Chapter L: Tyerman (5)

"I continued in London about three weeks, waiting for Mr.
Oglethorpe, who expected to sail every day. In this season, I
preached more frequently than when there before. Many more came
to hear me; and the last Sunday I was in town I read prayers
twice, and preached four times. But, finding Mr. Oglethorpe was
not likely to go for some time, and having lain under particular
obligation to the Rev. Mr. Sampson Harris,[91] minister of
Stonehouse, in Gloucestershire, I went down thither, at his
request, to supply his place, whilst he came up to dispatch some
affairs in town.

[91] Brother of Whitefield's intimate friend, Mr. Harris,
bookseller, of Gloucester, and an eminently zealous and faithful
minister of Christ.

"Here was a little sweet Society, who had heard me preach at
an adjacent town, and had wrestled with God, if it was His
will, to send me amongst them. They received me with joy, and
most of the parishioners were very civil, when I came to visit
them from house to house. I found them more knowing than I
expected. Their pastor had catechized the little ones in the
summer season, and expounded the four lessons every Lord's-day
in the church. I followed his good example, and found great
freedom and assistance given me both in my public and private
administrations. Having the use of the parsonage house, I
expounded every night. Many that were not parishioners came
to hear, and were edified. On Sundays, besides expounding the
lessons, catechising and preaching, I repeated my sermons to the
Society. Neither church nor house could contain the people that
came. I found uncommon manifestations granted me from above.
Early in the morning, at noonday, evening, and midnight, nay,
all the day long, did the blessed Jesus visit and refresh my
heart. Could the trees of a certain wood near Stonehouse speak,
they would tell what sweet communion I and some others enjoyed
there with the ever blessed God. Sometimes, as I was walking,
my soul would make such sallies as though it would go out of
the body. At other times, I was so overpowered with a sense of
God's infinite majesty, that I was constrained to throw myself
prostrate on the ground. One night, when I had been expounding
to many people, it happened to lighten exceedingly, and some
being afraid to go home, I thought it my duty to accompany
them, and improve the occasion, to stir them up to prepare for
the coming of the Son of man. In my return to the parsonage,
whilst others were rising from their beds, frightened almost to
death, I and a poor, but pious, countryman were in the field
exulting in our God, and longing for the time when Jesus shall
be revealed from heaven in a flame of fire. Every week the
congregations increased; and on Ascension-day, when I took my
leave, their sighs and tears almost broke my heart."[92]

[92] Whitefield's farewell sermon at Stonehouse, preached on
Ascension-day, May 10, 1737, was accidentally discovered, in
manuscript, more than seventy years after his decease, and was
first published, with a preface, in 1842. The text was, "Whom He
justified, them He also glorified" (Romans viii. 30). It is one of
his best sermons. The only copy I have ever seen was kindly lent
to me by Mrs. A. J. Parker, of Camberwell, daughter of the devout
clergyman by whom it was revised and committed to the press.

Such was the active and happy life of Whitefield during the two months that he spent at Stonehouse. In letters to the brother of the clergyman for whom he was officiating, he wrote:--"Be pleased to send me the 'Poor Country Curate,' and Flavel's 'Husbandry Spiritualized.' I know not what to do for want of a clock in the house.[93] The country now looks like a second paradise. This seems the pleasantest place I ever was in. Surely I can never be thankful enough for being sent hither. People flock to hear the word of God from the neighbouring villages, as well as our own. They gladly receive me into their houses. I have no let or hindrance to my ministerial business. Stonehouse people and I agree better and better. I believe we shall part weeping. Your observations on the weather were pertinent and spiritual. Honest James and I were out in the midst of the lightning, and never were more delighted in our lives. May we be as well pleased when the Son of God cometh to judgment!"

[93] As yet, he evidently was not the rich possessor of a watch.

On leaving Stonehouse, exultant Whitefield went to Bristol. He writes:--

"The incumbent of Stonehouse being returned from London, and the
people of Bristol having given me repeated invitations, since
the time of my embarking was deferred, I paid them a second
visit on May 23rd. Multitudes came on foot, and many in coaches,
a mile without the city, to meet me; and almost all saluted and
blessed me as I went along the street.

"Upon my coming here, I received letters from London, informing
me that Mr. Oglethorpe would not embark these two months. This
gladdened many hearts, though I cannot say that it did mine; for
I counted the hours, as it were, till I went abroad. I preached,
as usual, about five times a week; but the congregations grew,
if possible, larger and larger. It was wonderful to see how the
people hung upon the rails of the organ loft, climbed upon the
leads of the church, and made the church itself so hot with
their breath, that the steam would fall from the pillars like
drops of rain. Sometimes, almost as many would go away, for
want of room, as came in; and it was with great difficulty that
I got into the desk, to read prayers or preach. Persons of all
denominations flocked to hear. Persons of all ranks, not only
publicly attended my ministry, but gave me private invitations
to their houses. A private Society or two were erected. I
preached and collected for the poor prisoners in Newgate twice
or thrice a week; and many made me large offers if I would not
go abroad.

"During my stay here, I paid another visit to Bath, and preached
three times in the Abbey Church, and once in Queen's Chapel.
People crowded, and were affected as at Bristol; and God stirred
up some elect ladies to give upwards of £160 for the poor of
Georgia."

