Chapter XX

Dr. Haweis--Mr. Romaine driven from the Chapel of the
Broadway--Lord Dartmouth--Letters from Messrs. Romaine and
Conyers--Sinless Perfection--Letters from Messrs. Romaine
and Wesley--Erasmus, Bishop of Arcadia--Mr. Toplady--Letters
from Messrs. Fletcher and Berridge--Death of Lady Selina
Hastings--Colonel Hastings--Account of Lady Selina’s
Death--Letters from Lord Dartmouth--Mr. Venn--Mr. Fletcher--Mr.
Berridge--Oathall Chapel--Letters from Mr. Berridge--Mr. Venn’s
Complete Duty of Man--Letters from Messrs. Venn and Berridge.

Dr. Haweis was now preaching at the Lock, but the chapel in Broadway, Westminster, becoming vacant by the death of Mr. Briant, the widow proposed to let it to the Doctor, who applied to the Dean of Westminster, then Bishop of Rochester, of which see the chapel was a peculiar, for a licence. This modest application was ungraciously refused. In vain did Dr. Haweis remonstrate; he had been oppressively driven from Oxford, and had preached at the Lock Hospital. These were his crimes, and an abuse of authority was thought justifiable, in order to crush him. Happily these repeated insults moved him not one jot from the line chalked out for him, nor did he cease to proclaim the glory of that God and Saviour in whom he trusted.

Dr. Haweis withdrew from the contest, but Mr. Romaine, who had already a licence to preach in the diocese of London, opened the chapel, and preached with wonderful effect from that pulpit; but before one year expired the Bishop’s mandate compelled him to desist, under fears of the terrors of the spiritual court, and to leave the congregation he had with care collected. These able men were thus denied a privilege which the most ignorant curate in the kingdom might have enjoyed. And why? Because they had dared to preach the Gospel, and had offended thereby those in authority, who loved darkness rather than light. Lord Dartmouth offered Mr. Romaine a living in the country, and Mr. Whitefield invited him first, and Dr. Haweis afterwards, to settle at the great church in Philadelphia; but both had reasons for maintaining their stand, and rearing the cross on the mount of the Lord’s house. Mr. Romaine especially felt himself bound, like Cocles, to keep the pass against Porsenna and his forces; yea, and if the bridge fell, to leap into the Tiber.

Mr. Romaine wished to assist Lady Huntingdon, and would have succeeded Mr. Howel Davies at Brighton, but Mr. Madan being refused admission to his pulpit, and Dr. Haweis being still without a licence, he could not conveniently leave London. Mr. Downing, who had been with Mr. Romaine in town, had departed at the very time when Mr. Davies left her Ladyship at Brighton; and Mr. Tilney, like the Doctor, was without a licence. To this effect he wrote to Lady Huntingdon, under date of the 5th of February, 1763, from Lambeth; we shall not repeat that part of the letter of which we have just given the substance; but the following interesting extract may be acceptable:--

“Our kind love and continual good wishes to Lady Huntingdon.
It would be a great blessing if the Head of the Church should
have more places open to sound his fame and praise in your
neighbourhood; and if he has such a gracious design, there
shall not be wanting heralds to proclaim his style and titles.
Get churches, and you won’t want ministers. For my part, I am
quite fixed, and every day more so, in my present work. I am
called to it, and commanded therein to abide with God. People
say to me, you might be more useful here--or, what a great deal
of good you might do there. Alas! they know me not. What can I
do? Just nothing, except it be marring and spoiling all that I
take in hand: and I do it so entirely, that I want to hide my
face for shame. I don’t know that I ever got up to open my mouth
in public, but my heart smites me; and I am distressed beyond
measure, both with the sorry stuff I utter, and also with the
wretched manner of doing it. Such a very fool surely was never
set up for a preacher. Yea, at times I am so broken down with
the utter abhorrence I have of mine own ministry, that I could
go and live in the country with my mother, and seal up my mouth.
But then my dear tender Master gives me a cordial, and tells me
’tis good for me to be kept thus low, and his own glory shall
not be hurt by it. The poorness of the minister shall not make
the Gospel of none effect, but out of the mouths of babes and
sucklings he will perfect praise. Upon which I begin again to
lisp out his praises as well as I can, but at the very best I
am ashamed. I have such a view of the person of Christ, and of
his offices, and graces, and salvation, that when I attempt to
speak of them I know the highest description cannot come up to
their true merit and dignity, they being altogether divine and
infinite: and then I am quite discouraged, till I recollect that
all the tongues in heaven can only show forth half his praise,
and therefore I hope he will forgive me my poor thoughts of him,
and poor discourses, and poor doings for him. I see I must live
upon him in all things, as my Saviour, and then I get well.”

