Chapter XVII: Part 17

“MY DEAR FRIENDS,――I received your kind letters, and likewise
one from Mr. Wheatley; and, last night, a long one from Mr.
Cudworth; but, alas! I have no time for controversy. To their
own Master they must both either stand or fall. All I can say,
in your present circumstances, is, that you had best make a
trial, and let matters, for a while, stand as they are. I have
sent letters, if possible, to prevent the spreading, at least
the _publishing_, of any further tales. Meanwhile, do you
strengthen yourselves in the Lord your God. The cause is His. I
believe you honestly embarked in it, for His great name’s sake,
and He will help you out of all. To-morrow, I must away to the
north. Follow me with your prayers; and assure yourselves that
you and yours, and the dear people of Norwich, will not be
forgotten by me. If ever the Redeemer should bring me thither
again, I can then converse with Mr. Wheatley and Mr. Cudworth
face to face; but I beg to be excused from writing, when I think,
by so doing, I can do no service. The Lord clothe us all with
humility, and give us all true simplicity and godly sincerity!”

On August 27, Whitefield left London for the north of England. On his way, he spent two or three days with his friend Hervey, at the rectory of Weston-Favell. Hervey had just published, in three octavo volumes, his “Theron and Aspasio,” part of which work had been submitted to Wesley in manuscript, for his revision. Wesley and Hervey had already become alienated, for Wesley had made more corrections in the manuscript than Hervey liked. At all events, on January 9, 1755, Hervey wrote to Lady Frances Shirley: “Mr. John Wesley takes me roundly to task on the score of predestination; at which I am much surprised, because this doctrine (be it true or false) makes no part of my scheme. I cannot but fear he has some sinister design. I do not charge such an artifice, but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion.”[376] In the interval, Wesley had written to Hervey a long letter, freely animadverting on “Theron and Aspasio,” and begging him to lay aside the phrase, “the imputed righteousness of Christ,” adding, “It is not scriptural, it is not necessary, it has done immense hurt.” Hervey, for once in his lovely life, neglected to exercise his natural gentleness. Wesley’s letter offended him, and he declined to acknowledge it; but, whilst Whitefield was his guest, he wrote to his Baptist friend, the Rev. John Ryland: “I find, by private intelligence, that Mr. Wesley has shewn his letter in London, and has thought proper to animadvert upon me, by name, from his pulpit.”

There can be little doubt that Whitefield was Hervey’s informant. Affairs among these old Oxford Methodists were in a ticklish state. It is a mournful fact, that, chiefly through the machinations of William Cudworth, the friendship between Hervey and Wesley was not renewed; but it was otherwise with the large-hearted Whitefield. In his Journal, under the date, November 5th, 1755, Wesley wrote: “Mr. Whitefield called upon me; disputings are now no more; we love one another, and join hand in hand to promote the cause of our common Master.” Charles Wesley, also, wrote to his old friend a poetical epistle,[377] breathing with Christian love, from which the following lines are taken:――

“Come on, my Whitefield! (since the strife is past,
And friends at first are friends again at last,)
Our hands, and hearts, and counsels let us join
In mutual league, t’ advance the work divine;
Our one contention now, our single aim,
To pluck poor souls as brands out of the flame;
To spread the victory of that bloody cross,
And gasp our latest breath in the Redeemer’s cause.

* * * * *

“In a strange land I stood,
And beckon’d thee to cross th’ Atlantic flood:
With true affection wing’d, thy ready mind
Left country, fame, and ease, and friends behind,
And, eager all heaven’s counsels to explore,
Flew through the watery world and grasp’d the shore.
Nor did I linger, at my friend’s desire,
To tempt the furnace, and abide the fire:
When suddenly sent forth, from the highways
I call’d poor outcasts to the feast of grace;
Urg’d to pursue the work, by thee begun,
Through good and ill report, I still rush’d on,
Nor felt the fire of popular applause,
Nor fear’d the torturing flame in such a glorious cause.

* * * * *

“One in His hand, O may we still remain,
Fast bound with love’s indissoluble chain;
(That adamant which time and death defies,
That golden chain which draws us to the skies!)
His love the tie that binds us to His throne,
His love the bond that perfects us in one;
His love, (let all the ground of friendship see,)
His only love constrains our hearts t’ agree,
And gives the rivet of eternity!”

Just at the time when Whitefield left America, the ministers of George the Second announced to Parliament that a war with France was inevitable. The Committee of Supply eagerly voted a million of money for the defence of their American possessions; and Admiral Boscawen was sent with a fleet towards the Gulf of St. Lawrence, to intercept a French fleet which had been prepared in the forts of Rochefort and Brest, and which was carrying reinforcements to the French Canadians. America was now in martial confusion. Among others, Whitefield’s old friend Sir William Pepperell had gone to the field of action; and Whitefield, while a guest at Hervey’s, wrote to Lady Pepperell and her daughter, to cheer them in the colonel’s absence, as follows:――

“WESTON-FAVELL, _August 30, 1755_.

“DEAR MISS,――A few days past, as I was going into the Tabernacle
to read letters, yours came to hand. Immediately, I read it
among the rest, and you and my other New England friends had
the prayers of thousands. How did I wish to be transported to
America! How did I long to stir up all against the common enemy,
and to be made instrumental of doing my dear country some little
service! Dear New England,――dear Boston lies upon my heart!
Surely the Lord will not give it over into the hands of the
enemy. He has too many praying ministers and praying people
there, for such a dreadful catastrophe.”

“WESTON-FAVELL, _August 30, 1755_.

