“London, July 6, 1761. Blessed be God, I am better! Blessed be God that you are so likewise! Who knows what rest and time may produce? Oh to be blanks in the hands of Jesus! When shall this once be? What good news by sea and land! Grace! Grace!”
Wesley was now in Yorkshire, and was anxious about the health of his old and much-loved friend. He had been in company with Venn, who had become vicar of Huddersfield, and Venn had created fears that Whitefield’s labours and life were almost ended. Hence, in a letter to Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, the London banker, Wesley wrote:—
“Bradford, July 16, 1761. Mr. Venn informs me that Mr. Whitefield continues very weak. I was in hope, when he wrote to me lately, that he was swiftly recovering strength. Perhaps, sir, you can send me better news concerning him. What need have we, while we do live, to live in earnest!”488
For weeks after this, Whitefield was almost entirely silent. To an afflicted friend, he wrote:—
“London, October 13, 1761.
“My dear Fellow-prisoner,—I hope the all-wise Redeemer is teaching us to be content to be buried ourselves, and to bury our friends. This is a hard but important lesson. I have not preached a single sermon for some weeks. Last Sunday, I spoke a little; but I have felt its effects ever since. Father, Thy will be done! Glory be to God, that some good was done at Plymouth! The news drove me to my knees, and stirred up an ambition to be employed again. I have met with changes. My two old servants are married, and gone. Mr. E——” (query John Edwards?) “has preached for me some time. As yet, the congregations are kept up.”
Immediately after this, Whitefield set out for Edinburgh, to obtain medical advice. While halting at Leeds, he received news of the death of one of his assistants at Bethesda; and wrote as follows:—
“Leeds, October 24, 1761. I am still in this dying world, but frequently tempted to wish the report of my death had been true, since my disorder keeps me from my old delightful work of preaching. But Jesus can teach us to exercise our passive as well as active graces. Fain would I say, ‘Thy will be done!’ I know now what nervous disorders are. Blessed be God that they were contracted in His service! I am riding for my health; but I think a voyage would brace me up. I impute my present disorder, in a great measure, to the want of my usual sea voyages.
“What sudden changes here! O that my great change were come! Happy Polhill! Bethesda’s loss is thy gain! To be carried to heaven in an instant; from a ship’s cabin into Abraham’s bosom; O what a blessing! God sanctify and make up the loss! We shall find few Polhills.
“I see you are running in arrears. Some way or other, I trust, they will be discharged. But I would have the family reduced as low as can be. The keeping of those who are grown up hurts them, and increases my expense. I have little comfort in many whom I have assisted. But our reward is with the Lord. I can at present bear very little of outward cares.”
Five days later, Whitefield had reached Newcastle, where he wrote the following to Mr. Robert Keen, of London:—
“Newcastle, October 29, 1761.
“My dear steady Friend,—Hitherto the Lord has helped me. Surely His mercy endureth for ever. I bear riding sixty miles a day in a post-chaise quite well. Friends, both here and at Leeds, are prudent, and do not press me to preach much. But, I hope, I am travelling in order to preach. If not, Lord Jesus help me to drink the bitter cup of a continued silence with a holy resignation, believing that what is, is best! Everywhere, as I came along, my spiritual children gladly received me. I hope you go on well at London. It is the Jerusalem—the Goshen. To-morrow, I may set forwards towards Edinburgh.”
At Edinburgh, Whitefield consulted four eminent physicians.489 There are only two more letters to tell the remainder of his story during the year 1761: the first addressed to the Rev. John Gillies, of Glasgow; the second to Mr. Robert Keen, of London.
“Edinburgh, November 9, 1761. Though I have been very ill since my coming to Edinburgh, yet I must come to see my dear friends at Glasgow. I cannot be there till noon on the 12th inst. Little, very little, can be expected from a dying man.”
“Leeds, December 1, 1761. It is near ten at night and I am to set off to-morrow in the Leeds stage for London. Silence is enjoined me for a while by the Edinburgh physicians. They say my case is then recoverable. The great Physician will direct.”
The poor fellow apparently was dying; but, even under such circumstances, his enemies could not restrain their malice. It is a painful thing to advert again to hostile publications, but Whitefield’s history cannot be fully told without it. Some, belonging to 1761, have been already noticed; others, unfortunately, are, as yet, unmentioned:—
1. “A Funeral Discourse, occasioned by the much-lamented Death of Mr. Yorick, Prebendary of Y—k, and Author of the much-admired ‘Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy.’ Preached before a very mixed Society of Jemmies, Jessamies, Methodists, and Christians, at a nocturnal meeting in Petticoat Lane; and now Published, at the unanimous request of the hearers, by Christopher Flagellan, A.M. London, 1761.” (8vo. 48 pp.) It is enough to say that this profane and filthy production was dedicated to “the Right Honourable the Lord F——g, and to the very facetious Mr. Foote!”
