Volume 2 — EIGHT YEARS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. 1755 TO 1763.

WHITEFIELD and the Wesleys were now not the only evangelical clergymen in London. Not to mention others, there was the Rev. Thomas Jones, of St. Saviour’s, Southwark,—a young man of feeble health, but whose preaching was characterised by great eloquence and power. There was the Rev. Martin Madan, founder and first chaplain of the Lock Hospital, near Hyde Park Corner. And there was the Rev. William Romaine, who had been at Oxford at the same time Whitefield and the Wesleys were, but without becoming an Oxford Methodist,—one of the most popular preachers in the metropolis, and now curate of St. Olave’s, Southwark. The ministry of such men occasioned Whitefield unmingled joy. One of his first letters, after his arrival in England, was addressed to the Countess of Huntingdon, in which, with a full heart, he wrote: “Glad am I to hear that so many have lately been stirred up to preach the crucified Saviour. Surely that Scripture must be fulfilled, ‘And many of the priests also were obedient to the word.’ The work is of God, and therefore must prosper.”

In a letter to Governor Belcher, on the same subject, he remarked:—

“London, May 14, 1755. The word has still free course in this metropolis. The poor, despised Methodists are as lively as ever; and, in several churches, the gospel is now preached with power. Many in Oxford are awakened to a knowledge of the truth; and, almost every week, I have heard of some fresh minister, who seems determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified.”

This was a most important movement,—the commencement of that great change which gradually came over the Church of England, until hundreds of its pulpits were filled with converted men, weekly preaching the doctrines which Whitefield and the Wesleys preached. For sixteen years, the three Methodist itinerants had been scattering seed, which, in many thousands of instances, had sprung up, and was bearing fruit; but now a new fact occurred,—the seed-sowers were being multiplied. In a letter to a lady, in 1752, stating the case of a poor divinity student, who needed help, Whitefield wrote: “Every student’s name is Legion. Helping one of these, is helping thousands.” No wonder that he now exulted in the increase of gospel ministers.

During his recent visit to America, the Rev. Aaron Burr and the trustees of New Jersey College conferred on Whitefield an M.A. degree. Within a week after his return to England, Whitefield commenced an endeavour to return the compliment. He had formed a high opinion of Mr. Burr, and wished him to be honoured; but, apart from this, he doubtless thought that the college would be helped if its president were made a doctor of divinity. The Marquis of Lothian had been a generous benefactor of the college, and, through him, Whitefield hoped to procure the coveted distinction. In a letter to the Marquis, he spoke of the college as “the purest seminary” he had known, and added, “If the degree of doctor of divinity could be procured for Mr. Burr, the present president, it would make an addition to its honours.” The Marquis replied, “The University of Edinburgh desire me to obtain some account of Mr. Burr’s literature, or performances. This I hope you will send; and a diploma will be immediately transmitted.” Whitefield’s answer, which deserves insertion, was as follows:—

“Mr. Burr was educated at Yale College, in Connecticut, New England; and, for his pregnant abilities and well-approved piety, was unanimously chosen to succeed the Rev. Mr. Dickinson,363 in the care of New Jersey College. It would have delighted your lordship to have seen how gloriously he filled the chair last year, at the New Jersey commencement. His Latin oration was beautifully elegant, and was delivered with unaffected, yet striking energy and pathos. As a preacher, disputant, and head of a college, he shines in North America; and the present prosperity of New Jersey College is greatly owing to his learning, piety, and conduct. The students revere and love him. Your lordship might have testimonials enough from good Governor Belcher, Mr. Jonathan Edwards,364 cum multis aliis. I believe they would all concur in saying that, of his age, now upwards of forty, there is not a more accomplished deserving president in the world. As for anything of his in print, that can be referred to, I can say nothing, except a little pamphlet lately published,365 in which he has animated the people against the common enemy, and discovered a close attachment to the interest of our rightful sovereign, King George. This piece of Mr. Burr’s I have in London, and hope it is in Scotland. I wish the diploma may be transmitted against the next commencement. It will endear your lordship more and more to the good people of America.”366

To say the least, there was a great amount of large-heartedness in this attempt to distinguish the college of a church with which Whitefield was not officially connected.

After his arrival in England, Whitefield spent about six weeks in London, where his preaching was as popular as ever. Writing to the Countess of Huntingdon, on May 27th, he said:—

“What a blessed week have we had! Sinners have come like a cloud, and fled like doves to the windows. What a happiness is it to be absorbed and swallowed up in God! To have no schemes, no views, but to promote the common salvation! This be my happy lot!”

In another letter, dated “London, June 7th,” he wrote:—

“It will rejoice you to hear that the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ gets ground apace. Several of the clergy, both in town and country, have been lately stirred up to preach Christ crucified, in the demonstration of the Spirit, and with power. This excites the enmity of the old Serpent. The greatest venom is spit against Mr. Romaine, who, having been reputed a great scholar, is now looked upon and treated as a great fool, because he himself is made wise unto salvation, and is earnestly desirous that others should be. Methinks I hear you say, ‘O happy folly!’ May this blessed leaven diffuse itself through the whole nation! The prospect is promising. Many students at Oxford are earnestly learning Christ. Dear Mr. Hervey has learnt and preached Him some years. As for myself, I can only say, ‘Less than the least of all,’ must be my motto still. I labour but feebly, and yet Jesus owns my labours. People still flock to the gospel, like doves to the windows. Will you be pleased to accept of my Lisbon letters?367 My little Communion book is not yet out. God be praised! there is a time coming when we shall need books and ordinances no more, but shall be admitted into uninterrupted communion and fellowship with the blessed Trinity for ever.”

The “little Communion book” here mentioned was a 12mo. volume, of 140 pages, with the following title: “A Communion Morning’s Companion. By George Whitefield, A.B., late of Pembroke College, Oxford, and Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Countess of Huntingdon. London, 1755.” The book consists of: 1. Meditations on the five last Questions and Answers of the Catechism of the Church of England. Extracted from Bishop Ken. 2. The Order for Administration of the Lord’s Supper. After the pattern of Bishop Wilson. 3. Fifty-nine Sacramental Hymns, and seventeen Doxologies, extracted from several authors. Except a few written by the Wesleys, most of the hymns are pious doggerel. The extracts from Ken and Wilson are intensely religious, and, to a devout mind, must be useful. The book had an extensive sale. As early as 1758, it had passed through a third edition; The following is taken from Whitefield’s preface:—

“There is but little in this ‘Communion Morning’s Companion’ of my own; and, as it is intended purely for the assistance of the professed members of the Church of England, I thought it most advisable to extract the meditations and practical remarks on the public form of administration from our own bishops. I particularly fixed on Bishop Ken, not only because his sweet meditations on the Redeemer’s passion were some of the first things that made a religious impression on my own soul, but because he was one of those seven bishops who were sent to the Tower for making a noble stand against popish tyranny and arbitrary power in the latter end of the reign of King James the Second. Imagining that the words ‘real presence,’ though evidently meant by the good bishop only of the Redeemer’s spiritual presence (which is all the presence I know of), might stumble some, I erased them, and also made a few alterations in some other passages, which, by some, might be judged objectionable.

“As for those who are against any offices or set forms at all, I shall only say, ‘Let not him who useth a form judge him who useth it not; and let not him who useth it not despise him who doth use it.’ Though I profess myself a minister of the Established Church, and never yet renounced her articles, homilies, or liturgy, I can and, if God’s providence direct my course thither again, shall join in occasional communion with the churches of New England and Scotland, being persuaded there are as many faithful ministers among them as in any parts of the known world.”

About the middle of the month of June, Whitefield set out on a three weeks’ tour to Gloucester, Bristol, and the west of England. “Thousands and thousands,” says he, “flocked in Gloucestershire; and here, in Bristol, the congregations fall little short of those in London.” At Bath, he preached several times in the house of Lady Gertrude Hotham; Lord Chesterfield, Mrs. Grinfield, Mrs. Bevan,368 and other members of the aristocracy being among his hearers.

On the 1st of July, Lady Anne Hastings, after a short illness, was removed to her eternal rest, in the sixty-fifth year of her age.369 Whitefield heard of this event at Bristol, and, on his return to London, wrote as follows to the Countess of Huntingdon:—

“London, July 11, 1755.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—Yesterday, about noon, after being worn down with travelling, and preaching twice and thrice a day in Gloucestershire, at Bath, and Bristol, a gracious Providence brought me to town. At Bristol, I heard of the death of good Lady Anne. Alas! how many has your ladyship lived to see go before you! An earnest this, I hope, that you are to live to a good old age, and be more and more a mother in Israel. A short, but sweet character. God knows how long I am to drag this crazy load, my body, along. Blessed be His holy name! I have not one attachment to earth. I am sick of myself, sick of the world, sick of the Church, and am panting daily after the full enjoyment of my God. John Cennick is now added to the happy number of those who are called to see Him as He is.370 I do not envy, but I want to follow after him.

“The fields at Bristol and Kingswood were whiter and more ready to harvest than for many years past. If the new Tabernacle at Bristol were as large as that in London, it would be filled. Thrice last Sunday, and twice the Sunday before, I preached in the fields to many, many thousands. At Bath, we had good seasons. Good Lady Gertrude, Mrs. Bevan, and Mrs. Grinfield, were very hearty. God was with us of a truth. O for an humble, thankful heart! I am now looking up for direction what course to steer next. I suppose it will be northward.”

