Volume 2 — THREE YEARS IN GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND. July 1, 1748, to August 29, 1751.

TWO days after his arrival in London, Whitefield wrote to his much-loved friend, the gentle James Hervey, who was now completing his “Meditations”:—

“I am very pleased that you appear in print, and that such encouragement is given to you to print again. My bodily health is much impaired; but, through Divine assistance, I will go on working for Jesus, till I can work no more.”

And again, eight days later:—

“Blessed be God, for causing you to write so as to suit the taste of the polite world! O that they may be won over to admire Him who is altogether lovely! But what shall I say to your kind intended present? It is like my dear old friend. My health somewhat improves. Oh, when shall we get within the veil? Thanks be to God! it cannot be long. We are both sickly. Lord, give us patience to wait till our blessed change comes! Our Lord makes it exceedingly pleasant to me to preach His unsearchable riches. Multitudes flock to hear; and many seem to be quickened.”

The welcome given to Whitefield in the metropolis was marvellous. It is true that the only church in which he was allowed to preach was that of the Rev. Richard Thomas Bateman, who, only five years before, had been one of Whitefield’s enemies; but there was the wooden tabernacle, and, above all, his grand old open-air cathedral adjoining it. On Tuesday, July 12, he wrote:—

“I have preached twice in St. Bartholomew’s Church, and helped to administer the sacrament once. I believe, on Sunday last, we had a thousand communicants. Moorfields are as white as ever unto harvest, and multitudes flock to hear the word. The old spirit of love and power seems to be revived amongst us.”

In another letter, written eight days later, he says:—

“It is too much for one man to be received as I have been by thousands. The thoughts of it lay me low, but I cannot get low enough. I would willingly sink into nothing before the blessed Jesus, my All in all.”

Whitefield, however, was not exempt from anxieties. His Bethesda debt was still a burden. Besides this, he wrote:—

“Satan has been sifting all our poor Societies. This is no more than I expected. Antinomianism has made havoc here; but, I trust, the worst is over. Our scattered troops begin to unite again, and the shout of a king is amongst us.”

There can be no question, that Whitefield’s presence was greatly needed by the Societies, of which he was moderator. Howell Harris was one of the most devoted and laborious preachers that ever lived; but his influence was not equal to that of Whitefield. In a letter, dated March 3, 1748, he speaks of having travelled about a thousand miles, in the depth of winter, since he left London on December 20th, and of having preached two, three, or four times every day.191 Still the people were clamorous to have Whitefield back.

The Countess of Huntingdon, also, had lately been associated with the Societies with which Whitefield was connected; and, within the last two months, had been present at a series of memorable services in Wales. In the month of May, her ladyship and her daughters, accompanied by Lady Anne and Lady Frances Hastings, were met, in Bristol, by Howell Harris, and the Revs. Griffith Jones, Daniel Rowlands, and Howell Davies, three Methodist clergymen of the Church of England; and, as a sort of evangelistic cavalcade, the whole set out for the neighbouring principality. For fifteen days successively, two of the ministers, who accompanied the Countess, preached in the Welsh towns and villages, through which they passed. On their arrival at Trevecca, they were joined by five other clergymen, also by several pious and laborious Dissenting ministers, and a number of Whitefield’s preachers. Here they had preaching four or five times every day, immense crowds flocking together from all the adjacent country. The scenes witnessed by the Countess and the ladies attending her, were, to them, new and startling. Numbers of the people, convinced of their guilt and misery, gave utterance to loud and bitter cries; whilst others, filled with “joy unspeakable,” magnified the Lord, and rejoiced in God their Saviour. No wonder, that, after this, the Countess of Huntingdon deeply sympathised with these earnest clergymen and powerful preachers.

“On a review,” she writes, “of all I have seen and heard, during the last few weeks, I am constrained to exclaim, ‘Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His holy name!’ The sermons were, in general, lively and awakening, containing the most solemn and awful truths, such as the utter ruin of man by the fall, and his redemption and recovery by the Lord Jesus Christ, the energetic declaration of which produced great and visible effects in many. I enquired the meaning of the outcry which sometimes spread through the congregation; and, when informed that it arose from a deep conviction of sin, working powerfully on the awakened conscience, I could not but acknowledge, ‘This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.’ Many, on these solemn occasions, there is reason to believe, were brought out of nature’s deepest darkness into the marvellous light of the all-glorious gospel of Christ. My earnest prayer to God for them is, that they may continue in His grace and love.”192

Accompanied by Howell Harris and Howell Davies, the Countess of Huntingdon arrived in London on the 15th of June,193 exactly three weeks before Whitefield’s arrival there. Her ladyship, through Howell Harris, invited Whitefield to her house at Chelsea, where he, at once, began to preach to crowded and fashionable congregations.194 This, to Whitefield, was the beginning of a new career. Henceforth, Hervey by his writings, and Whitefield by his preaching, began to mould the character of not a few of the highest nobility in the land.

Howell Harris was a glorious evangelist; but, somehow, he hardly succeeded in keeping Whitefield’s preachers in proper order. The Countess of Huntingdon was a remarkable woman; but she could scarcely preside, as a female prelate, in the “Associations,” or conferences of the Calvinistic Methodists. Five years ago, the preachers had elected Whitefield to be their moderator at all times when he was resident in England, and had decided that, in his absence, Howell Harris should be his substitute. For nearly four years past, Whitefield had been in America, and Harris had done his best, in governing as well as preaching. Affairs, however, had got into confusion; and, hence, a fortnight after Whitefield’s arrival in London, he resumed his place as moderator. The following is taken from the “Life and Times of Howell Harris,” and is an abridgment of the minutes entered in the “Conference Book,” already mentioned:—

“Association held in London, July 20, 1748. Present, Whitefield, (moderator), Bateman, Harris, and others. Whitefield, after prayer and singing, opened his mind on several points.” He told the exhorters and preachers present, that, “he had seen so much confusion occasioned by young men going out rashly beyond their line, that, he was resolved not to labour with any who did not shew a teachable mind and a willingness to submit.” He admonished them “to use all means for improving their talents and abilities.” And added, that, “though he hated to affect headship, yet he must see every one acquainted with his own place, and that they must consider themselves as candidates on approbation.” The result of this faithful dealing was, “the Brethren viewed him as a father; and declared their willingness to use all possible means for their personal improvement.”

Thus began Whitefield’s ecclesiastical administration on his return from America. Like a wise man, he, first of all, tried to put the preachers right. Without this, it would have been useless to attempt to amend the people.

The effort was a temporary one. Having spent nearly a month in London, Whitefield set out to attend a quarterly “Association,” at Waterford, in Wales. A month later, he wrote a surprising letter to his friend Wesley.

“London, September 1, 1748.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—My not meeting you in London has been a disappointment to me. What have you thought about a union? I am afraid an external one is impracticable. I find, by your sermons, that we differ in principles more than I thought; and I believe we are upon two different plans. My attachment to America will not permit me to abide very long in England; consequently, I should weave but a Penelope’s web, if I formed Societies; and, if I should form them, I have not proper assistants to take care of them. I intend, therefore, to go about preaching the gospel to every creature. You, I suppose, are for settling Societies everywhere; but more of this when we meet.”

This, on the part of Whitefield, was not an inconsiderate utterance. The present was really a turning-point in his eventful life. Strictly speaking, with perhaps a few exceptions, he had not “formed” Societies, as Wesley had; but, for five years past, he had been the “moderator” of all the Societies founded by Howell Harris, and by the preachers, who, in the title-page of the Christian History, were constantly designated Whitefield’s “fellow-labourers and assistants.” Many of Wesley’s Societies were “formed” not by Wesley himself, but by his “assistants;” and the same must be said respecting Whitefield and the Societies of which he was president. If Whitefield had not actually “settled” Societies, he had consented to this being done by his “fellow-labourers and assistants;” and, by accepting the office of moderator, he had encouraged the proceeding. Now, however, he declared his intention to take a new position; and, by degrees, his intention was carried out. At an Association, held in London, April 27, 1749, at which Whitefield, Harris, and others were present, it was agreed, that “Harris should take the oversight of the Tabernacle in London, and of the other English Societies and preachers; and that Whitefield should do all he could to strengthen the hands of Harris and others, consistent with his going out to preach the gospel at home and abroad.”195 By this resolution, the office of moderator was practically transferred from Whitefield to Harris. Whitefield was no longer the head of the Calvinistic Methodists, but his friend Harris, who first founded them.

For the present, Whitefield did not abandon them. He simply ceased to be their chief officer. During the first week of September, 1749, he spent not fewer than five days in conference with them, at the Tabernacle, London; when, besides settling the “rounds” of the preachers, it was determined, not only “to preach the Lord Jesus in a catholic spirit to all the churches,” but “to continue in communion” with the Church of England.196

Harris, however, in his new office, was far from being happy. “In Wales,” he writes, “great jars and disputes arose amongst us.”197 He became dissatisfied with some of the preachers and with many of the people; and, at an Association held at Llanidloes in 1751, there was a rupture, and Harris seceded from them. In the year following, Harris founded his remarkable and well-known settlement at Trevecca; and here, in comparative seclusion, he continued to reside until his death, in 1773. For twenty years, he had a small community of his own; but, though separated from the Calvinistic Methodists, whom he had founded, he was not an opponent and an enemy. His heart was too warm and large to be vindictive. To the last, he was a sincere friend of Whitefield, and of his old companions in toil, tribulation, and success.

