging the Tottenham Court chapel, opened only three years before. He wrote to a friend in America:—

“London, February 5, 1760. I am growing very corpulent, but, I trust, not too corpulent for another voyage, when called to it. Every day the work increases. On Sunday last, a new enlargement of the chapel was opened, and a great concourse of people assembled.”

Immediately after this, Whitefield published a 12mo. pamphlet of twenty-four pages, entitled “Russian Cruelty; being the substance of several Letters from sundry Clergymen, in the New Marche of Brandenburg.” The letters are full of horrible details respecting the cruelties practised by the Russian army in Germany; and, in his preface, Whitefield ardently asks for sympathy and help on behalf of the distressed Protestants in that country. The preface is dated “March 2, 1760.” Friday, March 14, was appointed to be observed by a general fast; and, on the Sunday previous, says Lloyd’s Evening Post, “the Rev. Mr. Whitefield preached at his Tabernacle, at Tottenham Court Road, to a very numerous audience. In his discourse, he took occasion to mention the cruelties exercised by the Russian Cossacks upon the Protestant subjects of the Duchy of Mecklenburg, and earnestly to recommend a collection for their relief on the day of the public fast. The money is to be paid into the hands of the minister of the Lutheran chapel in London, by him to be transmitted to Germany, and there to be distributed in a proper manner to the objects worthy of relief.” Remembering the worth of money a hundred years ago, Whitefield’s collections were enormous. The following is taken from Lloyd’s Evening Post, of March 17, 1760:—

“On the Fast-day, upwards of £400 were collected at Mr. Whitefield’s chapel in Tottenham Court Road, and at the Tabernacle, in Moorfields, for the relief of the distressed Protestants in and about Custrin, in the New Marche of Brandenburg; many of whom have been not only plundered and stripped of all they had, but have likewise been cruelly tortured and abused by the savage Cossacks and other irregular troops of the Russian army.”467

It is a strange and disgraceful coincidence, that, on the very Fast-day, when Whitefield was so nobly exerting himself to redress the Russian cruelties in Germany, one of Whitefield’s friends, within a dozen miles of London, was being treated with cruelty dishonourable to the character of old England. Hence the following taken from Lloyd’s Evening Post, of March 21, 1760:—

“Last Friday (the Fast-day) a terrible riot happened at Kingston, in Surrey, occasioned by a Methodist preacher, who came there, and assembled a great number of people together in a barn to hear him. Whilst he was preaching, an impudent fellow threw some dirt at him, which created a great disturbance; and the mob, at last, dragged the preacher into the street, and rolled him in a ditch; and, had it not been for the humanity and good-nature of a gentleman near the spot, who took him into his house, he, in all likelihood, would have been murdered. Some of the Inniskilling dragoons being there among the mob, with their swords, wounded and bruised several of the people, and put the whole town into an uproar; but, by the prudent behaviour of their commanding officer, all ill consequences were prevented. He ordered the drums to beat, assembled the dragoons in the yard of the Sun Inn, and kept them there for some time, and then ordered them to their quarters.”

One of the notable events of 1760 was the trial and the execution of the half mad and intensely wicked Earl Ferrers, for the brutal murder of Mr. Johnson, his steward. The notorious Earl being nearly related to the Countess of Huntingdon, she and all her Methodist friends felt a profoundly painful interest in the case. The trial, which lasted three days, commenced in Westminster Hall, on April 16. Charles Wesley writes:—

“April 17, 1760. Yesterday morning, my heart was overwhelmed with sorrow. Not in my own will did I enter the place of judgment. George Whitefield and his wife sat next me. The lords entered with the utmost state: first the barons, then the lords, bishops, earls, dukes, and Lord High Steward. Most of the royal family, the peeresses, and chief gentry of the kingdom, and the foreign ambassadors were present, and made it one of the most august assemblies in Europe; but the pomp was quite lost upon me.”468

After his condemnation, the Earl was often visited, in the Tower of London, by the Countess of Huntingdon, and twice by Whitefield, to whom he behaved with great politeness. At her ladyship’s request, Whitefield repeatedly offered up public prayer for the unhappy murderer. “That impertinent fellow,” said Horace Walpole, “told his enthusiasts that my lord’s heart was stone.” So it was. Earl Ferrers ended his ignoble life, on the scaffold, May 5, 1760. “With all his madness,” sneered the flippant writer just mentioned, “Lord Ferrers was not mad enough to be struck with Lady Huntingdon’s sermons. The Methodists have nothing to brag of his conversion, though Whitefield prayed for him, and preached about him.”469

At the period when Whitefield was visiting Earl Ferrers in the Tower, there was another convict, belonging to another class of society, who secured his pity and attentions. Robert Tilling, coachman to Mr. Lloyd, a merchant living in Devonshire Square, Bishopsgate Street, had presented himself at the bedside of his master, at four o’clock in the morning of February 19; pointed a pistol at his head; demanded the keys of his escritoir; and threatened to blow out his brains, unless the demand was granted. The keys were given up; the merchant was robbed of his money; the coachman was arrested; was tried at the Old Bailey; confessed his crime; was sentenced to be hanged; and, in company with three others, was executed, at Tyburn, on Monday, April 28. The body was conveyed to Whitefield’s Tabernacle in Moorfields, where, horresco referens! it was exposed to the public view. On April 30, it was carried to Tindall’s burying ground in Bunhill Fields. The rest of the story may be told by an extract from Lloyd’s Evening Post, of the 5th of May:—

“We are informed that there was a prodigious concourse of people to hear Mr. Whitefield speak in Bunhill Fields, at the grave of Robert Tilling; some think not less than twenty thousand. There was no burial office read; but, after the corpse had been laid in the ground some time, Mr. Whitefield came, and, in a declamatory way, shewed how the wages of sin was death,—gave some account of the malefactor’s penitence,—exhorted all in general to turn from their vices and come to Christ,—and pressed all servants in particular to take warning by the criminal’s execution, and shew all fidelity to their masters.”

Having “spent all the last winter in London,” Whitefield set out, in the month of May, on another of his evangelistic tours. First of all, he went to Gloucestershire; in June he went to Wales; in July, to Bristol; and in August came back to London. In September and October, he had “a ramble of two months in Yorkshire;”470 after which, as usual, he returned to his “winter quarters,” in the metropolis.471 Hardly anything is known of these preaching journeys. The following are extracts from his letters:—

“Bristol, July 5, 1760. When in the fields, ten thousand, perhaps more, assemble here. When under cover, there are more than the Tabernacle will hold; at least, in the evening. Every time, the house is a Bethel, a house of God, a gate of heaven. I thought my wife’s illness would have hastened me to London; but, as she is now recovering, I would fain proceed in my summer’s campaign. I am persuaded I am the better for your prayers. Never were they more charitably bestowed. I am a worm, and no man. O blessed Jesus, how good Thou art! With all Thy other mercies, give, O give me an humble and a thankful heart!”

“Bristol, July 8, 1760. I have sympathised with you, in respect to your fears about the Indian war. Lord Jesus, grant the Indians may not come near Bethesda! In heaven, all alarms will be over. I long for those blessed mansions. But nothing kills me. My wife was lately just got into harbour, but is driven back again. Blessed be God, we are sure of getting in at last. Jesus is our pilot. I am going on in my old way, saving that I grow fatter and fatter every day. Lord, help me to work it down! But it seems working will not do it.”

“London, August 15, 1760. How do I long to hear of God’s appearing for Georgia and Bethesda! I trust the Indians will not be permitted to disturb a family planted by God’s own right hand, and for His own glory. But the Divine judgments are a great deep. I trust some Bethesda letters will soon put me out of suspense. I wrote to you by the convoy that took your new governor. I hope he will behave friendly to the Orphan House. If we make the Lord Jesus our friend, all will be well. Many here are seeking His friendship. Satan is angry. I am now mimicked and burlesqued upon the public stage. All hail such contempt! God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of Jesus Christ! It is sweet! It is sweet! What a mercy is it, that we have got an abiding inheritance in the kingdom of heaven! Of this we can never be robbed. Hallelujah!”

It is a remarkable fact, that, though the burlesquing of Whitefield, in 1760, was a most disgraceful, and almost unparalleled outrage against all propriety, the above and another introduced hereafter are the only instances, in Whitefield’s published letters, where he mentions it. The subject is disgusting; but it must be noticed.