“DEAR MADAM,――I find you are once more called to give up your
honoured husband for his country’s good. The God whom you serve
will richly reward you for such a sacrifice, and be better to
you than seven husbands. I long to hear that he is returned
victorious. He is gone upon a good cause, and under the conduct
of the best general, even the Captain of our salvation. To Him
I am praying, night and day, for the temporal and spiritual
welfare of dear, never-to-be-forgotten New England. Courage,
dear madam, courage! A few more partings, a few more changes,
a few more heart-breakings, heart-purifying trials, and we shall
be safely landed.”

Such were Whitefield’s feelings at the commencement of the Seven Years’ War, which was ended by the Peace of Paris, February 10, 1763. The terrific strife kept Whitefield from his beloved America for the space of eight long years, and, during this lengthened period, many and great were his anxieties concerning his Orphan House, and his transatlantic friends; but more of this anon. An extract from another letter, written at Hervey’s, and addressed to a rich, but miserly American, is too characteristic to be omitted.

“WESTON-FAVELL, _August 30, 1755_.

“Your friends everywhere take notice, that the sin which doth
most easily beset you is a too great love of money; and this,
in many cases, makes you act an unfriendly part. If God should
suffer our enemies to prevail, you will wish you had laid up
more treasure in heaven. Blessed be God, mine is out of the
reach of men or devils. Strange that five per cent. from man
should be preferred to a hundredfold from Christ! A word to the
wise is sufficient. I am looking out for more news from dear
America. May the late defeat be sanctified! Adieu, my dear Mr.
V――――! _Non magna loquimur, non magna scribimus, sed vivimus_,
is the Christian’s motto. Mr. D―――― can _English_ it.”

On Sunday, August 31st, Whitefield preached twice, not in his friend Hervey’s church, but at Northampton. He then proceeded to Lady Huntingdon’s, at Donington Park. At Liverpool, on September 12th, “some fallow ground was broken up;” at Bolton, “the cup of many ran over;” at Manchester, “people heard most gladly;” at Leeds and Bradford, “what many felt was unutterable;” and at York, “a smart gentleman was touched.” On reaching Newcastle-on-Tyne, Whitefield wrote to the Countess of Huntingdon, as follows:――

“NEWCASTLE, _September 24, 1755_.

“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――I know not how long it is since I left
your ladyship; but this I know, a sense of the satisfaction
I felt when at Donington still lies upon my heart. Were I
not called to public work, waiting upon, and administering to
your ladyship in holy offices would be my choice and highest
privilege.

“The only new ground that has been broken up is Liverpool. There
the prospect is promising. I preached in a great square on the
Lord’s-day, and the alarm, I hear, went through the town. At
Bolton, the cup of God’s people ran over; and at Manchester we
had large auditories and blessed seasons. At Leeds, we felt what
is unutterable; and at Bradford, last Sunday, the congregation
consisted of at least ten thousand.[378] But, oh, how has my
pleasure been alloyed at Leeds! I rejoiced there with trembling;
for, unknown to me, they had almost finished a large house,
in order to form a separate congregation.[379] If this scheme
succeeds, an awful separation, I fear, will take place amongst
the Societies.[380] I have written to Mr. Wesley, and have done
all I could to prevent it. O this self-love, this self-will! It
is the devil of devils!

“I write this from Newcastle, where the people, twice a day,
hear the gospel gladly. What to do now, I know not. Calls on all
sides are very loud, and it is too late to go either to Ireland
or Scotland. O my God! winter is at hand, and, in the summer,
how little has been done for Thee! I cannot bear to live at this
poor dying rate.”

Whitefield spent ten or a dozen days in the neighbourhood of Newcastle, and then set out for London, where he arrived on October 30th. The following are extracts from his letters:――

“LONDON, _October 31, 1755_.

“Last night, a never-failing God brought me from the north of
England, where I have been enabled to preach twice and thrice
a day to many, many thousands, for two months past. And yet
I cannot die. Nay, they tell me I grow fat. Never did I see
the word more blessed, or so many thousands run after it with
greater greediness. Next to inviting them to Christ, I have
always taken care to exhort them to pray for King George, and
our dear friends in America.”

“LONDON, _November 1, 1755_.

“On Thursday evening, I came to town, after having preached
about a hundred times, and travelled about eight hundred miles.
For more than ten days together, I preached thrice a day. O that
I could preach three hundred times! All would be infinitely too
little to testify my love to Jesus. After about a week’s stay
here, I hope to move westward. O winter! winter! Haste and fly,
that I may again set out! Yesterday, I waited upon the Countess
Delitz, and, on Thursday, I am to dine with her ladyship.”

“LONDON, _November 8, 1755_.

“I hear you have been sitting night and day in council.
All we can do on this side the water is to pray. This, I
trust, thousands are doing every day. I seldom preach without
mentioning dear New England. Blessed be God! the prospect is
promising here. In the north of England, the word runs and is
glorified more than ever. In London, people flock like doves to
the windows.”

To Lady Huntingdon, who had gone to Clifton Hotwells, Bristol, Whitefield wrote:――

“LONDON, _November 10, 1755_.