Whitefield spent about another month in London. It was at this period that Cornelius Winter, then a boy in the thirteenth year of his age, was induced to hear Whitefield preach. Cornelius was an orphan, whose father had been a shoemaker, and his mother a laundress. At the age of eight, he was admitted into the Charity School of St. Andrew’s, Holborn. He then became the inmate of a workhouse. When his “schooling closed,” he “had merely learned to write, without being set to put three figures together, or to learn one line in any of the tables.” The half-hungered child next became errand boy, and a sort of general drudge in the kitchen and the workshop of a distant relative, Mr. Winter, watergilder, in Bunhill Row. His master was bad-tempered, and a drunkard, and often beat young Cornelius so unmercifully that the lad sometimes wished to die. The boy regularly attended the Church of St. Luke, in Old Street, but says, he had “strong prejudices against the Methodists and Dissenters.” “However,” he writes, “when my clothes were disgracefully bad, which was sometimes the case, I absconded from my own church, and occasionally wandered into a meeting-house. At last, I got to hear Mr. Whitefield, and was particularly struck with the largeness of the congregation, the solemnity that sat upon it, the melody of the singing, and Mr. Whitefield’s striking appearance, and his earnestness in preaching. From this time, I embraced all opportunities to hear him.”371

Whitefield remained in London till the commencement of the month of August, when, unexpectedly, he was requested, by Colonel and Mrs. Galatin, and the Countess of Huntingdon, to go to Norwich, and re-open the Tabernacle built for Wheatley, Wesley’s expelled itinerant preacher. Wesley already had a mongrel Society in Norwich, and disapproved of Whitefield’s preaching in an apparently opposition chapel.372 He complained to Whitefield, who replied as follows:—

“Norwich, August 9, 1755.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—Till Tuesday evening” (August 5th) “I knew no more of coming to Norwich than a child unborn. Had I been well enough, and my private business permitted, I should have been some miles on my way towards Donington Park. This I told Mr. Hartley, and acquainted him with every step. He should have written himself, and not retailed our conversation. As I expect to be in town some time next week, I choose to defer writing more till we have a personal interview. My time is too precious to be employed in hearkening to, or vindicating myself against, the false and invidious insinuations of narrow and low-life informers. Never was I more satisfied of my call to any place than of my present call to Norwich. The Redeemer knows the way that I take. I came hither purely for His glory, without the least design to make a party for myself, or to please or displease any other party whatsoever. In this way, and in this spirit, through His divine assistance, I hope to go on. Blessed be His name! I trust my feeble labours have not been in vain. Sin, I hope, has been prevented, errors detected, sinners convicted, saints edified, and my own soul sweetly refreshed. But I must add no more. That Jesus may give us all a right judgment in all things, and keep all parties from giving a wrong touch to the ark, is and shall be the constant prayer of, reverend and dear sir, yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

“George Whitefield.”

The Society at Norwich were the most refractory set of Methodists in the United Kingdom. It would be a bootless task to write their history. Suffice it to say, that Whitefield was satisfied with his visit. “Here,” says he, “there has undoubtedly been a glorious work of God. Twice a day, both gentle and simple flock to hear the word; and, I think, it comes with power.”373 “Notwithstanding offences have come, I scarce ever preached a week together with greater freedom.”374 After he left, the Rev. William Cudworth took his place, and, henceforth, became Wesley’s enemy, and the dangerous friend of the gentle Hervey. Cudworth was assisted by Wheatley and Robert Robinson, the latter a youth of twenty, but afterwards the famous Baptist minister at Cambridge. They established preaching stations in the surrounding villages; and, at Forncett, about twelve miles from Norwich, a Tabernacle was erected. About five years after this, from 1758 to 1763, the Norwich Tabernacle seems to have been occupied by Wesley and the preachers in connection with him. He then abandoned it, utterly despairing to keep in order James Wheatley’s “lambs.” Indeed, he designates them “bullocks unaccustomed to the yoke, who had never had any rule or order among them, but every man did what was right in his own eyes.” Lady Huntingdon next bought the Tabernacle for £900, and vested it in seven trustees, who were to manage its secular concerns, and appoint or dismiss its ministers at their pleasure.375

Notwithstanding the foregoing letter addressed to Wesley, there continued to be misgiving. It also seems that, at first, Cudworth and Wheatley found it difficult to co-operate. When Whitefield got back to London, he wrote, as follows, to the turbulent Norwich Methodists:—

“London, August 26, 1755.

“My dear Friends,—I received your kind letters, and likewise one from Mr. Wheatley; and, last night, a long one from Mr. Cudworth; but, alas! I have no time for controversy. To their own Master they must both either stand or fall. All I can say, in your present circumstances, is, that you had best make a trial, and let matters, for a while, stand as they are. I have sent letters, if possible, to prevent the spreading, at least the publishing, of any further tales. Meanwhile, do you strengthen yourselves in the Lord your God. The cause is His. I believe you honestly embarked in it, for His great name’s sake, and He will help you out of all. To-morrow, I must away to the north. Follow me with your prayers; and assure yourselves that you and yours, and the dear people of Norwich, will not be forgotten by me. If ever the Redeemer should bring me thither again, I can then converse with Mr. Wheatley and Mr. Cudworth face to face; but I beg to be excused from writing, when I think, by so doing, I can do no service. The Lord clothe us all with humility, and give us all true simplicity and godly sincerity!”

On August 27, Whitefield left London for the north of England. On his way, he spent two or three days with his friend Hervey, at the rectory of Weston-Favell. Hervey had just published, in three octavo volumes, his “Theron and Aspasio,” part of which work had been submitted to Wesley in manuscript, for his revision. Wesley and Hervey had already become alienated, for Wesley had made more corrections in the manuscript than Hervey liked. At all events, on January 9, 1755, Hervey wrote to Lady Frances Shirley: “Mr. John Wesley takes me roundly to task on the score of predestination; at which I am much surprised, because this doctrine (be it true or false) makes no part of my scheme. I cannot but fear he has some sinister design. I do not charge such an artifice, but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion.”376 In the interval, Wesley had written to Hervey a long letter, freely animadverting on “Theron and Aspasio,” and begging him to lay aside the phrase, “the imputed righteousness of Christ,” adding, “It is not scriptural, it is not necessary, it has done immense hurt.” Hervey, for once in his lovely life, neglected to exercise his natural gentleness. Wesley’s letter offended him, and he declined to acknowledge it; but, whilst Whitefield was his guest, he wrote to his Baptist friend, the Rev. John Ryland: “I find, by private intelligence, that Mr. Wesley has shewn his letter in London, and has thought proper to animadvert upon me, by name, from his pulpit.”

There can be little doubt that Whitefield was Hervey’s informant. Affairs among these old Oxford Methodists were in a ticklish state. It is a mournful fact, that, chiefly through the machinations of William Cudworth, the friendship between Hervey and Wesley was not renewed; but it was otherwise with the large-hearted Whitefield. In his Journal, under the date, November 5th, 1755, Wesley wrote: “Mr. Whitefield called upon me; disputings are now no more; we love one another, and join hand in hand to promote the cause of our common Master.” Charles Wesley, also, wrote to his old friend a poetical epistle,377 breathing with Christian love, from which the following lines are taken:—

“Come on, my Whitefield! (since the strife is past,

And friends at first are friends again at last,)

Our hands, and hearts, and counsels let us join

In mutual league, t’ advance the work divine;

Our one contention now, our single aim,

To pluck poor souls as brands out of the flame;

To spread the victory of that bloody cross,

And gasp our latest breath in the Redeemer’s cause.

“In a strange land I stood,

And beckon’d thee to cross th’ Atlantic flood:

With true affection wing’d, thy ready mind

Left country, fame, and ease, and friends behind,

And, eager all heaven’s counsels to explore,

Flew through the watery world and grasp’d the shore.

Nor did I linger, at my friend’s desire,

To tempt the furnace, and abide the fire:

When suddenly sent forth, from the highways

I call’d poor outcasts to the feast of grace;

Urg’d to pursue the work, by thee begun,

Through good and ill report, I still rush’d on,

Nor felt the fire of popular applause,

Nor fear’d the torturing flame in such a glorious cause.

“One in His hand, O may we still remain,

Fast bound with love’s indissoluble chain;

(That adamant which time and death defies,

That golden chain which draws us to the skies!)

His love the tie that binds us to His throne,

His love the bond that perfects us in one;

His love, (let all the ground of friendship see,)

His only love constrains our hearts t’ agree,

And gives the rivet of eternity!”

Just at the time when Whitefield left America, the ministers of George the Second announced to Parliament that a war with France was inevitable. The Committee of Supply eagerly voted a million of money for the defence of their American possessions; and Admiral Boscawen was sent with a fleet towards the Gulf of St. Lawrence, to intercept a French fleet which had been prepared in the forts of Rochefort and Brest, and which was carrying reinforcements to the French Canadians. America was now in martial confusion. Among others, Whitefield’s old friend Sir William Pepperell had gone to the field of action; and Whitefield, while a guest at Hervey’s, wrote to Lady Pepperell and her daughter, to cheer them in the colonel’s absence, as follows:—

“Weston-Favell, August 30, 1755.

“Dear Miss,—A few days past, as I was going into the Tabernacle to read letters, yours came to hand. Immediately, I read it among the rest, and you and my other New England friends had the prayers of thousands. How did I wish to be transported to America! How did I long to stir up all against the common enemy, and to be made instrumental of doing my dear country some little service! Dear New England,—dear Boston lies upon my heart! Surely the Lord will not give it over into the hands of the enemy. He has too many praying ministers and praying people there, for such a dreadful catastrophe.”

“Weston-Favell, August 30, 1755.