2. “A Journal of the Travels of Nathaniel Snip, a Methodist Teacher of the Word. Containing an Account of the many Marvellous Adventures which befel him in his way from the town of Kingston-upon-Hull to the City of York. London, 1761.” (8vo. 32 pp.) This was an infamous production, full of burlesque and banter; but the foot-note, at the end of it, will be quite enough to satisfy the reader’s craving:—
“As Snip’s manuscript concludes thus abruptly, I beg leave to finish the whole with an account of what I observed at a puppet show, exhibited at one of the principal towns in the west of Yorkshire. Punch was introduced in the character of Parson Squintum, the field-preacher, holding forth to a number of wooden-headed puppets, mostly composed of old women and ungartered journeymen of different callings. The more noise Punch (alias Squintum) made, the more the audience sighed and groaned. At last, Squintum said something about a woman with the moon under her feet, and pointed up to the sky, on which he desired them to fix their eyes with steadfastness. They did so; and, while their eyes were thus fixed, he very fairly picked all their pockets, and stole off. Oh, Punch, Punch! Thou Alexander the Coppersmith! thou Ananias Inlignante! what will become of thee hereafter, for thus vilifying the Inspired of Heaven, the Grand Obstetrix of those chosen few, who are impregnate with the New Birth!”
3. A third of these malignant productions professed to have for its author the most notorious quack of the age, “Dr. Rock,” and was entitled, “A Letter to the Reverend Mr. G—e Wh——d, A.B., late of Pembroke College, Oxford.” (12mo. 8 pp.) The purport of this bantering tract was, a proposal that, as Rock and Whitefield were both quacks, they should enter into partnership. The thing displayed cleverness,—perhaps too great to affiliate it on the great empiric. One or two extracts must suffice:—
“If you set up for a copy of St. Paul (as it is observed you do, even to the mimicking of Raphael’s picture of him at Hampton Court), I do the same by the old stager—Hypocrites, I think they call him. If you undertake to cleanse and purify the soul, I do the like by the body. If you are an enemy to the regular drones of your profession, I am as much to those of ours. If you profess to serve the public for the sake of the public, so do I. Do you pocket the fee when it is offered?—I do the same. Are the mob your customers?—they are mine likewise. Are you called a quack in doctrinals?—I bear the same reproach in practice. Are you the scorn and jest of men of sense?—I want but very little of being as much their jest and scorn as you. In a word, as it is said that you turn the brains of your patients, it is affirmed, with equal truth, that I destroy the constitutions of mine.”
Supposing Whitefield might have objections to the proposed partnership, Rock pretends that he has objections too; for, says he:—
“Nobody, I thank God, can upbraid me with devouring widows’ houses; leading captive silly women; confounding the peace and ruining the substance of families; preaching up Christ, and playing the devil; blindly recommending charity, and, at the same time, guilty of the worst oppression by squeezing the last mite out of the pockets of the poor.”
Dr. Rock concludes by stating that Whitefield “is a public pest, an incendiary of the worst kind, and a deceiver of the people.”
This was bad to bear, especially for a man in Whitefield’s state of health; but more must follow:—
4. “The Crooked Disciple’s Remarks upon the Blind Guide’s Method of Preaching for some years; being a Collection of the Principal Words, Sayings, Phraseology, Rhapsodies, Hyperboles, Parables, and Miscellaneous Incongruities of the Sacred and Profane, commonly, repeatedly, and peculiarly made use of by the Reverend Dr. Squintum, delivered by him, viva voce ex Cathedra, at Tottenham Court, Moorfields, etc. A work never before attempted. Taken verbatim from a constant attendance. Whereby the honesty of this Preacher’s intentions may be judged of from his own doctrine. By the learned John Harman, Regulator of Enthusiasts. London, 1761.” (8vo. 48 pp.)
This was one of the vilest pamphlets ever published. Its trash cannot be quoted. It is enough to say that, besides “A Short Specimen of the Rev. Dr. Squintum’s Extemporary Sermons,” it contains what it calls one of Whitefield’s prayers, prefaced thus:—
“The following preamble is Dr. Squintum’s fervent, solemn form of prayer; delivered by him in an attitude similar to that of Ajax, in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. His body erect, his hands extended, his face thrown upwards, with his eyes gazing towards the stars. Torvo vulto, tendens ad sidera palmas. Alternately changing from his theatrical astonishments into violent enthusiastical agitations and distortions, accompanied with weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth! Strange vicissitudes! which he strictly keeps up to, throughout the whole of his preaching.”
5. “The Spiritual Minor. A Comedy. London.” (8vo. 32 pp.) Another infamous production, with a “Prologue,” by Mrs. Cole, and an “Epilogue,” by Dr. Squintum. The dramatis personæ are Mr. Squintum, Mr. Rakish, Mr. Screamwell, Mr. Scruple, Mr. Cheatwell, Feeble, Mrs. Cole, and Miss Ogle.
All this is extremely loathsome, and worthy of Foote, the comedian. Two other names, much more respectable than Doctor Rock and John Harman, must now be introduced.