Samuel Foote was born at Truro, in Cornwall. His father was member of Parliament for Tiverton. Young Foote was educated at Worcester College, Oxford. On leaving the University, he became student of law in the Temple. He married a young lady of a good family and some fortune; but, their tempers not agreeing, harmony did not long subsist between them. Foote now launched into all the fashionable follies of the age, gambling not excepted; and, in a few years, squandered all his money. His necessities led him to the stage. In 1747, when about twenty-six years of age, he opened the little theatre in the Haymarket, taking upon himself the double character of author and performer. His first dramatic piece was called “The Diversions of the Morning,” and was chiefly a description of several well-known living persons. For years after, Foote continued to select, for the entertainment of the town, such public characters as seemed most likely to amuse the attendants at his theatre. In 1760, he published and performed “The Minor,” a filthy and profane burlesque of Whitefield and his followers. Six years afterwards, he broke his leg, and was compelled to undergo an amputation. His last piece was brought out in 1776, and was called “The Trip to Paris.” In this, he made a pointed attack on the character of the Duchess of Kingston. The Lord Chamberlain interdicted the performance. Foote made some alterations in the play, and brought it out under the title of “The Capuchin.” In this, he levelled his satire, not only against the Duchess, but against her bosom friend, Dr. Jackson, the editor of a newspaper. Foote grew in wickedness, as he grew in years. He was charged with an unnatural crime, but was acquitted. The man, however, who had been stigmatizing public and living persons, for the last thirty years, was annoyed at being stigmatized himself. His spirits sank; his health failed; and, while on the stage, he was seized with paralysis. Soon afterwards, he set out for France; but died suddenly, at Dover, on October 21, 1777. He was privately interred in Westminster Abbey.472 “Foote,” said Boswell to Johnson, both of whom were well acquainted with the zany, “Foote has a great deal of humour.” Johnson: “Yes, sir.” Boswell: “He has a singular talent for exhibiting character.” Johnson: “Sir, it is not a talent—it is a vice: it is what others abstain from. It is not comedy, which exhibits the character of a species, as that of a miser gathered from many misers: it is a farce, which exhibits individuals.” Boswell: “Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” Johnson: “I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel: but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to say, he has never thought upon the subject.”473

This profane and filthy-minded comedian was the author of the infamous production, which brought upon Whitefield an unequalled torrent of abuse and ridicule. Its title was, “The Minor, a Comedy, written by Mr. Foote. As it is now acting at the New Theatre in the Hay-Market. By authority from the Lord Chamberlain.474 Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum. London, 1760.” (8vo. 91 pp.)

“The Minor” was first acted early in July, 1760.475 It would be far worse than offensive to give an outline of it in a work like this. How educated and respectable people could listen to such ribald and blasphemous outpourings it is difficult to imagine. The whole thing is so steeped in lewdness, that it would be criminal even to reproduce the plot. Suffice it to say, that Foote was not only the author of the piece, but its chief actor. He performed the three characters, “Shift,” “Smirk,” and “Mrs. Cole.” He declaimed against “the Itinerant Field Orators, who are at declared enmity with common sense, and yet have the address to poison the principles, and, at the same time, to pick the pockets of half our industrious fellow-subjects.” He lays it down, that, “ridicule is the only antidote against this pernicious poison. Methodism is a madness that arguments can never cure; and, should a little wholesome severity be applied, persecution would be the immediate cry. Where then can we have recourse but to the comic muse? Perhaps the archness and severity of her smile may redress an evil, that the laws cannot reach, or reason reclaim.” Such, forsooth, were the virtuous motives which prompted Foote, in the profanest language, and in the character of a bawd, to ridicule the greatest evangelist of his age, and one whom all men now delight to honour. In a literary point of view, “The Minor” is despicable; in a moral, it is unquotable.

The Countess of Huntingdon waited on the Duke of Devonshire, the Lord Chamberlain, and requested its suppression; but was told her request could not be granted. She had an interview with Garrick, who professed to be offended with the comedy;476 and yet, shortly after, admitted it into his own theatre in Drury Lane.

In the very month when it first appeared, even the Monthly Review, no friend to the Methodists, condemned it. Hence the following:—

“The spirit of puffing, which so strongly characterizes the present age, is become so universal, that almost every class seems to be moved by it. In time past, it was chiefly confined to quack doctors, booksellers, and advertising tailors; but now even the wits of the town are seized by it, and every farce-writer ostentatiously styles his petit piece of three acts, a comedy. This of Mr. Foote’s is one of the number; but it no more deserves the title of a comedy than ‘The Stage Coach,’ ‘The Devil to Pay,’ or any of those inferior dramatic productions, which usually appear as the humble attendants upon works of the higher order—the tragedies and comedies of five acts.

“The success of the present performance, during the representation, arose from the author’s extraordinary talent at mimicry; but it is not calculated to please equally in the perusal. The satire levelled at the great leader of the Methodists seems to be extremely out of character. It is no less unjust to Mr. Whitefield, than absurd, to suppose a man of his penetration, either conniving at, or being the dupe of, an old bawd’s hypocrisy, in continuing to follow her iniquitous occupation, while she frequents the Tabernacle, and cants about the new birth. And when we are told that an occasional hymn is given out, and a thanksgiving sermon preached, on occasion of Mother Cole’s (Douglas’s) recovery from sickness, who can forbear smiling—not with approbation of the conceit, but, with contempt for the author of such improbable scandal? We despise and abhor all enthusiastic flights, and high pretentions to extraordinary sanctity, as much as Mr. Foote can do; but, without entering into the enquiry whether or not these are proper objects of playhouse ridicule, it is most certain, that no man, or body of men, ought to be charged with more than they are guilty of; and that there is not a juster maxim in the moral world, than, ‘Give the devil his due477.’”

In the month of August,478 1760, there appeared a pamphlet with the title, “Christian and Critical Remarks on a Droll, or Interlude, called ‘The Minor,’ now acting by a Company of Stage-Players in the Hay-Market, and said to be acted by Authority; in which the Blasphemy, Falsehood, and Scurrility of that Piece are properly considered, answered, and exposed. By a Minister of the Church of Christ. London, 1760.” (8vo. 41 pp.) The writer says Foote “has gone beyond any of his competitors in debauching, if possible, and debasing the stage. He has done this, by doing that which nobody else in these kingdoms had the confidence to attempt; I mean by the introduction of real and living characters into his pieces.” And then, it is correctly added, “The name of the Spirit of God is bandied about from the mouth of vagabond to vagabond, in order to raise a laugh in honour of the devil.”

A month later, was published a 4to. shilling pamphlet, entitled, “A Satyrical Dialogue between the celebrated Mr. F—te and Dr. Squintum,” which the Monthly Review pronounced, “Dirty trash: intended to vilify Mr. Whitefield.” Also, a folio publication (price 1s.), with the title, “A Letter of Expostulation from the Manager of the Theatre in Tottenham Court, to the Manager of the Theatre in the Hay-Market, relative to a new Comedy, called ‘The Minor.’” In this infamous and lewd production, Whitefield is represented as being jealous of Foote in gulling the public, and, therefore, proposes that they become partners. Much of it cannot be quoted. The following are among the less objectionable lines. Addressing Foote, Whitefield, at the Tabernacle, is made to say:—

“Your talent of humour shall have its full swing,

Here pleasure and profit are both on the wing:

Love-feasts—and ladies intriguing—and cash—

Keep on but the vizor,—have at ’em slap-dash—

No bait shall be wanting the trade to advance,

We’ll now and then tip ’em a drum and a dance.”

In the month of October, the storm was continued, and, if possible, became more furious. A long letter was inserted in Lloyd’s Evening Post, in which, after praising Foote for his mimicry in “The Minor,” the writer adds: “Religion is too sacred (be it exercised in ever so absurd a manner) to become the butt of public mockery. If the exercise of it should be unwarrantable, the laws will check it, without calling theatrical buffoonery to their assistance.”

Three months before, as soon as “The Minor” appeared, there was published, a shilling pamphlet, with the false title: “A Genuine Letter from a Methodist Preacher in the Country, to Laurence Sterne, M.A., Prebendary of York.” Now, in the month of October, the same “nonsensical and profane” thing was re-issued with an altered title: “A Letter from the Rev. George Whitefield, B.A., to the Rev. Laurence Sterne, M.A., the supposed Author of ‘The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy.’” Even the Monthly Review now became indignant, and said, “The impudence of our low dirty, hedge-publishers is risen to a most shameful height. To take such scandalous liberties with names, as is here done with that of Mr. Whitefield, is surely insufferable in any well-regulated community. If it is not in that gentleman’s power to procure redress of such a flagrant injury, it is high time to provide the means of punishing such audacious proceedings for the future.”

The volatile Foote also added to his previous crime, the publication of an 8vo. pamphlet, of 40 pages, entitled, “A Letter from Mr. Foote to the Reverend Author of the Remarks, Critical and Christian, on ‘The Minor.’” The mendacious reviler writes:—

“I am extremely puzzled in what manner to address you; it being impossible to determine, from the title you assume, whether you are an authorised pastor, or a peruke-maker,—a real clergyman, or a corn-cutter.”

Again:—

“I have heard George Whitefield’s mother frequently declare that he was a dull, stupid, heavy boy, totally incapable of their business at the ‘Bell,’ a principal inn at Gloucester.

“The force and miserable effects of Whitefield’s mystic doctrines are obvious enough. Bedlam loudly proclaims the power of your preacher, and scarce a street in town but boasts its tabernacle; where some, from interested views, and others—unhappy creatures! mistaking the idle offspring of a distempered brain for divine inspiration, broach such doctrines as are not only repugnant to Christianity, but destructive even to civil society.