“Dear Madam,—I find you are once more called to give up your honoured husband for his country’s good. The God whom you serve will richly reward you for such a sacrifice, and be better to you than seven husbands. I long to hear that he is returned victorious. He is gone upon a good cause, and under the conduct of the best general, even the Captain of our salvation. To Him I am praying, night and day, for the temporal and spiritual welfare of dear, never-to-be-forgotten New England. Courage, dear madam, courage! A few more partings, a few more changes, a few more heart-breakings, heart-purifying trials, and we shall be safely landed.”

Such were Whitefield’s feelings at the commencement of the Seven Years’ War, which was ended by the Peace of Paris, February 10, 1763. The terrific strife kept Whitefield from his beloved America for the space of eight long years, and, during this lengthened period, many and great were his anxieties concerning his Orphan House, and his transatlantic friends; but more of this anon. An extract from another letter, written at Hervey’s, and addressed to a rich, but miserly American, is too characteristic to be omitted.

“Weston-Favell, August 30, 1755.

“Your friends everywhere take notice, that the sin which doth most easily beset you is a too great love of money; and this, in many cases, makes you act an unfriendly part. If God should suffer our enemies to prevail, you will wish you had laid up more treasure in heaven. Blessed be God, mine is out of the reach of men or devils. Strange that five per cent. from man should be preferred to a hundredfold from Christ! A word to the wise is sufficient. I am looking out for more news from dear America. May the late defeat be sanctified! Adieu, my dear Mr. V――! Non magna loquimur, non magna scribimus, sed vivimus, is the Christian’s motto. Mr. D―― can English it.”

On Sunday, August 31st, Whitefield preached twice, not in his friend Hervey’s church, but at Northampton. He then proceeded to Lady Huntingdon’s, at Donington Park. At Liverpool, on September 12th, “some fallow ground was broken up;” at Bolton, “the cup of many ran over;” at Manchester, “people heard most gladly;” at Leeds and Bradford, “what many felt was unutterable;” and at York, “a smart gentleman was touched.” On reaching Newcastle-on-Tyne, Whitefield wrote to the Countess of Huntingdon, as follows:—

“Newcastle, September 24, 1755.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—I know not how long it is since I left your ladyship; but this I know, a sense of the satisfaction I felt when at Donington still lies upon my heart. Were I not called to public work, waiting upon, and administering to your ladyship in holy offices would be my choice and highest privilege.

“The only new ground that has been broken up is Liverpool. There the prospect is promising. I preached in a great square on the Lord’s-day, and the alarm, I hear, went through the town. At Bolton, the cup of God’s people ran over; and at Manchester we had large auditories and blessed seasons. At Leeds, we felt what is unutterable; and at Bradford, last Sunday, the congregation consisted of at least ten thousand.378 But, oh, how has my pleasure been alloyed at Leeds! I rejoiced there with trembling; for, unknown to me, they had almost finished a large house, in order to form a separate congregation.379 If this scheme succeeds, an awful separation, I fear, will take place amongst the Societies.380 I have written to Mr. Wesley, and have done all I could to prevent it. O this self-love, this self-will! It is the devil of devils!

“I write this from Newcastle, where the people, twice a day, hear the gospel gladly. What to do now, I know not. Calls on all sides are very loud, and it is too late to go either to Ireland or Scotland. O my God! winter is at hand, and, in the summer, how little has been done for Thee! I cannot bear to live at this poor dying rate.”

Whitefield spent ten or a dozen days in the neighbourhood of Newcastle, and then set out for London, where he arrived on October 30th. The following are extracts from his letters:—

“London, October 31, 1755.

“Last night, a never-failing God brought me from the north of England, where I have been enabled to preach twice and thrice a day to many, many thousands, for two months past. And yet I cannot die. Nay, they tell me I grow fat. Never did I see the word more blessed, or so many thousands run after it with greater greediness. Next to inviting them to Christ, I have always taken care to exhort them to pray for King George, and our dear friends in America.”

“London, November 1, 1755.

“On Thursday evening, I came to town, after having preached about a hundred times, and travelled about eight hundred miles. For more than ten days together, I preached thrice a day. O that I could preach three hundred times! All would be infinitely too little to testify my love to Jesus. After about a week’s stay here, I hope to move westward. O winter! winter! Haste and fly, that I may again set out! Yesterday, I waited upon the Countess Delitz, and, on Thursday, I am to dine with her ladyship.”

“London, November 8, 1755.

“I hear you have been sitting night and day in council. All we can do on this side the water is to pray. This, I trust, thousands are doing every day. I seldom preach without mentioning dear New England. Blessed be God! the prospect is promising here. In the north of England, the word runs and is glorified more than ever. In London, people flock like doves to the windows.”

To Lady Huntingdon, who had gone to Clifton Hotwells, Bristol, Whitefield wrote:—

“London, November 10, 1755.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—Your ladyship’s kind and condescending letter found me just returned from Chatham. The court, in the best sense of the word, is now removed to Clifton. For there only is the real court kept, where Jesus reigns, and where He has erected a spiritual kingdom in the heart. All besides this is only tinsel and glitter. Here alone is real and abiding happiness to be found. O for further searches into the heights and depths of God! O for further leadings into the chambers of that selfish, sensual, and devilish imagery, that yet lie latent in my partly renewed heart! This self-love, what a Proteus! This self-will, what a Hydra! This remaining body of sin and death, what an Antichrist! what a scarlet whore! what a hell! what a red dragon! what a cursed monster is it! How hard, how slow, he dies! O what gratitude do I owe to the Bruiser of this serpent’s head! O for a heart gladly to embrace every cross, every trying dispensation, that may have a tendency to poison, or starve the old man, and cherish, promote, or cause to bloom and blossom the graces and tempers of the new! Ordinances, providences, doctrines are of no service to believers, except as they are attended with this mortifying and life-giving power. Happy family, who have this one thing in view! Happy retirement, that is improved to this blessed purpose! Happy, therefore, good Lady Huntingdon, and the other elect ladies, who are determined thus to go hand in hand to heaven! All hail, ye new-born, heaven-born souls! Ye know, by happy experience, that Jesus is an inward as well as outward Saviour. Were even annihilation to follow death, who would not but have this redemption whilst they live? But glory, glory be to God! it is only the dawning of an eternal day, the beginning of a life that is ere long to be absorbed in never-ceasing, uninterrupted fruition of the ever-blessed Triune Deity. O the depth, the height of this love of God! It passeth human and angelic knowledge. My paper only permits me to add, that I am, ever-honoured madam,

“Your ladyship’s most dutiful and ready servant,

“George Whitefield.”

Soon after this, Whitefield joined her ladyship at Bristol, where he spent about a month, but, to a great extent, was prevented preaching. Hence the following:—

“Bristol, November 30.

“For near ten days past, I have preached in pain, occasioned by a sore throat, which I find now is the beginning of a quinsy. The doctor tells me silence and warmth may cure me; but (if I had my will) heaven is my choice, especially if I can speak no longer for my God on earth. However, painful as the medicine of silence is, I have promised to be very obedient, and, therefore, I have not preached this morning.”

Whitefield returned to London towards the end of December, and closed the year by writing to the Countess of Huntingdon:—

“London, December 31, 1755.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—Your ladyship’s kind and condescending letter should not have been so long unanswered, had not bodily weakness, and my Christmas labours, prevented my writing. It has been a joyful-mourning season. Saturday last being my birthday, my soul was deeply exercised, from morning till evening, in thinking how much, in one-and-forty years, I had sinned against God, and how little I have done for Him. This impression yet lies deep upon my heart, and, therefore, I purpose to end the old year by preaching on these words, ‘I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.’ O that all things belonging to the old man may die in me, and all things belonging to the new man may live and grow in me! But, alas! this is a work of time. Every day and every hour must we be passing from death to life. Mortification and vivification make up the whole of the Divine work in the new-born soul.

“But shall I conceal the goodness of my long-suffering Master? No, I dare not; for, in spite of my unworthiness, He still continues to smile upon my poor ministrations. A noble chapel is now opened in Long Acre, where I am to read prayers and preach twice a week. Hundreds went away last night, who could not come in; but those who could, I trust, met with Jesus.”

Long Acre has just been mentioned,—Long Acre, with the London theatres on the left, and Wesley’s West Street chapel on the right,—then a fashionable street; now, to a great extent, consisting of workshops for making and exhibiting all kinds of carriages. In the theatres, John Rich, the harlequin, with a kind of dumb eloquence, was electrifying his audiences by the mere gesticulations of his body. Catherine Clive was cleverly acting the characters of chambermaids, fashionable ladies, country girls, romps, hoydens, dowdies, superannuated beauties, viragoes, and humorists. David Garrick, who once said “I would give a hundred guineas if I could only say ‘Oh!’ like Mr. Whitefield,” was the celebrated manager of the theatre in Drury Lane. Margaret Woffington was an admired favourite at Covent Garden. And Samuel Foote was at the height of his popularity.

The chapel in Long Acre381 was rented by the Rev. John Barnard, one of Whitefield’s early converts, who was now an Independent minister, but afterwards became a Sandemanian, and was ultimately expelled by that Society for entertaining too exalted notions of his preaching powers.382

The Dean of Westminster, who, in some capacity, claimed some sort of clerical jurisdiction in Long Acre, was Zachary Pearce, D.D., the son of a distiller in Holborn; from 1748 to 1756, was Bishop of Bangor; and, afterwards, Bishop of Rochester;—an accomplished scholar, a perspicuous writer, a feeble orator, an active prelate, and a hearty hater of the Methodists.

Whitefield had long wished to have a West-end chapel, which might serve as the meeting-house, not only of the rich in general, but especially of the distinguished persons who were accustomed to assemble in the mansions of the Countess of Huntingdon, Lady Frances Shirley, and Lady Gertrude Hotham.