The incidents just enumerated deserve attention. It is impossible to conceive what would have been the result, if Whitefield and Harris had continued active chiefs of the Calvinistic Methodists; as it is equally impossible to conceive the probable consequences of Whitefield entering into an open union with Wesley; and of the Societies, “assistants, and fellow-labourers” of the two being amalgamated into one common body. Speculations on such matters would be fruitless. The plain facts are these: within two months after his return from America, in 1748, Whitefield determined to put an end to his official relationship to the Calvinistic Methodists; this determination was gradually carried out; and, during the last twenty years of his life, he occupied a new position, which must now be noticed.

The question naturally occurs, Why this change of situation? Was it because of the wild-fire of some of the preachers, and the consequent confusion of some of the Societies, with which Whitefield was officially connected? This is improbable; for, whatever might be Whitefield’s failings, shirking difficulties was not one of them. The only way to solve the propounded problem is to remember the close relationship which was now, unexpectedly, created between the Countess of Huntingdon and the great preacher. The Countess had recently been an eye-witness of some of the Societies in Wales, and had been filled with gratitude and praise for what she had seen and heard; but, now she seems to have entertained the idea, that both she and Whitefield might be more usefully employed, than by directly associating themselves with the Calvinistic Methodists, and by using their time, talents, and influence in the multiplication of such Societies. Instead of creating new sects out of the Church of England, was it not possible to reform and amend the Church of England itself? And was not the raising up of evangelical and converted ministers the most likely way to bring about such a reformation? Put the pulpits right, and the pews would certainly improve.

Though direct evidence may be wanting, there can be little doubt, that, this was the grand scheme now revolving in the mind of the illustrious Countess; and that this scheme, in less or greater detail, was revealed to Whitefield, and led to his separation from the Calvinistic Methodists. At all events, as will be seen hereafter, this was one of the chief objects to which Whitefield and her ladyship devoted their time and energies. Whitefield tried to raise up converted clergymen; and the Countess procured them ordination, and built them chapels. The idea was grand,—perhaps inspired,—and the working it out was unquestionably the principal means of effecting the marvellous change which has taken place, since then, in the Established Church. Wesley created a great Church outside the Church of England. Whitefield and the Countess of Huntingdon were pre-eminently employed in improving the Church of England itself. Where was evangelistic effort previous to the days of Wesley? And where were the converted clergymen of the Established Church previous to the year 1748? A few—a very few—might be mentioned; but even these were nicknamed Methodists. No one can estimate the service rendered to the cause of Christ, outside the Church, by Wesley and his “assistants;” and it is also equally impossible to estimate the service rendered to the Church by the despised Whitefield and his female prelate, the grand, stately, strong-minded, godly, and self-sacrificing Countess of Huntingdon. All this will be amply illustrated by the further details of Whitefield’s history.

To return. The following fragments, taken from letters written to Lady Huntingdon, during the month of August, 1748, will serve to shew the friendship that now existed between her ladyship and the great preacher:—

“August 21. I received your ladyship’s letter late last night. I am quite willing to comply with your invitation. As I am to preach at St. Bartholomew’s on Wednesday evening, I will wait upon your ladyship the next morning, and spend the whole day at Chelsea. Blessed be God, that the rich and great begin to have a hearing ear. Surely your ladyship and Madam Edwin are only the firstfruits. A word in the lesson, when I was last at your ladyship’s, struck me,—‘Paul preached privately to those who were of reputation.’ This must be the way, I presume, of dealing with the nobility who yet know not the Lord. O that I may be enabled so to preach as to win their souls to the blessed Jesus!

“August 22. As there seems to be a door opening for the nobility to hear the gospel, I will preach at your ladyship’s on Tuesday. Meanwhile, I will wait upon or send to the Count, the Danish Ambassador’s brother, who favours me with his company to dine on Monday. As I am to preach four times to-morrow, I thought it my duty to send these few lines to your ladyship to-night.”

The Countess made him her domestic chaplain,—the only ecclesiastical preferment, except the living at Savannah, he ever had; and, in acknowledgment of the honour, he wrote to her as follows:—

“London, September 1, 1748.

“Honoured Madam,—Although it is time for me to be setting out” (for Scotland), “I dare not leave town without dropping a few lines, gratefully to acknowledge the many favours I have received from your ladyship, especially the honour you have done me in making me one of your ladyship’s chaplains. A sense of it humbles me, and makes me pray more intensely for grace to walk worthy of that God who has called me to His kingdom and glory. As your ladyship has been pleased to confer this honour upon me, I shall think it my duty to send you weekly accounts of what the Lord Jesus is pleased to do for me and by me.

“Glory be to His great name, the prospect is promising. My Lord Bath198 received me yesterday morning very cordially, and would give me five guineas for the orphans. God’s peculiar providence has placed your ladyship at Chelsea. Upon the road, I propose writing you my thoughts of what scheme seems to be most practicable, in order to carry on the work of God, both here and in America.”

To a friend, on the same day, Whitefield wrote:—

“London, September 1, 1748.

“I have been a mile or two upon the road to Scotland, but turned back because my chaise was not registered.

“My hands have been full of work, and I have been among great company. A privy counsellor of the King of Denmark, and others, with one of the Prince of Wales’s favourites, dined and drank tea with me on Monday. On Tuesday, I preached twice at Lady Huntingdon’s, to several of the nobility. In the morning, the Earl of Chesterfield199 was present. In the evening, Lord Bolingbroke.200 All behaved quite well, and were in some degree affected. Lord Chesterfield thanked me, and said, ‘Sir, I will not tell you what I shall tell others, how I approve of you,’ or words to this purpose. He conversed with me freely afterwards. Lord Bolingbroke was much moved, and desired I would come and see him next morning. I did; and his lordship behaved with great candour and frankness. All accepted of my sermons. Thus, my dear brother, the world turns round. ‘In all time of my wealth, good Lord, deliver me!’”

Before following Whitefield to Scotland, further extracts from his letters must be given.

The friendship between Whitefield and the celebrated Dr. Doddridge has been already noticed. He now commenced an important correspondence with one of the doctor’s converts. James Stonehouse was a year or two younger than Whitefield, and was practising as a physician at Northampton. For seven years, he had been an infidel; and had written a pamphlet against revealed religion, which reached three editions. The death of his young wife, at the age of twenty-five, caused reflection. He read Doddridge’s “Rise and Progress of Religion,” and was converted. He was now a sincere and ardent Christian; and Whitefield began to urge him to become a minister. After much hesitancy, he entered into holy orders, and obtained the lectureship of All Saints’, Bristol. In 1791, he succeeded to the title of baronet. He was a man of great ability, was no mean poet, published several religious pamphlets, and died, in 1795, full of years and honour. He was now living in terms of great intimacy with Doddridge and Hervey, and had written to Whitefield, giving him advice about his health. At present, Whitefield had no leisure to place himself in the hands of a physician. He was soon to start for Scotland; and he wished to publish a new and revised edition of his journals, and of some of his sermons. Hence the following, addressed to Dr. Stonehouse:—

“London, August 22, 1748.

“Very dear Sir,—I thank you for your concern about my health. If it should please God to bring me back from Scotland, to winter in town, I have thoughts of submitting to some regimen or other. At present, I think it impracticable.

“I heartily wish that you and Dr. Doddridge201 and Mr. Hervey would be pleased to revise my journals and last five sermons. I intend publishing a new edition soon. I always do as you desire in respect to Mr. Wesley’s sermons. My prayer for him, for myself, and for my friends, is this,—‘Lord, give us clear heads and clean hearts!’

“I would recommend Bishop Beveridge’s sermons more, but they are too voluminous for the common people, and I have not read them all. I expect you will do this yourself, by-and-by, from the pulpit, and recommend his and your Master to the choice of poor sinners. By your excellent letter, you have publicly confessed Him. The eyes of all will be now upon you, to see whether the truths you have delivered to others are transcribed in your own heart, and copied in your life. Now indeed may you cry—

‘O for a strong, a lasting faith,

To credit what the Almighty saith!’

“Dear sir, let me entreat you to keep from trimming, or so much as attempting to reconcile two irreconcilable differences,—God and the world, Christ and Belial. You know me too well to suppose I want you to turn cynic. No, live a social life; but beg of the Lord Jesus to free you from love of the world. Thence arises that fear of man, which now shackles and disturbs your soul. Dare, dear sir, to be singularly good. If Christ be your Saviour, make Him a present of your pretty character. Honour Him, and He will honour you. Never rest till you can give up children, name, life, and all into His hands, who gave His precious blood for you. I make you no apology for this: you say you are my friend.”

Whitefield left London on September 3, and, halting at Olney, wrote, as follows, to a friend in New England:—

“Olney, September 4, 1748.

“It is always darkest before daybreak. It has been so in England. Matters, as to religion, were come almost to an extremity. The enemy had broken in upon us like a flood. The Spirit of the Lord is now lifting up a standard. The prospect of the success of the gospel, I think, was never more promising. In the church, tabernacle, and fields, congregations have been great; and, perhaps, as great power as ever hath accompanied the word. A door is also opening for the mighty and noble. I have preached four times to several of the nobility at good Lady Huntingdon’s. All behaved exceeding well; and, I suppose, in the winter, opportunities of preaching to them will be frequent.

“As for returning to America, if I live, I believe there is no doubt of it. I intend keeping myself free from Societies, and hope to see you again next year.”