“I believe Whitefield is too cunning to let anybody into the secret as to the quantity of wealth he has amassed; but, from your own computation of males fit to carry arms, who are listed in his service, and the price they are well known to pay for admittance, even into the gallery of his theatre, I should suppose his annual income must double the primate’s. To this may be added private benefactions and occasional contributions.”

One more specimen of Foote’s audacious scurrility must suffice. He concludes his pamphlet thus:—

“You a reformer! Are these the proofs of your mission? Repent, and, by way of atonement and mortification, summon your misguided flock; reveal your impious frauds, and restore the poor deluded people to their senses and their proper pastors. If you still persist, I must, after your example, conclude with wishing that those teachers amongst you, who are mad, were confined closely in Bedlam, and those who are wicked, were lodged safely in Bridewell; and then, I think the public would get rid of you all. But, whilst you continue triumphantly at large, spiritualized and divine as you may think yourselves, I shall still take the liberty to follow you, as the boy did Philip, with a loud memento that you are merely men.”

The reader must pardon these long extracts from such a writer; for, without them, it is difficult to convey an adequate idea of what a sensitive man like Whitefield must have suffered from the publication of such falsehoods and abuse. Unfortunately more must follow.

In the month of November, Garrick permitted “The Minor” to be acted in Drury Lane Theatre, but with some insignificant alterations, the chief of which was, in lieu of a filthy and profane sentence, which cannot be quoted, Mrs. Cole, the bawd, was represented as saying, “Dr. Squintum washed me with the soap-suds and scouring sand of the Tabernacle, and I became as clean and bright as a pewter-platter.”479 The theatre was crowded, and thus even Garrick, as well as Foote, began to make money by holding up Whitefield to the ridicule of the large and fashionable assemblies of the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. It was now that one of the personal friends of Whitefield stepped into the lists. The Rev. Martin Madan480 published an 8vo. pamphlet of 48 pages, entitled, “A Letter to David Garrick, Esq.; occasioned by the intended Representation of ‘The Minor’ at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane.” In an advertisement, Mr. Madan states that the first performance of ‘The Minor’ in Drury-Lane had been fixed for October 25, but the sudden death of King George the Second, on the morning of that day, occasioned a short postponement. Madan refrains from discussing “the absolute unlawfulness of stage entertainments,” because that point had been “ably and unanswerably proved by the masterly pen of the Rev. Mr. William Law.” He says, “Mr. Whitefield knows nothing of the writing of this letter;481 and I will not say one word in behalf of him. I shall put him as much out of the case as if there was no such man breathing. I profess no attempt to defend anything but the truths of the Bible, and consequently the religion of this country, as by law established.” Madan declares that, instead of “The Minor” being styled a comedy, it deserved the name of “A Dramatic Libel against the Christian Religion;” and, by quotations, proceeds to state his reasons, for this assertion, adding:—

“Does Mr. Garrick think such language as this is fit for the entertainment of polite ears? Would any one imagine that these speeches, if weighed one moment in the balance of reason (to say nothing of religion), could possibly be introduced, with the least degree of approbation, before any audience, except the inhabitants of Bridewell or Newgate? I blush for my countrymen, when I recollect, that even this vile stuff was attended to in the Hay-Market, by crowded audiences, for above thirty nights, and that with applause; whereas it was dismissed, with deserved abhorrence, after being one night only offered to the people of Ireland, at one of their theatres. This I have been credibly informed of, and believe it to be true.”

After furnishing other quotations from “The Minor,” Madan again addresses Garrick thus:—

“Now, sir, give me leave to appeal to your own good sense and judgment, whether, upon the foregoing view of ‘The Minor,’ you think it a proper entertainment for his Majesty’s comedians to exhibit, or his Majesty’s subjects to attend to; whether you think there is such a veneration for our holy religion among the people, as to need any retrenchment; and whether making the language of the Scriptures and the doctrines of the gospel ridiculous, can be likely to answer any other end, than increasing the daily growth of impiety and infidelity amongst people of all degrees?”

“As to Mr. Foote, I would charitably think, that all the knowledge he has of the several expressions and doctrines he has ridiculed, is, in consequence of his attendance upon the preaching of Mr. Squintum, in order to laugh at him. Hence he thought (as he had not been used to such language) that they were the vapours of a distempered brain, and treated them accordingly; so that, like Solomon’s madman, he has been casting about firebrands, arrows, and death, and saying, ‘Am I not in sport?’ I hope, however, Mr. Foote will endeavour to inform himself better, and then make what amends he can to the public, for having been the promoter of an open attack upon the truths and language of the sacred volume, by the mouths of the most profligate and wicked of the people; for we can hardly walk the streets, but we hear ballads, in which the very words of our blessed Saviour are blasphemed, and treated as the rare doctrine of Dr. Squintum.”

It is hoped that quotations like these will justify the treating of this subject at so great a length. To say nothing of Foote, and his lewd audiences in the little theatre in the Haymarket, it was a serious, almost a national, crime and evil when such profanity and pollution were introduced into His Majesty’s Theatre Royal, in Drury Lane; and when, prompted by such a high example, Grub Street began to supply ballads, of the same horrible description as the farce of Foote, to the boys and girls, the drunkards and profligates, of England’s great metropolis.482

Besides Mr. Madan’s pamphlet, another was published, in Whitefield’s favour, in November, 1760, namely: “A Letter to Mr. Foote, occasioned by his Letter to the Reverend Author of the Christian and Critical Remarks on ‘The Minor;’ containing a Refutation of Mr. Foote’s Pamphlet, and a full Defence of the Principles and Practices of the Methodists. By the Author of the Christian and Critical Remarks.” (8vo. 28 pp.)

This was a well-written pamphlet; but another, by the same author, published in the same month, was not so prudently composed. Its title was, “An Exhortatory Address to the Brethren in the Faith of Christ. Occasioned by a Remarkable Letter from Mr. Foote to the Reverend Author of Christian and Critical Remarks on ‘The Minor.’ With a serious word or two on the present Melancholy Occasion. By a Minister of the Church of Christ.” The “serious word or two” spoilt all the rest; for the author rashly insinuated that the encouragement given to Foote was the sin which had brought upon the nation a Divine judgment, in the recent sudden death of George II. As might be expected, this gave an advantage to Foote and to his friends. On reading the pamphlet, the Monthly Review exclaimed, “O thou wrong-headed leader of the wrong-heads! Fie on thee! Fie on thee!”

On the other side, a long letter, filling nearly a page, was inserted in Lloyd’s Evening Post, of November 14. It began as follows: “We now have the pleasure of seeing Methodism ushered in in comic characters, and the ridiculous gesture of the Tabernacle Impostor mimicked in the easier attitude of the stage.” The writer proceeds to criticise what he calls Methodism’s “favourite tenet, the grace of assurance, good works being not significant;” and then wishes “we had some formal Court of Judicature, to detect the cunning cant and hypocrisy of all pretenders to sanctity and devotion, for then we should be able to guard against those who preach to us salvation with a view to make us undergo a temporal fleecing.” With a sneer, he concludes thus:—

“What a monstrous piece of inhumanity are we venerators of apostolic doctrine and episcopal dignity to these pretended saint errants and non-apostolical preachers! To complete their unhappiness, we have made them a theatrical scoff, and the common jest and scorn of every chorister in the street.”

Five days afterwards, there appeared, in the same journal, a letter by Wesley, replying to this “very angry gentleman,” whom he presumed to be “a retainer of the theatre.” This evoked a disgracefully abusive answer, on November 24, which concluded with the polite assertion, that “arguing with Methodists is like pounding fools in a mortar.” Wesley again replied, on December 3; and his opponent, angrier than ever, in a long epistle, on December 12. In one of his quiet, but caustic letters, Wesley concluded the correspondence on December 26.

During this lengthened controversy, between Wesley and his nameless adversary, two more pamphlets were given to the public. The first was entitled, “A Letter to Mr. F—te. Occasioned by the Christian and Critical Remarks on his Interlude, called ‘The Minor.’ To which is added an Appendix, relative to a Serious Address to the Methodists themselves.” (12mo. 28 pp.) The thing was full of banter and badness,—bespattering Whitefield, and extolling Foote. The second was an equally vile production: “Observations, Good or Bad, Stupid or Clever, Serious or Jocular, on Squire Foote’s Dramatic Entertainment, entitled ‘The Minor.’ By a Genius.” (12mo. 15 pp.) In the Genius’s estimation, “the fable of ‘The Minor’ is pretty and entertaining; the manners happily described; the sentiments just and natural; and the language easy and spirited!!!” The critique of the Monthly Review on this production of “a Genius” was contained in a single line: “All the humour of this lies in the title-page.”