These brief memoranda will help to explain the allusions in the following extracts from Whitefield’s letters.

The first is taken from a letter addressed to the Rev. John Gillies, of Glasgow:—

“London, January 22, 1756. Ever since I came from the north, I have had a violent cold and sore throat, which threatened an inflammatory quinsy. One physician prescribed a perpetual blister, but I have found perpetual preaching to be a better remedy. When this grand catholicon fails, it is over with me. You will pray that, if I must put out to sea again, it may be to take fresh prizes for my God. Every day brings us fresh news of newly awakened souls. Both at this and the other end of the town (where I now preach in a chapel twice a week), there is a glorious stirring among the dry bones.”

The next is from a letter written to the Countess of Huntingdon:—

“London, January 29, 1756. I know not how soon I may be called before my superiors. The sons of Jubal and Cain continue to serenade me at Long Acre chapel. They have been called before a justice; and, yesterday, the Bishop of Bangor sent for them, and enquired where I lived. My house is pretty public, and the ‘Bishop of souls’ shall answer for me. One, who subscribes to hire men to make the noise, has been pricked to the heart, and can have no rest till he speaks with me. Thus Jesus gets Himself the victory. One of the enclosed extracts comes from a person who, a few weeks ago, was a confirmed Deist; now, I trust, he is a little child. The Redeemer speaks, and it is done; He commands, and new creatures instantaneously arise before Him.”

Did these “sons of Jubal and Cain” belong to the adjoining theatres? Perhaps they did. Still, it is curious that Wesley, in West Street chapel, had never been disturbed by their unwelcome serenading; and it is equally remarkable, that though Bishop Pearce did his utmost to silence Whitefield in Long Acre, he seems not at all to have interfered with Wesley in a neighbouring street. The annoyance, to Whitefield and his West-end congregation, was great; but he was more wishful to convert the serenaders than to punish them. Hence the following, addressed to the gentleman who had brought some of the disturbers before a magistrate:—

“January 30. Gratitude constrains me to send you a few lines of thanks for the care and zeal you have exercised in suppressing the late disorders at Long Acre chapel. I hear that some unhappy man has incurred the penalty inflicted by our salutary laws. As peace, not revenge, is the thing aimed at, I should rejoice if this could be procured without the delinquents suffering any further punishment. Perhaps what has been done already may be sufficient to deter others from any further illegal proceedings; and that will be satisfaction enough for me.”

But for the meddling of Bishop Pearce, it is possible, perhaps probable, that these disreputable disturbances might have ceased; but, two days after writing thus to the gentleman who had commenced a prosecution of the noisy musicians, Whitefield received a letter from the Bishop, in which he prohibited Whitefield’s further preaching in the Long Acre chapel. This led to an important correspondence between the prelate and the preacher. Whether his lordship had a legal right to issue such a prohibition, ecclesiastical lawyers must determine; but, to say the least, his action had the appearance of episcopal persecution. The Bishop’s letters to Whitefield have not been published; for, with contemptible cowardice, Pearce informed Whitefield that, if he dared to publish them, he must be prepared to undergo the penalty due to the infringement of “the privilege of a peer!” Still, the substance of his letters may be gathered from Whitefield’s answers; and, as these answers contain an explanation and a defence of the course of conduct which Whitefield had pursued for nearly the last twenty years, they are inserted here at greater length, than, under other circumstances, they would have been.

“Tabernacle House, February 2, 1756.

“My Lord,—A few weeks ago, several serious persons, chosen to be a committee for one Mr. Barnard, applied to me, in the name of Jesus Christ, and a multitude of souls desirous of hearing the gospel, to preach at a place commonly called Long Acre chapel. At the same time, they acquainted me, that the place was licensed; that Mr. Barnard either had taken or was to take it for a certain term of years; that he had preached in it for a considerable time, as a Protestant Dissenting minister; but that, notwithstanding this, I might use the Liturgy if I thought proper, so that I would but come and preach once or twice a week.

“Looking upon this as a providential call from Him, who, in the days of His flesh, taught all who were willing to hear, on a mount, in a ship, or by the sea-side, I readily complied; and I humbly hope that my feeble labours have not been altogether in vain.

“This being the case, I was somewhat surprised at the prohibition I received from your lordship this evening. For, I looked upon the place as a particular person’s property; and being, as I was informed, not only unconsecrated, but also licensed according to law, I thought I might innocently preach the love of the crucified Redeemer, and loyalty to the best of princes, our dread sovereign King George, without giving any just offence to Jew or Gentile, much less to any bishop or overseer of the Church of God. As I have, therefore, given notice of preaching to-morrow evening, and every Tuesday and Thursday whilst I am in town, I hope your lordship will not look upon it as contumacy, if I persist in prosecuting my design, till I am more particularly apprized wherein I have erred.

“Controversy, my lord, is what I abhor; and, as raising popular clamours and ecclesiastical dissensions must be quite unseasonable, especially at this juncture, when France and Rome, and hell ought to be the common butt of our resentment, I hope your lordship will be so good as to inform yourself and me more particularly about this matter; and, upon due consideration, as I have no design but to do good to precious souls, I promise to submit. But, if your lordship should judge it best to decline this method, and I should be called to answer for my conduct, either before a spiritual court, or from the press, I trust the irregularity I am charged with will appear justifiable to every true lover of English liberty, and (what is all to me) will be approved of at the awful and impartial tribunal of the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls, in obedience to whom I beg leave to subscribe myself, your lordship’s most dutiful son and servant,

“George Whitefield.”

The Bishop of Bangor replied to this straightforward letter; but, of course, his threat, as a peer of the realm, suppressed his communication. Whitefield’s next letter was as follows:—

“Tabernacle House, February 16, 1756.

“My Lord,—I this evening received your lordship’s kind letter; and, though it is late, and nature calls for rest, I now sit down to give your lordship an explicit answer.

“God can witness, that I entered into holy orders, according to the form of ordination of the Church of England, with a disinterested view to promote His glory, and the welfare of precious and immortal souls. For near twenty years, as thousands can testify, I have conscientiously defended her Homilies and Articles, and, upon all occasions, have spoken well of her Liturgy. So far from renouncing these, together with her discipline, I earnestly pray for the due restoration of the one, and daily lament the departure of too many from the other. But, my lord, what can I do?

“When I acted in the most regular manner, and when I was bringing multitudes, even of Dissenters, to crowd the churches, without any other reason being given than that too many followed after me, I was denied the use of the churches. Being thus excluded, and many thousands of ignorant souls, that perhaps would neither go to church nor meeting-houses, being very hungry after the gospel, I thought myself bound in duty to deal out to them the bread of life.

“Being further ambitious to serve my God, my king, and my country, I sacrificed my affections, and left my native soil, in order to begin and carry on an Orphan House in the infant colony of Georgia, which is now put upon a good foundation. This served as an introduction, though without design, to my visiting the other parts of his Majesty’s dominions in North America; and I humbly hope that many in that foreign clime will be my joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus.

“Nay, my lord, if I were not assured that the blessed Redeemer has owned me for the real conversion and turning of many from darkness to light, the weakness of my decaying body, the temptations that have beset my soul, and the violent opposition with which I have met, would long since have led me to accept some of those offers that have been made me to nestle, and by accepting which I might have screened myself from the obloquy and contempt which, in some degree or other, I meet with every day. But, hitherto, without eating a morsel of the Church of England’s bread, I still continue to use her Liturgy, wherever a church or chapel is allowed me, and preach up her Articles, and enforce her Homilies. Your lordship, therefore, judgeth me exceeding right, when you say, ‘I presume you do not mean to declare any dissent from the Church of England.’ Far be it from me. No, my lord, unless thrust out, I shall never leave her; and even then I shall still adhere to her doctrines, and pray for the restoration of her discipline, to my dying day.

“Fond of displaying her truly protestant and orthodox principles, especially when Church and State are in danger from a cruel and popish enemy, I am glad of an opportunity of preaching, though it should be in a meeting-house; and I think it discovers a good and moderate spirit in the Dissenters, who quietly attend on the Church service, as many have done, and continue to do at Long Acre chapel, while many, who style themselves the faithful sons of the Church, have endeavoured to disturb and molest us.

“If the lessor of this chapel has no power to let it, or if it be not legally licensed, I have been deceived; and if, upon enquiry, I find this to be the case, I shall soon declare, in the most public manner, how I have been imposed upon. But if it appears that the lessor has a right to dispose of his own property, and that the place is licensed, and as some good, I trust, has been done by this foolishness of preaching, surely your lordship’s candour will overlook a little irregularity, since, I fear, that, in these dregs of time wherein we live, we must be obliged to be irregular, or we must do no good at all.

“My lord, I remember well (and O that I may more than ever obey your lordship’s admonition!) that awful day, wherein I was ordained priest, and when authority was given me, by my honoured friend and father, good Bishop Benson, to preach the word of God; but never did I so much as dream that this was only a local commission, or that the condition annexed, ‘Where you shall be lawfully appointed thereunto,’ was to confine me to any particular place, and that it would be unlawful for me to preach out of it. It is plain my Lord Bishop of Gloucester did not think so; for when his secretary brought a license for me, his lordship said, it would cost me thirty shillings, and therefore I should not have it. And when, after being presented to the late Bishop of London, I applied to him for a license, his lordship was pleased to say I was going to Georgia, and needed none. Accordingly, I preached in most of the London churches, under his lordship’s immediate inspection; and why any other license than my letters of orders should now be required, I believe no substantial, I am positive no scriptural, reason can be assigned.