“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――Your ladyship’s kind and condescending
letter found me just returned from Chatham. The court, in the
best sense of the word, is now removed to Clifton. For there
only is the real court kept, where Jesus reigns, and where He
has erected a spiritual kingdom in the heart. All besides this
is only tinsel and glitter. Here alone is real and abiding
happiness to be found. O for further searches into the heights
and depths of God! O for further leadings into the chambers of
that selfish, sensual, and devilish imagery, that yet lie latent
in my partly renewed heart! This self-love, what a _Proteus_!
This self-will, what a _Hydra_! This remaining body of sin and
death, what an _Antichrist_! what a scarlet whore! what a hell!
what a red dragon! what a cursed monster is it! How hard, how
slow, he dies! O what gratitude do I owe to the Bruiser of this
serpent’s head! O for a heart gladly to embrace every cross,
every trying dispensation, that may have a tendency to poison,
or starve the old man, and cherish, promote, or cause to bloom
and blossom the graces and tempers of the new! Ordinances,
providences, doctrines are of no service to believers, except
as they are attended with this mortifying and life-giving power.
Happy family, who have this one thing in view! Happy retirement,
that is improved to this blessed purpose! Happy, therefore, good
Lady Huntingdon, and the other elect ladies, who are determined
thus to go hand in hand to heaven! All hail, ye new-born,
heaven-born souls! Ye know, by happy experience, that Jesus is
an inward as well as outward Saviour. Were even annihilation
to follow death, who would not but have this redemption whilst
they live? But glory, glory be to God! it is only the dawning
of an eternal day, the beginning of a life that is ere long
to be absorbed in never-ceasing, uninterrupted fruition of the
ever-blessed Triune Deity. O the depth, the height of this love
of God! It passeth human and angelic knowledge. My paper only
permits me to add, that I am, ever-honoured madam,

“Your ladyship’s most dutiful and ready servant,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Soon after this, Whitefield joined her ladyship at Bristol, where he spent about a month, but, to a great extent, was prevented preaching. Hence the following:――

“BRISTOL, _November 30_.

“For near ten days past, I have preached in pain, occasioned by
a sore throat, which I find now is the beginning of a quinsy.
The doctor tells me silence and warmth may cure me; but (if I
had my will) heaven is my choice, especially if I can speak no
longer for my God on earth. However, painful as the medicine of
silence is, I have promised to be very obedient, and, therefore,
I have not preached this morning.”

Whitefield returned to London towards the end of December, and closed the year by writing to the Countess of Huntingdon:――

“LONDON, _December 31, 1755_.

“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――Your ladyship’s kind and condescending
letter should not have been so long unanswered, had not bodily
weakness, and my Christmas labours, prevented my writing. It has
been a joyful-mourning season. Saturday last being my birthday,
my soul was deeply exercised, from morning till evening, in
thinking how much, in one-and-forty years, I had sinned against
God, and how little I have done for Him. This impression yet
lies deep upon my heart, and, therefore, I purpose to end the
old year by preaching on these words, ‘I abhor myself, and
repent in dust and ashes.’ O that all things belonging to the
old man may die in me, and all things belonging to the new man
may live and grow in me! But, alas! this is a work of time.
Every day and every hour must we be passing from death to life.
Mortification and vivification make up the whole of the Divine
work in the new-born soul.

“But shall I conceal the goodness of my long-suffering Master?
No, I dare not; for, in spite of my unworthiness, He still
continues to smile upon my poor ministrations. A noble chapel is
now opened in Long Acre, where I am to read prayers and preach
twice a week. Hundreds went away last night, who could not come
in; but those who could, I trust, met with Jesus.”

Long Acre has just been mentioned,――Long Acre, with the London theatres on the left, and Wesley’s West Street chapel on the right,――then a fashionable street; now, to a great extent, consisting of workshops for making and exhibiting all kinds of carriages. In the theatres, John Rich, the harlequin, with a kind of dumb eloquence, was electrifying his audiences by the mere gesticulations of his body. Catherine Clive was cleverly acting the characters of chambermaids, fashionable ladies, country girls, romps, hoydens, dowdies, superannuated beauties, viragoes, and humorists. David Garrick, who once said “I would give a hundred guineas if I could only say ‘Oh!’ like Mr. Whitefield,” was the celebrated manager of the theatre in Drury Lane. Margaret Woffington was an admired favourite at Covent Garden. And Samuel Foote was at the height of his popularity.

The chapel in Long Acre[381] was rented by the Rev. John Barnard, one of Whitefield’s early converts, who was now an Independent minister, but afterwards became a Sandemanian, and was ultimately expelled by that Society for entertaining too exalted notions of his preaching powers.[382]

The Dean of Westminster, who, in some capacity, claimed some sort of clerical jurisdiction in Long Acre, was Zachary Pearce, D.D., the son of a distiller in Holborn; from 1748 to 1756, was Bishop of Bangor; and, afterwards, Bishop of Rochester;――an accomplished scholar, a perspicuous writer, a feeble orator, an active prelate, and a hearty hater of the Methodists.

Whitefield had long wished to have a West-end chapel, which might serve as the meeting-house, not only of the rich in general, but especially of the distinguished persons who were accustomed to assemble in the mansions of the Countess of Huntingdon, Lady Frances Shirley, and Lady Gertrude Hotham.

These brief memoranda will help to explain the allusions in the following extracts from Whitefield’s letters.

The first is taken from a letter addressed to the Rev. John Gillies, of Glasgow:――

“London, January 22, 1756. Ever since I came from the north,
I have had a violent cold and sore throat, which threatened
an inflammatory quinsy. One physician prescribed a _perpetual
blister_, but I have found _perpetual preaching_ to be a better
remedy. When this grand catholicon fails, it is over with me.
You will pray that, if I must put out to sea again, it may be
to take fresh prizes for my God. Every day brings us fresh news
of newly awakened souls. Both at this and the other end of the
town (where I now preach in a chapel twice a week), there is a
glorious stirring among the dry bones.”