6. Jonas Hanway, the distinguished merchant, traveller, and philanthropist, was now in the fiftieth year of his age. Eight years before, he had published his travels, in four 4to. volumes, under the title of “An Historical Account of the Caspian Trade over the Caspian Sea; with a Journal of Travels from London, through Russia, into Persia, etc.; to which are added the Revolutions of Persia during the present Century, with the particular History of the Great Usurper, Nadir Kouli.” In 1754, he called the attention of the Government to the bad state of the streets in London and Westminster. In 1756, he took steps which ultimately led to the establishment of the Marine Society. In 1758, he made strenuous exertions to improve the Foundling, and to establish the Magdalen Hospitals. And now, in 1761, he published “Reflections, Essays, and Meditations on Life and Religion; with a Collection of Proverbs in Alphabetical Order; and Twenty-eight Letters, written occasionally on several subjects—viz., The Absurd Notions of the Sect called Methodists; The Customs of foreign Nations in regard to Harlots; The Lawless Commerce of the Sexes; The Repentance of Prostitutes; And the great Humanity and Beneficence of the Magdalane Charity. By Mr. Hanway. London, 1761.” (Two vols., 8vo., pp. 280 and 317.)
As Mr. Hanway became so notable a man, that, two years after his death, a monument, by public subscription, was erected to his memory, in Westminster Abbey; his sentiments on Whitefield deserve insertion. At all events, the critique of the benevolent old bachelor, who had the courage to be the first who appeared in the streets of London carrying an umbrella, will, perhaps, amuse the reader.
“I intended, a long while since,” says he, “to hear Mr. Whitefield at Tottenham Court, and I have at length compassed my design. The prayers were performed with as much devotion as one generally finds at any church, and, as well as I remember, without any excursions foreign to the Church Service. Fame had represented him to me as a great orator; but in this I was a little disappointed, not but he performs, upon the whole, tolerably well. The tunes and concordance of the singing are also very proper and agreeable; though I thought that psalms, or anthems, would be better than hymns; or the true harmony of sense and numbers, than such poor poetry as was sung.
“When he began his sermon, the oddness of some of his conceits, his manner, and turn of expression, had I not been in a place of public worship, would have excited my laughter. As he went on, I became serious, then astonished, and at length confounded. My confusion arose from a mixture of sorrow and indignation, that any man bearing the name of a minister of our meek and blessed Redeemer, or the dignity of the Christian priesthood, should demean himself like an inhabitant of Bedlam. I thought I saw human nature in distress, as much as in the cells of lunatics; with this difference, that he was permitted to go abroad, and make others as mad as himself; which he might be able to accomplish by means of the credulity of his audience, joined to the art of making them think that himself and his fraternity are the only people in their senses.
“I must inform you, that, opposite to this celebrated preacher, sat a dozen or more of old women, of that class who, within this half-century, might easily have been persuaded, by threats or promises, that they had rode in the air on broomsticks, and, confessing it, might have been put to death by people as much bewitched as themselves. Their intellectual powers are so far decayed, that they do not distinguish between receiving alms, in relief of their misery, and receiving hire, as hummers and hawers. This is the denomination given, by many sober persons, to these old women, some of whom, I am assured, have confessed that they are retained by hire, for sighing and groaning.”
Mr. Hanway proceeds to say that he had been to the Haymarket, to see “The Minor” acted, but “had not health, nor patience to sit out above half of it.” He adds:—
“I wish the principles of the Methodists may be understood more clearly by being brought on the stage; but I question if the character of the bawd, in ‘The Minor,’ has any existence, and, if so, the whole fabric of the drama is built on false grounds. If it does exist, is it so proper a subject for the theatre, as for St. Luke’s Hospital? This dramatic piece may possibly intimidate some from becoming Methodists; but, however popular it may be, I am very doubtful concerning the propriety of the measure, as to the end of correcting the enthusiasm in question. It is said, that, this comedy ‘has shaken the pillars of Tottenham Tabernacle,’ and I must add, that, I believe no harm would happen were it to tumble, provided the poor people, who frequent it, were at their work, or saying their prayers in their parish churches.
“As to the peruke and shoemaker declaimers, whose recommendation is consummate impudence, warm imaginations, and the remembrance of texts which they have no capacity to understand, it would be an indignity offered to the Christian priesthood to call such persons Teachers or Preachers of the Gospel. And as to the gentlemen of Methodistical tenets, who have had a scholastic education, how few among them are there who would not face about to the right, for the consideration of a good ecclesiastical benefice. I have very particular reasons to believe the major part of them would conform to Church orthodoxy and intelligible Christianity, if they did not find a better living in another way.”