At this distance of time, it is impossible to ascertain who were the "elect ladies" here mentioned. Bath was the resort of all kinds of ladies, titled and untitled, converted and unconverted, moral and immoral. How many of Bath's distinguished female visitors flocked to the Abbey Church to hear the young Christian orator, there is no evidence to show; and it is equally difficult to determine whether any of these casual acquaintances became lasting friends. It is said, that the witty and eccentric Lady Townshend, the mother of the first Marquess Townshend and of the famous Charles Townshend, was the first titled lady who extolled Whitefield's preaching;[94] and it is certain that, within a few years after this visit to the city of Bath, his aristocratic hearers and admirers included the Countess of Huntingdon, the Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Cobham, the Duchess of Buckingham, the Duchess of Queensbury, Lady Lisburne, Lady Hinchinbroke, and others, some of whom will be further noticed in succeeding pages.

[94] "Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon," vol i., p. 23.

This second preaching visit to Bristol lasted for a month. His entrance was a spectacle seldom seen; and his departure was quite as marvellous. The youthful evangelist, in continuation of his artlessly told narrative, remarks:--

"June 21st, I took my last farewell at Bristol; but when I came
to tell the people, it might be that they would '_see my face no
more_,' high and low, young and old, burst into such a flood of
tears, as I had never seen before. Multitudes, after sermon,
followed me home weeping; and, the next day, I was employed
from seven in the morning till midnight, in talking and giving
spiritual advice to awakened souls.

"About three the next morning, having thrown myself on the bed
for an hour or two, I set out for Gloucester, because I heard
that a great company on horseback, and in coaches, intended
to see me out of town. Some, finding themselves disappointed,
followed me thither, where I stayed a few days, and preached to
a very crowded auditory. Then I went on to Oxford, where we had,
as it were, a general rendezvous of the Methodists; and, finding
their interests flourishing, and being impatient to go abroad, I
hastened away, and came to London about the end of August."

Thus passed two months more of this strange and eventful year. Meanwhile, Whitefield had issued his first publication. The following advertisement appeared in the _Weekly Miscellany_, July 22, 1737:--"Speedily will be published (price sixpence, or two guineas per hundred, to those who give them away), The Nature and Necessity of our New Birth in Christ Jesus, in order to Salvation--a Sermon preached in the Church of St. Mary's Redcliffe, in Bristol, by George Whitefield, A.B., of Pembroke College, Oxford. Published at the request of several of the hearers. Printed by C. Rivington, in St. Paul's Churchyard; and sold by Messrs. Harris, Senior and Junior, in Gloucester; Mr. Wilson, in Bristol; and Mr. Leake, in Bath."[95]

[95] When Whitefield was closing his ministry in London, in the year
1769, he said: "The second sermon I ever made, the second sermon I
ever preached, was on these words, 'If any man be in Christ, he is
a new creature.' I was then about twenty years and a half old. The
next sermon I preached was upon 'Ye are justified;' and the next,
'Ye are glorified.'" (Whitefield's Eighteen Sermons, published by
Gurney, 1771, p. 334.)

The sermon, thus announced, was published on August 5th, 8vo, 28 pp. The text was, "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature." The four divisions were, 1. What is meant by _being in Christ_. 2. What we are to understand by being a _new creature_. 3. Produce arguments to prove _why_ we must be _new creatures_ before we can be _in Christ_. 4. Draw some inferences from the whole. At the present day, there is nothing in the sermon likely to arrest attention; but, a hundred and thirty years ago, things were different. _Then_, Whitefield's doctrine, if not new, was startling. It was seldom preached, was hardly understood, and rarely _felt_. As Whitefield himself observes, "though one of the most fundamental doctrines of our holy religion," "it was so seldom considered, and so little _experimentally_ understood by the generality of professors," that when told "they must be born again, they were ready to cry out, 'How can these things be?'"

The sermon is not remarkable either for its eloquence or depth of thought. It is simply plain, earnest, practical. Two or three extracts, to illustrate Whitefield's style, may be welcome.

Having propounded the doctrine, that being a _new creature_ does not mean "a physical change made in us," but rather an alteration of "the qualities and tempers of our minds," the preacher proceeds,--"As it may be said of a piece of gold that was in the ore, after it has been cleansed, purified, and polished, that it is a new piece of gold; as it may be said of a bright glass that has been covered over with filth, when it is wiped, and so become transparent and clear, that it is a new glass; or, as it might be said of Naaman, when he recovered of his leprosy, and his flesh returned unto him like the flesh of a young child, that he was a new man; so our souls, though still the same as to essence, yet are so purged, purified, and cleansed from their natural dross, filth, and leprosy, by the influences of the Holy Spirit, that they may properly be said to be _made anew_!'

One of Whitefield's arguments to prove the necessity of the new birth was founded on a consideration of the nature of future happiness. That happiness being _spiritual_, "unless our _carnal_ minds are _changed_, and become _spiritualized_, we cannot be made meet to be partakers of it."