Whitefield arrived in Edinburgh on Wednesday, September 14, and continued in Scotland until October 27.202 During his stay in London, he had preached regularly, at least once a week, in the Church of St. Bartholomew, of which his quondam enemy, but now ardent friend, the Rev. Richard T. Bateman, was rector. Though now patronized by the Countess of Huntingdon and several of the nobles of the land, Whitefield was not permitted to preach in any metropolitan church except this; and even for granting this permission, Mr. Bateman was likely to be involved in trouble. Dr. Gibson, Bishop of London, died three days after Whitefield set out for Scotland; and it was hoped that Bateman’s troubles would be buried in the bishop’s grave. Two days subsequent to his arrival at Edinburgh, Whitefield wrote to Mr. Bateman as follows:—

“Edinburgh, September 16, 1748.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—I have met with a hearty welcome. Last night, I preached to a Moorfields congregation, for numbers; and the Lord, I believe, was pleased to give His blessing. I hope all is well in London. The bishop’s death, I suppose, will prevent any further stir about Bartholomew’s. I shall be glad to hear how you go on. Pray, dear sir, how are your circumstances? You will not be offended, if I say that more than one have informed me of your being in debt. I thought it my duty to apprize you of this, because I know what a burden it is to be in debt; not indeed for myself, but for others.”

Except about a dozen days spent at Glasgow and Cambuslang, Whitefield’s labours in Scotland seem to have been confined to Edinburgh. In various letters to the Countess of Huntingdon, he relates, that, at his first coming, he was rather discouraged; for “some of the ministers were shy,” many of his friends were dead, others were backsliders, the weather was boisterous, and he himself was hoarse. “I have met,” said he, on September 29, “with some unexpected rubs, but not one more than was necessary to humble my proud heart.” A fortnight later, he tells her ladyship that, in the Synod of Glasgow, there had been a long debate about him; and that the Presbytery of Perth had “made an act against employing” him. He adds:—

“Ill-nature shews itself in Edinburgh, but I feel the benefit of it. Congregations are large, and I am enabled to preach with greater power. My hoarseness is quite gone, and my bodily health much improved. If my enemies shew themselves, I am persuaded the blessed Jesus will bless me to His people more and more. Some give out that I am employed by the Government to preach against the Pretender; and the seceders are angry with me for not preaching up the Scotch Covenant. Blessed be God! I preach up the covenant of grace, and I trust many souls are taught to profit.”

When at Topcliff, on his way back to London, he wrote to the Countess:—

“Thanks be to the Lord of all lords for directing my way to Scotland! I have reason to believe some have been awakened, and many, many quickened and comforted. My old friends are more solidly so than ever; and, I trust, a foundation has been laid for doing much good, if the Lord should call me thither again. Two Synods and one Presbytery brought me upon the carpet; but all has worked for good. The more I was blackened, the more the Redeemer comforted me.”

This was the first time that Whitefield had been discussed in the Ecclesiastical Courts of Scotland. Though many of the clergy had been dissatisfied with the countenance given to Whitefield’s preaching, several circumstances had hitherto prevented them from uniting in any public measure to restrain it. The proceedings of “The Associate Presbytery” had been so intemperate, that the clergy of the Establishment naturally felt a reluctance to countenance their calumnies. The great body of the people, also, were so extremely attached to him, that a direct attack upon his ministry could scarcely have been made, without incurring public odium. Further, some of the most distinguished families in Scotland were his constant hearers, and were in the habit of admitting him to their private society. Among these, in particular, was his Majesty’s representative, as Lord High Commissioner, in the General Assembly, who not only attended his ministrations, and invited him to his house, but introduced him to his public table, during the session of the assembly. When these circumstances are added to the long-established practice of the Presbyterian Church, with regard to occasional communion with other churches, it is not surprising that the ministers of the Establishment were not forward to agitate a question on which unanimity was not to be expected, and in which principle and prudence were both involved.

It is difficult to conceive why the subject of Whitefield’s character and preaching were debated now. Perhaps the members of the Glasgow Synod were afraid of a repetition of the marvellous scenes which had been witnessed at Cambuslang and other places, in 1742. Or, perhaps, they were deeply offended, because, during his present visit, Whitefield had been employed to preach for Dr. Gillies in the College Church of Glasgow, and for Dr. Erskine in the Church of Kirkintilloch. Be that as it may, the Synod of Glasgow deemed it right to discuss the matter. The topics introduced were numerous, but stale. He was a priest of the Church of England; he had not subscribed the formula; he had been imprudent; his Orphan-house scheme was chimerical; there was want of evidence that the money he collected was rightly applied; he asserted that assurance was essential to faith; he encouraged a dependence on impulses and immediate revelations; he declared, on slender evidence, some people converted, and others carnal and unregenerated; he often pretended to repent of his blunders, but as often relapsed into them; and, finally, he was under a sentence of suspension by Commissary Garden.203 These were the accusations. Keen debates occurred; and, at length, the following, almost neutral, proposition was submitted: “That no minister within the bounds of the Synod should employ ministers or preachers, not licensed or ordained in Scotland, till he had had sufficient evidence of their license and good character, and should be in readiness to give an account of his conduct to his own presbytery, when required.” Thirteen voted against the proposition, and twenty-seven for it.204

Similar resolutions were adopted by the Synod of Lothian and Tweeddale, the Synod of Perth and Stirling, and by the Presbytery of Edinburgh; and, to complete the whole, six hundred of the followers of the Erskines, by whom Whitefield was first invited to visit Scotland, assembled in Edinburgh on November 16, and swore to observe the League and Covenant; and “solemnly engaged to strengthen one another’s hands, in the use of lawful means, to extirpate Popery, Prelacy, Arminianism, Arianism, Tritheism, Sabellianism, and George Whitefieldism.” The service “was conducted by the Rev. Adam Gibb and his helpers, with great solemnity, and the generality of the people evidenced an uncommon seriousness and concern.”205

Of course, all this created great commotion; but limited space will only permit the insertion of the following letter, which was printed in the Edinburgh Courant:—

“Sir,—On the 27th of October, the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield set out from this place” (Edinburgh) “to London. During the time of his stay here, he preached about twenty times in the Orphan Hospital Park, three times in the Tolbooth Church, and twice in that of the Cannongate, to very large congregations; and was much approven of, by the generality of serious Christians, as a well-accomplished gospel preacher. As his conversation in private, as well as public, gave entire satisfaction to those who were most intimate with him, it is not a little surprising to them to find him represented and asserted to be a person of suspicious character. He declared, upon his arrival here, that he was to make no public collections; and he did not. Neither did he ask money or anything else from any person.206 As it is reported he will pay us a visit next summer, it is not doubted but it will be very acceptable to all who rejoice that Christ is preached, and sinners are saved through Him.”

Dr. Stonehouse, of Northampton, has been mentioned. Whitefield wished him to become a minister; but Stonehouse was timorous, and afraid of being called a Methodist. Whitefield desired to have an interview with him, on his return from Scotland, and hence the following letter:—

“Glasgow, September 28, 1748.

“My very dear Sir,—I purpose to preach at Oundle, in my way to London. Glad shall I be to see two such friends, as you and Mr. Hervey, though incog. I will endeavour to send you timely notice. I would have neither of you expose yourselves to needless contempt on my account. I think I can say that I am willing to be forgotten, even by my friends, if Jesus Christ may thereby be exalted. But then, I would not have my friends act an inconsistent part towards that Friend of all—that Friend of sinners, the glorious Emmanuel. Whilst you are afraid of men, you will expose yourself to a thousand inconveniences. Your polite company (unless you converse with them more as their physician than as their companion) will prevail on you to such compliances as will make you smart, when you retire into your closet and reflect on the part you have acted. Before I shook off the world, I often came out of company shorn of all my strength, like poor Samson when he had lost his locks. But this is a tender point.

“Go on, dear sir, and prove the strength of Jesus to be yours. Continue instant in prayer, and you shall see and feel infinitely greater things than you have yet seen or felt. I am of your opinion, that there is seed sown in England, which will grow up into a great tree. God’s giving some of the mighty and noble a hearing ear forebodes future good. I do not despair of seeing you a proclaimer of the unsearchable riches of Christ. God be praised! that Mr. Hervey is so bold an advocate for his blessed Lord.”

Whitefield was always in trouble, from one quarter or another. While the ecclesiastical courts of Scotland were interdicting his preaching, without mentioning his name, Lavington, the Bishop of Exeter, was lashed into an unchristian rage against him. His Lordship of Exeter had recently delivered a charge to the clergy of his diocese. Some unknown wag circulated what pretended to be a manuscript copy of the charge, but containing declarations of doctrine and Christian experience worthy of Whitefield and Wesley themselves. Without authority, the pretended charge was printed, and occasioned the publication of several pamphlets in reply and congratulation. Meanwhile, however, Lavington, the inveterate hater of Methodists and Moravians, was dubbed a Methodist. This, to his lordship, was intolerable, and drew forth from him an angry “declaration,” in which he charged the Methodist chiefs with being the authors of the fraud. The charge was utterly unfounded; the Countess of Huntingdon interfered; with great difficulty she obtained a recantation from the infuriated prelate; and this was published in the leading journals of the day. The following letter refers to this disreputable fracas.

“Glasgow, October 5, 1748.

“Very dear Sir,—I received yours this morning, and think it my duty to send you an immediate answer.

“You might well inform my Lord of Exeter that I knew nothing of the printing of his lordship’s pretended charge, or of the pamphlets occasioned by it. When the former was sent to me in manuscript, from London to Bristol, as his lordship’s production, I immediately said, it could not be his. When I found it printed, I spoke to the officious printer, who did it out of his own head, and blamed him very much. When I saw the pamphlet, I was still more offended. Repeatedly, in several companies, I urged the injustice as well as imprudence thereof, and said it would produce what it did,—I mean a declaration from his lordship, that he was no Methodist. I am sorry his lordship had such an occasion given him to declare his aversion to what is called Methodism; and, though I think his lordship, in his declaration, has been somewhat severe concerning some of the Methodist leaders, I cannot blame him for saying, that he thought ‘some of them were worse than ignorant and misguided,’ supposing that his lordship had sufficient proof that they caused to be printed a charge which he had never owned nor published.

