The works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A., Vol. 3 (of 6)

SHALL I promise and not perform? I dare not. This therefore comes to inform you, that I am now as it were an old inhabitant of Lisbon, having been here above a week. In that time, what have I seen and heard? Strange and incredible things, not more strange than instructive. Never did civil and religious liberty appear to me in so amiable a light as now. What a spirit must Martin Luther, and the first Reformers be endued with, that dared to appear as they did for God! Lord, hasten that blessed time, when others, excited by the same spirit, shall perform like wonders. O happy England! O happy Methodists, who are Methodists indeed! And all I account such, who being dead to sects and parties, aim at nothing else but an holy method of living to, and dying in the blessed Jesus. This be their, this be my happy lot! Blessed be his name for calling me to a pilgrim life! Thanks be to his great name, for constraining me to leave all that is near and dear to me, for the sake of his glorious gospel. He takes care to provide for me. A gentleman hath most gladly received me into his house, and behaves like a friend indeed. To-day I dine with the Consul: ere long, I hope to sit down and eat bread in the kingdom of God. I wait for this salvation, O Lord! You must pray for me, and desire others to join with you. I intend writing to our elect Lady before I leave Lisbon. In about ten days we expect to sail. For the present, adieu! This leaves us all well. My fatherless charge is in good health. O that they may be converted and made new creatures in Christ! O that I may begin to begin to be converted myself.—I am a dwarf.—Less than the least of all, shall be my motto still. As such, pray for, my dear friend.

O the happiness of seeing and enjoying all in God, even a God in Christ! Such happiness they only can know, who being separated from all that is near and dear unto them, can wrap themselves in Him, in whose presence there is life, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore. This be my happy lot, during my present exile state! O my dear tabernacle friends, my dear never to be forgotten hearers, into what a fair ground is your lot cast! What a goodly heritage hath the Lord of all Lords vouchsafed you! I remember my promise, I think of your hours of meeting, and though absent in body, am, notwithstanding, present in spirit, and live in hopes of hearing of your stedfastness and joy in God our Saviour. Bless him, O bless him from your inmost souls, that you have been taught the way to him, without the help of fictitious saints. Thank him night and day, that to you, even to you are committed the lively oracles of God. Adore him continually for giving you to hear them preached with power, and pity and pray for those, who are forbid the use of this sacred depositum, and are led blindfold day by day, by crafty and designing men. May you see and improve your privileges! Much, very much indeed is given you. Of you, therefore, God and man may justly require the more: accept this in love. Continue to pray for me and my fatherless pilgrim charge. Blessed be God they are all well. I write this from a merchant’s house, whom the Lord of all lords hath inclined to receive me; let him not be forgotten. In a short time we expect to move. Still my request is, “If thy presence go not with me. Lord Jesus, send me not even from hence!” I wish you all, dear friends, much, very much of it. I intend to write to as many as I can, and I beg them and you to accept this as a token of love unfeigned, from, my very dear T——,

THROUGH the goodness of a gracious and never-failing God, we have been at this place near a fortnight. Our voyage was but about nine days long, and the same God who took care of us on the great deep, hath also provided for me on shore. A merchant of great credit hath received me into his house, and every day I have seen or heard something, that hath had a native tendency to make me thankful for the glorious reformation. O that our people were equally reformed in their lives, as they are in their doctrines and manner of worship! But alas! alas!—O for another Luther, O for that wished-for season, when every thing that is antichristian shall be totally destroyed by the breath of the Redeemer’s mouth, and brightness of his appearing! Then should I, even ill and hell-deserving I, be entirely conformed to the copy of my great Exemplar, and nor be such a dwarf as I am in the divine life. As my present situation leads me to be all eye and ear, I endeavour to look more into my heart. But the more I see it, the more I admire the freeness and richness of that grace, that hath called me out of darkness into God’s marvelous light, and made me a minister of the everlasting gospel. May this voyage be over-ruled for my improvement in that delightful employ! Hitherto, I think it hath done me good. The country agrees with my bodily health; and, through grace, I trust what I have seen and heard hath benefited my soul. My fatherless charge are all well, and I hope in a few days we shall set sail for Georgia. From thence, God willing, honoured Sir, you shall hear from me again. In the meanwhile, I recommend myself to the continuance of your daily intercession, as being, very dear and honoured Sir,