These lengthened details may be somewhat tedious; but they show the terrible fracas in which Whitefield was involved during the year 1760. This certainly was one of the most painful years of his eventful life. The persecution also was novel. He had been abused by clergymen in England, Scotland, and America, by pamphleteers learned and illiterate, and by mobs; but now, for the first time, he was ridiculed by theatrical comedians and their friends. Other opponents had been severe; but, as a rule, they had not been ribald and profane. Now it was otherwise. The farce of Foote, and the ballads in the streets, were steeped in blasphemy and filth. And yet, with the exception already mentioned, they are never noticed in any of Whitefield’s published letters. That he suffered—keenly suffered—it is impossible to doubt; but there is no evidence that he murmured or complained. No man more fully realized the truth and meaning of the Saviour’s beatitude, “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.”

“The Minor” was not the only farce published against Whitefield. At least, three other kindred productions were printed during the ensuing year. First, there was “An Additional Scene to the Comedy of ‘The Minor.’ London, 1761.” (8vo. 19 pp.) In this, Whitefield was described as “a priestly-looking man, with a cast in his eyes, and wearing a white flaxen wig,” and who, on being introduced to Foote, presented a comedy of his own composing, and requested Foote to act it. Then, there was “The Register Office: a Farce of Two Acts. Acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. By J. Reed. London, 1761.” (8vo. 47 pp.) A filthy thing, in which Whitefield is called “Mr. Watchlight,” instead of “Dr. Squintum;” and “Mrs. Snarewell” answers to “Mrs. Cole” in “The Minor” by Foote. “Lady Wrinkle” and “Mrs. Snarewell” are both dramatis personæ in the printed farce; but a foot-note states, “These two characters were not permitted to be played.” Then, finally, there was “The Methodist: a Comedy: being a Continuation and Completion of the Plan of ‘The Minor’ written by Mr. Foote: as it was intended to have been acted at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden, but for obvious reasons suppressed. With the original Prologue and Epilogue. London, 1761.” (8vo. 60 pp.) This, if possible, was even more profane and polluted than “The Minor” itself; and, though not acted, it soon passed through three editions. “Squintum” and “Mrs. Cole” were both among the leading characters; but to quote what they are made to say would be a crime. Half a dozen lines, however, taken from the prologue, may be given:—

“No private pique this just resentment draws,

Or brands a wretched Squintum, or his cause;

But, since the laws no punishment provide

For such as draw the multitude aside,

The poet seizes the corrective rod,

To scourge the bold blasphemer of his God.”

A disgusting specimen of the audacious falsehoods of the blaspheming Foote! To use one of Whitefield’s own expressions, none but a wretched being, “half a beast and half a devil,” could have written “The Minor” and “The Methodist.” The following is the Monthly Review’s critique on the latter of these infamous productions:—

“Mr. Foote’s ‘Minor’ is the foundation of this despicable superstructure, by means of which the scandalous abuse of Mr. Whitefield, under the opprobrious name of Dr. Squintum, is carried to such a height, as, in our judgment, reflects the utmost disgrace upon literature.”483

It is mournful to relate, that the wretched Foote hunted Whitefield, with undiminished hatred, to the end of Whitefield’s life. Two months after the great preacher’s death, in 1770, Foote was acting “The Minor” in the theatre at Edinburgh. The first night’s audience was large; but the indecency of the piece so shocked the people, that, at the following night’s performance, only ten of the female sex had effrontery sufficient to witness such profane impurity. Meanwhile, the news arrived of Whitefield’s decease, and loud was the outcry against ridiculing the man after he was dead. The Revs. Dr. Erskine, Dr. Walker, and Mr. Baine denounced Foote’s outrageous behaviour from their respective pulpits. “How base and ungrateful,” exclaimed the last-mentioned minister, “is such treatment of the dead! and that, too, so very nigh to a family of orphans, the records of whose hospital will transmit Mr. Whitefield’s name to posterity with honour, when the memory of others will rot. How illiberal such usage of one, whose seasonable good services for his king and country are well known; and whose indefatigable labours for his beloved Master were countenanced by heaven!”484

Here, while the buffoon, as it were, gesticulates, capers, and makes grimaces over Whitefield’s corpse, we take our leave of Foote for ever.

Before passing from the year 1760, one more publication must be mentioned. Its title was “Pious Aspirations for the use of Devout Communicants, either before, at, or after the Time of Receiving. Founded on the History of the Sufferings of Christ, as related by the Four Evangelists. Extracted from the English Edition of the three Volumes of the Rev. Mr. J. Rambach, late Professor of Divinity in the University of Giessen. By George Whitefield, Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Countess of Huntingdon. London, 1760.” (12mo. 104 pp.) This little book is often beautiful, and always intensely earnest and devout.

The first glimpse of Whitefield, in 1761, is on February 21, when he wrote as follows:—

“London. The distance that Plymouth lies from London, is one great cause of my coming there so seldom. What can I do, who have so many calls, and so few assistants? London must be minded; for, surely, there the word runs, and is glorified more and more. I returned in post-haste, last month, from Bristol. Both in going and coming, dear Mr. H―― and I were in great jeopardy. Once the machine fell over; and, at another time, we were obliged to leap out of the post-chaise, though going very fast. Blessed be God, we received little hurt. Good was to be done. On the Fast-day, near £600 were collected for the German and Boston sufferers. Grace! grace! I wish you had collected at Bristol. When can you move? Pray let me know directly. I want my wife to ride as far as Plymouth. Nothing but exercise will do with her.”

The general fast, here mentioned, was held on Friday, February 13. On that day, Whitefield preached early in the morning, at the Tabernacle, from Exodus xxxiv. 1, etc., and collected £112. In the forenoon, at Tottenham Court Road, he selected, as his text, “Blow the trumpet in Zion, sanctify a fast, call a solemn assembly.” Here the collection was £242. In the evening, he preached again in the Tabernacle, choosing for his text, “The Lord said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation.” The third collection amounted to £210.485 The ridicule of Foote, so far from lessening, had increased Whitefield’s popularity. On the day in question, not only did his congregations crowd the two chapels, but comprised an assemblage of the aristocracy of England rarely witnessed in a Methodist meeting-house. Among others present, there were the Countess of Huntingdon, Lady Chesterfield, Lady Gertrude Hotham, Lady Fanny Shirley, Lord Halifax, Lord Holdernesse, Secretary of State; Lord Bute, who soon succeeded him in his office; the Duke of Grafton, then rising rapidly into public life; Lady Harrington; Charles Fox then a boy, but, afterwards, the celebrated statesman and orator; William Pitt, Lord Villiers, and Soame Jennys, who held office in the Board of Trade, and acquired imperishable fame by his “View of the Internal Evidences of the Christian Religion.” The collections, made on the occasion, were for a twofold purpose, partly for the benefit of the plundered Protestants in the Marche of Brandenburg, and partly to relieve the distresses of the inhabitants of Boston, in New England, where a fire had destroyed nearly four hundred dwelling-houses. No wonder that they amounted to upwards of £560.486

Soon after this, Whitefield received assistance in his London work, from Berridge, of Everton, late moderator of Cambridge. Hence the following extracts from his letters:—

“London, February 23, 1761.

“The Redeemer’s work is upon the advance. All opposition is over-ruled for the furtherance of the gospel. A new instrument is raised up out of Cambridge University. He has been here preaching like an angel of the churches.”

Again, to the Rev. John Gillies, of Glasgow:—

“London, March 14, 1761.

“One Mr. Berridge, late moderator of Cambridge, has been preaching here with great flame. The awakening is rather greater than ever. Satan’s artillery has done but little execution.

“‘Thoughts are vain against the Lord,

All subserve His standing word;

Wheels encircling wheels must run,

Each in course to bring it on.

Hallelujah!’”

The truth is, Whitefield needed help. During his late visit to the city of Bristol, he had caught a cold, which so seriously affected his health, that, in one of the London newspapers, it was announced that he was dead.487 His illness disabled him during the whole of the months of March and April. Hence the following, from Lloyd’s Evening Post:—

“April 13. The Rev. Mr. Whitefield is so well recovered from his late illness, that he appeared abroad on Saturday last.

“April 29. The Rev. Mr. Whitefield was so well on Sunday, as to assist in administering the sacrament of the Lord’s supper.”

The following letters were written when Whitefield was convalescent:—

“Canonbury House, April 27, 1761.

“My very dear Friend,—Accept a few lines of love unfeigned from a worthless worm, just returning from the borders of the eternal world. O into what a world was I launching! But the prayers of God’s people have brought me back. Lord Jesus, let it be for Thy glory, and the welfare of precious and immortal souls! O how ought ministers to work before the night of sickness and death comes, when no man can work! You will not cease to pray for me, who am indeed less than the least of all. Weakness forbids my enlarging. Hearty love to all who are so kind as to enquire after a hell-deserving, but redeemed, creature. Not only pray, but also give thanks to the never-failing Emmanuel, who has been ease in pain, health in sickness, life in death, to yours, for His great name’s sake,

“George Whitefield.”