“It is true, as your lordship observes, there is one canon that says, ‘No curate or minister shall be permitted to serve in any place, without examination and admission of the Bishop of the Diocese.’ And there is another, as quoted by your lordship, which tells us, ‘Neither minister, churchwarden, nor any other officers of the Church shall suffer any man to preach within their chapels, but such as, by shewing their license to preach, shall appear unto them to be sufficiently authorised thereunto.’ But, my lord, what curacy or parsonage have I desired, or do I desire to be admitted to serve in? or, into what church or chapel do I attempt to intrude myself, without leave from the churchwardens or other officers? Being, as I think, without cause, denied admission into the churches, I am content to take the field, and, when the weather will permit, with a table for my pulpit, and the heavens for my sounding-board, I desire to proclaim to all the unsearchable riches of Jesus Christ. Besides, my lord, if this canon should be always put into full execution, I humbly presume, no bishop or presbyter can legally preach at any time out of the diocese in which he is appointed to serve; and, consequently, no city incumbent can even occasionally be lawfully assisted by any country clergyman; or even can a bishop himself be lawfully permitted to preach a charity sermon out of his own diocese, without a special license for so doing.

“As for the other canon which your lordship mentions, and which runs thus, ‘Neither shall any minister, not licensed as is aforesaid, presume to appoint or hold any meetings for sermons, commonly termed, by some, prophecies or exercises, in market towns or other places, under the said pains,’—I need not inform your lordship, that it was originally levelled against those who would not conform to the Church of England, and that, too, in such high-flying times as not one of the present moderate bench of bishops would wish to see restored. If this be so, how, my lord, does this canon belong to me, who am episcopally ordained, and have very lately published a small tract recommending the communion office of the Church of England?

“But, my lord, to come nearer to the point in hand. And, for Christ’s sake, let not your lordship be offended with my using such plainness of speech. As in the presence of the living God, I would put it to your lordship’s conscience, whether there is one bishop or presbyter, in England, Wales, or Ireland, who looks upon our canons as his rule of action? If this opinion be true, we are all perjured with a witness, and, in a very bad sense of the word, irregular indeed. If the canons of our Church are to be implicitly obeyed, may I not say, ‘He, who is without the sin of acting illegally, let him cast the first stone at me, and welcome.’ Your lordship knows full well, that canons and other Church laws are good and obligatory, when conformable to the laws of Christ, and agreeable to the liberties of a free people; but, when invented and compiled by men of little hearts and bigotted principles, to hinder persons of more enlarged souls from doing good, or being more extensively useful, they become mere bruta fulmina; and, when made use of as cords to bind the hands of a zealous few, who honestly appear for their king, their country, and their God, they may, in my opinion, like the withes with which the Philistines bound Samson, very legally be broken. As I have not the canons at present before me, I cannot tell what pains and penalties are to be incurred for such offence; but, if any penalty is incurred, or any pain to be inflicted on me, for preaching against sin, the Pope, and the devil, and for recommending the strictest loyalty to the best of princes, his Majesty King George, in this metropolis, or in any other part of his Majesty’s dominions, I trust, through grace, I shall be enabled to say,—

‘All hail reproach, and welcome pain!’

“There now remains but one more particular in your lordship’s letter to be answered,—your lordship’s truly apostolical canon, taken out of 2 Cor. x. 16,—upon reading of which, I could not help thinking of a passage in good Mr. Philip Henry’s life. It was this. Being ejected out of the Church, and yet thinking it his duty to preach, Mr. Henry used, now and then, to give the people of Broad-Oaks, where he lived, a gospel sermon; and one day, as he was coming from his exercise, he met with the incumbent, and thus addressed him: ‘Sir, I have been taking the liberty of throwing a handful of seed into your field.’ ‘Have you?’ said the good man. ‘May God give it His blessing! There is work enough for us both.’ This, my lord, I humbly conceive, is the case, not only of your lordship, but of every minister’s parish in London, and of every bishop’s diocese in England; and, therefore, as good is done, and souls are benefited, I hope your lordship will not regard a little irregularity, since, at the worst, it is only the irregularity of doing well. But, supposing this should not be admitted as an excuse at other seasons, I hope it will have its weight at this critical juncture, wherein, if there were ten thousand sound preachers, and each preacher had a thousand tongues, they could not be too frequently employed in calling upon the inhabitants of Great Britain to be upon their guard against the cruel and malicious designs of France, of Rome, and of hell.

“After all, my lord, if your lordship will be pleased to apply to Mr. Barnard himself, who, I suppose, knows where the place is registered; or if, upon enquiry, I shall find that the lessor has no power to let it, as I abhor every dishonourable action, after my setting out for Bristol, which I expect to do in a few days, I shall decline preaching in the chapel any more. But, if the case should appear to be otherwise, I hope your lordship will not be angry, if I persist in this, I trust, not unpardonable irregularity; for, if I decline preaching in every place, merely because the incumbent may be unwilling I should come into his parish, I fear I should seldom or never preach at all. This, my lord, especially at the present juncture, when all our civil and religious liberties are at stake, would to me be worse than death itself.

“I humbly ask pardon for detaining your lordship so long; but, being willing to give your lordship all the satisfaction I could, I have chosen rather to sit up and deny myself proper repose, than to let your lordship’s candid letter lie by me one moment longer than was absolutely necessary.

“I return your lordship a thousand thanks for your favourable opinion of me, and for your good wishes; and, begging the continuance of your lordship’s blessing, and earnestly praying that, whenever your lordship shall be called hence, you may give up your account with joy, I beg leave to subscribe myself, my lord, your lordship’s most dutiful son and servant,

“George Whitefield.”

Such was Whitefield’s midnight letter to Bishop Pearce. Its length is gigantic, but, throughout, it is pointed, manly, and respectful; and, because of its historical facts, and its statement of the principles which regulated Whitefield’s life, it is of great importance. A summary of it could not have done it justice.

A week later, Whitefield wrote a third letter to the bishop, informing him he had ascertained that the chapel was duly licensed, and that Mr. Barnard’s committee were resolved to retain possession of it. He added, “As your lordship would undoubtedly choose that the Church liturgy should be read in it sometimes, rather than it should be entirely made use of in a Nonconformist way, I hope your lordship will not be offended, if I go on as usual after my return from Bristol. I am sorry to inform your lordship, that, notwithstanding the admonitions which, I hear, your lordship has given them, some unhappy persons have still endeavoured to disturb us, by making an odd kind of noise in a neighbouring house. I hear that some of them belong to your lordship’s vestry, and, therefore, wish you would so far interpose, as to order them once more to stop their proceedings.”

Whitefield went to Bristol; and, on Sunday, March 14, opened his “spring campaign, by preaching thrice in the fields, to many thousands, in Gloucestershire.”383 Immediately after this he returned to London, and found it necessary to write again to Bishop Pearce.

“Tabernacle House, March 20, 1756.

“My Lord,—Upon my coming up to town, I found, to my great surprise, that the disturbances near Long Acre chapel had been continued. On Thursday evening last, when I preached there myself, they were rather increased. Some of the windows were stopped up, to prevent, in some degree, the congregation being disturbed by the unhallowed noise; but large stones were thrown in at another window, and one young person was sadly wounded.

“This constrains me to beg your lordship to desire the persons, belonging to your lordship’s vestry, to desist from such irregular proceedings. For my own irregularity in preaching, I am ready at any time to answer; and were I myself the only sufferer, I should be entirely unconcerned at any personal ill-treatment I might meet with in the way of duty. But to have the lives of his Majesty’s loyal subjects endangered, when they come peaceably to worship God, is an irregularity which, I am persuaded, your lordship will look upon as unjustifiable in the sight of God, and of every good man.

“Your lordship will allow that, as a subject of King George, and a minister of Jesus Christ, I have a right to do myself justice; and, therefore, I hope, if the disturbances be continued, that your lordship will not be offended, if I lay a plain narration of the whole affair, together with what has passed between your lordship and myself, before the world. I beg you not to look upon this as a threatening. I scorn any such mean procedure. But, as Providence seems to point out such a method, I hope your lordship will have no just reason to censure me if I do it.”

The bishop replied, and Whitefield wrote to him again, as follows:—

“London, March 25, 1756.

“Your lordship needed not to inform me of the privilege of a peer, to deter me from publishing your lordship’s letters, without first asking leave. Nothing shall be done in that way, which is the least inconsistent with the strictest honour, justice, and simplicity. But, if a public account of the repeated disturbances at Long Acre chapel be rendered necessary, I hope your lordship will not esteem it unreasonable in me, to inform the world what previous steps were taken to prevent and stop them.

“Such a scene, at such a juncture, and under such a government, as has been transacted in your lordship’s parish, in the house or yard of Mr. Cope, who, I hear, is your lordship’s overseer, ever since last Twelfth-day, I believe is not to be met with in English history. It is more than noise. It is premeditated rioting. Drummers, soldiers, and many of the baser sort, have been hired by subscription. A copper furnace, bells, drums, clappers, marrow-bones, and cleavers, and such-like instruments of reformation, have been provided for them, and repeatedly have been used by them, from the moment I have begun preaching, to the end of my sermon. By these horrid noises, many women have been almost frightened to death; and mobbers have, thereby, been encouraged to come and riot at the chapel door during the time of divine service; and, after it has been over, have insulted and abused me and the congregation. Not content with this, the chapel windows, while I have been preaching, have repeatedly been broken by large stones of almost a pound weight, which, though levelled at me, missed me, but sadly wounded some of my hearers. If your lordship will only ride to Mr. Cope’s house, you will see the scaffold, and the costly preparations for such a noise upon it, as must make the ears of all who shall hear it to tingle.