"It is true," he says, "we may flatter ourselves, that, supposing we continue in our natural corrupt estate, and carry all our lusts along with us, we should notwithstanding relish heaven, were God to admit us therein. And so we might, were it a _Mahometan paradise_, wherein we were to take our full swing in sensual delights. But since its joys are only _spiritual_, and no unclean thing can possibly enter those blessed mansions, there is an absolute necessity of our being _changed_, and undergoing a total _renovation_ of our depraved natures, before we can have any taste or relish of those heavenly pleasures. In the very nature of things, unless we have dispositions answerable to the objects that are to entertain us, we can take no manner of complacency in them. For instance, what delight can the most harmonious _music_ afford a _deaf_ man; or what pleasure the most excellent _picture_ give a _blind_ one? Can a tasteless palate relish the richest dainties? or a filthy swine be pleased with a garden of flowers? No! And what reason can be assigned for it? An answer is ready: Because they have no tempers of mind correspondent to what they are to be diverted with. And thus it is with the soul hereafter. For death makes no more alteration in the soul, than as it enlarges its faculties, and makes it capable of receiving deeper impressions either of pleasure or pain. If it delighted to converse with God here, it will be transported with the sight of His glorious majesty hereafter. If it was pleased with the communion of saints on earth, it will be infinitely more so with the communion and society of holy angels, and of the spirits of just men, made perfect, in heaven. But, if the opposite of all this be true, it could not be happy, were God Himself to admit it into the regions of the blessed."

One more extract must suffice. It is taken from the preface to the sermon, and was hardly adapted to gain the young preacher favour among the clergy whom it censures.

"The importunity of friends, the aspersions of enemies, the
great scarcity of sermons on this subject, among the divines of
our own Church, and not any overweening conceit of the worth
of the performance, were, amongst divers others, the reasons
that induced me to permit the publication of this very plain
discourse. If it be made instrumental towards the convicting
of any one sinner, or confirming any one saint, I shall not be
solicitous about the censures that may be passed, either on the
simplicity of the style, or on the youth of the author.

"I hope it will be permitted me to add my hearty wishes, that
my reverend brethren, the ministers of the Church of England,
(if such an one as I may be worthy to call them brethren,)
would more frequently entertain their people with discourses of
this nature, than they commonly do; and that they would not,
out of a servile fear of displeasing some particular persons,
fail to declare the _whole will_ of God to their respective
congregations, nor suffer their people to rest satisfied with
the shell and shadow of religion, without acquainting them with
the nature and necessity of that _inward holiness and vital
purity of heart_, which their profession obliges them to aspire
after, and without which no man living can comfortably see the
Lord."

The first sermon which Wesley published, after his conversion, was on the text, "By grace are ye saved, through faith;" its _principal_ subject being "salvation, or justification, by faith only." Whitefield's first sermon is entirely on the new birth. Both the doctrines are of paramount importance; and the preaching of the two combined, created, under God, the Methodism that now exists.

It may be added, that Whitefield's sermon passed through at least three editions before the year of its publication was ended.[96] Other sermons will be mentioned shortly; but, in the meantime, Whitefield's narrative must be resumed. Having come to London "about the end of August," expecting to set sail for Georgia, he says:--

"Every hour now seemed a week, and every week a year, till I
was embarked. I knew there was no minister at Frederica, for
which place I was appointed, and I did not care to be absent
longer from my proper charge. Mr. Oglethorpe's going was still
retarded, and I had thought it my duty to go immediately
without him, had not he and my other friends urged that the
soldiers would shortly embark, and that I had best go over with
them. This somewhat pacified me; and, having now taken a final
farewell of my friends in the country, I was resolved to abide
in London, and give myself wholly to prayer, the study of the
Scriptures, and my own heart, till the soldiers should embark.

[96] Whitefield's Works, vol. i., p. 30.

"The house I lodged at was good old Mr. Hutton's,[97] in College
Street, Westminster, where I had the pleasure of seeing my dear
friend, Mr. Ingham, lately returned from Georgia; and perceiving
him, as I thought, remarkably grown in grace, I longed still
more to be sent to the same school, hoping to catch some of
that holy flame with which his soul was fired. We freely and
solemnly conversed together about my call abroad; and it seemed
to both quite clear. Our hearts were knit to each other, like
the hearts of David and Jonathan. At midnight, we would rise to
sing praises to God, and to intercede for the whole state of
Christ's militant Church here on earth.

[97] The Rev. John Hutton, a worthy and respected clergyman of
the Church of England, who was trained at Eton College, and
proceeded from that institution, as one of its senior scholars,
to King's College, Cambridge, in the summer of 1694, where
he graduated in arts as bachelor in 1698, and as master in
1702. Being unable, from conscientious scruples, to take the
necessary oaths to the government, he felt himself obliged to
resign his Church preferment, and, engaging a house in College
Street, Westminster, took several boys, belonging to non-jurors,
to board with him, and be educated. Of course, like all the
non-jurors of the age, he maintained the doctrines of passive
obedience; of the Divine institution of hereditary succession to
the throne; of the non-jurisdiction of the civil magistrate in
the Church, etc., etc. His wife was second-cousin to Sir Isaac
Newton; and his son, as is well known, became the principal
Moravian in England, and, later on in life, was a frequent and
almost familiar visitor of George III and his Queen Charlotte.
For a time, a close and affectionate intimacy existed between
the Hutton family and the Wesley brothers.

"With this dear friend, I, one day, paid a visit to a worthy
doctor of divinity, near London, who introduced us to some
honourable ladies, who delighted in doing good. It being my
constant practice to improve my acquaintance with the rich for
the benefit of the poor, I recommended two poor clergymen, and
another pious person, to their charity. They said little, but,
between them, gave, I think, thirty-six guineas. The doctor
said,' If you had not spoken for others, you would have had
a good deal of that yourself.' God gave me to rejoice that I
had nothing, and the poor all. The next day, upon my return to
London, in the first letter that I opened, was a bank-note of
£10, sent from an unexpected hand as a present to myself.