The following is the letter of Dr. Conyers, dated Helmsley, February 8, 1763:--

“Madam--It is with the utmost satisfaction and with the most
sincere affection that I now sit down to write to your Ladyship.
’Tis true, I never had the happiness of seeing you, but in the
bowels of Jesus Christ do I love you; and it is with the most
longing desire that I look forward to that happy, happy time
when I trust to be with your Ladyship FOR EVER. O that
blessed God! that out of mere free grace has opened my poor
blind eyes in some measure to see his exceeding great love in
his dear Son. It constrains my heart to love him--it binds my
affections to him--and I trust the same grace that laid hold
upon me will help me to the end, and preserve me to his heavenly
kingdom. When I examine the condition into which sin had brought
me, when I look at, one by one, the wants of my soul--my
guilt, my filthiness, my weakness, my nakedness, and my utter
wretchedness--and then contemplate the graces of the Redeemer
as they are held out to me in the Scriptures of truth--when I
look at myself, and then at him, O what my heart feels! how I
admire! how I adore and love! Now I know, O thou great and holy
Lord God, that thou lovest me, seeing thou hast not withheld thy
Son, thine only Son, from me. If I judge aright, Madam, I am
pouring out my heart to one who is no stranger to the language
of Canaan. Your Ladyship is a sinner as well as I. I know you
feel it, and therefore will not be angry with me for saying so;
and I know that I am now talking with one who will not accuse
me of running out too far, as the world calls it, in the great
Redeemer’s praises, but who will join with me, nay, far, very
far outdo me in love and gratitude, in thankfulness and praise,
to that precious Lamb of God who loved us and gave himself
for us, that he might make us, miserable worms of the earth,
partakers of his own eternity. O thou adorable Lord Jesus!
what should we talk of, or think of, or write of, or glory in
else, but thy blessed self, who art altogether lovely? What can
I do--what can your Ladyship do--what can any one do without
him?--and what can they not do that have him? We are complete
in him--look by faith to him who hung upon the cross, and every
mouth of every enemy is stopped, every accusation is silenced;
there is peace without and peace within, and peace with God that
passeth understanding. Dear Lady, if we are so happy in his love
when we cannot see him, O what shall we be when we are made like
him, and shall see him as he is?

“I thank your Ladyship for your kind solicitude for my health.
God be praised, it is much better--I can preach again now; and
O may I no longer live than I preach and love Jesus Christ! Mr.
Bentley has been ill, but is much better; he sends his humblest
regards to your Ladyship. The work of God grows here. I beg your
Ladyship’s prayers that it may grow more and more; and for me,
that utterance may be given unto me, that I may be preserved
from evil spirits and evil men, and from my own exceedingly evil
heart.

“O Madam! you know not what need I stand in of your prayers--do
let me have the comfort of them--do pray that I may go with you
to the kingdom of the dear Lord Jesus. I am, your Ladyship’s
most obedient and affectionate servant in our common Lord,

“Helmsley, Feb. 8, 1763. “RICHARD CONYERS.”

With a laudable desire of enlarging the circle of his usefulness, and with a hope that the air of the place might have a beneficial effect on his health, Lady Huntingdon invited Dr. Conyers to Brighton; but he modestly declined her invitation, observing that “the duties of his parish, which was very extensive, demanded all his abilities, all his zeal, and all his strength; and that he was fearful of venturing where so many great and eloquent servants of Christ had so successfully proclaimed his grace and salvation.”[172]

On the subject of these disputes concerning perfection, we append a letter without date--rather a remarkable circumstance for the very regular and generally accurate writer--but it is inscribed in the handwriting of Lady Huntingdon--“Received at Brighthelmstone, March 21, 1763, S. H.,” which is the reason of its postponement to this place:--