THIS leaves me pretty well satisfied (not to say surfeited) with the ecclesiastical curiosities of Lisbon. This day fortnight we arrived; and the country being in want of rain, and it being Lent season, we have been savoured with frequent processions, and several extraordinary pieces of scenery. Alas! to what lengths will superstition run! And how expensive is the pageantry of a false religion! Blessed be God for being born in England! Blessed be God for being born again, and thereby being taught to worship the Father in spirit and in truth! This, my dear Sir, I believe is your happy portion; and therefore if it should be our lot never to meet here any more, I am persuaded nothing can prevent our meeting in a blissful country hereafter. O that we may be kept from flagging in the latter stages of our road! I am confounded, when I think what a drone I have been, and daily wonder why the Lord employs such a worthless wretch.—Surely it must be, that in me he may shew all long-suffering. Help me, my dear friend, to praise him. Lisbon air seems healthy for the body; and what I have seen and heard I trust will benefit my soul. Be pleased to remember me to Mrs. C——, your son, and all enquiring friends. You will not forget to visit my widow wife. Blessed be God, her Maker is her husband, and ere long we shall all sit down together at the feast, the marriage supper of the Lamb. In a believing prospect of this, I subscribe myself, very dear Sir,

I OWE you much love.—I wish you and yours much ♦happiness, and earnestly pray that you may walk together many years as heirs of the grace of life. Was I to be confined long in my present situation, I should be in danger of envying my protestant friends, who breathe in a free air, and are taught to worship the father of spirits in spirit and in truth. This I fear is the lot but of few here; all is pageantry and pomp. Particulars perhaps I may send by another opportunity. Blessed be God that I have seen and heard for myself. It surpasseth all description. This week we expect to sail: I beg the continuance of both your prayers; it will be a very great act of charity; for indeed I am a poor helpless worm, but notwithstanding, if I know any thing of my heart, willing to spend and be spent for Jesus. He doth not forsake me on the mighty waters.—My fatherless charge are all well, and in due time I hope we shall safely arrive at our desired port.—Ere long I hope to be, from whence I shall never put to sea any more. O for a triumphant entrance into the blissful harbour! Jesus is able to do this for us. To his never-failing mercy do I earnestly commend you, your brother, and all enquiring friends, as being, dear Sir,

Your affectionate, obliged friend, and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXV.

To Mr. ——.

Lisbon, April 1, 1754.