“If you think proper, you may let his lordship see the contents of this. I will only add, that, I wish a way could be found, whereby his lordship and other of the right reverend the bishops might converse with some of us. Many mistakes might thereby be rectified, and perhaps his lordship’s sentiments, in some degree, might be altered. If this cannot be effected, (I speak only for myself,) I am content to wait till we all appear before the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. Meanwhile, I heartily pray, that their lordships may be blessed with all spiritual blessings, and wishing you the like mercies, I subscribe myself, very dear sir, your affectionate, obliged, humble servant,

“George Whitefield.”

Whitefield reached London at the beginning of November, and immediately resumed preaching, twice a week, in the house of the Countess of Huntingdon, “to the great and noble.”207 Here he had to encounter another trouble. In a letter, dated October 20th, 1748, Howell Harris gives an account of his labours, in South and North Wales, during the last nine weeks. He had visited thirteen counties, had travelled a hundred and fifty miles every week, and had preached two sermons every day, and sometimes three or four. During the last week of his tour, he had never taken off his clothes; and, in one instance, had travelled above a hundred miles, from morning to the evening of the ensuing day, without any rest, preaching on the mountains at midnight, in order to avoid the persecution of Sir Watkin William Wynn. Such was the malevolence of the Welsh baronet towards the poor Methodists, that, only a few days before, for simply meeting together to worship God, a number of them had had to pay fines, varying from five shillings to twenty pounds. Encouraged by those who ought to have known better, the mobs, in many places, were almost murderously violent; and, near to Bala, Harris received a blow on the head nearly sufficient to “split his skull in two.”208 Whitefield was informed of these outrageous proceedings; he reported them to the Countess of Huntingdon; her ladyship laid the particulars before the Government; and, to the no small mortification of Sir Watkin Wynn, the fines he had exacted from the Methodists were ordered to be returned.209

Five years ago, Whitefield had formed an acquaintance with Dr. Doddridge, the great Dissenting tutor; he now visited the equally celebrated Dr. Watts, whom the Dissenters of the day might properly have regarded as their patriarch. Watts had looked upon Whitefield with disfavour, and had chidden Doddridge for lowering the dignity of the Dissenting minister and tutor, by preaching in Whitefield’s wooden meeting-house. For more than thirty years, Watts had been a beloved and honoured guest in the mansion of Sir Thomas Abney, Stoke Newington. He was now dying, and, on November 25th, away Whitefield went to see him. Being introduced, Whitefield tenderly enquired, “how he found himself?” “I am one of Christ’s waiting servants,” replied the dying Doctor. Whitefield assisted in raising him up in bed, that he might with more convenience take his medicine. Watts apologised for the trouble he occasioned. Whitefield answered, “Surely, I am not too good to wait on a waiting servant of Christ.” Whitefield took his leave; and half an hour afterwards Dr. Watts was dead.210 Thus met and parted the great hymnist and the great preacher, until they met again in “the palace of angels and God.”211

A week after Watts’s death, Whitefield set out for Gloucester and Bristol. In the latter city, his preaching was the means of converting a Welsh shoemaker, who subsequently became one of Wesley’s best itinerant preachers, and who, in his wide wanderings, composed a few of the finest hymns ever sung in the Christian Church,—hymns not surpassed by the best of Dr. Watts’s, and which, after a century’s use, are as much in favour among the Methodists as ever.

Thomas Olivers was now twenty-three years of age. His life had been rambling and wicked. Getting into debt had been a regular practice, and profane swearing had become his habitual sin. The first night that he spent in Bristol he was literally penniless. Having obtained work, he went to lodge in the house of a man who had been a Methodist, but was now “a slave to drunkenness.” In the same house, there was “a lukewarm Moravian.” Olivers and the Moravian disputed “about election,” till they quarrelled. The Moravian, a tall, lusty fellow, struck the Welshman. Olivers says, “I knew I should have no chance in fighting him, and therefore, for a whole hour, I cursed and swore, with all the rage of a fiend, in such a manner as is seldom equalled on earth, or exceeded even in hell itself.” Soon after this, Olivers met a multitude of people in the streets of Bristol, and asked where they had been. One answered, “To hear Mr. Whitefield.” Olivers thought, “I have often heard of Mr. Whitefield, and have sung songs about him: I’ll go and hear him myself.” Accordingly, he went. Whitefield’s text was, “Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?” Olivers was there and then convinced of sin, and resolved to give his heart to God. The next Sunday, he went to the cathedral at six in the morning; and, as the Te Deum was read, “felt as if he had done with earth, and was praising God before His throne.” At eight, he went to hear Whitefield preach; at ten, he went to Christchurch; at two in the afternoon, he again attended church; at five, he heard Whitefield, and concluded the day at a Baptist meeting. He writes: “The love I had for Mr. Whitefield was inexpressible. I used to follow him as he walked the streets, and could scarce refrain from kissing the very prints of his feet.”

Five years after this, Thomas Olivers had paid all his debts, and was one of Wesley’s itinerant preachers. His subsequent history was too remarkable to be condensed in a work like this.

Whitefield’s Orphan House was again causing him anxiety. He wrote to a friend in America: “I want to make it a seminary of learning. If some such thing be not done, I cannot see how the southern parts will be provided with ministers. All here are afraid to come over.”212 He had also heard that his wife had lessened the Orphan-house family, and was about to return to England.213 And, further, he had been informed that the trustees were about to allow the employment of slaves in Georgia.214 These circumstances led him to write a long and remarkable letter to the trustees. The following is an extract:—

“Gloucester, December 6, 1748.

“Honoured Gentlemen,—Not want of respect, but a suspicion that my letters would not be acceptable, has been the occasion of my not writing to you these four years last past. I am sensible, that in some of my former letters, I expressed myself in too strong and sometimes in unbecoming terms. For this I desire to be humbled before God and man. I can assure you, however, that, to the best of my knowledge, I have acted a disinterested part. I have simply aimed at God’s glory, and the good of mankind. This principle drew me first to Georgia; this, and this alone, induced me to begin and carry on the Orphan House; and this, honoured gentlemen, excites me to trouble you with the present lines.

“I need not inform you, how the colony of Georgia has been declining, and at what great disadvantages I have maintained a large family in that wilderness. Upwards of £5000 have been expended in that undertaking; and yet, very little proficiency has been made in the cultivation of my tract of land; and that entirely owing to the necessity I lay under of making use of white hands. Had negroes been allowed, I should now have had a sufficiency to support a great many orphans, without expending above half the sum that has been laid out. An unwillingness to let so good a design drop induced me, two years ago, to purchase a plantation in South Carolina, where negroes are allowed. This plantation has succeeded; and, though I have only eight working hands, in all probability, there will be more raised in one year, and with a quarter of the expense, than has been produced at Bethesda for several years past. This confirms me in the opinion, I have long entertained, that, Georgia never can be a flourishing province, unless negroes are employed.

“But, notwithstanding my private judgment, I am determined, that, not one of mine shall ever be allowed to work at the Orphan House till it can be done in a legal manner, and with the approbation of the Honourable Trustees. My chief end in writing this, is to inform you, that, I am as willing as ever to do all I can for Georgia and the Orphan House, if either a limited use of negroes is approved of, or some more indentured servants be sent from England. If not, I cannot promise to keep any large family, or cultivate the plantation in any considerable manner.

“I would also further recommend to your consideration, whether, as the Orphan House is intended for a charitable purpose, it ought not to be exempted from all quit-rents and public taxes? And, as most of the land on which the Orphan House is built is good for little, I would humbly enquire, whether I may not have a grant of five hundred more acres, not taken up, somewhere near the Orphan House?

“If you, Honourable Gentlemen, are pleased to put the colony upon another footing,—I mean in respect to the permission of a limited use of negroes,—my intention is to make the Orphan House, not only a receptacle for fatherless children, but also a place of literature and academical studies. Such a place is much wanted in the southern parts of America, and, if conducted in a proper manner, must necessarily be of great service to any colony. I can easily procure proper persons to embark in such a cause.”

From such a pen, this is a strange production. Whitefield, with his large heart, urging the introduction of slavery into the province of Georgia, and almost threatening to abandon his Orphan House unless his proposal be granted! Whitefield’s honour is best cared for by saying as little about the incident as possible.

Having spent five days at Gloucester, during which he preached five times, and received the sacrament at the cathedral; and having similarly employed himself for a week at Bristol, Whitefield, at the request of the Countess of Huntingdon, returned to London on December 17th, and resumed his ministry in the Tabernacle, and in the mansion of her ladyship.

“I am now,” he wrote, “thirty-four years of age; and alas! how little have I done and suffered for Him, who has done and suffered so much for me! Thanks be to His great name for countenancing my poor ministrations so much.”215

A letter to Dr. Doddridge, to whom Whitefield had submitted his Journals for revision,216 may properly close the year 1748,—a year, which, like all previous ones of his career, had been thronged with adventures and striking incidents.

“London, December 21, 1748.

“Reverend and very dear Sir,—I was glad, very glad, to receive your letter, dated November 7th, though it did not reach me till last night. I thank you for it a thousand times. It has led me to the throne of grace, where I have been crying, ‘Lord, counsel my counsellors, and shew them what Thou wouldest have me to do!’ Alas! alas! how can I be too severe against myself, who, Peter-like, have cut off so many ears, and, by imprudences, mixed with my zeal, have dishonoured the cause of Jesus! I can only look up to Him, who healed the high-priest’s servant’s ear, and say, ‘Lord, heal all the wounds my misguided zeal has given!’ Assure yourself, dear sir, everything I print shall be revised. I always have submitted my poor performances to my friends’ corrections. Time and experience ripen men’s judgments, and make them more solid, rational, and consistent. O that this may be my case!