“My Lady--For a considerable time I have had it upon my mind
to write a few lines to your Ladyship, although I cannot learn
that your Ladyship ever enquired whether I was living or dead.
By the mercy of God I am still alive, and following the work to
which he has called me, although without any help, even in the
most trying times, from those I might have expected it from.
Their voice seemed to be rather, ‘_Down with him--down with
him; even to the ground_.’ I mean (for I use no ceremony or
circumlocution) Mr. Madan, Mr. Haweis, Mr. Berridge, and (I am
sorry to say it) Mr. Whitefield. Only Mr. Romaine has shown a
truly sympathizing spirit, and acted the part of a brother. I
am the more surprised at this, because he owed me nothing, only
the love which we all owe one another. He was not my son in the
Gospel, neither do I know that he ever received any help through
me. So much the more welcome was his kindness now. The Lord
repay it sevenfold into his bosom.

“As to the prophecies of these poor wild men, George Bell and
half a dozen more, I am not a jot more accountable for them
than Mr. Whitefield is, having never countenanced them in any
degree, but opposed them from the moment I heard them; neither
have these extravagances any foundation in any doctrine which I
teach. The loving God with all our heart, soul, and strength,
and the loving all men as Christ loved us, is, and ever was, for
these thirty years, the sum of what I deliver, as pure religion
and undefiled.

“However, if I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved! The
will of the Lord be done!

‘Poor and helpless as I am, Thou dost for my vileness care!
Thou hast called me by my name! Thou dost all my burdens bear,’

“Wishing your Ladyship a continual increase of all blessings, I
am, my Lady, your Ladyship’s servant for Christ’s sake,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

A letter from Mr. Romaine, dated Lambeth, March 26, 1763 (five days after), appears, in some degree, at variance with that of Mr. Wesley. It runs thus:--

“Madam--Thanks to your Ladyship for your kind remembrance of me
in your last. I rejoice in your joy, and am always glad to hear
of the prosperity of your family: for yours the dear people are,
and are as nearly related as your own children are. They are
also to me tied in the best bonds, and what is in my power shall
not be wanting for them. I do not despair of seeing them for a
few days before the summer.

“Enclosed is poor Mr. John’s (Wesley’s) letter. The contents
of it, as far as I am concerned, surprised me: for no one has
spoken more freely of what is now passing among the people
than myself. Indeed, I have not preached so much as others
whose names he mentions, nor could I. My subject is one, and
I dare not vary from it. The more I read and preach upon the
all-sufficiency of the adorable Jesus, the more I am determined
to know nothing but him, and him crucified. But whatever stands
in my way of exalting him I would tread upon it as the merest
dross and dung. A perfection out of Christ, call it grace, and
say it is grace from him, yet with me it is all rank pride and
damnable sin. Oh! Madam, we should be careful of his glory,
and not give it to another, least of all to ourselves. Depend
upon it, man cannot be laid too low, nor Christ set too high. I
would, therefore, always aim, as good brother Grimshaw expresses
it, to get the old gentleman down, and keep him down: and then
Christ reigns like himself, when he is ALL, and man is
nothing!

“I pity Mr. John from my heart. His societies are in great
confusion; and the point which brought them into the wilderness
of rant and madness is still insisted on as much as ever. I fear
the end of this delusion. As the late alarming Providence has
not had its proper effect, and _perfection_ is still the cry,
God will certainly give them up to some more dreadful thing. May
their eyes be opened before it be too late!

“I am glad we shall see you so soon. I rejoice for myself;
but I fear you will not stay long. Things are not here as at
Brighthelmstone. We have many precious souls, but we really
want LOVE. The _Foundry_, the _Tabernacle_, the _Lock_, the
_Meeting_, yea, _St. Dunstan’s_, has each its party, and
brotherly love is almost lost in our disputes. Thank God, I
am out of them. I wish them all well, and love them all; and
where we differ, there is exercise for my charity. But I condemn
none that will not subscribe to my creed. By the grace of God
I am what I am. My wife joins me in duty and affection to your
Ladyship, and we are your faithful servants in our most dear and
eternally precious Jesus,

“W. ROMAINE.”