7. So much for the eccentric Jonas Hanway. Another pamphleteer—much more able, though not so well known to fame—must now be introduced. Whitefield had already been attacked by the Bishop of London, the Bishop of Lichfield, and the Bishop of Exeter. Now, he came under the lash of the Rev. John Green, D.D., Bishop of Lincoln. In 1760, Dr. Green published an 8vo. pamphlet of seventy pages, addressed to Berridge, of Everton; but that must be passed without further notice. A year later, he issued another pamphlet with the title, “The Principles and Practices of the Methodists farther considered; in a Letter to the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield. Cambridge, 1761.” (8vo. 74 pp.) The Bishop of Lincoln wrote with great ability. The chief fault to be found with him is, that, he based his strictures upon the first editions of Whitefield’s Journals, and his “Short Account of God’s Dealings with him,” published in 1740. This was hardly fair, because Whitefield, since then, had, more than once, publicly expressed his regret for having used certain loose and extravagant expressions in these productions. Dr. Green was either not acquainted with Whitefield’s apologies, or he chose, for some hidden purpose, not to acknowledge them. Anyhow, remembering that such apologies had been made, and that Whitefield’s health was now even dangerously affected, paragraphs, like the following, were neither courteous nor fair:—
“In that curious repository of religious anecdotes, called your Journals, I have often seen and pitied the distress you have been in between strength of inclination and want of ability; when you have recited several things, which bordered on the marvellous, and which, notwithstanding, you did not care to vouch for miraculous.
“All the exalted things you have said, and all the wonderful things you have done, will pass, I fear, with many, only for the frenzy and rant of fanaticism. They will be apt to think your journeyings the effects of a roving and itinerant temper, and ascribe them to a strong tincture of that heroical passion, by which so many saints of the Romish communion have been actuated.
“Though possessed of so happy a talent at opening the hearts and purses of the people, that you were traduced under the name of ‘the Spiritual Pickpocket,’ yet you have not ventured to trust your support to the precarious offerings of voluntary contribution. Though you have not chosen to put yourself in a situation to claim any legal dues; yet you have lately dispensed your instructions, on the stipulation of certain periodical payments, and under the sanction of that unquestionable truth, ‘that the labourer is worthy of his hire.’
“We have instances on record, how an audience has been dissolved into tears by an orator, without knowing a single syllable of that which he uttered; have been moved by the efficacy of words which they did not understand, and by the goodly appearance of the speaker, whom they knew nothing of, to yield the sincerest proofs of their convictions by a liberal supply of such good things as he wanted. Some incidents of the same sort are said to have happened to yourself, and that the bare sight of your blessed gown and wig, though out of the reach of that elocution which so much surprises, and that pathos which so much moves, has not only softened the hearts and moistened the eyes, but drawn large pecuniary supplies to your charitable designs from the pity and benevolence of your female disciples.”
These were taunts unworthy of a bishop of the Established Church, and undeserved by poor afflicted Whitefield. Doubtless, they were painful; but they were patiently endured.
Whitefield’s health was somewhat better. On January 8, 1762, he wrote: “The Scotch journey did me service. I preached on New Year’s Day, and am to do so again to-morrow. I had a violent fall upon my head, from my horse, last Thursday, but was not hurt. Mr. Berridge is here, and preaches with power. Blessed be God that some can speak, though I am laid aside!”
No information exists as to how Whitefield spent the first three months of 1762. He still, however, was the subject of disgraceful persecution. During this interval, there was published a small 8vo. volume (price 2s. 6d.), entitled, “A Plain and Easy Road to the Land of Bliss, a Turnpike set up by Mr. Orator ——.” No good end would be answered by quotations from it. “It is,” said the Monthly Review, “contemptible for its stupidity. It is a filthy, obscene thing, for which the dirty author ought to be washed in a horse-pond.”490
In April, Whitefield went to Bristol, where he continued for about a month. The following extracts from his letters will shew the progress he was making:—
“Bristol, April 17, 1762. Bristol air agrees with me. I have been enabled to preach five times this last week, without being hurt. Were the door open for an American voyage, I believe it would be serviceable in bracing up my relaxed tabernacle. But He who knoweth all things, knoweth what is best. I see more and more, that grace must be tried. O for a heart to be made willing to be nothing, yea, less than nothing, that God may be all in all!”
“Bristol, April 18, 1762. Sunday. This morning I have been administering the ordinance; and this evening I hope to be upon my throne again. Who knows but I may yet be so far restored as to sound the gospel trumpet for my God? The quietness I enjoy here, with the daily riding out, seems to be one very proper means. Be this as it will, I know ere long I shall serve our Lord without weariness. A few more blows from friends, and from foes, and the pitcher will be broken. Then the wicked one will cease from troubling, and the weary traveller arrive at his wished-for rest.”
“Bristol, May 4, 1762. I see it is always darkest before the break of day. O that we could always remember that blessed promise, ‘At evening-tide it shall be light’! The archers have of late shot sorely at me and grieved me; but blessed be God for a little revival in my bondage. For these three weeks past, I have been enabled to preach four or five times a week; but you would scarce know me, I am so swollen, and so corpulent. Blessed be God for the prospect of a glorious resurrection!”