"About this time, I was prevailed upon to print my sermon on
'The Nature and Necessity of our New Birth in Christ Jesus,'
which, under God, began the awakening in London, Bristol,
Gloucester, and Gloucestershire. This sermon sold well to
persons of all denominations, and was dispersed very much both
at home and abroad. Finding another of my sermons was printed,
without my leave, and in a very incorrect manner, at Bristol,
I was obliged to publish in my own defence; and, afterwards,
thought I had a clear call to print any other discourses, though
in themselves mean, that I found blessed to the good of souls.

"But to return to my public administrations. Being determined
to abide in London till the time of my departure, I followed
my usual practice of reading and praying over the word of God
upon my knees. Sweet was this retirement, but it was not of long
continuance. I was invited to preach at Cripplegate, St. Ann's,
and Forster Lane churches, at six on the Lord's-day morning, and
to assist in administering the holy sacrament. I embraced the
invitations, and so many came, that sometimes we were obliged to
consecrate fresh elements two or three times. I also preached
at Wapping Chapel, the Tower, Ludgate, Newgate, and many of the
churches where weekly lectures were kept up. The congregations
continually increased, and generally, on a Lord's-day, I used to
preach four times to very large and very affected auditories,
besides reading prayers twice or thrice, and walking, perhaps,
twelve miles in going backwards and forwards from one church to
the other.

"About the latter end of August, finding there were many young
men belonging to the" (Religious) "Societies that attended my
administrations, I entered into one of their singing societies,
hoping to have greater opportunities of doing them good. It
answered my design. Our Lord gave me to spiritualize their
singing. After they had taught me the gamut, they would gladly
hear me teach them some of the mysteries of the new birth. Many
sweet nights we spent together in this way; and many of these
youths, afterwards, to all appearance, walked with God.

"About the middle of September, my name was first put into the
public newspapers. The Sunday before, I was prevailed upon to
preach a charity sermon in Wapping Chapel.[98] The congregation
was very large, and more was collected than had been for many
years upon a like occasion. My friends entreated me to preach
another charity sermon, at Sir George Wheeler's Chapel; and,
through the importunity of Mr. Habersham (since my faithful
assistant in the Orphan House), I agreed to do it. I discoursed
upon the widow's giving her two mites. God bowed the hearts of
the hearers as the heart of one man. Almost all, as I was told
by the collectors, offered most willingly. This still drew on
fresh applications. The Sunday following, I preached, in the
evening, at St. Swithin's, where £8 was collected, instead
of ten shillings. The next morning, I read in one of the
newspapers, 'that there was a young gentleman going volunteer to
Georgia; that he had preached at St. Swithin's, and collected
£8, instead of ten shillings, £3 of which were in halfpence; and
that he was to preach next Wednesday before the Societies, at
their general quarterly meeting.' This advertisement chagrined
me. I immediately sent to the printer, desiring he would put
me in his paper no more. His answer was, that 'he was paid for
doing it, and that he would not lose two shillings for anybody.'
By this means, people's curiosity was stirred up more and more.
On the Wednesday evening, Bow Church, in Cheapside, was crowded
exceedingly. I preached my sermon on 'Early Piety,' and, at the
request of the Societies, printed it.

[98] The text was "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian."

"Henceforwards, for near three months successively, there was
no end of the people flocking to hear the word of God. The
churchwardens and managers of charity schools were constantly
applying to me to preach for the benefit of the children;
and, as I was to embark shortly, they procured the liberty of
the churches on the week-days,--a thing never known before. I
sometimes had more than a dozen names of different churches,
at which I had promised to preach, upon my slate-book at once;
and, when I preached, constables were obliged to be placed
at the door, to keep the people in order. The sight of the
congregations was awful. One might, as it were, walk upon
the people's heads; and thousands went away from the largest
churches for want of room. They were all attention, and heard
like people hearing for eternity.

"I now preached generally nine times a week. The early
sacraments were exceeding awful. At Cripplegate, St. Ann's, and
Forster Lane, how often have we seen Jesus Christ crucified, and
evidently set forth before us! On Sunday mornings, long before
day, you might see streets filled with people going to church,
with their lanterns in their hands, and hear them conversing
about the things of God. Other lecture churches near at hand
would be filled with persons who could not come where I was
preaching; and those who did come were like persons struck with
pointed arrows, or mourning for a firstborn child. People gave
so liberally to the charity schools, that this season near,£1000
was collected at the several churches, besides many private
contributions and subscriptions sent in afterwards. I always
preached gratis, and gave myself.

"The _blue-coat_ boys and girls looked upon me as their great
benefactor; and, I believe, frequently sent up their infant
cries on my behalf. Worthy Mr. Seward, afterwards my dear
fellow-traveller, was their hearty friend and advocate. He was
concerned in above twenty charity schools, and, as I found
afterwards, inserted the paragraph that so chagrined me.

"The tide of popularity now began to run very high. In a
short time, I could no longer walk on foot as usual, but was
constrained to go in a coach, from place to place, to avoid
the hosannas of the multitude. They grew quite extravagant in
their applauses; and, had it not been for my compassionate High
Priest, popularity would have destroyed me. I used to plead
with Him to take me by the hand, and lead me unhurt through
this fiery furnace. He heard my request, and gave me to see the
vanity of all commendations but His own.