My dear Friend,

BY this time, I suppose, you have heard of my arrival at Lisbon, and are wondering what led me thither, especially since my last informed you of my intention to go to Georgia by way of New-York. This was really my design at the time of my writing; but being afterward called by Providence to take with me several orphan children, I thought it most adviseable to go and settle them, and my other domestic affairs, at the Orphan-house first, that I might visit the northern parts of America with more ease and freedom in my own mind.—It happened that the Success, Captain Thomson, bound for Port-Royal, South-Carolina, (which is not very far from Georgia) was then almost ready to sail.—I sent for the Owner, and finding that the ship was to touch at Lisbon to unload some wheat, it occasioned a little demur; but, upon second thoughts, believing it might be serviceable to me, as a preacher and protestant, to see something of the superstitions of the church of Rome, I took my passage, and embarked in the Success the 7th of March. On the 14th we reached Cape Finister. On the 15th came in sight of the Burlings; and on the 16th anchored safe before Bellem, about four miles distance from Lisbon, the metropolis of Portugal. As I knew nobody there, and had formed but an indifferent idea of the inhabitants, from the account that had been given me of them, I had purposed within myself to keep on board, and go ashore only now and then in the day-time. But Providence so ordered it, that a gentleman of the factory, who had heard me himself, and whose brother had been awakened under my ministry several years ago, immediately, on hearing of my arrival, sent me an offer of his house during my stay. I thankfully accepted it; and special leave being procured for my going ashore, I was carried in a chaise and pair from Bellem to Lisbon. A new scene, both in respect to the situation of the place, the fashion of the buildings, and the dress of the inhabitants, presented itself all the way. But what engaged my attention most, was the number of crucifixes, and little images of the Virgin Mary, and of other real or reputed saints, which were placed almost in every street, or fixed against the walls of the houses almost at every turning, with lamps hanging before them. To these, I observed the people bow as they passed along; and near some of them stood several little companies, singing with great earnestness.——This seemed to me very odd, and gave me an idea of what further ecclesiastical curiosities would probably fall in my way, if I should be detained here any time. These expectations were quickly raised; for, not long after my arrival at my new lodgings, (where I was received and entertained with great gentility, hospitality and friendliness) upon looking out of the window, I saw a company of priests and friars bearing lighted wax tapers, and attended by various sorts of people, some of which had bags and baskets of victuals in their hands, and others carried provisions upon their shoulders on sticks between two. After these, followed a mixed multitude, singing with a very audible voice, and addressing the Virgin Mary in their usual strain, “Ora pro nobis.” In this manner they proceeded to the prison, where all was deposited for the use of the poor persons confined therein. But a far more pompous procession of the like nature (as a stander-by informed me) passed by a few days before. In this there were near three hundred Franciscan friars, many of which (besides porters hired for the purpose) were loaded with a variety of food; and those who bore no burden, carried either ladles or spoons in their hands. Sights of this nature being quite a novelty to me, I was fond of attending as many of them as I could. Two things concurred to make them more frequent at this juncture,—the season of Lent,—and an excessive drought, which threatened the total destruction of the fruits of the earth. For the averting so great a judgment, and for the imploring the much longed-for blessing of rain, daily processions had been made from one convent or another, for a considerable time.