Her Ladyship was recalled from London, after a very short visit, by the melancholy intelligence of the serious illness of Lady Selina Hastings, which obliged her to return to Brighton. The next remarkable incident of her visit to town was the attempt of a person named Erasmus, a Greek bishop, whose see was, according to the Patriarch of Constantinople, Arcadia, in Crete, to introduce himself to her Ladyship. “There is something singular in this man (writes her Ladyship), and it strikes me that he is not altogether what he appears or pretends to be. Mr. Romaine, Mr. Madan, and others, have strong doubts of the reality of his office.” Mr. Wesley, however, was of another opinion, and in opposition to the advice of his brother Charles, and against the opinions of his best friends, obtained orders for some of his lay-preachers from the Bishop of Arcadia. Mr. Jones and Mr. Staniforth (the latter had been a soldier in Flanders) were so ordained, but found their appointment so invidiously regarded that they never exercised their functions. Others coveted the distinction, and obtained of the foreign bishop the laying on of hands without Mr. Wesley’s knowledge, for which contempt of his authority he excluded the so-ordained pastors from his Connexion. Mr. Toplady, who had great doubts concerning the authority of Erasmus, Bishop of Arcadia, wrote against his ordination of ministers of the Church in England, and his objections were, with Mr. Wesley’s privity, replied to by Mr. Thomas Olivers. Mr. Wesley was accused of a breach of the oath of supremacy, by thus availing himself of the powers of a foreign prelate; and he was further charged with having pressed the bishop to consecrate him, Mr. Wesley himself, a bishop, that he might have power to ordain whomsoever he would. The former charge was denied by Mr. Olivers, and the latter justified, on the ground that the inward call of Mr. Wesley and his followers being manifest, they naturally desired the outward call also. This being refused them by the English bishops, justified them, it was believed, in seeking it wheresoever they pleased.

The Countess, on her return to Brighton, proceeded immediately to Oathall, and there, on the 12th May, 1763, was visited with the severest domestic calamity--the loss of her affectionate and amiable daughter, Lady Selina Hastings, whose unwearied attentions, kindness, and affection, had been long a source of comfort to the Countess, amidst the many trials with which she was surrounded. A heavier infliction could not have been laid upon her. Lady Selina had been ill sixteen days, having been seized on the 26th of April. She was the youngest of seven children, four sons and three daughters, and was born Dec. 3, 1737. Her Ladyship was one of six Earls’ daughters who assisted the Princess Augusta in supporting the train of Queen Charlotte, at her coronation, on the 22nd Sept., 1761. She was to have been married, with the consent of the Countess her mother, and her brother, Francis, Earl of Huntingdon, to her relative, Colonel George Hastings, son of Henry, Lord Hastings, as he was called by courtesy, on account of his affinity to the then bachelor Earl. The Colonel was two years older than Lady Selina, and had been educated at the expense of her father, Theophilus,[173] with her brother Francis. He married (after the death of Lady Selina) Sarah, daughter of Colonel Thomas Hodges, and died in 1802, leaving three sons, two of whom died unmarried, and the third was Hans Francis, twelfth Earl of Huntingdon, and father of the present Earl.

The following interesting account of the illness and death of Lady Selina Hastings was drawn up by the good Countess herself, and it affords an affecting evidence of her piety and resignation:--