"Not that all spoke well of me. No; as my popularity increased,
opposition increased also. At first, many of the clergy were my
hearers and admirers; but some soon grew angry, and complaints
were made that the churches were so crowded that there was no
room for the parishioners, and that the pews were spoiled. Some
called me a spiritual pickpocket, and others thought I made
use of a kind of charm to get the people's money. A report was
spread that the Bishop of London, upon the complaint of the
clergy, intended to _silence_ me. I immediately waited upon his
lordship, and enquired whether any complaint of this nature had
been lodged against me? He answered, 'No.' I asked his lordship
whether any objection could be made against my doctrine? He
said, 'No; for he knew a clergyman who had heard me preach a
plain scriptural sermon.' I asked his lordship whether he would
grant me a license? He said, 'I needed none, since I was going
to Georgia.' I replied, 'Then your lordship will not forbid me?'
He gave me a satisfactory answer, and I took my leave. Soon
after this, two clergymen sent for me, and told me they would
not let me preach in their pulpits any more, unless I renounced
that part of my sermon on regeneration, wherein I wished 'that
my brethren would entertain their auditories oftener with
discourses upon the new birth.' This I had no freedom to do, and
so they continued my opposers.

"What, I believe, irritated some of my enemies the more, was
my free conversation with many of the serious Dissenters, who
invited me to their houses, and repeatedly told me 'that, if
the doctrine of the new birth and justification by faith was
preached powerfully in the Church, there would be but few
Dissenters in England.' My practice in visiting and associating
with them, I thought, was quite agreeable to the word of
God. Their conversation was savoury, and I imagined the best
way to bring them over was not by bigotry and railing, but
by moderation, and love, and undissembled holiness of life.
But these reasons were of no avail. One minister called me a
_pragmatical rascal_, and vehemently inveighed against the whole
body of Dissenters. This stirred up the people's corruptions;
and, having an overweening fondness for me, whenever they came
to church and found that I did not preach, some of them would
go out again. This spirit I always endeavoured to quell, and
made a sermon on purpose from these words, 'Take heed how ye
hear.' One time, upon hearing that a churchwarden intended to
take £8 a year from his parish minister, because he refused to
let me preach his lecture, I composed a sermon upon 'Love your
enemies,' and delivered it where I knew the churchwarden would
be. It had its desired effect. He came after sermon, and told me
he should not resent the injury the doctor had done me, and then
thanked me for my care.

"Nor was I without opposition from my friends, who were jealous
over me with a godly jealousy. Thousands and thousands came to
hear. My sermons were everywhere called for. News came, from
time to time, of the springing-up and increase of the seed sown
in Bristol, Gloucester, and elsewhere. Large offers were made
me, if I would stay in England. And all the opposition I met
with, joined with the consciousness of my daily infirmities, was
but ballast little enough to keep me from oversetting.

"I had a sweet knot of religious friends, with whom I first
attempted to pray _extempore_. Some time, I think in October,
we began to set apart an hour every evening to intercede with
the Great Head of the Church to carry on the work begun, and
for the circle of our acquaintance, according as we knew their
circumstances required. I was their mouth unto God, and He only
knows what enlargement I felt in that Divine employ. Once we
spent a whole night in prayer and praise; and many a time, at
midnight and at one in the morning, after I had been wearied
almost to death in preaching, writing, and conversation, and
going from place to place, God imparted new life to my soul, and
enabled me to intercede with Him for an hour and a half and two
hours together. The sweetness of this exercise made me compose
my sermon upon _Intercession_, and I cannot think it presumption
to suppose that partly, at least, in answer to prayers then put
up by His dear children, the Word, for some years past, has run
and been glorified, not only in England, but in many other parts
of the world.

"It was now, I think, that I was prevailed on to sit for my
picture. The occasion was this. Some ill-minded persons had
painted me leaning on a cushion, with a bishop looking very
enviously over my shoulder. At the bottom were six lines, in
one of which the bishops were styled 'Mitred Drones.' The same
person published in the papers that I had sat for it. This
I looked upon as a snare of the devil to incense the clergy
against me. I consulted friends what to do. They told me I must
sit for my picture in my own defence. At the same time, my aged
mother laid her commands upon me to do so, urging 'that if I
would not let her have the substance, I would leave her at least
the shadow.' She also mentioned the painter, and, meeting with
him one night, accidentally, I, with great reluctance, complied,
and endeavoured, whilst the painter was drawing my face, to
employ my time in beseeching the great God, by His Holy Spirit,
to paint His blessed image upon my heart.

"Christmas now drew near. Notice was given me that the soldiers
were almost ready to embark for Georgia, and I resolved to go
with them. The nearer the time of my departure approached,
the more affectionate the people grew. At the beginning of
Christmas week, I took my leave; but, oh, what groans and sighs
were heard when I said, 'Finally, brethren, farewell!' At Great
St. Helen's, the cry was amazing. I was nearly half an hour
going out to the door. All ranks gave vent to their passions.
Thousands and thousands of prayers were put up for me. They
would run and stop me in the alleys, hug me in their arms, and
follow me with wishful looks. Once in the Christmas before my
departure, with many others, I spent a night in prayer and
praise, and, in the morning, helped to administer the sacrament
at St. Dunstan's, as I used to do on Saints' Days. But such a
sacrament I never saw before. The tears of the communicants
mingled with the cup, and had not Jesus comforted our hearts,
our parting would have almost been unsupportable.

"At length, on December 28, I left London and went on board the
_Whitaker_, after having preached in a good part of the London
churches, collected about £1000 for the charity schools, and got
upwards of £300 for the poor of Georgia among my friends."[99]

[99] "A Further Account of God's Dealings with the Rev. George
Whitefield, from the time of his Ordination to his embarking for
Georgia." 8vo, 1747.