—One of these I saw: it was looked upon as a pretty grand one, being made up of the Carmelite friars, the parish priests, and a great number of what they call the brothers of the order, who walked two by two in divers habits, holding a long and very large lighted wax-taper in their right hands. Amidst these was carried, upon eight or ten mens shoulders, a tall image of the Virgin Mary, in a kind of man’s attire; for I think she had a very fine white wig on her head, (a dress she often appears in) and was much adorned with jewels and glittering stones. At some distance from the Lady, under a large canopy of state, and supported likewise by six or eight persons, came a priest, holding in his hand some noted relic. After him, followed several thousands of people, joining with the friars in singing, “Eandem cantilenam, Ora pro nobis,” all the way. Still rain was denied, and still processions were continued. At length the clouds began to gather, and the mercury in the barometer fell very much. Then was brought out a wooden image, which they say never failed. It was the figure of our blessed Lord, cloathed with purple robes, and crowned with thorns. I think they call him the Lord of the Passion. Upon his shoulders he bore a large cross, under the weight of which he was represented as stooping, till his body bent almost double. He was brought from the Le Grass convent in very great pomp, and placed in a large cathedral church.——Being on board at that time, I lost this sight; but the subsequent evening I beheld the Seigneur fixed on an eminence in a large cathedral church, near the altar, surrounded with wax tapers of a prodigious size.—He was attended by many noblemen, and thousands of spectators of all ranks and stations, who crouded from every quarter, and in their turns, were admitted by the guards to come within the rails, and perform their devotions. This they expressed by kneeling, and kissing the Seigneur’s heel, by putting their left and right eye to it, and then touching it with their beads, which a gentleman in waiting received from them, and then returned again. This scene was repeated for three days successively; and during all this time, the church and space before it was so thronged with carriages and people, that there was scarce any passing. The music on this occasion was extremely soft, and the church was illuminated in a very striking manner. The third day in the forenoon it rained, and soon after the Seigneur was conducted home in as great splendour, and with much greater rejoicing, than when he was brought forth. As my situation was very commodious, I saw the whole; and afterwards went and heard part of the sermon, which was delivered before him, in the church to which the Seigneur belonged. The preacher was full of action; and in some part of his discourse, (as one who understood Portuguese informed me) pointing to the image, he said, “Now he is at rest.—He went out in justice, but is returned in mercy.” And towards the conclusion, he called upon the people to join with him in an extempore prayer. This they did with great fervency, which was expressed not only by repeating it aloud, but by beating their breasts, and clapping their cheeks, and weeping heartily.——To compleat the solemnity, immediately after the delivery of the blessing, all on a sudden, from the place near which the image stood, there was heard a most soft and soothing symphony of music, which being ended, the assembly broke up, and I returned to my lodgings; not a little affected, to see so many thousands led away from the simplicity of the gospel, by such a mixture of human artifice and blind superstition, of which indeed I could have formed no idea, had I not been an eye witness. This concern was still increased, by what I heard from some of my fellow passengers, who informed me, that about eleven one night, after I came aboard, they not only heard a friar preaching most fervently before the Seigneur, but also saw several companies of penitents brought in, lashing and whipping themselves severely. How little unlike this, to those who cut themselves with knives and lancets, and cried out from morning till night, “O Baal, hear us.”——Methinks I hear you say, “And had I been present, I should have wished for the spirit of an Elijah to—” Hush, my friend,—I am content to guess at the rest till we meet. In the mean while, let us comfort ourselves with this thought, that there is a season approaching, when the Lord God of Elijah will himself come, and destroy this and every other species of antichrist, by the breath of his mouth, and the brightness of his appearing, even by the all-conquering manifestations of his eternal Spirit. Whether as men, christians, and protestants, we have not more and more reason to pray night and day, for the hastening on of that glorious and long wished-for period, you will be better able to judge, when I send you (as I purpose to do, if I have time) a further account of a Lent procession or two, of which I was also a spectator.——At present I can only beg a continual remembrance at a throne of grace, as being, my dear friend,