“It pleased our dear God and only Saviour to take from me,
May 12, 1763, at three quarters after four in the morning, my
dearest, my altogether lovely child and daughter, Lady Selina
Hastings, the desire of my eyes and continual pleasure of my
heart. On the 26th of April she was taken ill of a fever, which
lasted obstinate till the 17th day from the time it began. On
her going to bed she said she should never rise from it more;
and from all she said to me through her illness, it was evident
that she continued satisfied she could not live. She said she
did not begin to think about death then, and that she had no
desire to live; ‘therefore, my dear mother, why not now? The
Lord can make me ready for himself in a moment, and if I live
longer I may not be _better prepared; I am a poor creature--I
can do nothing myself--I only hope you will be supported_.’
She often desired me to pray by her, and with great earnestness
accompanied me. And at one time she called me and said, ‘_My
dearest mother, come and lie down by me, and let my heart be
laid close to yours, and then I shall get rest_.’ She often
called on the Lord Jesus to have mercy on her, and complained of
her impatience, though no one ever heard a complaint pass her
lips, notwithstanding her sufferings were very great. I said
she was blessed with patience; she replied, ‘_Oh, no!_’
with some tears. During the last four days these sentences at
times fell from her:--‘_Jesus, teach me!--Jesus, wash me,
cleanse me, and purify me!_’ Lying quiet, she said, _two
angels were beckoning her, and she must go, but could not get up
the ladder_. Another time she said--‘_I am as happy as my
heart can desire to be_.’ The day before her death, I came
to her and asked if she knew me? She answered, ‘_My dearest
mother_.’ I then asked if her heart was happy? She replied,
‘_I now well understand you_;’ and raising her head from
the pillow, added, ‘_I am happy_, VERY, VERY
_happy_!’ and then put out her lips to kiss me. She gave
directions to her servant, Catherine Spooner, about the disposal
of some rings, observing that she mentioned it to her, lest it
should shock her dear mother to tell her. She often said, _to
be resigned to God’s will was all, and that she had no hope of
salvation but in the mercy of Jesus Christ alone_. Blessed
are the dead that die in the Lord.”

Mr. Romaine, in a letter to Mrs. Medhurst, of Kippax, the niece of Lady Huntingdon, and one of his most intimate and attached friends, says--

“The Lord does not leave himself without a witness among us
poor sinners. He has been doing miracles of mercy for Lady
Huntingdon; and as she herself says, _in the midst of judgment
he remembered mercy_. You have heard, I suppose, of Lady
Selina’s illness. She had a violent fever for about seventeen
days, and the physicians did not apprehend she was in any great
danger, although she was near her end. On Thursday morning,
about four o’clock, the Lord took her to himself. O what a
stroke was that, say you, to Lady Huntingdon! No, indeed, it
was all mercy, all love, like the rest of Jesus’s gracious
dealings with his people. During her illness, Lady Huntingdon
had every day many promises given her of God’s kindness to her
daughter; all which she interpreted in a carnal sense, like
the Jews, and thought her daughter would recover, and do well
again. By this means she was wonderfully supported, and her
spirits were kept up to the last. And when the Lord let her see
things were otherwise intended than she thought, then he had
prepared for her a fresh fund of comfort; for such was Lady
Selina’s behaviour, and such her speeches, from the beginning
of her illness, that there is no doubt but she died happy in
the arms of Jesus. My dear friend, if I had time to tell you
all the particulars of her death, your soul would abundantly
rejoice, and all that is within you would bless the God of
your salvation. To him she committed herself, trusted him,
found him faithful, and declared, over and over again, that in
him she was happy. Her last words to her mother, when she took
her leave, were these:--Lady Huntingdon had said, ‘My dearest
child, how do you feel your heart? are you happy?’ Lady Selina
answered, lifting up her head from the pillow, which she had
not done for several days, ‘_I am happy, exceedingly happy in
Jesus_’--then she kissed Lady Huntingdon and presently went
home. Although my Lady bears this so well, yet she feels it. She
is but a woman, and though a gracious one, yet grace does not
destroy nature. She is a parent, and at present incapable of
writing.”

It was Lady Selina’s happiness to be born of a parent who considered a religious education the highest accomplishment with which her daughter could be graced, and the most valuable patrimony with which she could be endowed. Her disposition was naturally amiable, and she studied to repay maternal affection with an attachment that “grew with her growth, and strengthened with her strength.” Her religion was the religion of the heart, and consisted in an habitual intercourse with her God, from which neither the attractions of youth and fortune, nor the dazzling splendour of high life, could divert her. Her conduct demonstrated the reality and energy of a divine principle, always alive and active in its influence on her mind; and as her life was amiable and useful, so its closing scenes were highly interesting. Possessing the _grace_ and living the _life_, she had the consolation of departing in the full enjoyment of _faith_. From the commencement of her illness to the closing scene she discovered great serenity and composure of mind, arising from a firm reliance on the mediation, righteousness, and atonement of the Redeemer--a sweet complacency in the consolations of the Gospel, and the abounding display of divine mercy to the chief of sinners, through the method of salvation.