This is a strange, almost romantic story. Remembering Whitefield's youthfulness and the circumstances of his life, it stands unparalleled. The young Methodist stirred one of the greatest cities in the world. John Wesley was now on his way home from Georgia, disappointed, and deplorably depressed, and wrote, during his ocean journey, "I went to America to convert the Indians; but, oh, who shall convert me?" Twelve months before, Charles Wesley began his "twenty-seventh year in a murmuring, discontented spirit; reading over and over the third of Job;"[100] and during the interval had been worried with all sorts of Georgian vexations. Whitefield all the while was almost as happy as a man could be outside heaven; and, in his pulpit throne, was wielding a power which moved the hearts of thousands. "I suppose," said he to his friend Harris, at Gloucester, "you have heard of my _mighty deeds_, falsely so called, by reading the newspapers; but I beseech Mr. Raikes, the printer, never to put me into his News upon any such account again. All London is alarmed. Thousands, I hope, are quickened, strengthened, and confirmed by the word preached. God still works more and more by my unworthy ministry. Last week, save one," (November 14, 1737,) "I preached ten times in different churches; and the last week seven; and yesterday four times, and read prayers twice. I now begin to preach charity sermons twice or thrice a week, besides two or three on Sundays; and sixty or seventy pounds are collected weekly for the poor children. Thousands would come in to hear, but cannot." In another letter to the same friend, dated December 23rd, he writes: "On Wednesday night, eighteen of us continued all night in praises, and in praying for you and our other friends. I have preached above a hundred times since I have been here. Last Sunday, at six in the morning, when I gave my farewell, the whole congregation wept and cried aloud. Since that, there is no end of persons coming and telling me what God has done for their souls. The time would fail me, were I to relate how many have been awakened. The great day will discover all. Meanwhile, pray that the goodness of God may make me humble. My farewell sermon will be published shortly, with two or three more."

[100] C. Wesley's Journal.

The charity schools so frequently mentioned in Whitefield's narrative were schools for the education of the children of the poor, to a large extent established by the Religious Societies and by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. In 1744, there were, in London and Westminster, 136 of these schools, containing 5069 scholars.

Whitefield mentions certain "lecture churches" in which he preached. These were churches in which the Religious Societies, founded by Dr. Hornech, Bishop Beveridge, and others, about the year 1677, commenced six o'clock morning services every Sunday, at which ministers, specially engaged for the occasion, preached, and administered the holy communion, their fees being paid out of the sacramental collections, and the overplus of such collections being given for the support of the charity schools just named.[101]

[101] Memoirs of James Hutton, p. 14.

Charles Wesley was in England during the whole of the year of 1737, but was so occupied with Georgian affairs, and with other things, that his opportunities of holding communion with his friend Whitefield were not many. Occasionally, however, they found time to meet, and rejoiced in each other's welfare. Charles writes: "Sunday, October 30th. I waked Jacky Delamotte and Miss Betty at five, and attended them to Forster Lane, where we heard Mr. Whitefield, and communicated together." And again: "Saturday, November 5th. I met and turned back with Betty to hear Mr. Whitefield preach, not with the persuasive words of man's wisdom, but with the demonstration of the Spirit, and with power. The churches will not contain the multitudes that throng to hear him."[102]

[102] C. Wesley's Journal.

During the year, Charles had been worried by a young Dutchman of the name of Appee, who had accompanied; him from Georgia, a religious hypocrite, who was afterwards found to be an infidel, a libertine, a liar, and a thief. He had, also, been introduced to Zinzendorf, just arrived from Germany, and had promised to call on him every day. At Zinzendorf's, he had met with Bishop Nitschmann, had been present at a Moravian service, and had "thought himself in a choir of angels." The Bishop of Oxford had received him with the utmost kindness, and had desired him to call on him as often as he could. He had visited his old friends at Oxford, and his brother Samuel at Tiverton. At her desire, he had waited upon Lady Betty Hastings. He had buried his uncle, Matthew Wesley. He had met his mother and his sisters. He had greeted his "old hearty friend, Benjamin Ingham," just returned from Georgia. He had had interviews with Archbishop Potter, and with his Majesty George II. He and William Law had conversed on religious subjects. He had visited the Delamotte family at Blendon. He had had cavils not a few with Oglethorpe and the Georgian Trustees. As late as October 14, he still contemplated a return to Georgia. He preached occasionally. Everywhere his conversation was religious. But, compared with his young friend Whitefield, his was a life of obscurity. He had no preaching popularity, and, judging from present appearances, was not likely to be blessed or cursed with so dangerous a thing.

On the other hand, Whitefield had burst upon the public as a blazing comet. His fame was trumpeted throughout London. Even poets began to make him the subject of their metrical compositions. The following was published in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for November, 1737:--

"TO THE REV. Mr. WHITEFIELD, ON HIS DESIGN FOR GEORGIA.

"How great, how just thy zeal, advent'rous youth!
To spread, in heathen climes, the light of truth!
Go, loved of heaven! with every grace refined,
Inform, enrapture each dark Indian's mind;
Grateful, as when to realms long hid from day,
The cheerful dawn foreshows the solar ray.

How great thy charity! whose large embrace
Intends th' eternal weal of all thy race;
Prompts thee, the rage of winds and seas to scorn,
T' effect the work for which thy soul was born.
What multitudes, whom Pagan dreams deceive,
Shall, when they hear thy powerful voice, believe!