THOUGH some other business demands my attentions yet I must not forget the promise made you of a further account of the processions I saw at Lisbon.——Some of those already mentioned, were extraordinary, by reason of their great drought; but that which is to be the subject of my present letter, was an annual one: it being customary at Lisbon to exhibit some procession or another every Friday in Lent. An intelligent Protestant, who stood near me, was so good as to be my interpreter of the dumb shew as it passed along.—I say dumb shew: for you must know it was chiefly made up of waxen or wooden images, carried on mens shoulders through the streets, intending to represent the life and death of St. Francis, the founder of one of their religious orders. They were brought out from the Franciscan convent, and were preceded by three persons in scarlet habits, with baskets in their hands, in which they received the alms of the spectators, for the benefit of the poor prisoners. After these, came two little boys in party-coloured cloaths, with wings fixed on their shoulders, in imitation of little angels.—Then appeared the figure of St. Francis, very gay and beau-like, as he used to be before his conversion. In the next, he was introduced under conviction, and consequently stript of his finery. Soon after this, was exhibited an image of our blessed Lord himself, in a purple gown, with long black hair, with St. Francis lying before him, to receive his immediate orders. Then came the Virgin Mother, (horresco referens) with Christ her son at her left hand, and St. Francis making his obeisance to both.——Here, if I remember aright, he made his first appearance in his friar’s habit, with his hair cut short, but not as yet shaved in the crown of his head. After a little space, followed a mitred Cardinal gaudily attired, and before him lay St. Francis almost prostrate, in order to be confirmed in his office. Soon after this, he appears quite metamorphosed into a monk, his crown shorn, his habit black, and his loins girt with a knotted cord.—Here he prays to our Saviour hanging on a cross, that the marks of the wounds in his hands, feet, and side, might be impressed on the same parts of his body. The prayer is granted; blood comes from the hands, feet, and side; and the saint, with great devotion, receives the impressions. This was represented by red waxen strings, reaching from those parts of the image to the corresponding parts of St. Francis’s body. Upon this he begins to do wonders; and therefore, in a little while, he is carried along, as holding up a house which was just falling. This miracle, they say, was performed (if my information be true) at Madrid, but the particulars of its history I have forgotten. At length the father dies, and is brought forth lying in his grave. But lo! the briars and nettles under which he lay, are turned into fine and fragrant flowers. After this he is borne along upon a bier covered with a silver pall, and four friars lamenting over him.——He then appears for the last time, but with an increase of power; for he was represented as drawing tormented people out of purgatory with his knotted cord, which, as you may well imagine, the poor souls catched at, and took hold of very eagerly. At length came a gorgeous friar under a splendid canopy, bearing in his hand a piece of the holy cross. After him followed two more little winged boys, and then a long train of fat and well-flavoured Franciscans, with their Calceis Fenestratis, as Erasmus calls them; and so the procession ended. Methinks I hear you say, “It is full time;”—and so say I: for as the sight itself disgusted me, so I am persuaded the bare narration of it, though ever so short, cannot be very pleasant to one who I know abhors every thing that savours of superstition and idolatry. We will therefore take our leave of St. Francis, whose procession was in the day time: but I must tell you it is only to inform you of another of a much more awful and shocking nature, which I saw afterwards at night. About ten o’clock, being deeply engaged in conversation with my kind host, in came an Englishman, and told me in all haste, that he had seen a train of near two hundred penitents passing along, and that in all probability I might be gratified with the same sight, if I hastened to a place whither he would conduct me. I very readily obeyed the summons, and, as curiosity quickened my pace, we soon came up with some of those poor creatures, who were then making a halt, and kneeling in the street, whilst a friar from a high cross, with an image of our Lord crucified in his hand, was preaching to them and the populace with great vehemence. Sermon being ended, the penitents went forwards, and several companies followed after with their respective preaching friars at their head, bearing crucifixes. These they pointed to and brandished frequently, and the hearers as frequently beat their breasts, and clapped their cheeks. At proper pauses they stopped and prayed, and one of them, more zealous than the rest, before the King’s palace, sounded the word penitentia through a speaking trumpet. The penitents themselves were clothed and covered all over with white linen vestments, only holes were made for their eyes to peep out at. All were bare-footed, and all had long heavy chains fastened to their ancles, which, when dragged along the street, made a dismal rattling: but though alike in dress, yet in other respects there was great variety amongst them. For some carried great stones on their backs, and others dead mens bones and skulls in their hands. Some bore large and seemingly very heavy crosses upon their shoulders, whilst others had their arms extended quite wide, or carried a bow full of swords with the points downwards. Most of them whipped and lashed themselves, some with cords, and others with flat bits of iron. It being a moonshine night, I could see them quite well; and indeed some of them struck so hard, that I perceived their backs (left bare on purpose to be slashed) were quite red, and swoln very much by the violence and repetition of the blows. Had my dear friend been there, he would have joined with me in saying, that the whole scene was horrible;—so horrible, that, being informed it was to be continued till morning, I was glad to return from whence I came about midnight.——Had you been with me, I know you would have joined with me in praising and gratefully adoring the Lord of all lords, for the great wonder of the reformation, and also for that glorious deliverance wrought out for us a few years past, in defeating the unnatural rebellion. O what a mighty spirit and power from on high must Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, Zuinglius, and those glorious reformers, be necessarily endued with, who dared first openly to oppose and stem such a torrent of superstition and spiritual tyranny! and what gratitude owe we to those, who, under God, were instrumental in saving us from the return of such spiritual slavery, and such blind obedience to a papal power! To have had a papist for our king;—a papist, if not born, yet from his infancy nursed up at Rome;—a papist, one of whose sons is advanced to the ecclesiastical dignity of a Cardinal, and both under the strongest obligations to support the interest of that church, whose superstitions, as well as political state principles, they have sucked in, and imbibed even from their infancy. But, blessed be God, the snare is broken, and we are delivered. O for protestant practices to be added to protestant principles! O for an obediential acknowledgment to the ever-blessed God for our repeated deliverances! But alas!——Pardon me, my dear friend, I stop to weep. Adieu. I cannot enlarge, but leaving you to guess from what source my tears flow, I must hasten to subscribe myself, my dear Sir,