To resign into the arms of death so affectionate and dutiful a daughter was a severe trial to the Countess; but the consideration that it was ordered by that Being who is too wise to be mistaken, and too good to be unkind, silenced every opposing thought. “The choicest flowers we collect from the garden of society, which yields us the richest fragrance, too often fade in our bosom, drop their leaves, and moulder in the dust.” The loss of such a child was very sensibly felt by her afflicted mother; she best knew her worth, and most keenly deplored the parting stroke. But through the whole of this suffering season, this time of sorest anguish, she was enabled to look for help and strength to the Rock of her salvation, to yield implicit submission to the will of God, to be absolutely resigned to his disposal, and to repress every murmuring thought. “It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good,” was the prevailing sentiment of her humble, sorrowing, submissive soul.

This was a period much to be remembered by Lady Huntingdon, for the many affecting testimonies of distress which appeared on every side. A multitude of consolatory letters were addressed to her Ladyship on this afflicting event, by friends who were united to her in that intimacy of heart which is felt only by those who love the brethren for the truth’s sake. Mr. Whitefield was in Scotland, and just on the eve of embarking for America, at the time of Lady Selina’s illness and death. In a letter to Mr. Keene he says, “I rejoice to hear that good Lady Huntingdon is so supported;” and also to another correspondent--“Yours to Lady Huntingdon is taken care of. I hear her daughter died well, and that her Ladyship is comforted and resigned.”

The Earl of Dartmouth writes, under date of Blackheath, May 18, 1763--

“My dear Madam--Permit Lady Dartmouth and myself to sympathize
with you on the recent departure of the amiable and excellent
Lady Selina Hastings. Mr. Romaine was so good as to let me see
your Ladyship’s letter to him, announcing the solemn event,
and detailing the supports and divine consolations which she
enjoyed in her last moments. Little did we imagine, when we had
the pleasure of seeing her so lately in London, that she was so
near the confines of the eternal world. But we know not what
a day or a night may bring forth. Though nature must feel the
loss of such a darling object, now must your Ladyship’s grief
be mingled with joyful satisfaction and complacency that the
noble evidence she gave of the grace and hope of the Gospel, and
the loving-kindness and mercy of the Saviour, manifested in her
dying moments. Oh, my dear Madam, Lady Selina is now singing the
praises of redeeming love before the throne of God and of the
Lamb.

‘She is happy now, and we,
Soon her happiness shall see.’

“Lady Dartmouth feels most sensibly for your Ladyship on this
occasion, and has been deeply affected by the touching close of
your daughter’s earthly course. We are deeply indebted to your
Ladyship, more deeply than we can express. Our obligations are
of a nature never to be repaid by us; but you will be rewarded
openly before an assembled world, when we shall swell that
innumerable train of children which the Lord hath given to you.
There, Madam, we shall hope to meet you and join your beatified
child. God grant you grace to feel resigned and submissive under
this event. To his never-failing kindness and mercy we commend
you--living and dying may you be the Lord’s!

“With a grateful sense of your kindness, I remain, my dear
Madam, your very affectionate, humble servant,

“DARTMOUTH.”

Mr. Venn writes from Huddersfield, May 31, 1763, as follows:--

“Amongst the many in these parts who have a love for your
Ladyship’s name, and a tender sympathy with you, as a member
of Christ, I desire to assure your Ladyship I do not forget to
offer up many prayers, that your present very severe cross may
be sanctified, and the agonizing separation be made supportable,
by larger manifestations of the faithfulness and marvellous
loving-kindness of God our Saviour.

* * * * *

“I was exceedingly glad to hear from Mr. Romaine’s letter to
Mrs. Medhurst, that in the midst of so much grief there is so
much cause to bless God for the manifestation of his love to
your deceased daughter. How truly are we compared to the tender
short-lived flower. In the short time of only nine months, no
less than two of your Ladyship’s visitors at Knaresborough have
been gathered to their long home. Mr. Grimshaw is now before
the throne above, and that very amiable youth your Ladyship was
so kind as to take some notice of, Mr. Thomas Hudson, received
his dismission about two months since. His end, as his life,
was much to the glory of free grace. Very delightful were the
expressions of comfort that dropped from his lips.”[174]