On his way back to London, Whitefield wrote as follows:—
“Rodborough, May 21, 1762. I hope to be in London on Tuesday or Wednesday next. Through Divine mercy, preaching four or five times a week has not hurt me; and twice or thrice I have been enabled to take the field: in my opinion, a greater honour than to be monarch of the universe. London cares and London labours, I expect, will bring me low again; but I hope soon to slip away, and to get strength, and then to hunt for precious souls again. How gladly would I bid adieu to ceiled houses, and vaulted roofs! Mounts are the best pulpits, and the heavens the best sounding-boards. O for power equal to my will! I would fly from pole to pole, publishing the everlasting gospel of the Son of God. I write this at a house built for dear Mr. Adams.491 From his window is a prospect perhaps of thirty miles. I have wished you here with your telescope. But if the footstool is so glorious, what must the throne be!”
“London, May 28, 1762. I am just now come to town for a few days, sensibly better for my country excursion. Once more, I have had the honour of taking the field, and have now some hopes of not being as yet quite thrown aside as a broken vessel. Help me to praise Him, whose mercy endureth for ever.”
In the month of June, Whitefield sailed to Holland, where his health was further benefited. At the end of July, he was preaching at Norwich, and wrote:—
“Norwich, July 31, 1762. The trip to Holland, last month, was profitable to myself, and, I trust, to others. If my usefulness is to be continued in London, I must be prepared for it by a longer itinerancy both by land and water. At present, blessed be God! I can preach once a day; and it would do your heart good to see what an influence attends the word. All my old times are revived again. On Monday next, God willing, I shall set forwards to Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, etc.”
Ten days after this, Whitefield attended the annual Conference of Wesley and his itinerants, in the town of Leeds. This was a notable assembly, for, besides the brave band of Wesley’s helpers, there were present the two Wesleys, Whitefield, Romaine, Madan, Venn, and, last but not least, the Countess of Huntingdon!492 Wesley wrote:—
“We had great reason to praise God for His gracious presence, from the beginning to the end.”
From Leeds, Whitefield proceeded to his beloved Scotland, where he wrote:—
“Edinburgh, September 2, 1762. I am just this moment returned from Glasgow, where I have been enabled to preach every day, and twice at Cambuslang. Auditories were large, and Jesus smiled upon my feeble labours.”
“Edinburgh, September 9. I came here a week ago. Since then, I have been helped to preach every day. The kirk has been a Bethel. Grace! Grace! On Monday, the 13th inst., I shall set off. Follow me with your prayers.”
On Sunday, September 19, Whitefield was at Sunderland;493 and on the following Sunday at Leeds. Here he wrote to his friend, Mr. Robert Keen, as follows:—
“I am just now setting forwards towards London, but fear I cannot reach it before Sunday. My chaise wanted repairing here. O how good hath Jesus been to a worthless worm! Once a day preaching, I can bear well; more hurts me. What shall I do with the Chapel and Tabernacle? Lord Jesus, be thou my guide and helper! He will! He will! Send word to the Tabernacle that you have heard from me. We have had sweet seasons.”
The “Seven Years’ War” was now nearly ended. The campaign of 1762 was eminently successful. Frederick the Great and Prince Ferdinand had been victorious in Germany; Burgoyne had aided Portugal in repelling the Spaniards; and the English fleet and army in the West Indies had taken the Carribbean Islands and Havannah. Lord Bute, the prime minister of England, strongly desired peace, for the English people were complaining loudly of increased taxation. He engaged the neutral king of Sardinia to propose to the court of France negotiations for a termination of the war. Louis XV., like a drowning man, caught at the proposal. The Duke of Bedford was selected as plenipotentiary and ambassador extraordinary to Paris; and the high-born and gallant Duke de Nivernois came to London in the same capacity. This was in September; and the negotiations proceeded with such rapidity, that preliminaries for peace were signed at Fontainebleau on the 3rd of November following.
In consequence of these events, Whitefield now had a prospect of carrying out his long-cherished wish to visit his Orphan House, and his numerous friends, across the Atlantic. He wrote, as follows, to the housekeeper of his Orphanage:—
“London, October 15, 1762. I wish to answer your letter in person. I hope the time is now drawing near. I count the weeks, and days, and hours. Blessed be God that you live in such harmony! A house thus united in Jesus will stand. I write this in great haste. I am enabled to preach once a day. Give thanks! give thanks!”
In November, Whitefield went to Bristol, where his “congregations were large, and a most gracious gale of Divine influence attended the word preached.” Having promised to visit Plymouth, he wrote to his friend there, the good Andrew Kinsman:—
“Let grand preparations be made,—as a candle, a book, and a table; above all, much prayer, that I may not again relapse at Plymouth, as the Bristol people say I shall do, by coming at this season of the year.”
On reaching Plymouth, he wrote:—
“Plymouth, December 4, 1762. Being under a positive promise to come here before I left England, I embraced this opportunity. Through mercy, I preached last night, and find no hurt this morning. Many young people, I hear, are under great awakenings. O to begin to wage an eternal war with the devil, the world, and the flesh! I would fain die sword in hand.”
Whitefield had an old trusty servant, Mrs. Elizabeth Wood,494 to whom he wrote as follows:—
“Plymouth, December 5, 1762. You did very wrong, in not letting me know of your mother’s necessities. She was a widow indeed; but now she is above the reach of everything. I am weary of the world, of the Church, and of myself. I cannot get up to London till near Christmas Day. As affairs are there circumstanced, everything there tends to weigh me down. O that patience may have its perfect work! Let me always know your wants. It is your own fault if you lack anything, whilst I have a farthing.”