“I thank you, dear sir, for your solemn charge in respect to my health. Blessed be God! it is much improved since my return from Scotland, and I trust, by observing the rules you prescribe, I shall be enabled to declare the works of the Lord.

“But what shall I say concerning your present trial?217 I most earnestly sympathise with you, having had the same trial from the same quarter long ago. The Moravians first divided my family; then my parish, in Georgia; and, after that, the Societies which I was an instrument of gathering. I suppose not less than four hundred, through their practices, have left the Tabernacle. But I have been forsaken in other ways. I have not had above a hundred to hear me, where I had twenty thousand; and hundreds now assemble within a quarter of a mile of me, who never come to see or speak to me, though they must own, at the great day, that I was their spiritual father. All this I find but little enough to teach me to cease from man, and to wean me from that too great fondness, which spiritual fathers are apt to have for their spiritual children. But I have generally observed, that, when one door of usefulness is shut, another opens. Our Lord blesses you, dear sir, in your writings;218 nay, your people’s treating you as they are now permitted to do, perhaps, is one of the greatest blessings you ever received from heaven. I know no other way of dealing with the Moravians, than to go on preaching the truth as it is in Jesus, and resting upon the promise, ‘Every plant which my heavenly Father hath not planted shall be plucked up.’ Seven years will make a great alteration. I believe their grand design is to extend their economy as far as possible. This is now kept up by dint of money, and, I am apt to think, the very thing, by which they think to establish, will destroy their scheme. God is a gracious Father, and will not always let His children proceed in a wrong way. Doubtless, there are many of His dear little ones in the Moravian flock; but many of their principles and practices are exceeding wrong, for which, I doubt not, our Lord will rebuke them in His own time.

“But I fear that I weary you. Love makes my pen to move too fast, and too long. Last Sunday evening, I preached at the other end of the town, to a most brilliant assembly. They expressed great approbation; and some, I think, begin to feel. Good Lady Huntingdon is a mother in Israel. She is all in a flame for Jesus.”

Whitefield’s remarks concerning the Moravians may, perhaps, seem somewhat harsh; but they were not untrue, and will prepare the reader for other critiques hereafter.

Whitefield mentions his “brilliant assembly” in the mansion of the Countess of Huntingdon. In a letter to the Countess of Bath, he wrote, “It would please you to see the assemblies at her ladyship’s house. They are brilliant ones indeed. The prospect of catching some of the rich, in the gospel net, is very promising. I know you will wish prosperity in the name of the Lord.”219

No wonder that, after one of his first services at Lady Huntingdon’s, Whitefield said, “I went home, never more surprised at any incident in my life.”220 Such congregations were unique. Nothing like them had heretofore been witnessed. There were gatherings of England’s proud nobility, assembled to listen to a young preacher, whose boyhood had been spent in a public-house; whose youth, at the university, had been employed partly in study, and partly in attending to the wants of fellow-students, who declined to treat him as an equal; and whose manhood life, for the last thirteen years, had been a commingling of marvellous popularity and violent contempt,—a scene of infirmities and errors, and yet of unreserved and unceasing devotion to the cause of Christ and the welfare of his fellow-men. Such was the youthful preacher,—a man of slender learning, of mean origin, without Church preferment, hated by the clergy, and maligned by the public press. Who were his aristocratic hearers? The following list is supplied by the well-informed author of “The Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon”:—

Lady Fanny Shirley, who had long been one of the reigning beauties of the court of George the First; the Duchess of Argyll; Lady Betty Campbell; Lady Ferrers; Lady Sophia Thomas; the Duchess of Montagu, daughter of the great Duke of Marlborough; Lady Cardigan; Lady Lincoln; Mrs. Boscawen; Mrs. Pitt; Miss Rich; Lady Fitzwalter; Lady Caroline Petersham; the Duchess of Queensbury, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, and celebrated for extraordinary beauty, wit, and sprightliness, by Pope, Swift, and Prior; the Duchess of Manchester; Lady Thanet, daughter of the Marquis of Halifax, and wife of Sackville, Earl of Thanet; Lady St. John, niece of Lady Huntingdon; Lady Luxborough, the friend and correspondent of Shenstone, the poet; Lady Monson, whose husband, in 1760, was created Baron Sondes; Lady Rockingham, the wife of the great statesman, a woman of immense wit and pleasant temper, often at court, and possessed of considerable influence in the higher circles of society; Lady Betty Germain, daughter of the Earl of Berkeley, and through her husband, Sir John Germain, the possessor of enormous wealth; Lady Eleanor Bertie, a member of the noble family of Abingdon; the Dowager-Duchess of Ancaster; the Dowager-Lady Hyndford; the Duchess of Somerset; the Countess Delitz, one of the daughters of the Duchess of Kendal, and the sister of Lady Chesterfield; Lady Hinchinbroke, granddaughter of the Duke of Montagu; and Lady Schaubs.

Besides these “honourable women not a few,” there were also the Earl of Burlington, so famed for his admiration of the works of Inigo Jones, and for his architectural expenditure; George Bubb Dodington, afterwards Lord Melcombe, a friend and favourite of the Prince of Wales, and whose costly mansion was often crowded with literary men; George Augustus Selwyn, an eccentric wit, to whom nearly all the current bon-mots of the day were attributed; the Earl of Holderness; Lord (afterwards Marquess) Townshend, named George, after his godfather, George the First, a distinguished general in the army, member of Parliament for Norfolk, and ultimately a field-marshal. Charles Townshend, now a young man of twenty-three, whom Burke described as “the delight and ornament of the House of Commons, and the charm of every private society he honoured with his presence;” Lord St. John, half-brother to Lord Bolingbroke; the Earl of Aberdeen; the Earl of Lauderdale; the Earl of Hyndford, Envoy Extraordinary to the King of Prussia; the Marquis of Tweeddale, Secretary of State for Scotland; George, afterwards, Lord Lyttelton, at one time member for Okehampton, and secretary of Frederick, Prince of Wales, and who had recently published his well-known book, “Observations on the Conversion of St. Paul;” William Pitt, the distinguished first Earl of Chatham; Lord North, in his twenty-first year, afterwards First Lord of the Treasury, and ultimately Earl of Guildford; Evelyn, Duke of Kingston; Viscount Trentham (a title borne by the Duke of Sutherland); the Earl of March (one of the titles of the Duke of Richmond); the Earl of Haddington; Edward Hussey, who married a daughter of the Duke of Montagu, and was created Earl of Beaulieu; Hume Campbell, afterwards created Baron Hume; the Earl of Sandwich, subsequently ambassador to the court of Spain, First Lord of the Admiralty, and Secretary of State for the Home Department; and Lord Bolingbroke, the friend of the Pretender, a man of great ability,—a statesman, a philosopher, and an infidel.

Gillies adds to this long list the name of David Hume, who had recently returned from Italy in great chagrin, because the people of England “entirely overlooked and neglected” his “Inquiry concerning Human Understanding.” It is said that Hume considered Whitefield the most ingenious preacher he ever listened to, and that twenty miles were not too far to go to hear him. “Once,” said the great infidel, “Whitefield addressed his audience thus: ‘The attendant angel is about to leave us, and ascend to heaven. Shall he ascend and not bear with him the news of one sinner reclaimed from the error of his way?’ And, then, stamping with his foot, and lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he cried aloud, ‘Stop, Gabriel, stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the tidings of one sinner being saved.’ This address surpassed anything I ever saw or heard in any other preacher.”

The Earl of Chesterfield and the Earl of Bath have been previously noticed as being among Whitefield’s hearers. One more name must be mentioned. Lady Townshend was one of Whitefield’s earliest admirers. Her wit and eccentricities were notorious. Of course she was a member of the Church of England; but Horace Walpole tells a story of George Selwyn detecting her crossing herself and praying before the altar of a popish chapel. Alternately, she liked and disliked Whitefield. “She certainly means,” said Walpole, “to go armed with every viaticum—the Church of England in one hand, Methodism in the other, and the Host in her mouth.”221 Whitefield had the moral courage to tackle even this eccentric lady; and, towards the close of 1748, wrote to her as follows:—

“Yesterday, good Lady Huntingdon informed me that your ladyship was ill. Had I judged it proper, I would have waited upon your ladyship this morning; but I was cautious of intrusion. My heart’s desire and prayer to God is, that this sickness be not unto death, but to His glory, and the present and eternal good of your precious and immortal soul. O that from a spiritual abiding sense of the vanity of all created good, you may cry out,—

‘Begone, vain world, my heart resign,

For I must be no longer thine:

A nobler, a diviner guest

Now claims possession of my breast.’

Then, and not till then, will your ladyship with cheerfulness wait for the approach of death. It is a true and living faith in the Son of God that can alone bring present peace, and lay a solid foundation for future and eternal comfort. I cannot wish your ladyship anything greater, anything more noble, than a large share of this precious faith. When, like Noah’s dove, we have been wandering about in a fruitless search after happiness, and have found no rest for the sole of our feet, the glorious Redeemer is ready to reach out His hand and receive us into His ark. This hand, honoured madam, He is reaching out to you. May you be constrained to give your heart entirely to Him, and thereby enter into that rest which remains for the happy, though despised, people of God.”

The foregoing were some, not all, of Whitefield’s aristocratic hearers. Others will be mentioned hereafter. The gatherings, in Chelsea and in North Audley Street, were profoundly interesting spectacles; and never, till the day of judgment, when all secrets will be unfolded, will it be ascertained to what extent the preaching of the youthful Whitefield affected the policy of some of England’s greatest statesmen, and moulded the character of some of its highest aristocratic families. Who will venture to deny that, in some of these families, the effects of Whitefield’s ministry is felt to the present day? Let us pursue his history.