THE time of our departure hence is just at hand. I cannot move without sending you a few lines; I remember your unmerited love, I remember our affectionate parting, and I trust feel the benefit of your distant prayers. Though called to part with what is dearer to me than life, yet my heavenly Father hath not left me comfortless. True, it is a silent, but I hope an instructive period of life. One must be all eye and ear at Lisbon:—and indeed, I would not but have seen and heard what hath passed here, since our arrival, upon any account. It surpasseth all description. Surely England, and English privileges civil and religious, will be dearer to me than ever. The preachers here have also taught me something; their action is graceful. Vividi oculi,—vividæ manus,—omnia vivida. Surely our English preachers would do well, to be a little more fervent in their address. They have truth on their side, why should superstition and falshood run away with all that is pathetic and affecting? But my dear friend needs not this note. Blessed be God for making you fervent in spirit. Go on, my dear Sir, in the name and strength of Jesus. Sequar, etsi non passibus æquis.—Nil desperandum Christo duce. Pray remember me to all that love him, and are so kind as to enquire after a worthless worm for his great name’s sake. It will be an act of the greatest charity to intercede in my behalf. Alas! alas! I am a dwarf indeed. My dear Sir, pray that I may grow, I cannot bear to live at this dying rate. I want to be a flame of fire. That this may be your happy lot, is and shall be, through Christ strengthening me, the earnest request of, my very dear Sir,