Kind-heartedness was a prominent trait in Whitefield’s character. It was during this, or some other visit to Plymouth, that an incident occurred which is worth telling. “Come,” said Whitefield to his friend and host, Andrew Kinsman, “come, let us go to some of the poor and afflicted of your flock. It is not enough that we labour in the pulpit; we must endeavour to be useful out of it.” Away the two friends went, and Whitefield not only gave counsel to those they visited, but monetary aid. Kinsman reminded him that his finances were low, and that he was more bountiful than he could afford. “Young man,” replied Whitefield, “it is not enough to pray, and to put on a serious countenance: ‘pure religion and undefiled is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction,’ and to administer to their wants. My stock, I grant, is nearly exhausted, but God will soon send me a fresh supply.” In the evening, a gentleman called, and asked to see Whitefield. “Sir,” said he, “I heard you preach yesterday: you are on a journey, as well as myself; and, as travelling is expensive, will you do me the honour of accepting this?” The present was five guineas, and came from a man noted for his penuriousness. “Young man,” cried Whitefield, on his return to Kinsman, “young man, God has soon repaid what I bestowed. Learn, in future, not to withhold when it is in the power of your hand to give.”495
Whitefield, on his way to London, halted at Bristol, and wrote to Kinsman, as follows:—
“Bristol, December 12, 1762. We got here yesterday, all well, excepting that I lost my watch in the way. If it teach me to be more on my watch in the best things, the loss will be a gain. Lord, help me in everything to give thanks! I do not repent my Plymouth journey. Thanks to you all for your great kindnesses. Thanks, eternal thanks, to the God of all, for giving us His presence! It is better than life. I have not yet seen your daughter; but I hear she is well. Tell Sarah not to murder so dear a child. Hugging to death is cruelty indeed. Adieu! I must away to sacrament. O for such a one as we had last Sunday! Mind and get up in a morning to pray, before you get into shop.”
Whitefield wished to embark for America; but, before doing so, had a difficulty to encounter. He had erected two large and flourishing chapels in London, which, in consequence of the sites on which they stood being granted to himself on lease, were practically his own property. The money by which the chapels had been built was not his; and he felt that it would be unjust if, by his decease, they came into the possession of his heirs and successors. Hence, as he was hoping soon to sail, and as his health was such as to render his return to England a doubtful matter, he was anxious to have the Tabernacle and the Tottenham Court Road chapel so settled, that the purpose for which they had been erected might never be frustrated. Hence the following to Mr. Robert Keen:—
“January 15, 1763.
“My dear Friend,—Do meet me to-morrow, at one o’clock, at Mr. B——n’s, Canonbury House. I have something of importance to communicate. It is to beseech you, jointly with Mr. Hardy and Mr. B——n,496 as trustees, to take upon you the whole care of the affairs of Tottenham Court chapel, and of the Tabernacle, and all my other concerns in England. This one thing being settled, I have nothing to retard my visit to America, to which I think there is a manifest call at this time, both as to the bracing up my poor, feeble, crazy body, and adjusting all things relating to Bethesda. Your accepting this trust will take off a ponderous load that oppresses me much.”
There can be little doubt, that, Messrs. Keen and Hardy consented to take the management of the two chapels during Whitefield’s absence in America; but it is also clear that no trust deed, transferring the chapels to these two gentlemen, was at that time executed. Hence the following clause in Whitefield’s will, dated March 22, 1770:—
“Whereas there is a building, commonly called the Tabernacle, set apart many years ago for Divine worship, I give and bequeath my said Tabernacle, with the adjacent house in which I usually reside, when in London, with the stable and coach-house in the yard adjoining, together with all books, furniture, and everything else whatsoever, that shall be found in the house and premises aforesaid; and also the buildings commonly called Tottenham Court chapel, together with all the other buildings, houses, stable, coach-house, and everything else whatsoever which I stand possessed of in that part of the town,—to my worthy, trusty, tried friends, Daniel West, Esq., in Church Street, Spitalfields, and Mr. Robert Keen, woollen-draper in the Minories, or the longer survivor of the two.”
This is a curious clause. In the year of his decease, Whitefield evidently believed the London chapels and their adjacent premises to be his own property, but he had no wish for them to pass to his representatives and heirs. His desire was that they should be used in perpetuity, for preaching the same glorious gospel, as he had preached for more than the last thirty years; and hence the above bequest. The oddness of the thing, however, is, that Whitefield’s will created no trust; and that, by it, these two chapels became as absolutely the property of Messrs. West and Keen as they had been his own.