The next is from a letter written to the Countess of Huntingdon:――

“London, January 29, 1756. I know not how soon I may be called
before my superiors. The sons of _Jubal_ and _Cain_ continue to
serenade me at Long Acre chapel. They have been called before
a justice; and, yesterday, the Bishop of Bangor sent for them,
and enquired where I lived. My house is pretty public, and the
‘Bishop of souls’ shall answer for me. One, who subscribes to
hire men to make the noise, has been pricked to the heart, and
can have no rest till he speaks with me. Thus Jesus gets Himself
the victory. One of the enclosed extracts comes from a person
who, a few weeks ago, was a confirmed Deist; now, I trust, he is
a little child. The Redeemer speaks, and it is done; He commands,
and new creatures instantaneously arise before Him.”

Did these “sons of Jubal and Cain” belong to the adjoining theatres? Perhaps they did. Still, it is curious that Wesley, in West Street chapel, had never been disturbed by their unwelcome serenading; and it is equally remarkable, that though Bishop Pearce did his utmost to silence Whitefield in Long Acre, he seems not at all to have interfered with Wesley in a neighbouring street. The annoyance, to Whitefield and his _West-end_ congregation, was great; but he was more wishful to convert the serenaders than to punish them. Hence the following, addressed to the gentleman who had brought some of the disturbers before a magistrate:――

“January 30. Gratitude constrains me to send you a few lines of
thanks for the care and zeal you have exercised in suppressing
the late disorders at Long Acre chapel. I hear that some unhappy
man has incurred the penalty inflicted by our salutary laws. As
peace, not revenge, is the thing aimed at, I should rejoice if
this could be procured without the delinquents suffering any
further punishment. Perhaps what has been done already may be
sufficient to deter others from any further illegal proceedings;
and that will be satisfaction enough for me.”

But for the meddling of Bishop Pearce, it is possible, perhaps probable, that these disreputable disturbances might have ceased; but, two days after writing thus to the gentleman who had commenced a prosecution of the noisy musicians, Whitefield received a letter from the Bishop, in which he prohibited Whitefield’s further preaching in the Long Acre chapel. This led to an important correspondence between the prelate and the preacher. Whether his lordship had a legal right to issue such a prohibition, ecclesiastical lawyers must determine; but, to say the least, his action had the appearance of episcopal persecution. The Bishop’s letters to Whitefield have not been published; for, with contemptible cowardice, Pearce informed Whitefield that, if he dared to publish them, he must be prepared to undergo the penalty due to the infringement of “the privilege of a peer!” Still, the substance of his letters may be gathered from Whitefield’s answers; and, as these answers contain an explanation and a defence of the course of conduct which Whitefield had pursued for nearly the last twenty years, they are inserted here at greater length, than, under other circumstances, they would have been.

“TABERNACLE HOUSE, _February 2, 1756_.

“MY LORD,――A few weeks ago, several serious persons, chosen to
be a committee for one Mr. Barnard, applied to me, in the name
of Jesus Christ, and a multitude of souls desirous of hearing
the gospel, to preach at a place commonly called Long Acre
chapel. At the same time, they acquainted me, that the place
was licensed; that Mr. Barnard either had taken or was to take
it for a certain term of years; that he had preached in it for
a considerable time, as a Protestant Dissenting minister; but
that, notwithstanding this, I might use the Liturgy if I thought
proper, so that I would but come and preach once or twice a week.

“Looking upon this as a providential call from Him, who, in
the days of His flesh, taught all who were willing to hear,
_on a mount_, _in a ship_, or by _the sea-side_, I readily
complied; and I humbly hope that my feeble labours have not
been altogether in vain.

“This being the case, I was somewhat surprised at the
prohibition I received from your lordship this evening. For,
I looked upon the place as a particular person’s property;
and being, as I was informed, not only unconsecrated, but also
licensed according to law, I thought I might innocently preach
the love of the crucified Redeemer, and loyalty to the best
of princes, our dread sovereign King George, without giving
any just offence to Jew or Gentile, much less to any bishop
or overseer of the Church of God. As I have, therefore, given
notice of preaching to-morrow evening, and every Tuesday and
Thursday whilst I am in town, I hope your lordship will not look
upon it as _contumacy_, if I persist in prosecuting my design,
till I am more particularly apprized wherein I have erred.

“Controversy, my lord, is what I abhor; and, as raising
popular clamours and ecclesiastical dissensions must be quite
unseasonable, especially at this juncture, when _France_ and
_Rome_, and _hell_ ought to be the common butt of our resentment,
I hope your lordship will be so good as to inform yourself
and me more particularly about this matter; and, upon due
consideration, as I have no design but to do good to precious
souls, I promise to submit. But, if your lordship should judge
it best to decline this method, and I should be called to answer
for my conduct, either before a spiritual court, or from the
press, I trust the irregularity I am charged with will appear
justifiable to every true lover of English liberty, and (what
is _all_ to me) will be approved of at the awful and impartial
tribunal of the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls, in obedience
to whom I beg leave to subscribe myself, your lordship’s most
dutiful son and servant,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

The Bishop of Bangor replied to this straightforward letter; but, of course, his threat, as a peer of the realm, suppressed his communication. Whitefield’s next letter was as follows:――

“TABERNACLE HOUSE, _February 16, 1756_.

“MY LORD,――I this evening received your lordship’s kind letter;
and, though it is late, and nature calls for rest, I now sit
down to give your lordship an explicit answer.