“I am informed that Mr. C―― and Mr. M―― are parties greatly concerned. I know them not, and I pray God never to lay this ill and unmerited treatment to their charge. If no more noise is made, I assure your lordship no further resentment shall be made. But if they persist, I have the authority of an apostle, on a like occasion, to appeal unto Cæsar. I have only one favour to beg of your lordship. As the above-named gentlemen are your lordship’s parishioners, I request that you desire them, henceforward, to desist from such unchristian, such riotous, and dangerous proceedings. Whether, as a chaplain to a most worthy peeress, a presbyter of the Church of England, and a steady disinterested friend to our present happy constitution, I have not a right to ask such a favour, I leave to your lordship’s mature deliberation. Henceforward, I hope to trouble your lordship no more.”

Certainly, it was high time to bring matters to a crisis. The Rev. Zachary Pearce, D.D., though himself the son of a rich distiller in Holborn, and though the husband of a wife, who, as the daughter of another Holborn distiller, brought him a large fortune, was a pluralist. Twenty-three years ago, by the exertions of the Earl of Macclesfield, he had been presented with the fat living of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, even after it had been promised to another man. For seventeen years, he had been dean of Winchester; and, in 1748, had exchanged the deanery for the bishopric of Bangor. And now, in this memorable year of 1756, the Duke of Newcastle conferred upon him the see of Rochester and the deanery of Westminster. No doubt, it was in his capacity of vicar of St. Martin’s, that this wealthy pluralist prohibited Whitefield’s preaching in Long Acre, and, if he did not actually employ, yet connived at the noisy ruffians who disturbed Whitefield’s services. Whitefield’s language to the Bishop of Bangor was too respectful. Such a man deserved rebuke, quite as strong as the liquors, by which his own father and the father of his wife had made their fortunes.

Notwithstanding all the efforts of Whitefield to obtain peace, the disturbances at Long Acre were continued. Besides this, early in the month of April, Whitefield received three anonymous letters, threatening him with “a certain, sudden, and unavoidable stroke,” unless he desisted from preaching, and refrained from prosecuting the rioters of Long Acre. It is impossible to suspect Bishop Pearce of being implicated in the sending of these disgraceful threats; but there can be little doubt that the known animosity of himself and others gave encouragement to the masked assassins. For years past, the bishops and clergy of the Established Church, comparatively speaking, had ceased from their open and violent persecution of the poor itinerant preacher; but their rancorous feelings towards him, perhaps, were not at all abated. Even free-thinking Dr. Herring, Archbishop of Canterbury, who was now within twelve months of his decease, wrote, in the very midst of the Long Acre riots, to William Duncombe, Esq., as follows:—

“Croydon House, January 25, 1756.

“Your judgment is right. Whitefield is Daniel Burgess384 redivivus; and, to be sure, he finds his account in his joco-serious addresses. Wesley, with good parts and learning, is a most dark and saturnine creature. His pictures may frighten weak people, who, at the same time, are wicked; but, I fear, he will make few converts, except for a day. I have read his ‘Serious Thoughts’;385 but, for my own part, I think the rising and setting of the sun is a more durable argument for religion than all the extraordinary convulsions of nature put together. Let a man be good on right principles, and then impavidum ferient ruinae. So far, Horace was as good a preacher as any of us. I have no constitution for these frights and fervours; and, if I can but keep up to the regular practice of a Christian life, upon Christian reasons, I shall be in no pain for futurity; nor do I think it an essential part of religion, to be pointed at for any foolish singularities. The subjects of the Methodist preaching, you mention, are excellent in the hands of wise men, not enthusiasts. As to their notion that men are by nature devils, I can call it by no other name than wicked and blasphemous, and the highest reproach that man can throw upon his wise and good Creator.

“I am, etc.,

“Thomas Cantuar.”386

Under the circumstances of the time, Whitefield was almost driven to seek redress. First of all, he consulted the Honourable Hume Campbell, brother of Lady Jane Nimmo, and solicitor to the Princess of Wales, Lord Clerk Registrar of Scotland, and one of Whitefield’s occasional hearers. In a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, dated “Canterbury, April 10, 1756,” Whitefield wrote:—

“The noise at Long Acre has been infernal. I have reason to think there was a secret design for my life. Some of my friends were sadly used; they applied for warrants; and that occasioned the sending of a threatening letter. I have written to Sir Hume Campbell for advice. Here all is peaceable. It is most delightful to see the soldiers flock to hear the word; officers likewise attend very orderly.”

On his return to London, Whitefield was introduced to the Earl of Holdernesse, one of his Majesty’s principal Secretaries of State. Hence the following to Lady Huntingdon:—

“London, April 18, 1756.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—Since my last, from Canterbury, I have received two more threatening letters. My greatest distress is, how to act so as to avoid rashness on the one hand, and timidity on the other. I have been introduced to the Earl of Holdernesse, who received me very courteously, and seemed to make no objection against issuing a reward for the discovery of the letter-writer. Whether I had best accept the plan, I know not. Sir Hume Campbell says the offence is not felony; and he advises me to put all concerned into the Court of King’s Bench. Lord Jesus, direct me, for Thy mercy’s sake! A man came up to me in the pulpit, at the Tabernacle; God knows what was his design. I see no way for me to act, than, either resolutely to persist in preaching and prosecuting, or entirely to desist from preaching, which would bring intolerable guilt upon my soul, and give the adversary cause to blaspheme. Blessed be God! I am quite clear as to the occasion of my suffering. It is for preaching Christ Jesus, and loyalty to King George. Alas! alas! what a condition would this land be in, were the Protestant interest not to prevail! If Popery is to get a footing here, I should be glad to die by the hands of an assassin. I should then be taken away from the evil to come.”

The result of all this battling with the vestry mobs of Bishop Pearce, and of the apprehension created by these anonymous popish menaces, was the publication of the following announcement in the London Gazette of May 1, 1756, and in the two next succeeding numbers of that official journal. The italics and spelling are as they appear in the original:—

“Whitehall, April 30, 1756.

“Wheras it has been humbly represented to the King that an anonimous letter, without date, directed, To Doctor Whitefield, at his Tabernacle, by the Foundery in Moorfields, was, on the 6th of this instant April, received by the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield, by the penny post; and that two other letters, viz., one of them dated the 7th of the present month of April, subscribed, Your Friendly Adversary, and directed, To Mr. Whitefield, at his Tabernacle, near Hogston, beyond the Upper Moorfields; and the other, anonimous, without date, and directed, To the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, at the Tabernacle, near Moorfields, were also received by the said Reverend Mr. George Whitefield, by the penny post, on the 8th of this instant April; and that the said letters, written in very abusive terms, contained threats of injury and destruction to the said Reverend Mr. George Whitefield; His Majesty, for the better discovering, and bringing to justice the persons concerned in writing and sending the said three letters, as above-mentioned, or any one, or more, of them, is pleased to promise his most gracious pardon to any one of them, who shall discover his, or her, accomplice, or accomplices therein, so that he, she, or they, may be apprehended and convicted thereof.

“Holdernesse.

“And as a further encouragement, James Cox, jeweller, in Racquet Court, Fleet Street, does hereby promise a reward of twenty pounds, to be paid by him, to the person or persons making such discovery as aforesaid, upon the conviction of one or more of the offenders.

“James Cox.”

So ended one of the toughest battles that Whitefield ever fought, but its issue was of great importance; for, before the appearance of the third advertisement in the London Gazette, Whitefield had taken successful steps for the erection of his own Tottenham Court Road chapel, where, for awhile, at least, he and his people were permitted to worship God in peace. But more of this anon.

Remembering that Wesley and his Society were permitted, throughout the whole of these disgraceful proceedings, to conduct their services, in their neighbouring West Street chapel, in perfect quietude, it is difficult to account for the disturbances Whitefield had to encounter in Long Acre. Were the “infernal” noises, in the first instance, promoted by the adjoining theatres? Probably they were. Wesley’s preaching in West Street was regarded, by dramatical actors, with less alarm than Whitefield’s in Long Acre. They, probably, felt that, with the great dramatical preacher so near to them, they might soon have to utter a wailing cry, analogous to that of the old Ephesians, under circumstances somewhat similar: “Not only is this our craft in danger to be set at nought; but also that the temple of the great goddess Diana should be despised, and her magnificence destroyed.” But, even admitting that the theatres began the noises, there cannot be a doubt that the vestries of the Church continued them. Bishop Pearce undeniably prohibited Whitefield’s preaching; and, considering his hatred of the Methodists, perhaps, it is not ungenerous to suppose that he secretly did more than this. As it respects the three threatening letters, it is probable that they emanated, neither from the theatre nor Church, but from popish politicians, who, during the “seven years’ war,” which was now in terrific progress, were full of angry excitement, and far more active than they often seemed to be. Whitefield had bitterly offended them by the publication of a “Short Address,” a copy of which he sent to Bishop Pearce on February 23;387 and, as there can be little doubt that this small publication had to do with the riots and the threatening letters, a brief description of it may be useful.