Whitefield continued his correspondence with Hervey and Stonehouse. On January 13, 1749, he wrote to the former as follows:—

“The prospect of doing good to the rich, who attend the house of good Lady Huntingdon, is very encouraging. I preach there twice a week, and yesterday Lord Bolingbroke was one of my auditors. His lordship was pleased to express very great satisfaction. Who knows what God may do? He can never work by a meaner instrument. I want humility, I want thankfulness, I want a heart continually flaming with the love of God.

“I thank you for your kind invitation to your house and pulpit. I would not bring you or any of my friends into difficulties, for owning poor, unworthy, hell-deserving me; but, if Providence should give me a clear call, I shall be glad to come your way. I rejoice in the prospect of having some ministers in our church pulpits who dare own a crucified Redeemer. I hope the time will come when many of the priests will be obedient to the word.”

It is a humiliating fact, that Whitefield, an ordained clergyman, and under no official censure, was not able to avail himself of Hervey’s invitation without the probability of involving his gentle friend in trouble; and it is a beautiful trait in Whitefield’s character, that, however great the gratification of preaching in a church might be, he was unwilling to indulge himself in such a pleasure at the expense of any of his friends.

Dr. Stonehouse occasioned Whitefield sorrow and anxiety. The Doctor was a sincere, earnest, and devout Christian, but he was afraid of being branded as a Methodist; and, for the same reason, he was afraid of being known as one of Whitefield’s friends. Hence the following, written four days after the date of the letter just quoted:—

“The way of duty is the way of safety. Our Lord requires of us to confess Him in His gospel members and ministers. To be afraid of publicly owning, associating with, and strengthening the hearts and hands of the latter, especially when they are set for the defence of the gospel, is, in my opinion, very offensive in His sight, and can only proceed from a want of more love to Him and His people. You say, ‘We are most of us too warm;’ but I hope you do not think that being ashamed of any of your Lord’s ministers is an instance of it. Thanks be to God! that Mr. Hervey seems, as you express it, ‘to court the enmity of mankind.’ It is an error on the right side. Better so than to be afraid of it. The Lord never threatened to spew any church out of His mouth for being too hot; but, for being neither hot nor cold, He has. It is too true, my dear sir, ‘we have but few faithful ministers;’ but is keeping at a distance from one another the way to strengthen their interest? By no means. To tell you my whole mind, I do not believe God will bless either you or your friends, to any considerable degree, till you are more delivered from the fear of man. Alas! how were you bowed down with it, when I saw you last! And your letter bespeaks you yet a slave to it. O my brother, deal faithfully with yourself, and you will find a love of the world, and a fear of not providing for your children, have gotten too much hold of your heart. Do not mistake me. I would not have you throw yourself into flames. I would only have you act a consistent part, and not, for fear of a little contempt, be ashamed of owning the ministers of Christ. After all, think not, my dear sir, that I am pleading my own cause. You are not in danger of seeing me at Northampton. I only take this occasion of saying a word or two to your heart. You will not be offended, as it proceeds from love. I salute Mr. Hervey, and dear Doctor Doddridge, most cordially.”

Towards the end of January, Whitefield set out, from London, to the west of England, where he spent the next five weeks. By appointment, he and Howell Harris held an “Association” at Gloucester,222 where, he says, “affairs turned out better than expectation.” From Gloucester, he proceeded to Bristol, where he employed the next ten days.

Whitefield was singularly devoid of envy. On leaving London, his place at Lady Huntingdon’s was occupied by his friend Wesley,223 whose preaching secured her ladyship’s approval. Robert Cruttenden also introduced the Rev. Thomas Gibbons, D.D.,224 a young man of twenty-eight, who, at this time, was the officiating minister of the Independent Church at Haberdashers’ Hall. Cruttenden, in a letter to Whitefield, told him that their two hours’ interview with the Countess had been exceedingly pleasant.225 With his large heart, Whitefield was delighted by such intelligence as this, and wrote to her ladyship as follows:—

“Bristol, February 1, 1749.

“I am glad your ladyship approves of Mr. Wesley’s conduct, and that he has preached at your ladyship’s. The language of my heart is, ‘Lord, send by whom Thou wilt send, only convert some of the mighty and noble, for Thy mercy’s sake!’ Then I care not if I am heard of no more. I am, also, glad your ladyship approves of Mr. Gibbons. He is, I think, a worthy man. By taking this method, you will have an opportunity of conversing with the best of all parties, without being a bigot, and too strenuously attached to any. Surely, in this, your ladyship is directed from above. The blessed Jesus cares for His people of all denominations. He is gathering His elect out of all. Happy they who, with a disinterested view, take in the whole church militant, and, in spite of narrow-hearted bigots, breathe an undissembled catholic spirit towards all.”

In the same month, Lady Huntingdon wrote to Whitefield a cheering account of the death of one of his noble converts:—

“My last,” says she, “mentioned the sudden illness of my Lord St. John. A few days after, her ladyship wrote to me in great alarm, and begged me to send some pious clergyman to her lord. Mr. Bateman went. His lordship enquired for you, to whom he said he was deeply indebted. His last words to Mr. Bateman were: ‘To God I commit myself. I feel how unworthy I am; but Jesus Christ died to save sinners; and the prayer of my heart now is, God be merciful to me a sinner!’ His lordship breathed his last about an hour after Mr. Bateman left. This, my good friend, is the firstfruits of that plenteous harvest, which, I trust, the great Husbandman will yet reap amongst the nobility of our land. Thus the great Lord of the harvest has put honour on your ministry. My Lord Bolingbroke was much struck with his brother’s language in his last moments. O that the obdurate heart of this desperate infidel may yet be shaken to its very centre! May his eyes be opened by the illuminating influence of Divine truth! May the Lord Jesus be revealed to his heart as the hope of glory and immortal bliss hereafter! I tremble for his destiny. He is a singularly awful character.”226

Whitefield’s preaching in Bristol was again successful.

“The power of the Lord,” he writes, “attended the word, as in days of old, and several persons, who never heard me before, were brought under great awakenings.”227

On February 8th, he proceeded to Exeter, where he found the Society affairs in great confusion; but, winter though it was, and though his health was far from being vigorous, he began to preach in the open air. Large crowds assembled; and, he says, “I trust real good was done.”228 He also preached at Bovey-Tracey, where he “found several poor simple souls;” and at Marychurch, where there were about a score of converted people who had been greatly persecuted. At Kingsbridge, at eight o’clock at night, he found a thousand people assembled in the street, and at once commenced preaching, from the words, “I must work the works of Him that sent me while it is day; the night cometh, when no man can work.” He writes:—

“I preached in the street. The moon shone. All were quiet; and, I hope, some began to think of working out their salvation with fear and trembling. The next morning, I preached again. Four ministers attended. Our Lord was pleased to make it a fine season. I had the pleasure of hearing, that, by two or three discourses preached at this place about five years ago, many souls were awakened. One young man, then called, has become a preacher. He was in a tree, partly to ridicule me. I spoke to him to imitate Zaccheus, and come down and receive the Lord Jesus. The word was backed with power. He heard, came down, believed, and now adorns the gospel.”229

On February 15, Whitefield arrived at Plymouth,230 being escorted, the last ten miles of his journey, by a cavalcade of his “spiritual children,” who had gone out to meet him. He found “many hundreds, in the tabernacle, waiting to hear the word;” and, though the hour was late, he immediately commenced preaching. Here he remained a week. The following was addressed to Lady Huntingdon:—

“About two thousand attend every night. Last Sunday evening, in the field, there were above five thousand hearers. Affairs bear a promising aspect. I hear much good has been done at Bristol. Everywhere, fresh doors are opening, and people flock from all quarters. Prejudices subside, and strong impressions are made on many souls. I have not been so well, for so long a season, for many years, as I have been since I left London: a proof, I think, that the Lord calls me into the fields.”

Whilst at Plymouth, Whitefield wrote several letters, full of interest, but too long for insertion here. To Lady Betty Germain, he said:—

“Of the honourable women, ere long, I trust there will be not a few who will dare to be singularly good, and will confess the blessed Jesus before men. O with what a holy contempt may the poor despised believer look down on those who are yet immersed in the pleasures of sense, and, amidst all the refinements of their unassisted, unenlightened reason, continue slaves to their own lusts and passions! Happy, thrice happy, they who begin to experience what it is to be redeemed from this present evil world! You, honoured madam, I trust, are one of this happy number.”

To the Countess of Delitz, he wrote:—

“Your ladyship’s answering my poor scrawl was an honour I did not expect. Welcome, thrice welcome, honoured madam, into the world of new creatures! O what a scene of happiness lies before you! Your frames, my lady, like the moon, will wax and wane; but the Lord Jesus will remain your faithful friend. You seem to have the right point in view, to get the constant witness and indwelling of the Spirit of God in your heart. This the Redeemer has purchased for you. Of this, He has given your ladyship a taste. O that your honoured sister may go hand in hand with you! Wherefore doth she doubt?”

It has been previously stated that, on Whitefield’s arrival at Bermudas, he was warmly welcomed by the Church clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Holiday. Unfortunately, Mr. Holiday’s friendship was shortlived. Hence the following:—

“Plymouth, February 20, 1749.