Mr. Berridge writes from Everton, June 23, 1763:--

“My Lady--I received your letter from Brighthelmstone, and
hope you will soon learn to bless your Redeemer for snatching
away your daughter so speedily. Methinks I see great mercy in
the suddenness of her removal, and when your bowels have done
yearning for her you will see it too. O! what is she snatched
from? Why, truly, from the plague of an evil heart, a wicked
world, and a crafty devil--snatched from all such bitter grief
as now overwhelms you--snatched from everything that might
wound her ear, afflict her eye, or pain her heart. And what
is she snatched to? To a land of everlasting peace, where the
voice of the turtle is ever heard, where every inhabitant can
say, ‘I am no more sick!’--no more whim in the head, no more
plague in the heart; but all full of love and full of praise,
ever seeing with enraptured eyes, ever blessing with adoring
hearts, that dear Lamb who has washed them in his blood, and
has now made them kings and priests unto God for ever and ever.
Amen. O Madam! what would you have? Is it not better to sing in
heaven, ‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slain,’ &c., than crying at
Oathall, ‘O wretched woman that I am?’ Is it not better for her
to go before, than to stay after you, and then to be lamenting,
‘Ah, my mother!’ as you now lament, ‘Ah, my daughter?’ Is it not
better to have your Selina taken to heaven, than to have your
heart divided between Christ and Selina? If she was a silver
idol before, might she not have proved a golden one afterwards?
She is gone to pay a most blessed visit, and will see you again
by and by, never to part more. Had she crossed the sea and gone
to Ireland, you could have borne it; but now she is gone to
heaven ’tis almost intolerable. Wonderful strange love this!
Such behaviour in others would not surprise me, but I could
almost beat you for it; and I am sure Selina would beat you too,
if she was called back but one moment from heaven, to gratify
your fond desires. I cannot soothe you, and I must not flatter
you. I am glad the dear creature is gone to heaven before you.
Lament if you please; but glory, glory, glory, be to God, says

“JOHN BERRIDGE.”

Mr. Fletcher’s letter of condolence is dated Madely, September 10, 1763:--

“Blessed be God (he says) for giving us the unspeakable
satisfaction to see Lady Selina safely landed, and out of the
reach of vanity. This is mercy rejoicing over judgment of a
truth. This is an answer to the blood of Jesus and prayers. This
is an earnest of what the Lord will do for my Lady in his time.

“Come, my Lady, let us travel on, sticking close to our heavenly
Guide; let us keep a hold of the hem of his garment, by firmly
believing the arms of his wise providence and everlasting love
are underneath us; let us hasten to our friends in light; and
while we thus stand still, we shall see the salvation, the
_great_ salvation of our God. He that cometh will come, and
will not tarry--even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly, and let us
all be lost together in thy love and praise.”

Another passage from one of Mr. Berridge’s letters, a good specimen of his epistolary style, cannot be otherwise than acceptable to the reader. It is dated June 27, 1763:--

“My poor clay ever wants to teach God how to be a good potter;
and may not your Dresden have something in it that resembles my
Delf? You would not, like Uzziah, lay your hand on the ark of
God; but may you not be too solicitous about a driver of the
cart?--and a blinder hobgoblin than myself you need not desire.
Indeed, I am so dissatisfied with my own carting, that, if I
durst, I should throw the whip out of my hands. Every hour I
lose my way--every day forget what I learnt the day before;
neither instruction nor correction mends me. Yea, verily, though
I know myself to be a most stupid ass, yet at times I am a
most conceited one also. Though not fit to drive a dung-cart,
yet at some certain seasons I can fancy myself qualified to be
the King’s coachman. And nothing so much discovers to me the
sovereign hypocrisy of my heart as when any one is so cruelly
kind as to tell me that all the mean things I say of myself are
very true. Nay, if your Ladyship should send me word that you
really think me that hobgoblin which I seem to think myself, and
fully think myself to be, it might put me so much out of conceit
with you as to fancy that your Dresden was now no better than
my Delf. Oh! I am sick, mighty sick of this self. How can you
but rejoice for that happy creature who was delivered from this
self, almost as soon as she felt the curse of it?”

In another letter, dated July 3, Mr. Berridge says:--

“Oh heart! heart! what art thou? a mass of fooleries and
absurdities! the vainest, foolishest, craftiest, wickedest
thing in nature. And yet the Lord Jesus asks me for this heart,
woos me for it, died to win it. O wonderful love! adorable
condescension!