STILL I am here, surrounded with every thing, in an ecclesiastical way, that can offend a mind which desires to worship the Lord Jesus in outward as well as inward simplicity. To-morrow is what they call Holy Thursday. May I be as solicitous to have my heart illuminated by the spirit of God, as the people here are to illuminate their churches and altars. The pageantry is indeed incredible. Though we have been detained longer than expectation, yet I trust what I have seen and heard, will do me service in the future part of my life. Was I returning to, as I am going from England, and had I a proper companion, I would make a tour to Leghorn, Genoa, Rome, &c. and so to Marseilles. What instruction would such a mind as yours gather from such various scenes? O that I may be like a busy bee, and suck some honey even from superstitious flowers! I do not wonder now, whence the illuminations, dressing of altars, and those other things which I have lately mentioned in a public manner on another occasion, took their birth. It is all in imitation of what is daily practised abroad. May the Lord Jesus crush the cockatrice in its egg, and prevent its growing any bigger! I write this from a merchant’s house, who sent for me from on board. Thus our Lord provides for those that are employed for him. Help me to praise him. My fatherless charge are all well. In a day or two we expect to sail. My most cordial respects attend your mother, and all your dear relations. Continue to pray for me, and thereby add to the obligations already conferred on, my very dear friend,

PROVIDENCE still detains us at Lisbon, and therefore I know you will be enquiring what more news from thence?—Truly, as extraordinary as ever—for I have now seen the solemnities of an Holy-Thursday, which is a very high day in this metropolis, and particularly remarkable for the grand illuminations of the churches, and the king’s washing twelve poor men’s feet.—Through the interest of a friend, I got admittance into the gallery where the ceremony was performed. It was large, and hung with tapestry; one piece of which represented the humble Jesus washing the feet of his disciples.—Before this, upon a small eminence, sat twelve men in black. At the upper end, and in several other parts of the gallery, were side-boards of large gold and silver basons and ewers most curiously wrought; and near these a large table covered with a variety of dishes, all cold, set off and garnished after the Portuguese fashion. Public high mass being over, his majesty came in attended with his nobles, who seemed to me to look like so many Roman senators. The act of washing the feet, I did not get in time enough to see; but that being ended, several of the young noblemen served up the dishes to the king’s brother and uncles; these again handed them to his majesty, who gave (I think) twelve of them in all to each poor man. Every thing was carried on with a great deal of decency and good humour. The young noblemen served very chearfully, their seniors looked quite pleased, and the king and his royal relations behaved in a very polite, easy manner,—upon the whole, though as you may easily guess it was not an exact copy of the tapestry, yet, as the poor mens cloaths and food, when sold, came to about ten moidores; and as there was little mixture of superstition in it, I cannot say but I was as well pleased with my morning’s entertainment as with any thing I had seen since my arrival.—I believe the whole took up near two hours. After dinner we went to see the churches; but the ♦magnificence and sumptuousness of the furniture, cannot well be expressed.—Many of them were hung on the occasion with purple damask trimmed with gold.—In one of them there was a solid silver altar of several yards circumference, and near twelve steps high: and in another a gold one, still more magnificent, of about the same dimensions.—Its basis was studded with many precious stones, and near the top were placed silver images, in representation of angels. Each step was filled with large silver candlesticks, with wax-tapers in them, which going up by a regular ascent, ’till they formed themselves into a pyramid, made a most glittering and splendid blaze.—The great altars also of the other churches were illuminated most profusely, and silver pots of artificial flowers, with a large wax-taper between each, were fixed all round several of them.—Between these, were large paintings in black and white, representing the different parts of our Saviour’s passion. And, in short, all was so magnificently, so superstitiously grand, that I am persuaded several thousands of pounds would not defray the expences of this one day. Go which way you would, nothing was to be seen but illuminations within, and hurry without.—For all persons, princes and crowned heads themselves not excepted, are obliged on this day to visit seven churches or altars, in imitation, as is supposed, of our Lord’s being hurried from one tribunal to another, before he was condemned to be hung upon the cross.—I saw the queen pass by in great state to visit three of them. Velvet cushions were carried before her Majesty, and boards laid along the streets for herself and retinue to walk upon. Guards attended before and behind, and thousands of spectators stood on each side to gaze at them as they passed along. Being desirous of seeing the manner of their entrance, we got into the last church before they came. It was that of St. Domingo, where was the gold altar before mentioned, and at which her Majesty and train knelt about a quarter of an hour.—All the while, the Dominican friars sung most surprisingly sweet. But as I stood near the altar, over against the great door, I must confess my very inmost soul was struck with a secret horror, when, upon looking up, I saw over the front of the great window of the church, the heads of many hundred Jews, painted on canvas, who had been condemned by what they call the Holy Inquisition, and carried out from that church to be burnt.—Strange way this, of compelling people to come in! Such was not thy method, O meek and compassionate Lamb of God! Thou camest not to destroy mens lives, but to save them.—But bigotry is as cruel as the grave.—It knows no remorse.—From all its bitter and dire effects, good Lord deliver us!—But to return to the Queen. Having performed her devotions, she departed and went in a coach of state, I believe, directly from the church to her palace, and without doubt sufficiently fatigued: for, besides walking through the streets to the several churches, her Majesty also, and the princesses, had been engaged in waiting upon, and washing the feet of twelve poor women, in as public a manner as the king. In our walk home, we met his Majesty with his brother and two uncles, attended only with a few noblemen in black velvet, and a few guards without halberts. I suppose he was returning from his last church, and, as one may well imagine, equally fatigued with his royal consort and daughters.—When church and state thus combine to be nursing fathers and nursing mothers to superstition, is it any wonder that its credit and influence is so diffusive among the populace?—O Britain! Britain! hast thou but zeal proportionable to thy knowledge, and inward purity adequate to the simplicity of thy external worship, in what a happy and god-like situation wouldst thou be! Here I could weep again.—Again I leave you to guess the cause; and if I can send you one more letter of a like nature, before we leave this place, it is all you must expect from, my dear friend,