On Georgia's shore, thy Wesley shall attend,
To hail the wished arrival of his friend;
With joy the promised harvest he surveys,
And to his Lord for faithful lab'rers prays:
Though crowded temples here would plead thy stay,
Yet haste, blest prophet! on thy destined way.

Be gentle, winds! and breathe an easy breeze!
Be clear, ye skies! and smooth, ye flowing seas!
From heaven, ye guardian angels! swift descend,
Delighted his blest mission to attend;
Which shall from Satan's power whole nations free,
While half the world to Jesus bow the knee.

Long as Savannah, peaceful stream! shall glide,
Your worth renowned shall be extended wide;
Children as yet unborn shall bless your lore,
Who thus, to save them, left your native shore.
Th' Apostles thus, with ardent zeal inspired,
To gain _all nations_ for their Lord desired.

They measured seas, a life laborious knew,
And num'rous converts to their Master drew;
Whose alleluias, on th' ethereal plains,
Rise scarce beneath the bright seraphic strains."

Whatever may be the merits of this high-flown poem, the fact that it was inserted in one of the most able and popular periodicals of the day, affords sufficient evidence of the marvellous fame to which the young Methodist preacher had attained. The incense, however, was not unmixed. Whitefield had many friends; but, as was natural, he also had the fortune of having foes. The crowds praised him; but already envious critics stealthily derided him. Some of the clergy murmured discontent. An unknown artist, in his "Mitred Drones," did his best to make Whitefield ridiculous. The _Weekly Miscellany_, the principal religious newspaper of the period, was getting angry, and already commenced that anti-Methodistic warfare for which it soon became famous. After a long series of leading articles against infidels, the editor began, on October 28, another series against enthusiasts. It is true that Whitefield is not named; but there can be no doubt that he was the chief person meant. Want of space prevents the insertion of more than one extract,--an extract taken from the first article of the series. The redoubtable Mr. Hooker writes:--

"Enthusiasts _feel_ the truth, though they are unable to
defend it; and if you ask a _reason_, they can only give you a
_rapture_. _Zeal_ without _knowledge_, _sound_ without _sense_,
and a _light_ in themselves _which cannot shine forth before
men_, are the general symptoms of their disorder. Nay, some of
them make the _absence_ of _reason_ necessary to the _presence_
of the _Spirit_; and accordingly their exercises of religion are
entirely inconsistent with the least use of their understanding.
Their praying in the Spirit is the utmost extravagance of
passion, the wildest flights of the imagination; either glaring
nonsense, or darkness visible. If in a sermon, for want of clear
thinking or expression, there is room left for the _imagination_
to _bewilder_ itself; or the preacher gives a loose to his
_passions_, one while rising with the wildest _ecstasy of joy_,
again sinking into the lowest _dejection of sorrow_, and venting
sighs of the most immoderate _grief_; now railing with all the
bitterness of _rage_, then melting into the most soft and tender
strains of _affection_; how apt are we, nay, how common is it
for the person himself to believe he is under the influence of
the Holy Ghost! His not being able to govern his _own_ spirit is
thought a proof of his having _that_ of God; as the furor of the
Pythian priestess was the sole sign of her inspiration."

Whitefield, however, was not without defenders. In the year 1733, an important pamphlet was published, with the following title, "The Oxford Methodists: being an Account of some Young Gentlemen in that City, in derision so called; setting forth their Rise and Designs. With some occasional Remarks on a Letter inserted in Fog's Journal of December 9, 1732, relating to them. In a Letter from a Gentleman near Oxford to his Friend in London." On the 9th of December, 1737, a second edition of this pamphlet was issued, "with very great alterations and improvements," (8vo, 29 pp.) To this was prefixed a preface of four pages, which, being the _first printed_[103] address to Whitefield, deserves to be quoted. The writer says:--

"This little piece was originally written to vindicate gentlemen
called by the name of Methodists; and, as their conduct has
continued ever since irreproachable, and they have steadfastly
persevered in the same course which so laudably began some
years ago, and yet have still the misfortune to find themselves
slightly spoken of by many persons who care not to fall into
their measures, which they may possibly think too strict and
self-denying, it must not be thought improper to reprint it now.
And to whom can it be so fitly addressed as to you, sir, who
have passed under that appellation, and who, by your successful
preaching, have so well justified the conduct of the gentlemen
who are the subject of it?

[103] Unless the foregoing poem be considered an exception.

"It must afford no small pleasure to all serious Christians to
find, by your success in the two first cities of the kingdom,
that, degenerate as the age is in which we live, a spirit of
piety and attention may nevertheless be excited in the minds of
the generality; and that without any other _novelty_ than by
preaching the _plain_ and _obvious_ doctrines of _Christianity_
in so _serious_ and _affecting_ a manner as shall show the
preacher to be in _earnest_, and himself affected by the
doctrines he would instil into others. And, from hence, there
is little room to doubt that if the like method was generally
taken by our brethren of the clergy, and if the doctrines of the
_Gospel_ were not made to give way to the only _secondary_ rules
of _morality_, the like success would attend their labours,
and the Christian religion and our sacred function would be
freed from that cold neglect, to say no worse, which is now too
frequently thrown upon both.

"I have heard it rumoured that you have been refused, by some
of our brethren, the use of their pulpits; but, as you have
submitted some of your discourses to the public censure, and
as I have not heard it once suggested by the most invidious
that there is anything contained in them in the least repugnant
to the doctrines of Christianity in general, or those of the
Established Church in particular, I hope it cannot be true.