“Take it, Lord, and let it be
Ever closed to all but thee.”

Again, under date of July 9, 1763, he says:--

“Mrs. Bateman has sent me a mighty pretty letter to coax me into
Sussex, and withal acquaints me that your Ladyship has been
ill of a fever, but is now better. I was glad to hear of both.
Nothing expels undue grief of mind like bodily corrections.
Nothing makes the child leave crying like the rod; at least,
I find it so by experience. However, I durst not send such
consolation to many Christians, because they are not able to
see the truth or bear the weight of it. I found your heart was
sorely pained, and I pitied you, but durst not soothe you; for
soothing, though it eases grief for a moment, only makes Lady
Self grow more burdensome, and occasions more tears in the end.
A little whipping from your Father will dry up your tears much
sooner than a thousand pretty lullabies from your brethren. And
I now hope you will be well soon.”

When Lady Huntingdon removed from Brighton to Oathall, in the June of this year (1763), she was engaged in making arrangements for the services of her chapel, which had been suspended during the illness and by the death of Lady Selina. Mr. Berridge could not leave Everton till relieved by Mr. Madan or Dr. Haweis. Mr. Madan went first to Brighton, and promised Mr. Berridge to visit Everton on Mr. Romaine’s return from Yorkshire. The Tottenham congregation would not be deprived of the services of Mr. Dyer,[175] depending on Mr. Green;[176] and neither the hospital chaplains[177] nor the vicar of St. Dunstan’s[178] cared (we quote Mr. Berridge) to peep into the Tottenham pulpit.

In the course of this summer, Mr. Venn, having come from Huddersfield to London, to superintend the publication of his “Complete Duty of Man,” proceeded thence to Brighton, on a visit to Lady Huntingdon. He preached frequently in Brighton, but could not accompany her Ladyship to Oathall. On the 27th of August, after his return to Huddersfield, he wrote to acknowledge a letter from the Countess, and observes--“I desire to be abased, and am filled with the deepest wonder at the account you send me of the Lord’s prospering my poor attempts to preach his name among your people. _My visit to your Ladyship was indeed a great blessing to my own soul._” In the letter he alludes to a visit which he paid to Ipswich, on his way homeward, to his brother, Dr. Edward Venn, M.D., of St. John’s College, Cambridge, who settled as a physician at Ipswich,[179] where, he tells us, his wife’s brother was minister of the great church.

Mr. Romaine reached Everton on the 1st of August, and Mr. Berridge set out for Oathall, whence, after a time, he proceeded to London, and preached at the Tottenham Chapel, and returned to Everton before the end of a month. In the meanwhile Mr. Madan had succeeded Mr. Romaine at Everton, and afterwards, by Lady Huntingdon’s desire, extended his excursion to Yorkshire. Mr. Romaine had by this time reached Brighton. In Mr. Berridge’s letter to Lady Huntingdon, written after his return home, and dated Everton, September 2nd, 1763, he says he heard Mr. Edwards, of Leeds, at the Tabernacle, whom he describes as a sensible man, who seems alive, but a wonderful admirer of method, and one who has swallowed John Calvin whole at a mouthful. The congregation at Tottenham-street, when Mr. Berridge preached, were, he says, “much like the mien and garb of an undertaker--rather dismal than dolorous.” He had been hurried from London, he says, by a letter from Mr. Hicks, of Wrestlingworth, whose wife had died very suddenly. He tells Lady Huntingdon that Mr. Reeves[180] and Mr. Prior had been elected afternoon lecturers at Whitechapel--salary, 50_l._ a year; duty, a sermon alternately on Sunday afternoons. Mr. Maxfield, he says, grows violent, and Bell recovers his delusion apace, bidding fair for a greater enthusiast than ever. He speaks highly of Mr. Richardson and Mr. Tilney, and concludes his long but amusing letter by promising a speedy return to the Tabernacle.

Lady Huntingdon continued at Brighton. Her friends, Mrs. Cartaret and Mrs. Cavendish, were her inmates there in the middle of September, about which period she received another letter from Mr. Berridge, dated the Tabernacle House, but we do not think it necessary to make any further extracts from this interesting correspondence.