“God can witness, that I entered into holy orders, according
to the form of ordination of the Church of England, with a
disinterested view to promote His glory, and the welfare of
precious and immortal souls. For near twenty years, as thousands
can testify, I have conscientiously defended her Homilies
and Articles, and, upon all occasions, have spoken well of
her Liturgy. So far from renouncing these, together with her
discipline, I earnestly pray for the due restoration of the one,
and daily lament the departure of too many from the other. But,
my lord, what can I do?

“When I acted in the most regular manner, and when I was
bringing multitudes, even of Dissenters, to crowd the churches,
without any other reason being given than that too many followed
after me, I was denied the use of the churches. Being thus
excluded, and many thousands of ignorant souls, that perhaps
would neither go to church nor meeting-houses, being very hungry
after the gospel, I thought myself bound in duty to deal out to
them the bread of life.

“Being further ambitious to serve my God, my king, and my
country, I sacrificed my affections, and left my native soil, in
order to begin and carry on an Orphan House in the infant colony
of Georgia, which is now put upon a good foundation. This served
as an introduction, though without design, to my visiting the
other parts of his Majesty’s dominions in North America; and I
humbly hope that many in that foreign clime will be my joy and
crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus.

“Nay, my lord, if I were not assured that the blessed Redeemer
has owned me for the real conversion and turning of many
from darkness to light, the weakness of my decaying body, the
temptations that have beset my soul, and the violent opposition
with which I have met, would long since have led me to accept
some of those offers that have been made me to nestle, and by
accepting which I might have screened myself from the obloquy
and contempt which, in some degree or other, I meet with every
day. But, hitherto, without eating a morsel of the Church of
England’s bread, I still continue to use her Liturgy, wherever
a church or chapel is allowed me, and preach up her Articles,
and enforce her Homilies. Your lordship, therefore, judgeth me
exceeding right, when you say, ‘I presume you do not mean to
declare any dissent from the Church of England.’ Far be it from
me. No, my lord, unless thrust out, I shall never leave her; and
even then I shall still adhere to her doctrines, and pray for
the restoration of her discipline, to my dying day.

“Fond of displaying her truly protestant and orthodox principles,
especially when Church and State are in danger from a cruel and
popish enemy, I am glad of an opportunity of preaching, though
it should be in a meeting-house; and I think it discovers a good
and moderate spirit in the Dissenters, who quietly attend on the
Church service, as many have done, and continue to do at Long
Acre chapel, while many, who style themselves the faithful sons
of the Church, have endeavoured to disturb and molest us.

“If the lessor of this chapel has no power to let it, or if
it be not legally licensed, I have been deceived; and if, upon
enquiry, I find this to be the case, I shall soon declare, in
the most public manner, how I have been imposed upon. But if
it appears that the lessor has a right to dispose of his own
property, and that the place is licensed, and as some good, I
trust, has been done by this foolishness of preaching, surely
your lordship’s candour will overlook a little irregularity,
since, I fear, that, in these dregs of time wherein we live, we
must be obliged to be irregular, or we must do no good at all.

“My lord, I remember well (and O that I may more than ever
obey your lordship’s admonition!) that awful day, wherein I was
ordained priest, and when authority was given me, by my honoured
friend and father, good Bishop Benson, to preach the word of
God; but never did I so much as dream that this was only a
local commission, or that the condition annexed, ‘Where you
shall be lawfully appointed thereunto,’ was to confine me to any
particular place, and that it would be unlawful for me to preach
out of it. It is plain my Lord Bishop of Gloucester did not
think so; for when his secretary brought a license for me, his
lordship said, it would cost me thirty shillings, and therefore
I should not have it. And when, after being presented to the
late Bishop of London, I applied to him for a license, his
lordship was pleased to say I was going to Georgia, and needed
none. Accordingly, I preached in most of the London churches,
under his lordship’s immediate inspection; and why any other
license than my letters of orders should now be required, I
believe no substantial, I am positive no scriptural, reason can
be assigned.

“It is true, as your lordship observes, there is one canon that
says, ‘No curate or minister shall be permitted to serve in
any place, without examination and admission of the Bishop of
the Diocese.’ And there is another, as quoted by your lordship,
which tells us, ‘Neither minister, churchwarden, nor any other
officers of the Church shall suffer any man to preach within
their chapels, but such as, by shewing their license to preach,
shall appear unto them to be sufficiently authorised thereunto.’
But, my lord, what curacy or parsonage have I desired, or do
I desire to be admitted to serve in? or, into what church or
chapel do I attempt to intrude myself, without leave from the
churchwardens or other officers? Being, as I think, without
cause, denied admission into the churches, I am content to take
the field, and, when the weather will permit, with a table for
my pulpit, and the heavens for my sounding-board, I desire to
proclaim to all the unsearchable riches of Jesus Christ. Besides,
my lord, if this canon should be always put into full execution,
I humbly presume, no bishop or presbyter can legally preach at
any time out of the diocese in which he is appointed to serve;
and, consequently, no city incumbent can even occasionally be
lawfully assisted by any country clergyman; or even can a bishop
himself be lawfully permitted to preach a charity sermon out of
his own diocese, without a special license for so doing.

“As for the other canon which your lordship mentions, and which
runs thus, ‘Neither shall any minister, not licensed as is
aforesaid, presume to appoint or hold any meetings for sermons,
commonly termed, by some, prophecies or exercises, in market
towns or other places, under the said pains,’――I need not inform
your lordship, that it was originally levelled against those who
would not conform to the Church of England, and that, too, in
such high-flying times as not one of the present moderate bench
of bishops would wish to see restored. If this be so, how, my
lord, does this canon belong to me, who am episcopally ordained,
and have very lately published a small tract recommending the
communion office of the Church of England?