“I did not think Mr. Holiday’s friendship would hold long. It will be time enough for me to speak to him, when I see Bermudas again, which I propose doing as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I would observe that, if I am a Roman Catholic, the pope must have given me a very large dispensation. Surely, Mr. Holiday has acted like one, to pretend so much friendship, and yet have nothing of it in his heart. But thus it must be. We must be tried in every way. As for any secrets that I told him, he is very welcome to reveal them. You know me too well to judge I have many secrets. May the secret of the Lord be with me! and then I care not if there was a window in my heart for all mankind to see the uprightness of my intentions.

“I am now in the west, and have begun to take the field. Great multitudes flock to hear. I find it is a trial, to be thus divided between the work on this and the other side of the water. I am convinced I have done right in coming over now; but I keep myself quite disengaged, that I may be free to leave England the latter end of the summer, if the Lord is pleased to make my way clear. I long to have Bethesda a foundation for the Lord Jesus. If I can procure a proper person, of good literature, who will be content to stay two or three years, something may be done.”

Before his departure from Plymouth, Whitefield preached at Tavistock; where, he says, “I was rudely treated; for, whilst I was praying, some of the baser sort brought a bull and dogs, and disturbed us much; but I hope good was done.”

On reaching Exeter, he wrote to his friend Robert Cruttenden, once a minister of Christ, then an infidel, and now re-converted:—

“Exeter, February 25, 1749.

“I suppose you will be pleased that I am thus far in my return to London. O my friend, my friend, I come with fear and trembling. To speak to the rich and great, so as to win them to the blessed Jesus, is indeed a task. But, wherefore do we fear? We can do all things through Christ strengthening us. But why does Mr. Cruttenden think it strange that no one can be found to help me in the country? Is it not more strange that you should lie supine, burying your talents in a napkin, complaining you have nothing to do, and yet souls everywhere are perishing about you for lack of knowledge? Why do you not preach or print? At least, why do you not help me, or somebody or another, in a more public way? You are in the decline of life, and if you do not soon reassume the place, you are now qualified for, you may lose the opportunity for ever. I write this in great seriousness. May the Lord give you no rest, till you lift up your voice like a trumpet! Up, and be doing; and the Lord will be with you.”

Whitefield arrived in London at the beginning of the month of March. On his way, at Bristol, he and Charles Wesley met. Charles was to be married to Miss Gwynne a month afterwards, and wrote: “March 3. I met George Whitefield, and made him quite happy by acquainting him with my design.”231 Whitefield spent a month in London, and was fully occupied, not only with preaching in the Tabernacle, and in the house of Lady Huntingdon, but with work that was not at all congenial to him.

At the end of the year 1748, the Rev. George White, the notorious clergyman of Colne, in Lancashire, had published his infamous “Sermon against the Methodists.” In a footnote, the fuming author, speaking of Whitefield and Wesley, said:—

“These officious haranguers cozen a handsome subsistence out of their irregular expeditions. No satisfactory account has been given us of Mr. Whitefield’s disbursements in Georgia; and, I am afraid, by his late modest insinuations, in or about the Highlands of Scotland, of the want of £500 more, he thinks the nation is become more and more foolish, and within the reach of his further impositions. It appears, from many probable accounts, that Mr. Wesley has, in reality, a better income than most of our bishops, though, now and then, (no great wonder,) it costs him some little pains to escape certain rough compliments.”232

This was a false, libellous attack on Whitefield’s honesty; and Grimshaw, of Haworth, and Benjamin Ingham wished him to answer it. His reply to Grimshaw was as follows:—

“London, March 17, 1749.

“My dear Brother,—What a blessed thing it is that we can write to, when we cannot see one another! By this means we increase our joys, and lessen our sorrows, and, as it were, exchange hearts.

“Thanks be to the Lord Jesus, that the work flourishes with you! I am glad your children grow so fast; they become fathers too soon; I wish some may not prove dwarfs at last. A word to the wise is sufficient. I have always found awakening times like spring times; many blossoms, but not always so much fruit. But go on, my dear man, and, in the strength of the Lord, you shall do valiantly. I long to be your way; but I suppose it will be two months first.

“Pray tell my dear Mr. Ingham that I cannot now answer the Preston233 letter, being engaged in answering a virulent pamphlet, entitled, ‘The Enthusiasm of the Methodists and Papists compared,’ supposed to be done by the Bishop of Exeter. Thus it must be. If we will be temple builders, we must have the temple builders’ lot; I mean, hold a sword in one hand, and a trowel in the other. The Lord make us faithful Nehemiahs, for we have many Sanballats to deal with! But, wherefore should we fear? If Christ be for us, who can be against us? ‘Nil desperandum, Christo duce,’ is the Christian’s motto. Remember me, in the kindest manner, to honest-hearted Mr. Ingham, and tell him that, in a post or two, I hope he will hear from me.”

What Whitefield, for want of time, could not undertake was accomplished by the redoubtable Grimshaw, who, in an 8vo. pamphlet of 98 pages, cudgelled White almost unmercifully.234

Whitefield was answering Lavington. Notwithstanding the recantation extorted from him by the Countess of Huntingdon, only six months before, the irritable prelate could neither forget nor forgive the publication of the fictitious charge that has been already mentioned; and now he vented his anger by issuing anonymously the first part of “The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared.” (8vo. 82 pp.) No good end would be served by lengthened quotations from this scolding pamphlet. The Bishop of Exeter was too angry to be polite. Suffice it to say, that, so far as Whitefield is concerned, Lavington’s attacks are founded upon incautious and improper expressions in Whitefield’s publications—expressions most of which Whitefield himself had publicly lamented and withdrawn, or modified. The pith of the bishop’s pamphlet is contained in his last paragraph but one. The italics in the following quotations are his lordship’s own:—

“This new dispensation is a composition of enthusiasm, superstition, and imposture. When the blood and spirits run high, inflaming the brain and imagination, it is most properly enthusiasm, which is religion run mad; when low and dejected, causing groundless terrors, or the placing of the great duty of man in little observances, it is superstition, which is religion scared out of its senses; when any fraudulent dealings are made use of, and any wrong projects carried on under the mask of piety, it is imposture, and may be termed religion turned hypocrite.”

The title of Whitefield’s answer was as follows: “Some Remarks on a Pamphlet, entitled, ‘The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared;’ wherein several mistakes in some parts of his past writings and conduct are acknowledged, and his present sentiments concerning the Methodists explained. In a letter to the Author. By George Whitefield, late of Pembroke College, Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Countess of Huntingdon. ‘Out of the eater came forth meat’ (Judges xiv. 4). London: printed by W. Strahan, 1749.” (8vo. 48 pp.)

The title-page indicates the contents of Whitefield’s pamphlet. He honestly acknowledges his errors by inserting the letter already given, under the date of “June 24, 1748,” and which, with very little alteration, had been published in Scotland, before Lavington’s malignant ridicule had been committed to the press. Three brief extracts, from Whitefield’s “Remarks,” will be enough. In reply to the accusation of claiming to be inspired and infallible, Whitefield says:—

“No, sir, my mistakes have been too many, and my blunders too frequent, to make me set up for infallibility. I came soon into the world; I have carried high sail, whilst running through a whole torrent of popularity and contempt; and, by this means, I have sometimes been in danger of oversetting; but many and frequent as my mistakes have been, or may be, as soon as I am made sensible of them, they shall be publicly acknowledged and retracted.”

Again, having stated what are the doctrines of the Methodists, Whitefield writes:—

“These are doctrines as diametrically opposite to the Church of Rome, as light to darkness. They are the very doctrines for which Ridley, Latimer, Cranmer, and so many of our first reformers burnt at the stake. And, I will venture to say, they are doctrines which, when attended with a divine energy, always have made, and, maugre all opposition, always will make, their way through the world, however weak the instruments, who deliver them, may be.”

Then, again, the object at which Whitefield and his friends were aiming is thus described:—

“To awaken a drowsy world; to rouse them out of their formality, as well as profaneness, and put them upon seeking after a present and great salvation; to point out to them a glorious rest, which not only remains for the people of God hereafter, but which, by a living faith, the very chief of sinners may enter into even here, and without which the most blazing profession is nothing worth—is, as far as I know, the one thing—the grand and common point, in which all the Methodists’ endeavours centre. This is what some of all denominations want to be reminded of; and to stir them up to seek after the life and power of godliness, that they may be Christians, not only in word and profession, but in spirit and in truth, is, and, through Jesus Christ strengthening me, shall be the one sole business of my life.”

Answers to Bishop Lavington were also written by Wesley, and by the Rev. Vincent Perronet. On the bishop’s side there was published, “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, occasioned by his ‘Remarks on a Pamphlet, entitled, The Enthusiasm of the Methodists and Papists compared.’” (8vo. 59 pp.) Among other railing accusations, the author charges the poor Methodists with making their followers mad; and broadly asserts that some of them have committed murders in Wales, and are now hanging in chains for their crimes. Whitefield was represented as having “a windmill in his head,” and going “up and down the world in search of somebody to beat out his brains.” It is a curious fact, however, that the pamphleteer attacked the Rev. Griffith Jones, who had recently published his Welsh Catechism, more virulently than he attacked Whitefield. The same gentleman (he calls himself a “Layman”) published a second pamphlet, with the title, “A Second Letter to the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, occasioned by his Remarks upon a Pamphlet, entitled, The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compared. In this, Mr. Whitefield’s claim to the doctrine of the 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th Articles of the Church of England is examined; as also that of his great Mr. Griffith Jones, of Landowror, to the doctrine of the 17th Article; together with some further account of the fire kindled by them both in North and South Wales.” (8vo. 111 pp.) The writer was a man of learning, and, though a layman, was well acquainted with theology. The fault of his productions is their bitterness, and their publication of false and even obscene stories. He charges the Welsh Methodists with the practice of adultery, and with holding the doctrine that fornication among themselves was not a sin. He asserts that “Most of the Methodist teachers in Wales are become Father Confessors;” and that one of them, Will Richard, a cobbler, “when he forgives the sins of any person, delivers the party a paper, which, upon its being produced, will procure him or her admittance into heaven.” There are other stories too impure to be reproduced.