The next was addressed to the Rev. John Gillies, of Glasgow.

“Canonbury House, May 2, 1761.

“Indeed, my dear friend, the news you have heard was true. I have been at the very gates of what is commonly called death. They seemed opening to admit me, through the alone righteousness of the blessed Jesus, into everlasting life. But, at present, they are closed again. For what end, an all-wise Redeemer can only tell. I have, since my illness, once assisted a little at the Lord’s supper, and once have spoken a little in public. But my locks are cut. Natural strength fails. Jesus can renew; Jesus can cause to grow again. By His divine permission, I have thoughts of seeing Scotland. If I relapse, that will be a desirable place to go to heaven from. I love, I love the dear people of Scotland! Ten thousand thanks to you, and all my dear Glasgow friends.”

It is a disgraceful fact, that, while Whitefield was thus tottering back from the margin of the grave, the St. James’s Chronicle, of April 28, filled a column and a half of its folio sheet, with what it was pleased to call “Similes, Metaphors, and Familiar Allusions made use of by Dr. Squintum.” Only the last in the list shall be given.

“I will tell you the very picture of damned souls in hell. Have you never seen a potter’s oven, where he bakes his pots? Now the longer these pots bake, the harder they grow. Just so does one of these damned souls. God keep you and me, dear brethren, from ever being one of their unhappy number! (Sighing by the people.)”

For the next twelve months, Whitefield was an invalid, and, with a few exceptions, was obliged to refrain from preaching. The following extracts from his letters are painfully interesting. His health was gone, and yet, when he could, he tried to preach.

“Plymouth, June 5, 1761.

“Through Divine mercy, I am somewhat improved in my health since my leaving London. At Bristol, I grew sensibly better, but hurt myself by too long journeys to Exeter and hither. However, blessed be God! I am now recovered from my fatigue, and hope bathing will brace me up for my glorious Master’s use again. The few times I have been enabled to preach, the infinitely condescending Redeemer has breathed upon the word. Who knows but I may get my wings again? Abba, Father, all things are possible with Thee!”

“Bristol, June 11, 1761.

“These few lines leave me rather hurt by my late western journey. I strive to put out to sea as usual, but my shattered bark will not bear it. If this air does not agree with me, I think of returning, in a few days, to my old nurses and physicians. Blessed be God for an interest in an infinitely great, infinitely gracious, and sympathising, unchangeable Physician! I hope you and yours enjoy much of His heart-cheering consolations. These have been my support in my younger days; these will be my cordials in the latter stages of the road. Jesus lives when ministers die.”

In the beginning of July, Whitefield had returned to London. Meanwhile, news had arrived of the English fleets having taken Belleisle, on the coast of Brittany, and Dominica in the West Indies. Pondicherry, also, the capital settlement of the French in the East Indies, had been surrendered to the British troops, and the English were left undisputed masters of the rich coast of Coromandel, and of the whole trade of the vast Indian Peninsula, from the Ganges to the Indus. Considering how, for the last quarter of a century, Whitefield’s whole soul had been absorbed in the great work of preaching Christ and saving souls, it is curious to see him so profoundly interested in the war which was now raging in the four quarters of the earth, and in the victories won by the British arms. Hence the following:—

“London, July 6, 1761. Blessed be God, I am better! Blessed be God that you are so likewise! Who knows what rest and time may produce? Oh to be blanks in the hands of Jesus! When shall this once be? What good news by sea and land! Grace! Grace!”

Wesley was now in Yorkshire, and was anxious about the health of his old and much-loved friend. He had been in company with Venn, who had become vicar of Huddersfield, and Venn had created fears that Whitefield’s labours and life were almost ended. Hence, in a letter to Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, the London banker, Wesley wrote:—

“Bradford, July 16, 1761. Mr. Venn informs me that Mr. Whitefield continues very weak. I was in hope, when he wrote to me lately, that he was swiftly recovering strength. Perhaps, sir, you can send me better news concerning him. What need have we, while we do live, to live in earnest!”488

For weeks after this, Whitefield was almost entirely silent. To an afflicted friend, he wrote:—

“London, October 13, 1761.

“My dear Fellow-prisoner,—I hope the all-wise Redeemer is teaching us to be content to be buried ourselves, and to bury our friends. This is a hard but important lesson. I have not preached a single sermon for some weeks. Last Sunday, I spoke a little; but I have felt its effects ever since. Father, Thy will be done! Glory be to God, that some good was done at Plymouth! The news drove me to my knees, and stirred up an ambition to be employed again. I have met with changes. My two old servants are married, and gone. Mr. E――” (query John Edwards?) “has preached for me some time. As yet, the congregations are kept up.”

Immediately after this, Whitefield set out for Edinburgh, to obtain medical advice. While halting at Leeds, he received news of the death of one of his assistants at Bethesda; and wrote as follows:—

“Leeds, October 24, 1761. I am still in this dying world, but frequently tempted to wish the report of my death had been true, since my disorder keeps me from my old delightful work of preaching. But Jesus can teach us to exercise our passive as well as active graces. Fain would I say, ‘Thy will be done!’ I know now what nervous disorders are. Blessed be God that they were contracted in His service! I am riding for my health; but I think a voyage would brace me up. I impute my present disorder, in a great measure, to the want of my usual sea voyages.

“What sudden changes here! O that my great change were come! Happy Polhill! Bethesda’s loss is thy gain! To be carried to heaven in an instant; from a ship’s cabin into Abraham’s bosom; O what a blessing! God sanctify and make up the loss! We shall find few Polhills.

“I see you are running in arrears. Some way or other, I trust, they will be discharged. But I would have the family reduced as low as can be. The keeping of those who are grown up hurts them, and increases my expense. I have little comfort in many whom I have assisted. But our reward is with the Lord. I can at present bear very little of outward cares.”

Five days later, Whitefield had reached Newcastle, where he wrote the following to Mr. Robert Keen, of London:—

“Newcastle, October 29, 1761.

“My dear steady Friend,—Hitherto the Lord has helped me. Surely His mercy endureth for ever. I bear riding sixty miles a day in a post-chaise quite well. Friends, both here and at Leeds, are prudent, and do not press me to preach much. But, I hope, I am travelling in order to preach. If not, Lord Jesus help me to drink the bitter cup of a continued silence with a holy resignation, believing that what is, is best! Everywhere, as I came along, my spiritual children gladly received me. I hope you go on well at London. It is the Jerusalem—the Goshen. To-morrow, I may set forwards towards Edinburgh.”

At Edinburgh, Whitefield consulted four eminent physicians.489 There are only two more letters to tell the remainder of his story during the year 1761: the first addressed to the Rev. John Gillies, of Glasgow; the second to Mr. Robert Keen, of London.

“Edinburgh, November 9, 1761. Though I have been very ill since my coming to Edinburgh, yet I must come to see my dear friends at Glasgow. I cannot be there till noon on the 12th inst. Little, very little, can be expected from a dying man.”

“Leeds, December 1, 1761. It is near ten at night and I am to set off to-morrow in the Leeds stage for London. Silence is enjoined me for a while by the Edinburgh physicians. They say my case is then recoverable. The great Physician will direct.”

The poor fellow apparently was dying; but, even under such circumstances, his enemies could not restrain their malice. It is a painful thing to advert again to hostile publications, but Whitefield’s history cannot be fully told without it. Some, belonging to 1761, have been already noticed; others, unfortunately, are, as yet, unmentioned:—

1. “A Funeral Discourse, occasioned by the much-lamented Death of Mr. Yorick, Prebendary of Y—k, and Author of the much-admired ‘Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy.’ Preached before a very mixed Society of Jemmies, Jessamies, Methodists, and Christians, at a nocturnal meeting in Petticoat Lane; and now Published, at the unanimous request of the hearers, by Christopher Flagellan, A.M. London, 1761.” (8vo. 48 pp.) It is enough to say that this profane and filthy production was dedicated to “the Right Honourable the Lord F――g, and to the very facetious Mr. Foote!”

2. “A Journal of the Travels of Nathaniel Snip, a Methodist Teacher of the Word. Containing an Account of the many Marvellous Adventures which befel him in his way from the town of Kingston-upon-Hull to the City of York. London, 1761.” (8vo. 32 pp.) This was an infamous production, full of burlesque and banter; but the foot-note, at the end of it, will be quite enough to satisfy the reader’s craving:—

“As Snip’s manuscript concludes thus abruptly, I beg leave to finish the whole with an account of what I observed at a puppet show, exhibited at one of the principal towns in the west of Yorkshire. Punch was introduced in the character of Parson Squintum, the field-preacher, holding forth to a number of wooden-headed puppets, mostly composed of old women and ungartered journeymen of different callings. The more noise Punch (alias Squintum) made, the more the audience sighed and groaned. At last, Squintum said something about a woman with the moon under her feet, and pointed up to the sky, on which he desired them to fix their eyes with steadfastness. They did so; and, while their eyes were thus fixed, he very fairly picked all their pockets, and stole off. Oh, Punch, Punch! Thou Alexander the Coppersmith! thou Ananias Inlignante! what will become of thee hereafter, for thus vilifying the Inspired of Heaven, the Grand Obstetrix of those chosen few, who are impregnate with the New Birth!”