The title was, “A Short Address to Persons of all Denominations, occasioned by the Alarm of an intended Invasion. By George Whitefield, Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Countess of Huntingdon. London, 1756.” (8vo. pp. 20.) The pamphlet had a large sale, not only in Great Britain, but in America. Even during this selfsame year of 1756, as many as six editions were issued at Boston in New England. Its publication was opportune. A Royal Proclamation had recently been published in the London Gazette, setting forth that the king commanded all officers and ministers, civil and military, within their respective counties, to cause the coasts of England to be carefully watched, and, in case of any hostile attempt to land upon them, to immediately order all horses, oxen, and cattle, which might be fit for draught or burden, and not actually employed in his Majesty’s service, and also, as far as practicable, all other cattle and provisions, to be removed at least twenty miles from the place where such a hostile attempt was made, so as to prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. Besides this, “on the 6th of February, a public fast was observed, by all ranks of the people. The churches and meeting-houses were thronged; and there was, in appearance, an entire cessation from business throughout London and the suburbs, and all over the kingdom.”388 From such facts the reader may imagine the state of the country, when Whitefield wrote his “Short Address.” The following are extracts from it:—

“An insulting, enraged, and perfidious enemy is now advancing nearer and nearer to the British borders. Not content with invading and ravaging our rightful sovereign King George’s dominions in America, our popish adversaries have now the ambition to attempt, at least to threaten, an invasion of England itself; hoping, no doubt, thereby, not only to throw us into confusion at home, but also to divert us from more effectually defeating their malicious designs abroad. That such a design is now actually on foot, the late Royal Proclamation renders indisputable.”

Having referred to the recent public fast, Whitefield proceeds to say:—

“Artful insinuations have been industriously published, in order to lay all the blame of this war upon us. But bold assertions and solid proofs are two different things; for it is plain, beyond all contradiction, that the French, fond of rivalling us both at home and abroad, have unjustly invaded his Majesty’s dominions in America; and have also, by the most vile artifices and lies, been endeavouring to draw the six nations of Indians from our interest. In short, almost all their proceedings, since the late treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, have been little else than a tacit declaration of war. But He that sitteth in heaven, we may humbly hope, laughs them to scorn; and, as He once came down to confound the language of those aspiring projectors, who would fain have built a tower, the top of which should reach to heaven, so, we trust, He will frustrate the devices of our adversary’s most subtle politicians, and speak confusion to all their projects; who, by aiming at universal monarchy, are attempting to erect a more than second Babel.”

Whitefield goes on to shew that good Christians may be soldiers, and writes:—

“The British arms were never more formidable, than when our soldiers went forth in the strength of the Lord; and, with a Bible in one hand, and a sword in the other, cheerfully fought under His banner, who has condescended to style Himself ‘a man of war.’ What Bishop Saunderson says of study may be said of fighting: ‘Fighting without prayer is atheism, and prayer without fighting is presumption.’ I would be the more particular on this point, because, through a fatal scrupulosity against bearing arms, even in a defensive war, his Majesty has been in danger of losing the large province of Pennsylvania, the very centre and garden of all North America. Such very scrupulous persons, grasping at every degree of worldly power, and, by all the arts of worldly policy, labouring to monopolize and retain in their own hands all parts both of the legislative and executive branches of civil government, certainly act a most inconsistent part. Say what we will to the contrary, civil magistracy and defensive war must stand or fall together. Both are built upon the same basis; and there cannot be a single argument urged to establish the one, which does not corroborate and confirm the other.”

Whitefield then adverts to the recent earthquakes, at Lisbon and elsewhere, and proceeds to say:—

“Were even the like judgments to befal us, they would be but small, in comparison of our hearing that a French army, accompanied with a popish pretender, and thousands of Romish priests, was suffered to invade England, and to blind, deceive, and tyrannize over the souls and consciences of the people belonging to this happy isle. How can any serious and judicious person be so stupid to all principles of self-interest, and so dead to all maxims of common sense, as to prefer a French to an English government; or a popish pretender, born, and bred up in all the arbritary and destructive principles of the court and Church of Rome, to the present Protestant succession, settled in the illustrious line of Hanover?”

Whitefield next refers to popish persecutions of Protestants, and remarks:—

“After perusing this,” (a late declaration of ‘his Most Christian Majesty’ Louis XV.,) “read, also, I beseech you, the shocking accounts of the horrid butcheries and cruel murders committed on the bodies of many of our fellow-subjects in America, by the hands of savage Indians, instigated thereto by more than savage popish priests.389 And if this be the beginning, what may we suppose the end will be, should a French power, or popish pretender, be permitted to subdue either us or them? Speak, Smithfield, speak, and, by thy dumb but persuasive oratory, declare to all who pass by and over thee, how many English Protestant martyrs thou hast seen burnt to death in the reign of the cruel popish queen, to whom the present pretender to the British throne claims a distant kindred! Speak, Ireland, speak, and tell how many thousands and tens of thousands of innocent, unprovoking Protestants were massacred, in cold blood, by the hands of cruel Papists, within thy borders, about a century ago! Speak, Paris, speak, and say, how many thousands of Protestants were once slaughtered, to serve as a bloody dessert, to grace the solemnity of a marriage feast! Speak, Languedoc, speak, and tell how many Protestant ministers have been lately executed; how many more of their hearers have been dragooned and sent to the galleys; and how many hundreds are now lying in prisons, fast bound in misery and iron, for no other crime than that unpardonable one in the Romish Church, hearing and preaching the pure gospel of the meek and lowly Jesus!

“And think you, my countrymen, that Rome, glutted with Protestant blood, will now rest satisfied, and say, ‘I have enough’? No, on the contrary, having through the good hand of God upon us, been kept so long fasting, we may reasonably suppose, that, the popish priests are only grown more voracious, and, like so many hungry and ravenous wolves pursuing harmless and innocent flocks of sheep, will with double eagerness, pursue after, seize upon, and devour their wished-for Protestant prey; and, attended with their bloody red coats, these Gallic instruments of reformation, who know they must either fight or die, will necessarily breathe out nothing but threatening and slaughter, and carry along with them desolation and destruction, go where they will.”

This was strong language, but, under the circumstances, not too strong.390 No wonder, however, that infuriated Papists sent the writer threatening letters. Whitefield expresses his confidence in God’s interposition, and in England’s “glorious fleet,” and “well-disciplined army;” and then finishes with the following peroration:—

“If we can but make God our friend, we need not fear what France and Rome and hell can do against us. All the malicious efforts and designs of men and devils shall, so far from obstructing, be made to subserve the enlargement of His interests, who, in spite of all the strivings of the potsherds of the earth, will hold the balance of universal monarchy in His own hands, and, at last, bring about the full establishment of that blessed kingdom, whose law is truth, whose King is love, and whose duration is eternity. Fiat! fiat! Amen and amen!”

These are long quotations, but they help to shew the excited state of public feeling in 1756; and, perhaps, they may help the reader to understand the secrets of the disgraceful clangours, riots, and threatening letters already mentioned.

In his pamphlet, Whitefield refers to the persecution of Protestants in France. Much might be said respecting this; but suffice it to remark, that, on the general fast day, February 6th, Whitefield made a collection in his Tabernacle, eighty pounds of which he devoted to a fund which was being raised for the assistance of these poor persecuted people.391 Remembering that, in 1756, money was probably of four times greater worth than it is at present, this collection of the poor Methodists was a noble one; but even this fell far short of the sum, which Whitefield, three months afterwards, obtained, within a week, towards the erection of his Tottenham Court Road chapel. Hence the following, addressed to the Countess of Huntingdon:—

“London, May 2, 1756.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—Various have been my exercises since I wrote you last; but, I find, all things happen for the furtherance of the gospel. I suppose your ladyship has seen his Majesty’s promise of pardon to any who will discover the letter-writer; and this brings you the further news of my having taking a piece of ground, very commodious to build on, not far from the Foundling Hospital. On Sunday, I opened the subscription, and, through God’s blessing, it has already amounted to near £600. If He is pleased to continue to smile upon my poor endeavours, and to open the hearts of more of His dear children to contribute, I hope, in a few months, to have what has long been wanted,—a place for the gospel at the other end of the town. This evening, God willing, I venture once more to preach at Long Acre. The enemy boasts that I am frightened away; but the triumph of the wicked is short. On Tuesday next, I hope to set out for Wales.”

The site of Whitefield’s new chapel was surrounded by fields and gardens. On the north side of it, there were but two houses. The next after them, half a mile further, was the “Adam and Eve” public-house; and thence, to Hampstead, there were only the inns of “Mother Red Cap” and “Black Cap.”392 The chapel, when first erected, was seventy feet square within the walls. Two years after it was opened, twelve almshouses and a minister’s house393 were added. About a year after that, the chapel was found to be too small, and it was enlarged to its present dimensions of a hundred and twenty-seven feet long, and seventy feet broad, with a dome a hundred and fourteen feet in height. Beneath it were vaults for the burial of the dead; and in which Whitefield intended that himself and his friends, John and Charles Wesley, should be interred. “I have prepared a vault in this chapel,” Whitefield used to say to his somewhat bigotted congregation, “where I intend to be buried, and Messrs. John and Charles Wesley shall also be buried there. We will all lie together. You will not let them enter your chapel while they are alive. They can do you no harm when they are dead.”394 The lease of the ground was granted, to Whitefield, by General George Fitzroy, and, on its expiration in 1828, the freehold was purchased for £14,000. The foundation-stone of the chapel was laid in the beginning of June, 1756, when Whitefield preached from the words, “They sang together by course in praising and giving thanks unto the Lord; because He is good, for His mercy endureth for ever toward Israel. And all the people shouted with a great shout, when they praised the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid.” (Ezra iii. 11.)395 Among others present on the occasion, were the Rev. Thomas Gibbons, one of the Tutors of the Dissenting Academy at Mile End; Dr. Andrew Gifford, Assistant Librarian of the British Museum; and the celebrated Rev. Benjamin Grosvenor, D.D., for many years the pastor of the Presbyterian congregation in Crosby Square, and who, after preaching in London for half a century, had recently retired into private life. The chapel was opened for divine worship on November 7, 1756, when Whitefield selected, as his text, the words, “Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. iii. 11).396

Tottenham Court Road chapel has a history well worthy of being written. From this venerable sanctuary sprang separate congregations in Shepherd’s Market, Kentish Town, Paddington, Tonbridge chapel, Robert Street, Crown Street, and Craven chapel.397 Much also might be said of the distinguished preachers who, in olden days, occupied its pulpit: Dr. Peckwell, De Courcy, Berridge, Walter Shirley, Piercy, chaplain to General Washington, Rowland Hill, Torial Joss, West, Kinsman, Beck, Medley, Edward Parsons, Matthew Wilks, Joel Knight, John Hyatt, and many others; but want of space prevents the insertion of further details. Whitefield’s Tabernacle in Moorfields has been demolished, and a Gothic church erected on its site.398 Whitefield’s Tottenham Court Road chapel is now his only erection in the great metropolis; and long may it stand as a grand old monument, in memory of the man who founded it! Thousands have been converted within its walls, and never was it more greatly needed than at the present day.