“But, my lord, to come nearer to the point in hand. And, for
Christ’s sake, let not your lordship be offended with my using
such plainness of speech. As in the presence of the living God,
I would put it to your lordship’s conscience, whether there
is one bishop or presbyter, in England, Wales, or Ireland, who
looks upon our canons as his rule of action? If this opinion
be true, we are all perjured with a witness, and, in a very
bad sense of the word, _irregular indeed_. If the canons of
our Church are to be implicitly obeyed, may I not say, ‘He,
who is without the sin of acting illegally, let him cast the
first stone at me, and welcome.’ Your lordship knows full well,
that canons and other Church laws are good and obligatory,
when conformable to the laws of Christ, and agreeable to the
liberties of a free people; but, when invented and compiled
by men of little hearts and bigotted principles, to hinder
persons of more enlarged souls from doing good, or being more
extensively useful, they become mere _bruta fulmina_; and,
when made use of as cords to bind the hands of a zealous few,
who honestly appear for their king, their country, and their
God, they may, in my opinion, like the withes with which the
Philistines bound Samson, very legally be broken. As I have
not the canons at present before me, I cannot tell what pains
and penalties are to be incurred for such offence; but, if
any penalty is incurred, or any pain to be inflicted on me,
for preaching against sin, the Pope, and the devil, and for
recommending the strictest loyalty to the best of princes, his
Majesty King George, in this metropolis, or in any other part
of his Majesty’s dominions, I trust, through grace, I shall be
enabled to say,――

‘All hail reproach, and welcome pain!’

“There now remains but one more particular in your lordship’s
letter to be answered,――your lordship’s truly apostolical canon,
taken out of 2 Cor. x. 16,――upon reading of which, I could not
help thinking of a passage in good Mr. Philip Henry’s life.
It was this. Being ejected out of the Church, and yet thinking
it his duty to preach, Mr. Henry used, now and then, to give
the people of Broad-Oaks, where he lived, a gospel sermon; and
one day, as he was coming from his exercise, he met with the
incumbent, and thus addressed him: ‘Sir, I have been taking the
liberty of throwing a handful of seed into your field.’ ‘Have
you?’ said the good man. ‘May God give it His blessing! There
is work enough for us both.’ This, my lord, I humbly conceive,
is the case, not only of your lordship, but of every minister’s
parish in London, and of every bishop’s diocese in England; and,
therefore, as good is done, and souls are benefited, I hope your
lordship will not regard a little irregularity, since, at the
worst, it is only the irregularity of doing well. But, supposing
this should not be admitted as an excuse at other seasons, I
hope it will have its weight at this critical juncture, wherein,
if there were ten thousand sound preachers, and each preacher
had a thousand tongues, they could not be too frequently
employed in calling upon the inhabitants of Great Britain to
be upon their guard against the cruel and malicious designs of
_France_, of _Rome_, and of _hell_.

“After all, my lord, if your lordship will be pleased to apply
to Mr. Barnard himself, who, I suppose, knows where the place
is registered; or if, upon enquiry, I shall find that the lessor
has no power to let it, as I abhor every dishonourable action,
after my setting out for Bristol, which I expect to do in a
few days, I shall decline preaching in the chapel any more.
But, if the case should appear to be otherwise, I hope your
lordship will not be angry, if I persist in this, I trust, not
unpardonable irregularity; for, if I decline preaching in every
place, merely because the incumbent may be unwilling I should
come into his parish, I fear I should seldom or never preach at
all. This, my lord, especially at the present juncture, when all
our civil and religious liberties are at stake, would to me be
worse than death itself.

“I humbly ask pardon for detaining your lordship so long; but,
being willing to give your lordship all the satisfaction I could,
I have chosen rather to sit up and deny myself proper repose,
than to let your lordship’s candid letter lie by me one moment
longer than was absolutely necessary.

“I return your lordship a thousand thanks for your favourable
opinion of me, and for your good wishes; and, begging the
continuance of your lordship’s blessing, and earnestly praying
that, whenever your lordship shall be called hence, you may give
up your account with joy, I beg leave to subscribe myself, my
lord, your lordship’s most dutiful son and servant,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Such was Whitefield’s midnight letter to Bishop Pearce. Its length is gigantic, but, throughout, it is pointed, manly, and respectful; and, because of its historical facts, and its statement of the principles which regulated Whitefield’s life, it is of great importance. A summary of it could not have done it justice.

A week later, Whitefield wrote a third letter to the bishop, informing him he had ascertained that the chapel was duly licensed, and that Mr. Barnard’s committee were resolved to retain possession of it. He added, “As your lordship would undoubtedly choose that the Church liturgy should be read in it sometimes, rather than it should be entirely made use of in a Nonconformist way, I hope your lordship will not be offended, if I go on as usual after my return from Bristol. I am sorry to inform your lordship, that, notwithstanding the admonitions which, I hear, your lordship has given them, some unhappy persons have still endeavoured to disturb us, by making an odd kind of noise in a neighbouring house. I hear that some of them belong to your lordship’s vestry, and, therefore, wish you would so far interpose, as to order them once more to stop their proceedings.”

Whitefield went to Bristol; and, on Sunday, March 14, opened his “spring campaign, by preaching thrice in the fields, to many thousands, in Gloucestershire.”[383] Immediately after this he returned to London, and found it necessary to write again to Bishop Pearce.

“TABERNACLE HOUSE, _March 20, 1756_.