It may be added, that such was the public importance attached to the production of Lavington and the reply of Whitefield, that the Monthly Review, for 1749, devoted not fewer than twenty-eight of its pages to an examination of them.

Whitefield’s “Remarks” being finished, he wrote to his friend Hervey, as follows:—

“London, April 5, 1749.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—I suppose you have seen my pamphlet advertised. I want to publicly confess my public mistakes. O how many, how great they have been! How much obliged I am to my enemies for telling me of them! I wish you could see my pamphlet before it comes out. O that it may be blessed to promote God’s glory and the good of souls!

“You will be glad to hear that our Lord has given us a good passover” (Easter), “and that the prospect is still encouraging among the rich. I intend to leave town in about a week, and to begin ranging after precious souls.

“You judge right when you say I do not want to make a sect, or set myself at the head of a party. No; let the name of Whitefield die, so that the cause of Jesus Christ may live. I have seen enough of popularity to be sick of it, and, did not the interest of my blessed Master require my appearing in public, the world should hear but little of me henceforward. But who can desert such a cause? Who, for fear of a little contempt and suffering, would decline the service of such a Master?”

Whitefield here mentions “the prospect among the rich,” but says nothing of the poor. It must not be inferred, however, that his labours and success among the latter were at all abated. The author of “The Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon” gives an instance, belonging to this period, which is worth relating. While the rich assembled in her ladyship’s drawing-room, the poor filled her kitchen. Certain ladies having called to pay a visit to the Countess, she asked them if they had heard Mr. Whitefield preach; and, upon being answered in the negative, she expressed a wish that they should attend his preaching on the day following. The ladies did so; and the Countess, when they next met, enquired how they liked him. “O my lady,” they answered, “of all the preachers we ever heard, he is the most strange and unaccountable. Among other preposterous things, he declared that Jesus Christ is so willing to receive sinners, that He does not object to receive even the devil’s castaways! My lady, did you ever hear of such a thing since you were born?” Her ladyship acknowledged that the language was a little singular, but, as Mr. Whitefield was in the house, she would send for him, and he should answer for himself. Whitefield came; the previous conversation was repeated; and he said: “My lady, I must plead guilty to the charge; whether I did right or otherwise, your ladyship shall judge from the following circumstance. Half an hour ago, a poor, miserable-looking, aged female requested to speak with me. I desired her to be shewn into your parlour. She said, ‘Oh, sir, I was accidentally passing the door of the chapel where you were preaching last night, and I went in, and one of the first things I heard you say was, that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive sinners, that He did not object to receiving the devil’s castaways. Now, sir, I have been on the town many years, and am so worn out in his service, that, I think, I may with truth be called one of the devil’s castaways. Do you think, sir, that Jesus Christ would receive me?’ I,” said Whitefield, “assured her there was not a doubt of it, if she was but willing to go to Him.” The sequel of the story was, the poor creature was converted, and died testifying that the blood of Christ can cleanse from all unrighteousness.

On leaving London, Whitefield proceeded to Gloucester and Bristol. Early in the month of May, he went to Portsmouth, where he spent near a fortnight, preaching with a success which was marvellous even to himself. Writing to Lady Huntingdon, on May 8th, he says:—

“The night after I came here” (Portsmouth), “I preached to many thousands, a great part of whom were attentive, but some of the baser sort made a little disturbance. On the Friday evening” (May 5th), “I preached at Gosport, where the mob has generally been very turbulent; but all was hushed and quiet. Every time I have preached, the word has seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the people’s hearts.”235

On May 11th, he wrote to the Rev. Mr. M’Culloch, Presbyterian minister, at Cambuslang:—

“I have been preaching at Portsmouth every day, for a week past, to very large and attentive auditories. I hear of many who are brought under convictions; prejudices seem to be universally removed; and a people who, but a week ago, were speaking all manner of evil against me, are now very desirous of my staying longer among them. What cannot God do?

“At London, real good has been done among the rich, and the poor receive the gospel with as much gladness as ever. Mr. Harris and some others have agreed to continue preaching at the Tabernacle, and elsewhere, as formerly. I should be glad to hear of a revival at Cambuslang; but you have already seen such things as are seldom seen above once in a century.”

On the day following, in a letter to the Countess Delitz, he says:—

“A wilderness is the best name this world deserves. Ceiled houses, gaudy attire, and rich furniture, do not make it appear less so to a mind enlightened to see the beauties of Jesus of Nazareth. The preaching of the cross has been much blessed here. Multitudes daily attend, and many are much affected. It would please your ladyship to see the alteration that has been made in a week.”

On the same day, he wrote to Lady Fanny Shirley:—

“What a glorious opportunity is now afforded you, to shew, even before kings, that we are made kings indeed, and priests unto God, and that it is our privilege, as Christians, to reign over sin, hell, the world, and ourselves. O the happiness of a life wholly devoted to the ever-blessed God, and spent in communion with Him! It is indeed heaven begun on earth. I trust, some in these parts, who a few days ago had never heard of this kingdom of God, now begin to look after it. I have not seen a more visible alteration made in a people for some time. Thousands have attended, in the greatest order; and numbers are affected.”

On Monday, May 15, Whitefield set out for Wales, taking Salisbury and Bristol on his way. In ten days, he reached his wife’s house at Abergavenny, where he spent forty-eight hours of “sweet, very sweet retirement,—so sweet,” says he, “that I should be glad never to be heard of again. But this must not be. A necessity is laid upon me; and woe is me, if I preach not the gospel of Christ.”

Whitefield’s was a warm heart. Distress in others always moved him. His sympathy was not restrained by bigotry. In the fullest sense, it made him a good Samaritan. While at Abergavenny, he wrote to a friend in London, who had charge of “the poor widows, and the other Tabernacle petitioners,” and laid before him a case of need, which he wished to be relieved out of the Tabernacle funds. “On Thursday,” says he, “I saw Mr. E―― I――, the Dissenting minister, and found him very meanly apparelled. He is a most worthy man. Some time ago, he sold £15 worth of his books, to finish a small meeting-house, in which he preaches. He has but £3 per annum from the fund, and about as much from his people. He lives very low, but enjoys much of God; and has as great understanding of the figurative parts of Scripture as any one I know. He is a Zacharias, and his wife an Elizabeth. Four or five guineas might be bestowed on them. What a scene will open at the great day! How many rich priests will stand confounded, whilst the poor despised faithful ministers of Christ shall enter, after all their tribulation, into the joy of their Lord!”

Whitefield spent a glorious month among the Welsh mountains. In a letter, dated “Carmarthen, June 5, 1749,” he writes: “I am still in suspense about my wife;236 but, what is best, (glory be to God!) the gospel runs, and is glorified. I have preached fourteen times within the past eight days, and the word has everywhere fallen with weight and power. Yesterday was a great day here.”

From Carmarthen, Whitefield proceeded to Haverfordwest, where, on June 8th, he wrote to Lady Huntingdon:—

“Congregations grow larger and larger. All the towns hereabout are quite open for the word of God. Yesterday, I preached near Pembroke; to-day and next Lord’s-day, I am to preach here;237 and to-morrow, at St. David’s. Not a dog stirs a tongue. The mayor and gentlemen at Pembroke were very civil; and the young men bred up at Carmarthen Academy were much taken. The congregations consist of many thousands, and their behaviour is very affecting. Indeed, we have blessed seasons. O free grace!”

Whitefield got back to Bristol on June 23. Hence the following, addressed to the Rev. James Hervey:—

“Bristol, June 24, 1749.

“Yesterday, God brought me here, after having carried me a circuit of about eight hundred miles, and enabled me to preach, I suppose, to upwards of a hundred thousand souls. I have been in eight Welsh counties; and, I think, we have not had one dry meeting. The work in Wales is much upon the advance, and is likely to increase daily. Had my dear Mr. Hervey been there to have seen the simplicity of the people, I am persuaded, he would have said, ‘Sit anima mea cum Methodistis!’ But every one to his post. On Monday or Tuesday next, I set out for London. Good Lady Huntingdon is here,238 and goes on, in her usual way, doing good.”

The Honourable Jonathan Belcher has been mentioned as one of the early friends of Whitefield. For eleven years, from 1730 to 1741, this gentleman was the governor of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, and performed his official duties with great ability. It so happened, however, that, just about the time when he shewed Whitefield so much honour, in 1740, an unprincipled cabal, by falsehood, forgery, and injustice, succeeded in depriving him of his office. Upon this, he repaired to the court of George II., where he vindicated his character and conduct, and exposed the baseness of his enemies. He was restored to the royal favour; and, in 1747, was appointed governor of New Jersey. In 1748, he obtained, from King George II., a charter for the founding of New Jersey College.239 This was an institution in which Whitefield was greatly interested. As early as November 21, 1748, he wrote to the Rev. Ebenezer Pemberton: “I have been endeavouring, in Scotland, to do all the service I could to the New Jersey College; but I believe nothing will be done to purpose, unless you or some other popular minister come over, and make an application in person. In all probability, a collection might then be recommended by the General Assembly, and large contributions be raised among private persons who wish well to Zion.” And now again, in another letter to Mr. Pemberton, dated “London, July 10, 1749,” Whitefield writes: “Is there no prospect of your coming over? Your Mr. T―― might do much for New Jersey College; but I have told you my mind in a former letter. May God direct for the best! I have a great mind to return to my beloved America this autumn, but am not yet determined. My wife arrived about a fortnight ago.”