No sooner had Whitefield raised £600 towards the erection of his intended chapel, than away he went to the west of England, where he spent about a month. He preached at Bristol, Bath, Westbury, Gloucester, Bradford, Frome, Warminster, Portsmouth, and other places. One letter, written during this preaching tour, must be inserted.

The Rev. Thomas Haweis, D.D., was now a student at Christ Church College, Oxford. He had been educated at the Grammar School, Truro, and had been converted under the preaching of the Rev. Samuel Walker, whose ministry, in that town, during the last few years, had been the means of turning a large number of people “from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God.” Young Haweis had formed a Society at Oxford,399 analogous to the “Holy Club” of the Wesleys and their friends, more than a quarter of a century previous to this. He and a few of his fellow-collegians, all animated by the same views and feelings, met together, in his room, at stated times, for the purpose of reading the Greek Testament, and of conversing on religious subjects. Mr. Walker, the Methodist clergyman of Truro, in a letter, dated “April, 1757,” wrote, “Tom Haweis is at Christ Church, and doing service among a few of the young gentlemen there. He tells me, he is remarked as a dangerous fellow; and adds, that Romaine has been again in the university pulpit, where he preached imputed righteousness, but, it is said, will be allowed to preach no more there.”400 In another letter, written a few months afterwards, Walker remarked, “Tom Haweis has good speed at Oxford. There are pretty many already coming to him in private, and he hopes very well of a few of them.”401 Haweis, in fact, had founded a second Society of “Oxford Methodists,” a Society which grew into such importance, and became so obnoxious to the heads of houses, as to lead, in 1768, to the expulsion of six students, belonging to Edmund Hall, “for holding Methodistical tenets, and taking upon them to pray, read, and expound the Scriptures in private houses.”402

As yet, Whitefield had never met with Haweis, but he had heard of him, and, while at Bristol, he addressed to him the following letter:—

“Bristol, May 20, 1756.

“My very dear Sir,—For so I must address you, having had you in a peculiar manner upon my heart, ever since I read a letter that came from you some months ago. It bespoke the language of a heart devoted to Jesus. Glory be to God! that there are some young champions coming forth. Methinks, I could now sing my nunc dimittis with triumphant joy. Though I decrease, may you increase! O that you may be kept from conferring with flesh and blood! O that you may be owned and blessed of God! I believe you will, and never more so than when you are reviled and despised by man. It is a fatal mistake to think we must keep our characters in order to do good. This is called prudence; in most, I fear, it is trimming. Honesty I find always to be the best policy. Them who honour Jesus, He will honour. Even in this world, if we confess Him, His truth, and His people, we shall receive a hundredfold. But whither am I going? Excuse the overflowings of a heart that loves you dearly for the glorious Redeemer’s sake. I am here preaching His cross. Next week, I have thoughts of being at Bath and Westbury. I lead a pilgrim life. Ere long, I hope my heavenly Father will take me home. I am ambitious; I want to sit upon a throne. Jesus has purchased a throne and heaven for me. That you may have an exalted place at His right hand, is the prayer of, etc.,

“George Whitefield.”

On his return to London, Whitefield took advice respecting the trust deed to be drawn up for his new chapel, and wrote to the Countess of Huntingdon as follows:—

“London, June 4, 1756.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—At Bristol, the Redeemer caused us to triumph, and likewise in Gloucestershire, and at Bradford, Frome, Warminster, and Portsmouth, where I have been the last three weeks. I am now come to London, for about ten days, to keep Pentecost. I trust it will be a Pentecost to many souls at Long Acre.

“Blessed be God! a new building is now in progress at Tottenham Court Road. We have consulted the Commons about putting it under your ladyship’s protection. This is the answer: ‘No nobleman can license a chapel; a chapel cannot be built and used as such, without the consent of the parson of the parish; and, when it is done with his consent, no minister can preach therein without license of the Bishop of the diocese.’ There seems then to be but one way,—to license it as our other houses are: and thanks be to Jesus for that liberty, which we have.”

From this it is evident that Whitefield wished his new erection to be a chapel in connection with the Established Church; and, that, because of the difficulties mentioned, he was driven to avail himself of the Act of Toleration, and license it as a Dissenting meeting-house.

Whitefield had another trouble of a different kind. William Law, one of the oracles of the Oxford Methodists, had become a Behmenite; and Wesley had recently published a large pamphlet, with the title, “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. Law, occasioned by some of his late writings.” (8vo. 102 pp.) This production has never been entirely reprinted, an extract only being given in Wesley’s collected works. Its language in some places was unusually, perhaps undeservedly, severe. At all events, Law was deeply offended; and, what was more amusing, Whitefield was implicated, by its being rumoured that he was a party to the publication of Wesley’s letter. The following, to Lady Huntingdon, refers to this:—

“London, June 10, 1756.

“Ever-honoured Madam,—I have just come from bed, where I have been sweating for a cold and colic. From your ladyship’s kind and condescending letter, I see your ladyship is touched in a very tender point. Generous minds are always thus affected, when a friend is abused. I find more and more, that our own mother’s children will be permitted to be angry with us. The contradiction of saints is more trying than that of sinners. I do not deny, that I might say, ‘Some of Mr. Law’s principles, in my opinion, are wrong;’ but that I ever put Mr. Wesley upon writing, or had any active hand in his pamphlet, is utterly false. I think it is a most ungentlemanlike, injudicious, unchristian piece. However, Mr. Law knows too much of the Divine life, not to see some call even in this cross; and I hope your ladyship will not suffer it to burden your mind any longer.

“My present work in London seems to be over, and, on Monday or Tuesday next, I hope to set out for Bristol, and then come, through Leicestershire, on my way to Scotland. This, I hope, will be a three months’ circuit. The prospect in London is very promising. Every day we hear of fresh conquests.”

Whitefield did not set out to Bristol until June 22; and, instead of proceeding thence to Scotland, he returned to London on July 9. The following letters belong to this period.

Whitefield had a large family in America; but, because of the war, he could not visit it. He wrote to his housekeeper there as follows:—

“London, June 21, 1756.

“Nothing in your last letter concerns me, except your having the least suspicion that I was not pleased with your conduct, or was not satisfied with your being at Bethesda. I know of no person in the world that I would prefer to you. I think myself happy in having such a mother for the poor children, and am persuaded God will bless you more and more. I care not how much the family is lessened. As it is a time of war, this may be done with great propriety; and the plantation will have time to grow. Never fear; Jesus will stand by a disinterested cause. I have aimed at nothing, in founding Bethesda, but His glory and the good of my country. Let Lots choose the plain; God will be Abraham’s shield and exceeding great reward. All is well that ends well. To-morrow, I set out upon a long range.”

The next letter is curious and full of interest. Benjamin Franklin, who, in later years, through unhappy embroilments, became an enemy of England, and took an active part in bringing about the American revolution, was, at present, one of the most loyal subjects of King George the Second. Only a year before, when the expedition of General Braddock, to dispossess the French of some of their encroachments, was in preparation, a difficulty arose for want of waggons, and Franklin, at the risk of ruining his own fortunes, supplied not fewer than a hundred and fifty. After this, he was instrumental in passing a militia bill, and was appointed colonel of the Philadelphia regiment of twelve hundred men, which command he held until the troops were disbanded by order of the English government. In the midst of these exciting occurrences, Franklin wrote to Whitefield, as follows:—

“New York, July 2, 1756.

“Dear Sir,—I received your favour of the 24th of February with great pleasure, as it informed me of your welfare, and expressed your continued regard for me. I thank you for the pamphlet you enclosed to me.403 As we had just observed a provincial fast on the same occasion, I thought it very seasonable to be published in Pennsylvania; and accordingly reprinted it immediately.

“You mention your frequent wish that you were a chaplain to the American army. I sometimes wish that you and I were jointly employed by the Crown to settle a colony on the Ohio. I imagine that we could do it effectually, and without putting the nation to much expense; but, I fear, we shall never be called upon for such a service. What a glorious thing it would be to settle in that fine country a large, strong body of religious and industrious people! What a security to the other colonies, and advantage to Britain, by increasing her people, territory, strength, and commerce! Might it not greatly facilitate the introduction of pure religion among the heathen, if we could, by such a colony, shew them a better sample of Christians than they commonly see in our Indian traders?—the most vicious and abandoned wretches of our nation! Life, like a dramatic piece, should not only be conducted with regularity, but, methinks, it should finish handsomely. Being now in the last act, I begin to cast about for something fit to end with. Or, if mine be more properly compared to an epigram, as some of its lines are but barely tolerable, I am very desirous of concluding with a bright point. In such an enterprise, I could spend the remainder of life with pleasure: and I firmly believe God would bless us with success, if we undertook it with a sincere regard to His honour, the service of our gracious king, and (which is the same thing) the public good.