It is only right to add, that, in making his will, Whitefield was his own lawyer. At all events, the will was in his own handwriting. And, further, it is due to Mr. West and Mr. Keen to say, that, though they might have appropriated this property to their own private use, they faithfully carried out the intentions of Whitefield, and managed the chapels, not for their own benefit, but, for the glory of God and the good of their fellow-men. Mr. Keen died on January 30, 1793; and Mr. West on September 30, 1796.497 The last-mentioned gentleman, as the survivor of the two “trusty friends” mentioned in Whitefield’s will, bequeathed the property to Samuel Foyster and John Wilson, both of them well known in the Christian world. This, however, is not the place to pursue the history of the glorious old Tabernacle in Moorfields, and of the aristocratic chapel in Tottenham Court Road.
Whitefield took leave of his London congregations on Wednesday, February 23, when he preached a farewell sermon, from “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.” In the earlier parts of this biography, lengthened extracts were given from Whitefield’s sermons, for the purpose of conveying an idea of the character of his preaching, at that period of his ministry. For the same purpose, other extracts from sermons, belonging to the present date, may be given here.
In the sermon, preached on February 23, 1763, Whitefield is reported as having said:—
“‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.’ It is not said, all ministers, or all of this or that particular people; but with all believers. Mr. Henry said, he desired to be a Catholic, but not a Roman Catholic. There is a great reservoir of water from which this great city is supplied; but how is it supplied? Why, by hundreds and hundreds of pipes. Does the water go only to the Dissenters, or to the Church people,—only to this or that people? No: the pipes convey the water to all; and, I remember, when I saw the reservoir, it put me in mind of the great reservoir of grace, the living water that is in Christ Jesus.
“What a horrid blunder has the Bishop of Gloucester been guilty of! What do you think his lordship says, in order to expose the fanaticism of the Methodists? ‘Why,’ says he, ‘they say they cannot understand the Scriptures without the Spirit of God.’ Can any man understand the Scriptures without the Spirit of God helps him? Jesus Christ must open our understanding to understand them. The Spirit of God must take of the things of Christ, and shew them unto us. So, also, with respect to all ordinances. What signifies my preaching, and your hearing, if the Spirit of God does not enlighten? I declare I would not preach again, if I did not think that God would accompany the word by His Spirit.”
“Are any of you here unconverted? No doubt too many. Are any of you come this morning, out of curiosity, to hear what the babbler has to say? Many, perhaps, are glad it is my last sermon, and that London is to be rid of such a monster; but surely you cannot be angry with me for my wishing that the grace of God may be with you all. O that it may be with every unconverted soul! O man! what wilt thou do if the grace of God is not with thee? My brethren, you cannot do without the grace of God when you come to die. Do you know that without this you are nothing but devils incarnate? Do you know that every moment you are liable to eternal pains? Don’t say I part with you in an ill humour. Don’t say that a madman left you with a curse. Blessed be God! when I first became a field-preacher, I proclaimed the grace of God to the worst of sinners; and I proclaim it now to the vilest sinner under heaven. Could I speak so loud that the whole world might hear me, I would declare that the grace of God is free for all who are willing to accept of it by Christ. God make you all willing this day!”
Was Whitefield still a Calvinist? Language like this can hardly be harmonized with Whitefield’s holding the doctrine of election, and, by consequence, the doctrine of reprobation. Two or three extracts from other sermons, preached at this period of his history, may be useful.
“Woe! woe! woe! to those who, in the hour of death, cannot say, ‘God is my refuge.’ O what will you do, when the elements shall melt with fervent heat? when the earth with all its furniture shall be burnt up? when the archangel shall proclaim, ‘Time shall be no more!’ Whither then, ye wicked ones, ye unconverted ones, will ye flee for refuge? ‘O,’ says one, ‘I will flee to the mountains.’ Silly fool! flee to the mountains, that are themselves to be burnt up! ‘O,’ say you, ‘I will flee to the sea.’ That will be boiling! ‘I will flee to the elements.’ They will be melting with fervent heat. I know of but one place you can go to, that is to the devil. God keep you from that! Make God your refuge. If you stop short of this, you will only be a sport for devils. There is no river to make glad the inhabitants of hell: no streams to cool them in that scorching element. Were those in hell to have such an offer of mercy as you have, how would their chains rattle! how would they come with the flames of hell about their ears! Fly! sinner, fly! God help thee to fly to Himself for refuge! Hark! hear the word of the Lord! See the world consumed! See the avenger of blood at thy heels! If thou dost not take refuge in God to-night, thou mayest to-morrow be damned for ever.498
“Tremble for fear God should remove His candlestick from among you. Labourers are sick. Those who did once labour are almost worn out; and others bring themselves into a narrow sphere, and so confine their usefulness. There are few who like to go out into the fields. Broken heads and dead cats are no longer the ornaments of a Methodist. These honourable badges are now no more. Languor has got from the ministers to the people; and, if you don’t take care, we shall all be dead together. The Lord Jesus rouse us! Ye Methodists of many years’ standing, shew the young ones, who have not the cross to bear as we once had, what ancient Methodism was.499
“Don’t be angry with a poor minister for weeping over them who will not weep for themselves. If you laugh at me, I know Jesus smiles. I am free from the blood of you all. If you are damned for want of conversion, remember you are not damned for want of warning. You are gospel-proof; and, if there is one place in hell deeper than another, God will order a gospel-despising Methodist to be put there. God convert you from lying a-bed in the morning! God convert you from conformity to the world! God convert you from lukewarmness! Do not get into a cursed Antinomian way of thinking, and say, ‘I thank God, I have the root of the matter in me! I thank God, I was converted twenty or thirty years ago; and, though I can go to a public-house, and play at cards, yet, I am converted; for once in Christ, always in Christ,’ Whether you were converted formerly or not, you are perverted now. Would you have Jesus Christ catch you napping, with your lamps untrimmed? Suffer the word of exhortation. I preach feelingly. I could be glad to preach till I preached myself dead, if God would convert you. I seldom sleep after three in the morning; and I pray every morning, ‘Lord, convert me, and make me more a new creature to-day!’”