“MY LORD,――Upon my coming up to town, I found, to my great
surprise, that the disturbances near Long Acre chapel had been
continued. On Thursday evening last, when I preached there
myself, they were rather increased. Some of the windows were
stopped up, to prevent, in some degree, the congregation being
disturbed by the unhallowed noise; but large stones were thrown
in at another window, and one young person was sadly wounded.

“This constrains me to beg your lordship to desire the persons,
belonging to your lordship’s vestry, to desist from such
irregular proceedings. For my own irregularity in preaching,
I am ready at any time to answer; and were I myself the only
sufferer, I should be entirely unconcerned at any personal
ill-treatment I might meet with in the way of duty. But to have
the lives of his Majesty’s loyal subjects endangered, when they
come peaceably to worship God, is an irregularity which, I am
persuaded, your lordship will look upon as unjustifiable in the
sight of God, and of every good man.

“Your lordship will allow that, as a subject of King George, and
a minister of Jesus Christ, I have a right to do myself justice;
and, therefore, I hope, if the disturbances be continued, that
your lordship will not be offended, if I lay a plain narration
of the whole affair, together with what has passed between your
lordship and myself, before the world. I beg you not to look
upon this as a threatening. I scorn any such mean procedure.
But, as Providence seems to point out such a method, I hope your
lordship will have no just reason to censure me if I do it.”

The bishop replied, and Whitefield wrote to him again, as follows:――

“LONDON, _March 25, 1756_.

“Your lordship needed not to inform me of the privilege of
a peer, to deter me from publishing your lordship’s letters,
without first asking leave. Nothing shall be done in that
way, which is the least inconsistent with the strictest honour,
justice, and simplicity. But, if a public account of the
repeated disturbances at Long Acre chapel be rendered necessary,
I hope your lordship will not esteem it unreasonable in me, to
inform the world what previous steps were taken to prevent and
stop them.

“Such a scene, at such a juncture, and under such a government,
as has been transacted in your lordship’s parish, in the house
or yard of Mr. Cope, who, I hear, is your lordship’s overseer,
ever since last _Twelfth-day_, I believe is not to be met with
in English history. It is more than noise. It is _premeditated
rioting_. Drummers, soldiers, and many of the baser sort, have
been hired by subscription. A copper furnace, bells, drums,
clappers, marrow-bones, and cleavers, and such-like instruments
of reformation, have been provided for them, and repeatedly have
been used by them, from the moment I have begun preaching, to
the end of my sermon. By these horrid noises, many women have
been almost frightened to death; and mobbers have, thereby, been
encouraged to come and riot at the chapel door during the time
of divine service; and, after it has been over, have insulted
and abused me and the congregation. Not content with this, the
chapel windows, while I have been preaching, have repeatedly
been broken by large stones of almost a pound weight, which,
though levelled at me, missed me, but sadly wounded some of my
hearers. If your lordship will only ride to Mr. Cope’s house,
you will see the scaffold, and the costly preparations for such
a noise upon it, as must make the ears of all who shall hear it
to tingle.

“I am informed that Mr. C―――― and Mr. M―――― are parties greatly
concerned. I know them not, and I pray God never to lay this
ill and unmerited treatment to their charge. If no more noise
is made, I assure your lordship no further resentment shall be
made. But if they persist, I have the authority of an apostle,
on a like occasion, to appeal unto Cæsar. I have only one
favour to beg of your lordship. As the above-named gentlemen are
your lordship’s parishioners, I request that you desire them,
henceforward, to desist from such unchristian, such riotous, and
dangerous proceedings. Whether, as a chaplain to a most worthy
peeress, a presbyter of the Church of England, and a steady
disinterested friend to our present happy constitution, I have
not a right to ask such a favour, I leave to your lordship’s
mature deliberation. Henceforward, I hope to trouble your
lordship no more.”

Certainly, it was high time to bring matters to a crisis. The Rev. Zachary Pearce, D.D., though himself the son of a rich distiller in Holborn, and though the husband of a wife, who, as the daughter of another Holborn distiller, brought him a large fortune, was a pluralist. Twenty-three years ago, by the exertions of the Earl of Macclesfield, he had been presented with the fat living of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, even after it had been promised to another man. For seventeen years, he had been dean of Winchester; and, in 1748, had exchanged the deanery for the bishopric of Bangor. And now, in this memorable year of 1756, the Duke of Newcastle conferred upon him the see of Rochester and the deanery of Westminster. No doubt, it was in his capacity of vicar of St. Martin’s, that this wealthy pluralist prohibited Whitefield’s preaching in Long Acre, and, if he did not actually employ, yet connived at the noisy ruffians who disturbed Whitefield’s services. Whitefield’s language to the Bishop of Bangor was too respectful. Such a man deserved rebuke, quite as strong as the liquors, by which his own father and the father of his wife had made their fortunes.

Notwithstanding all the efforts of Whitefield to obtain peace, the disturbances at Long Acre were continued. Besides this, early in the month of April, Whitefield received three anonymous letters, threatening him with “a certain, sudden, and unavoidable stroke,” unless he desisted from preaching, and refrained from prosecuting the rioters of Long Acre. It is impossible to suspect Bishop Pearce of being implicated in the sending of these disgraceful threats; but there can be little doubt that the known animosity of himself and others gave encouragement to the masked assassins. For years past, the bishops and clergy of the Established Church, comparatively speaking, had ceased from their open and violent persecution of the poor itinerant preacher; but their rancorous feelings towards him, perhaps, were not at all abated. Even free-thinking Dr. Herring, Archbishop of Canterbury, who was now within twelve months of his decease, wrote, in the very midst of the Long Acre riots, to William Duncombe, Esq., as follows:――

“CROYDON HOUSE, _January 25, 1756_.