"But be this as it may, let me exhort you, sir, not to be
discouraged or dismayed at any opposition that you may meet
with in your good designs; but preserve (in the midst of the
_dangerous_ applauses you meet with from the crowded audiences
that everywhere attend your preaching) that _meekness_ and
_humility_ which must be inseparable from the doctrines you seek
to propagate, and more than any one thing (beside the blessing
of God) insure the success of your labours, and demonstrate
to the world that you are yourself under the happy influences
which you seek to spread; that your actions are regulated by
the doctrines you preach; and that God's glory and the religion
of the blessed Jesus are the principal--the only motives that
animate your conduct and your views.

"This will entitle you to the blessing of God, and the
approbation of all good men; and particularly to the hearty
good wishes of your affectionate, though unknown brother in our
common Lord,

"A. B."

Another fact in Whitefield's narrative deserves attention, namely, his Christian intercourse with Dissenters. In this respect, he was far ahead of his friend Wesley. In Georgia, Wesley was treating Dissenters with the supercilious tyranny of a High Church bigot. He refused them the sacrament, until they first gave up their faith and principles, and, like Richard Turner and his sons, submitted to be re-baptized by him.[104] Respecting John Martin Bolzius, whose beautiful letter he inserted in his Journal, under the date of September, 1749, Wesley himself remarks, "What a truly Christian piety and simplicity breathe in these lines! And yet this very man, when I was at Savannah, did I refuse to admit to the Lord's table, because he was not baptized--that is, not baptized by a minister who had been episcopally ordained." One of the accusations against Wesley, handed to the grand jury at Savannah, was that he "refused the Office of the Dead to such as did not communicate with him;" and among the findings of the jury were the following: that he had refused the sacrament to William Gough, because he had heard William Gough was a Dissenter; and that he would not allow William Aglionby to stand godfather to the child of Henry Marley, because William Aglionby had not been at the communion table with him.

[104] "A True and Historical Narrative of the Colony of Georgia.
1741."

Such was Wesley in Georgia at the very time when Whitefield in London was having "free conversation with many of the serious Dissenters who invited him to their houses." Who can doubt which of the two Oxford Methodists was right? Wesley had more learning than Whitefield, but, for the present, Whitefield had more charity. One had been bred in Epworth parsonage; the other in a public-house. One was encrusted with old and almost inherited prejudices which it was difficult to cast aside; the other had had a training from which such prejudices were almost, perhaps entirely, excluded. Wesley, to the day of his death, professed a conscientious adherence to the Church of England. Whitefield, almost from first to last, made the Dissenters his friends.

During the year 1737, about half a dozen of Whitefield's sermons were published; and from these the reader may obtain a fair idea of the young preacher's sentiments and style. His almost unbounded popularity is the best excuse for their being committed to the press. Perhaps neither time nor study could have ever fitted Whitefield to occupy the theological professor's chair. He had a calling peculiarly his own, and well was it fulfilled. He was incapable of doing the work Wesley did; but there was another kind of work--popular, earnest, loving, powerful preaching--in which he seems to stand unequalled. His printed sermons fail to convey a correct conception of his spoken ones. The preacher's sonorous voice, his intonations, his action, his facial expressions, are things which could not be embodied in his published discourses; and yet, to things like these, the discourses were greatly indebted for their astonishing effects. Whitefield was the greatest gospel orator of the age. He never stretched after profundity of thought. He made no pretensions of excelling in learned biblical exegesis. A "fine, highly ornamental style" he appears to have eschewed as much as Wesley did. He preached simple truth, with all his might; and witnessed success such as is rarely given a minister to see. The Wesleys had one kind of mission; Whitefield had another. The former expounded, enforced, and defended truth; wrote hymns; published grammars, history, philosophy, commentaries, and books of almost all sorts and sizes; organized societies; instituted ministerial synods; and exercised a kind of episcopal jurisdiction over thousands of loving and loyal adherents. Whitefield was an _evangelist_, a "preacher of the gospel," a man whose chief, if not only, work was to testify "the truth as it is in Jesus," and to convert men "from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God." Even the ministerial gifts of God are manifold; they always have been so; they always will. At the beginning, "He gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." If not equally important, all are needed, all are useful, and none must be despised. "The eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee; nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you." Such a contempt is an injustice to the ministers themselves, and a sin against God who gives them.

Rightly to appreciate Whitefield's pulpit power, the reader of his published sermons must not only ponder _what_ he said, but make an effort to imagine _how_ he said it. With such a proviso, let him read the following extracts from sermons preached and published by the youthful evangelist in the year 1737, and at the commencement of 1738. One of these sermons--on the new birth--has been already noticed. Besides this, there were eight others.[105]

[105] It must be remembered that there are many paragraphs in the
first edition of these sermons, which are omitted in the sermons
from the same texts in Whitefield's collected works, published in
1771; and _vice versâ_. By overlooking this fact, or by not knowing
it, some of Whitefield's biographers have fallen into ridiculous
mistakes.

1. "The Nature and Necessity of Society in general, and of Religious Society in particular. Preached in the Parish Church of St. Nicholas in Bristol, and before the Religious Societies, at one of their General Quarterly Meetings in Bow Church, London, in the year 1737."[106] (8vo, 30 pp.)

[106] Three editions of this sermon were published before the end of
1737.