3. A third of these malignant productions professed to have for its author the most notorious quack of the age, “Dr. Rock,” and was entitled, “A Letter to the Reverend Mr. G—e Wh――d, A.B., late of Pembroke College, Oxford.” (12mo. 8 pp.) The purport of this bantering tract was, a proposal that, as Rock and Whitefield were both quacks, they should enter into partnership. The thing displayed cleverness,—perhaps too great to affiliate it on the great empiric. One or two extracts must suffice:—

“If you set up for a copy of St. Paul (as it is observed you do, even to the mimicking of Raphael’s picture of him at Hampton Court), I do the same by the old stager—Hypocrites, I think they call him. If you undertake to cleanse and purify the soul, I do the like by the body. If you are an enemy to the regular drones of your profession, I am as much to those of ours. If you profess to serve the public for the sake of the public, so do I. Do you pocket the fee when it is offered?—I do the same. Are the mob your customers?—they are mine likewise. Are you called a quack in doctrinals?—I bear the same reproach in practice. Are you the scorn and jest of men of sense?—I want but very little of being as much their jest and scorn as you. In a word, as it is said that you turn the brains of your patients, it is affirmed, with equal truth, that I destroy the constitutions of mine.”

Supposing Whitefield might have objections to the proposed partnership, Rock pretends that he has objections too; for, says he:—

“Nobody, I thank God, can upbraid me with devouring widows’ houses; leading captive silly women; confounding the peace and ruining the substance of families; preaching up Christ, and playing the devil; blindly recommending charity, and, at the same time, guilty of the worst oppression by squeezing the last mite out of the pockets of the poor.”

Dr. Rock concludes by stating that Whitefield “is a public pest, an incendiary of the worst kind, and a deceiver of the people.”

This was bad to bear, especially for a man in Whitefield’s state of health; but more must follow:—

4. “The Crooked Disciple’s Remarks upon the Blind Guide’s Method of Preaching for some years; being a Collection of the Principal Words, Sayings, Phraseology, Rhapsodies, Hyperboles, Parables, and Miscellaneous Incongruities of the Sacred and Profane, commonly, repeatedly, and peculiarly made use of by the Reverend Dr. Squintum, delivered by him, viva voce ex Cathedra, at Tottenham Court, Moorfields, etc. A work never before attempted. Taken verbatim from a constant attendance. Whereby the honesty of this Preacher’s intentions may be judged of from his own doctrine. By the learned John Harman, Regulator of Enthusiasts. London, 1761.” (8vo. 48 pp.)

This was one of the vilest pamphlets ever published. Its trash cannot be quoted. It is enough to say that, besides “A Short Specimen of the Rev. Dr. Squintum’s Extemporary Sermons,” it contains what it calls one of Whitefield’s prayers, prefaced thus:—

“The following preamble is Dr. Squintum’s fervent, solemn form of prayer; delivered by him in an attitude similar to that of Ajax, in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. His body erect, his hands extended, his face thrown upwards, with his eyes gazing towards the stars. Torvo vulto, tendens ad sidera palmas. Alternately changing from his theatrical astonishments into violent enthusiastical agitations and distortions, accompanied with weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth! Strange vicissitudes! which he strictly keeps up to, throughout the whole of his preaching.”

5. “The Spiritual Minor. A Comedy. London.” (8vo. 32 pp.) Another infamous production, with a “Prologue,” by Mrs. Cole, and an “Epilogue,” by Dr. Squintum. The dramatis personæ are Mr. Squintum, Mr. Rakish, Mr. Screamwell, Mr. Scruple, Mr. Cheatwell, Feeble, Mrs. Cole, and Miss Ogle.

All this is extremely loathsome, and worthy of Foote, the comedian. Two other names, much more respectable than Doctor Rock and John Harman, must now be introduced.

6. Jonas Hanway, the distinguished merchant, traveller, and philanthropist, was now in the fiftieth year of his age. Eight years before, he had published his travels, in four 4to. volumes, under the title of “An Historical Account of the Caspian Trade over the Caspian Sea; with a Journal of Travels from London, through Russia, into Persia, etc.; to which are added the Revolutions of Persia during the present Century, with the particular History of the Great Usurper, Nadir Kouli.” In 1754, he called the attention of the Government to the bad state of the streets in London and Westminster. In 1756, he took steps which ultimately led to the establishment of the Marine Society. In 1758, he made strenuous exertions to improve the Foundling, and to establish the Magdalen Hospitals. And now, in 1761, he published “Reflections, Essays, and Meditations on Life and Religion; with a Collection of Proverbs in Alphabetical Order; and Twenty-eight Letters, written occasionally on several subjects—viz., The Absurd Notions of the Sect called Methodists; The Customs of foreign Nations in regard to Harlots; The Lawless Commerce of the Sexes; The Repentance of Prostitutes; And the great Humanity and Beneficence of the Magdalane Charity. By Mr. Hanway. London, 1761.” (Two vols., 8vo., pp. 280 and 317.)

As Mr. Hanway became so notable a man, that, two years after his death, a monument, by public subscription, was erected to his memory, in Westminster Abbey; his sentiments on Whitefield deserve insertion. At all events, the critique of the benevolent old bachelor, who had the courage to be the first who appeared in the streets of London carrying an umbrella, will, perhaps, amuse the reader.

“I intended, a long while since,” says he, “to hear Mr. Whitefield at Tottenham Court, and I have at length compassed my design. The prayers were performed with as much devotion as one generally finds at any church, and, as well as I remember, without any excursions foreign to the Church Service. Fame had represented him to me as a great orator; but in this I was a little disappointed, not but he performs, upon the whole, tolerably well. The tunes and concordance of the singing are also very proper and agreeable; though I thought that psalms, or anthems, would be better than hymns; or the true harmony of sense and numbers, than such poor poetry as was sung.

“When he began his sermon, the oddness of some of his conceits, his manner, and turn of expression, had I not been in a place of public worship, would have excited my laughter. As he went on, I became serious, then astonished, and at length confounded. My confusion arose from a mixture of sorrow and indignation, that any man bearing the name of a minister of our meek and blessed Redeemer, or the dignity of the Christian priesthood, should demean himself like an inhabitant of Bedlam. I thought I saw human nature in distress, as much as in the cells of lunatics; with this difference, that he was permitted to go abroad, and make others as mad as himself; which he might be able to accomplish by means of the credulity of his audience, joined to the art of making them think that himself and his fraternity are the only people in their senses.

“I must inform you, that, opposite to this celebrated preacher, sat a dozen or more of old women, of that class who, within this half-century, might easily have been persuaded, by threats or promises, that they had rode in the air on broomsticks, and, confessing it, might have been put to death by people as much bewitched as themselves. Their intellectual powers are so far decayed, that they do not distinguish between receiving alms, in relief of their misery, and receiving hire, as hummers and hawers. This is the denomination given, by many sober persons, to these old women, some of whom, I am assured, have confessed that they are retained by hire, for sighing and groaning.”

Mr. Hanway proceeds to say that he had been to the Haymarket, to see “The Minor” acted, but “had not health, nor patience to sit out above half of it.” He adds:—

“I wish the principles of the Methodists may be understood more clearly by being brought on the stage; but I question if the character of the bawd, in ‘The Minor,’ has any existence, and, if so, the whole fabric of the drama is built on false grounds. If it does exist, is it so proper a subject for the theatre, as for St. Luke’s Hospital? This dramatic piece may possibly intimidate some from becoming Methodists; but, however popular it may be, I am very doubtful concerning the propriety of the measure, as to the end of correcting the enthusiasm in question. It is said, that, this comedy ‘has shaken the pillars of Tottenham Tabernacle,’ and I must add, that, I believe no harm would happen were it to tumble, provided the poor people, who frequent it, were at their work, or saying their prayers in their parish churches.

“As to the peruke and shoemaker declaimers, whose recommendation is consummate impudence, warm imaginations, and the remembrance of texts which they have no capacity to understand, it would be an indignity offered to the Christian priesthood to call such persons Teachers or Preachers of the Gospel. And as to the gentlemen of Methodistical tenets, who have had a scholastic education, how few among them are there who would not face about to the right, for the consideration of a good ecclesiastical benefice. I have very particular reasons to believe the major part of them would conform to Church orthodoxy and intelligible Christianity, if they did not find a better living in another way.”