“Your judgment is right. Whitefield is Daniel Burgess[384]
_redivivus_; and, to be sure, he finds his account in his
joco-serious addresses. Wesley, with good parts and learning,
is a most dark and saturnine creature. His pictures may frighten
weak people, who, at the same time, are wicked; but, I fear,
he will make few converts, except for a day. I have read his
‘Serious Thoughts’;[385] but, for my own part, I think the
rising and setting of the sun is a more durable argument for
religion than all the extraordinary convulsions of nature
put together. Let a man be good on right principles, and
then _impavidum ferient ruinae_. So far, Horace was as good a
preacher as any of us. I have no constitution for these frights
and fervours; and, if I can but keep up to the regular practice
of a Christian life, upon Christian reasons, I shall be in
no pain for futurity; nor do I think it an essential part of
religion, to be pointed at for any foolish singularities. The
subjects of the Methodist preaching, you mention, are excellent
in the hands of wise men, not enthusiasts. As to their notion
that men are by nature devils, I can call it by no other name
than wicked and blasphemous, and the highest reproach that man
can throw upon his wise and good Creator.

“I am, etc.,

“THOMAS CANTUAR.”[386]

Under the circumstances of the time, Whitefield was almost driven to seek redress. First of all, he consulted the Honourable Hume Campbell, brother of Lady Jane Nimmo, and solicitor to the Princess of Wales, Lord Clerk Registrar of Scotland, and one of Whitefield’s occasional hearers. In a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, dated “Canterbury, April 10, 1756,” Whitefield wrote:――

“The noise at Long Acre has been infernal. I have reason to
think there was a secret design for my life. Some of my friends
were sadly used; they applied for warrants; and that occasioned
the sending of a threatening letter. I have written to Sir
Hume Campbell for advice. Here all is peaceable. It is most
delightful to see the soldiers flock to hear the word; officers
likewise attend very orderly.”

On his return to London, Whitefield was introduced to the Earl of Holdernesse, one of his Majesty’s principal Secretaries of State. Hence the following to Lady Huntingdon:――

“LONDON, _April 18, 1756_.

“EVER-HONOURED MADAM,――Since my last, from Canterbury, I have
received two more threatening letters. My greatest distress
is, how to act so as to avoid rashness on the one hand, and
timidity on the other. I have been introduced to the Earl of
Holdernesse, who received me very courteously, and seemed to make
no objection against issuing a reward for the discovery of the
letter-writer. Whether I had best accept the plan, I know not.
Sir Hume Campbell says the offence is not felony; and he advises
me to put all concerned into the Court of King’s Bench. Lord
Jesus, direct me, for Thy mercy’s sake! A man came up to me in
the pulpit, at the Tabernacle; God knows what was his design. I
see no way for me to act, than, either resolutely to persist in
preaching and prosecuting, or entirely to desist from preaching,
which would bring intolerable guilt upon my soul, and give the
adversary cause to blaspheme. Blessed be God! I am quite clear
as to the occasion of my suffering. It is for preaching Christ
Jesus, and loyalty to King George. Alas! alas! what a condition
would this land be in, were the Protestant interest not to
prevail! If Popery is to get a footing here, I should be glad
to die by the hands of an assassin. I should then be taken away
from the evil to come.”

The result of all this battling with the vestry mobs of Bishop Pearce, and of the apprehension created by these anonymous popish menaces, was the publication of the following announcement in the _London Gazette_ of May 1, 1756, and in the two next succeeding numbers of that official journal. The italics and spelling are as they appear in the original:――

“WHITEHALL, _April 30, 1756_.

“Wheras it has been humbly represented to the King that an
anonimous letter, without date, directed, _To Doctor Whitefield,
at his Tabernacle, by the Foundery in Moorfields_, was, on the
6th of this instant April, received by the Reverend Mr. George
Whitefield, by the penny post; and that two other letters,
viz., one of them dated the 7th of the present month of April,
subscribed, Your Friendly Adversary, and directed, _To Mr.
Whitefield, at his Tabernacle, near Hogston, beyond the Upper
Moorfields_; and the other, anonimous, without date, and
directed, _To the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, at the Tabernacle, near
Moorfields_, were also received by the said Reverend Mr. George
Whitefield, by the penny post, on the 8th of this instant
April; and that the said letters, written in very abusive terms,
contained threats of injury and destruction to the said Reverend
Mr. George Whitefield; His Majesty, for the better discovering,
and bringing to justice the persons concerned in writing and
sending the said three letters, as above-mentioned, or any one,
or more, of them, is pleased to promise his most gracious pardon
to any one of them, who shall discover his, or her, accomplice,
or accomplices therein, so that he, she, or they, may be
apprehended and convicted thereof.

“HOLDERNESSE.

“And as a further encouragement, James Cox, jeweller, in Racquet
Court, Fleet Street, does hereby promise a reward of twenty
pounds, to be paid by him, to the person or persons making such
discovery as aforesaid, upon the conviction of one or more of
the offenders.

“JAMES COX.”

So ended one of the toughest battles that Whitefield ever fought, but its issue was of great importance; for, before the appearance of the third advertisement in the _London Gazette_, Whitefield had taken successful steps for the erection of his own Tottenham Court Road chapel, where, for awhile, at least, he and his people were permitted to worship God in peace. But more of this anon.