These extracts are neither eloquent, nor particularly instructive; but they serve to shew the declamatory and colloquial style used by Whitefield in the latter period of his ministry. His sermons were earnest talk, full of anecdotes, and ejaculatory prayers.
It is only just to add, that the sermons, from which the foregoing extracts are taken, were not written and published by Whitefield himself, nor yet with his permission. They were “taken verbatim in shorthand, and faithfully transcribed by Joseph Gurney;” and were “Revised by Andrew Gifford, D.D.” The sermons, in Gurney’s volume, issued in 1771, were eighteen in number; but, two or three were published separately previous to that. To one of these, Whitefield raised strong objections. “It is not verbatim,” said he; “in some places Mr. Gurney makes me to speak false concord, and even nonsense.”500 The publication of Gurney’s volume (8vo. 455 pp.) created great unpleasantness. In the first instance, Whitefield’s executors consented to the publication, and agreed to remunerate the transcriber for his labour; but, when half the sermons were “worked off,” they were so dissatisfied with them, that they informed the shorthand writer, they were “not able to recommend them to the public.” No doubt, the objections of the executors were well founded; but still, though the sermons might not be reported with perfect accuracy, they may be fairly taken as a specimen—though an imperfect one—of Whitefield’s style of preaching during the last few years of his eventful life.
After his farewell sermon, at the Tabernacle, on February 23, Whitefield set out for Scotland. On his way, he preached for Berridge at Everton;501 Berridge, together with Thomas Adams, having engaged to supply his place in London.502 He visited Sheffield, and preached in Wesley’s, unplastered, though white-washed, chapel in Mulberry Street, taking as his text, Romans v. 11. Here, as in the extract above given, he warned the people against resting satisfied with a past conversion. “In your Bibles,” said he, “you have registered your births; and some of you the time when you were born again; but are you new creatures now?”503
On March 4, he arrived at Leeds, and here, besides preaching, he employed himself in writing his “Observations on some Fatal Mistakes, in a Book lately published, and entitled, ‘The Doctrine of Grace; or, the Office and Operations of the Holy Spirit Vindicated from the Insults of Infidelity and the Abuses of Fanaticism. By William, Lord Bishop of Gloucester.’ In a Letter to a Friend. By George Whitefield, A.M., late of Pembroke College, Oxford, and Chaplain to the Countess of Huntingdon. London, 1763.” (12mo. 35 pp.)504
This was, I believe, the first instance in which, in England, A.M. was attached to Whitefield’s name; and even now the degree, conferred by New Jersey College in 1754, was not appropriated by Whitefield himself, but was foolishly used by his friends, who printed his pamphlet after he embarked for America.
So far as the Methodists were concerned, the book of Bishop Warburton was levelled against Wesley, rather than against Whitefield. The worst, indeed, almost the only sneer against Whitefield, was, that, though both Wesley and he were mad, Whitefield was “the madder of the two.” Wesley’s reply to Warburton was published in a 12mo. volume of 144 pages; but, with a single exception, need not be quoted here. In answer to one of the Bishop’s contemptuous remarks, that Whitefield set up himself as Wesley’s rival, Wesley says: “We were505 in full union; nor was there the least shadow of rivalry or contention between us. I still sincerely ‘praise God for His wisdom in giving different talents to different preachers;’ and particularly for His giving Mr. Whitefield the talents which I have not.”
Whitefield’s “Observations” were smartly and rather ably written; but two extracts must suffice. He admits that the “modern defenders of Christianity, in their elaborate and well-meant treatises, against the attacks of Infidels and Free-thinkers, have shewn themselves, as far as human learning is concerned, to be masters of strong reasoning, nervous language, and conclusive arguments;” but they lacked a “deep and experimental knowledge of themselves, and of Jesus Christ.” With regard to Bishop Warburton in particular, he affirms, that, his lordship, “in his great zeal against fanaticism, and to the no small encouragement of infidelity, has, as far as perverted reason and disguised sophistry could carry him, robbed the Church of Christ of its promised Comforter; and, thereby, left us without any supernatural influence or Divine operations whatsoever” (pp. 5, 6). Then turning to Warburton’s abuse of the Methodists, Whitefield remarks:—