7. So much for the eccentric Jonas Hanway. Another pamphleteer—much more able, though not so well known to fame—must now be introduced. Whitefield had already been attacked by the Bishop of London, the Bishop of Lichfield, and the Bishop of Exeter. Now, he came under the lash of the Rev. John Green, D.D., Bishop of Lincoln. In 1760, Dr. Green published an 8vo. pamphlet of seventy pages, addressed to Berridge, of Everton; but that must be passed without further notice. A year later, he issued another pamphlet with the title, “The Principles and Practices of the Methodists farther considered; in a Letter to the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield. Cambridge, 1761.” (8vo. 74 pp.) The Bishop of Lincoln wrote with great ability. The chief fault to be found with him is, that, he based his strictures upon the first editions of Whitefield’s Journals, and his “Short Account of God’s Dealings with him,” published in 1740. This was hardly fair, because Whitefield, since then, had, more than once, publicly expressed his regret for having used certain loose and extravagant expressions in these productions. Dr. Green was either not acquainted with Whitefield’s apologies, or he chose, for some hidden purpose, not to acknowledge them. Anyhow, remembering that such apologies had been made, and that Whitefield’s health was now even dangerously affected, paragraphs, like the following, were neither courteous nor fair:—

“In that curious repository of religious anecdotes, called your Journals, I have often seen and pitied the distress you have been in between strength of inclination and want of ability; when you have recited several things, which bordered on the marvellous, and which, notwithstanding, you did not care to vouch for miraculous.

“All the exalted things you have said, and all the wonderful things you have done, will pass, I fear, with many, only for the frenzy and rant of fanaticism. They will be apt to think your journeyings the effects of a roving and itinerant temper, and ascribe them to a strong tincture of that heroical passion, by which so many saints of the Romish communion have been actuated.

“Though possessed of so happy a talent at opening the hearts and purses of the people, that you were traduced under the name of ‘the Spiritual Pickpocket,’ yet you have not ventured to trust your support to the precarious offerings of voluntary contribution. Though you have not chosen to put yourself in a situation to claim any legal dues; yet you have lately dispensed your instructions, on the stipulation of certain periodical payments, and under the sanction of that unquestionable truth, ‘that the labourer is worthy of his hire.’

“We have instances on record, how an audience has been dissolved into tears by an orator, without knowing a single syllable of that which he uttered; have been moved by the efficacy of words which they did not understand, and by the goodly appearance of the speaker, whom they knew nothing of, to yield the sincerest proofs of their convictions by a liberal supply of such good things as he wanted. Some incidents of the same sort are said to have happened to yourself, and that the bare sight of your blessed gown and wig, though out of the reach of that elocution which so much surprises, and that pathos which so much moves, has not only softened the hearts and moistened the eyes, but drawn large pecuniary supplies to your charitable designs from the pity and benevolence of your female disciples.”

These were taunts unworthy of a bishop of the Established Church, and undeserved by poor afflicted Whitefield. Doubtless, they were painful; but they were patiently endured.

Whitefield’s health was somewhat better. On January 8, 1762, he wrote: “The Scotch journey did me service. I preached on New Year’s Day, and am to do so again to-morrow. I had a violent fall upon my head, from my horse, last Thursday, but was not hurt. Mr. Berridge is here, and preaches with power. Blessed be God that some can speak, though I am laid aside!”

No information exists as to how Whitefield spent the first three months of 1762. He still, however, was the subject of disgraceful persecution. During this interval, there was published a small 8vo. volume (price 2s. 6d.), entitled, “A Plain and Easy Road to the Land of Bliss, a Turnpike set up by Mr. Orator ――.” No good end would be answered by quotations from it. “It is,” said the Monthly Review, “contemptible for its stupidity. It is a filthy, obscene thing, for which the dirty author ought to be washed in a horse-pond.”490

In April, Whitefield went to Bristol, where he continued for about a month. The following extracts from his letters will shew the progress he was making:—

“Bristol, April 17, 1762. Bristol air agrees with me. I have been enabled to preach five times this last week, without being hurt. Were the door open for an American voyage, I believe it would be serviceable in bracing up my relaxed tabernacle. But He who knoweth all things, knoweth what is best. I see more and more, that grace must be tried. O for a heart to be made willing to be nothing, yea, less than nothing, that God may be all in all!”

“Bristol, April 18, 1762. Sunday. This morning I have been administering the ordinance; and this evening I hope to be upon my throne again. Who knows but I may yet be so far restored as to sound the gospel trumpet for my God? The quietness I enjoy here, with the daily riding out, seems to be one very proper means. Be this as it will, I know ere long I shall serve our Lord without weariness. A few more blows from friends, and from foes, and the pitcher will be broken. Then the wicked one will cease from troubling, and the weary traveller arrive at his wished-for rest.”

“Bristol, May 4, 1762. I see it is always darkest before the break of day. O that we could always remember that blessed promise, ‘At evening-tide it shall be light’! The archers have of late shot sorely at me and grieved me; but blessed be God for a little revival in my bondage. For these three weeks past, I have been enabled to preach four or five times a week; but you would scarce know me, I am so swollen, and so corpulent. Blessed be God for the prospect of a glorious resurrection!”

On his way back to London, Whitefield wrote as follows:—

“Rodborough, May 21, 1762. I hope to be in London on Tuesday or Wednesday next. Through Divine mercy, preaching four or five times a week has not hurt me; and twice or thrice I have been enabled to take the field: in my opinion, a greater honour than to be monarch of the universe. London cares and London labours, I expect, will bring me low again; but I hope soon to slip away, and to get strength, and then to hunt for precious souls again. How gladly would I bid adieu to ceiled houses, and vaulted roofs! Mounts are the best pulpits, and the heavens the best sounding-boards. O for power equal to my will! I would fly from pole to pole, publishing the everlasting gospel of the Son of God. I write this at a house built for dear Mr. Adams.491 From his window is a prospect perhaps of thirty miles. I have wished you here with your telescope. But if the footstool is so glorious, what must the throne be!”

“London, May 28, 1762. I am just now come to town for a few days, sensibly better for my country excursion. Once more, I have had the honour of taking the field, and have now some hopes of not being as yet quite thrown aside as a broken vessel. Help me to praise Him, whose mercy endureth for ever.”

In the month of June, Whitefield sailed to Holland, where his health was further benefited. At the end of July, he was preaching at Norwich, and wrote:—

“Norwich, July 31, 1762. The trip to Holland, last month, was profitable to myself, and, I trust, to others. If my usefulness is to be continued in London, I must be prepared for it by a longer itinerancy both by land and water. At present, blessed be God! I can preach once a day; and it would do your heart good to see what an influence attends the word. All my old times are revived again. On Monday next, God willing, I shall set forwards to Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, etc.”

Ten days after this, Whitefield attended the annual Conference of Wesley and his itinerants, in the town of Leeds. This was a notable assembly, for, besides the brave band of Wesley’s helpers, there were present the two Wesleys, Whitefield, Romaine, Madan, Venn, and, last but not least, the Countess of Huntingdon!492 Wesley wrote:—

“We had great reason to praise God for His gracious presence, from the beginning to the end.”

From Leeds, Whitefield proceeded to his beloved Scotland, where he wrote:—

“Edinburgh, September 2, 1762. I am just this moment returned from Glasgow, where I have been enabled to preach every day, and twice at Cambuslang. Auditories were large, and Jesus smiled upon my feeble labours.”

“Edinburgh, September 9. I came here a week ago. Since then, I have been helped to preach every day. The kirk has been a Bethel. Grace! Grace! On Monday, the 13th inst., I shall set off. Follow me with your prayers.”

On Sunday, September 19, Whitefield was at Sunderland;493 and on the following Sunday at Leeds. Here he wrote to his friend, Mr. Robert Keen, as follows:—

“I am just now setting forwards towards London, but fear I cannot reach it before Sunday. My chaise wanted repairing here. O how good hath Jesus been to a worthless worm! Once a day preaching, I can bear well; more hurts me. What shall I do with the Chapel and Tabernacle? Lord Jesus, be thou my guide and helper! He will! He will! Send word to the Tabernacle that you have heard from me. We have had sweet seasons.”

The “Seven Years’ War” was now nearly ended. The campaign of 1762 was eminently successful. Frederick the Great and Prince Ferdinand had been victorious in Germany; Burgoyne had aided Portugal in repelling the Spaniards; and the English fleet and army in the West Indies had taken the Carribbean Islands and Havannah. Lord Bute, the prime minister of England, strongly desired peace, for the English people were complaining loudly of increased taxation. He engaged the neutral king of Sardinia to propose to the court of France negotiations for a termination of the war. Louis XV., like a drowning man, caught at the proposal. The Duke of Bedford was selected as plenipotentiary and ambassador extraordinary to Paris; and the high-born and gallant Duke de Nivernois came to London in the same capacity. This was in September; and the negotiations proceeded with such rapidity, that preliminaries for peace were signed at Fontainebleau on the 3rd of November following.

In consequence of these events, Whitefield now had a prospect of carrying out his long-cherished wish to visit his Orphan House, and his numerous friends, across the Atlantic. He wrote, as follows, to the housekeeper of his Orphanage:—

“London, October 15, 1762. I wish to answer your letter in person. I hope the time is now drawing near. I count the weeks, and days, and hours. Blessed be God that you live in such harmony! A house thus united in Jesus will stand. I write this in great haste. I am enabled to preach once a day. Give thanks! give thanks!”

