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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”:—

And again, eight days later:—

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:—

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

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

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.

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:—

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.

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:—

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:—

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

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:—

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

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:—

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:—

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

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:—

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:—

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.

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:—