In November, Whitefield went to Bristol, where his “congregations were large, and a most gracious gale of Divine influence attended the word preached.” Having promised to visit Plymouth, he wrote to his friend there, the good Andrew Kinsman:—

“Let grand preparations be made,—as a candle, a book, and a table; above all, much prayer, that I may not again relapse at Plymouth, as the Bristol people say I shall do, by coming at this season of the year.”

On reaching Plymouth, he wrote:—

“Plymouth, December 4, 1762. Being under a positive promise to come here before I left England, I embraced this opportunity. Through mercy, I preached last night, and find no hurt this morning. Many young people, I hear, are under great awakenings. O to begin to wage an eternal war with the devil, the world, and the flesh! I would fain die sword in hand.”

Whitefield had an old trusty servant, Mrs. Elizabeth Wood,494 to whom he wrote as follows:—

“Plymouth, December 5, 1762. You did very wrong, in not letting me know of your mother’s necessities. She was a widow indeed; but now she is above the reach of everything. I am weary of the world, of the Church, and of myself. I cannot get up to London till near Christmas Day. As affairs are there circumstanced, everything there tends to weigh me down. O that patience may have its perfect work! Let me always know your wants. It is your own fault if you lack anything, whilst I have a farthing.”

Kind-heartedness was a prominent trait in Whitefield’s character. It was during this, or some other visit to Plymouth, that an incident occurred which is worth telling. “Come,” said Whitefield to his friend and host, Andrew Kinsman, “come, let us go to some of the poor and afflicted of your flock. It is not enough that we labour in the pulpit; we must endeavour to be useful out of it.” Away the two friends went, and Whitefield not only gave counsel to those they visited, but monetary aid. Kinsman reminded him that his finances were low, and that he was more bountiful than he could afford. “Young man,” replied Whitefield, “it is not enough to pray, and to put on a serious countenance: ‘pure religion and undefiled is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction,’ and to administer to their wants. My stock, I grant, is nearly exhausted, but God will soon send me a fresh supply.” In the evening, a gentleman called, and asked to see Whitefield. “Sir,” said he, “I heard you preach yesterday: you are on a journey, as well as myself; and, as travelling is expensive, will you do me the honour of accepting this?” The present was five guineas, and came from a man noted for his penuriousness. “Young man,” cried Whitefield, on his return to Kinsman, “young man, God has soon repaid what I bestowed. Learn, in future, not to withhold when it is in the power of your hand to give.”495

Whitefield, on his way to London, halted at Bristol, and wrote to Kinsman, as follows:—

“Bristol, December 12, 1762. We got here yesterday, all well, excepting that I lost my watch in the way. If it teach me to be more on my watch in the best things, the loss will be a gain. Lord, help me in everything to give thanks! I do not repent my Plymouth journey. Thanks to you all for your great kindnesses. Thanks, eternal thanks, to the God of all, for giving us His presence! It is better than life. I have not yet seen your daughter; but I hear she is well. Tell Sarah not to murder so dear a child. Hugging to death is cruelty indeed. Adieu! I must away to sacrament. O for such a one as we had last Sunday! Mind and get up in a morning to pray, before you get into shop.”

Whitefield wished to embark for America; but, before doing so, had a difficulty to encounter. He had erected two large and flourishing chapels in London, which, in consequence of the sites on which they stood being granted to himself on lease, were practically his own property. The money by which the chapels had been built was not his; and he felt that it would be unjust if, by his decease, they came into the possession of his heirs and successors. Hence, as he was hoping soon to sail, and as his health was such as to render his return to England a doubtful matter, he was anxious to have the Tabernacle and the Tottenham Court Road chapel so settled, that the purpose for which they had been erected might never be frustrated. Hence the following to Mr. Robert Keen:—

“January 15, 1763.

“My dear Friend,—Do meet me to-morrow, at one o’clock, at Mr. B――n’s, Canonbury House. I have something of importance to communicate. It is to beseech you, jointly with Mr. Hardy and Mr. B――n,496 as trustees, to take upon you the whole care of the affairs of Tottenham Court chapel, and of the Tabernacle, and all my other concerns in England. This one thing being settled, I have nothing to retard my visit to America, to which I think there is a manifest call at this time, both as to the bracing up my poor, feeble, crazy body, and adjusting all things relating to Bethesda. Your accepting this trust will take off a ponderous load that oppresses me much.”

There can be little doubt, that, Messrs. Keen and Hardy consented to take the management of the two chapels during Whitefield’s absence in America; but it is also clear that no trust deed, transferring the chapels to these two gentlemen, was at that time executed. Hence the following clause in Whitefield’s will, dated March 22, 1770:—

“Whereas there is a building, commonly called the Tabernacle, set apart many years ago for Divine worship, I give and bequeath my said Tabernacle, with the adjacent house in which I usually reside, when in London, with the stable and coach-house in the yard adjoining, together with all books, furniture, and everything else whatsoever, that shall be found in the house and premises aforesaid; and also the buildings commonly called Tottenham Court chapel, together with all the other buildings, houses, stable, coach-house, and everything else whatsoever which I stand possessed of in that part of the town,—to my worthy, trusty, tried friends, Daniel West, Esq., in Church Street, Spitalfields, and Mr. Robert Keen, woollen-draper in the Minories, or the longer survivor of the two.”

This is a curious clause. In the year of his decease, Whitefield evidently believed the London chapels and their adjacent premises to be his own property, but he had no wish for them to pass to his representatives and heirs. His desire was that they should be used in perpetuity, for preaching the same glorious gospel, as he had preached for more than the last thirty years; and hence the above bequest. The oddness of the thing, however, is, that Whitefield’s will created no trust; and that, by it, these two chapels became as absolutely the property of Messrs. West and Keen as they had been his own.

It is only right to add, that, in making his will, Whitefield was his own lawyer. At all events, the will was in his own handwriting. And, further, it is due to Mr. West and Mr. Keen to say, that, though they might have appropriated this property to their own private use, they faithfully carried out the intentions of Whitefield, and managed the chapels, not for their own benefit, but, for the glory of God and the good of their fellow-men. Mr. Keen died on January 30, 1793; and Mr. West on September 30, 1796.497 The last-mentioned gentleman, as the survivor of the two “trusty friends” mentioned in Whitefield’s will, bequeathed the property to Samuel Foyster and John Wilson, both of them well known in the Christian world. This, however, is not the place to pursue the history of the glorious old Tabernacle in Moorfields, and of the aristocratic chapel in Tottenham Court Road.

Whitefield took leave of his London congregations on Wednesday, February 23, when he preached a farewell sermon, from “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.” In the earlier parts of this biography, lengthened extracts were given from Whitefield’s sermons, for the purpose of conveying an idea of the character of his preaching, at that period of his ministry. For the same purpose, other extracts from sermons, belonging to the present date, may be given here.

In the sermon, preached on February 23, 1763, Whitefield is reported as having said:—

“‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.’ It is not said, all ministers, or all of this or that particular people; but with all believers. Mr. Henry said, he desired to be a Catholic, but not a Roman Catholic. There is a great reservoir of water from which this great city is supplied; but how is it supplied? Why, by hundreds and hundreds of pipes. Does the water go only to the Dissenters, or to the Church people,—only to this or that people? No: the pipes convey the water to all; and, I remember, when I saw the reservoir, it put me in mind of the great reservoir of grace, the living water that is in Christ Jesus.

“What a horrid blunder has the Bishop of Gloucester been guilty of! What do you think his lordship says, in order to expose the fanaticism of the Methodists? ‘Why,’ says he, ‘they say they cannot understand the Scriptures without the Spirit of God.’ Can any man understand the Scriptures without the Spirit of God helps him? Jesus Christ must open our understanding to understand them. The Spirit of God must take of the things of Christ, and shew them unto us. So, also, with respect to all ordinances. What signifies my preaching, and your hearing, if the Spirit of God does not enlighten? I declare I would not preach again, if I did not think that God would accompany the word by His Spirit.”

“Are any of you here unconverted? No doubt too many. Are any of you come this morning, out of curiosity, to hear what the babbler has to say? Many, perhaps, are glad it is my last sermon, and that London is to be rid of such a monster; but surely you cannot be angry with me for my wishing that the grace of God may be with you all. O that it may be with every unconverted soul! O man! what wilt thou do if the grace of God is not with thee? My brethren, you cannot do without the grace of God when you come to die. Do you know that without this you are nothing but devils incarnate? Do you know that every moment you are liable to eternal pains? Don’t say I part with you in an ill humour. Don’t say that a madman left you with a curse. Blessed be God! when I first became a field-preacher, I proclaimed the grace of God to the worst of sinners; and I proclaim it now to the vilest sinner under heaven. Could I speak so loud that the whole world might hear me, I would declare that the grace of God is free for all who are willing to accept of it by Christ. God make you all willing this day!”