Chapter XX: Part 20

“Since my leaving Scotland, in various parts of the north of
England, as at Alnwick, Newcastle, Leeds, etc., the ever loving,
altogether lovely Jesus has manifested His glory. Thousands
and thousands have flocked twice, and sometimes thrice a day to
hear the word. Never did I see the fields whiter for a spiritual
harvest. Praise the Lord, O our souls! If the weather continues
fair, I hope to prolong my summer’s campaign. It shocks me to
think of winter quarters yet. How soon does the year roll round!
Lord Jesus, quicken my tardy pace! As they were in debt, at
Leeds, for their building,[452] last Lord’s-day I collected for
them near £50. Lord Jesus, help me to know no party but Thine!
This, I am persuaded, is your catholic spirit. O for an increase
of it among all denominations!”

From Sheffield, Whitefield proceeded to Staffordshire; and intended to go from there to Bristol; but “change of weather and the shortness of the days drove” him to his “winter quarters.” On reaching London, he wrote:――

“October 28. My health is somewhat improved, but a very little
thing soon impairs it. Lord, help me! How very little can I do
for Thee! We have had fine gospel seasons. Grace! grace!”[453]

These fragmentary records are truly marvellous. How a man, in such health, performed such labours, for months together, it is difficult to imagine.

Once again in London, his Orphan House demanded his attention. The family had been reduced, and he now had it in his “power to pay off all Bethesda’s arrears.” He sent a number of “Bibles and other books.” “He longed for an opportunity” to go himself; but the war prevented him, and he knew not how to get supplies for his two London chapels. He was, however, quite satisfied with the management of his housekeeper, and sent her “ten thousand thousand thanks.” He wished his superintendent to consign him “a little rice and indigo,” that his “friends might see some of the Orphan House produce.” Taken altogether, his affairs in Georgia were less embarrassing than usual.[454]

During the year, Whitefield had gained a new clerical friend, in Berridge of Everton; but, before it ended, he lost a friend, whom he dearly loved. James Hervey died on Christmas-day, 1758. Within a week of this mournful occurrence, Whitefield wrote the following pathetic letter to the dying rector of Weston-Favel:――

“LONDON, _December 19, 1758_.

“And is my dear friend indeed about to take his last flight?
I dare not wish your return into this vale of tears. But our
prayers are continually ascending to the Father of our spirits
that you may die in the embraces of a never-failing Jesus, and
in all the fulness of an exalted faith. O when will my time
come! I groan in this tabernacle, being burdened, and long to be
clothed with my house from heaven. Farewell! My very dear friend,
f――a――r――e――well! Yet a little while, and we shall meet,――

‘Where sin, and strife, and sorrow cease,
And all is love, and joy, and peace.’

“There Jesus will reward you for all the tokens of love which
you have showed, for His great name’s sake, to yours most
affectionately in our common Lord,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

“P.S. God comfort your mother, and relations, and thousands and
thousands more who will bewail your departure!”[455]

In the year 1758, Whitefield, comparatively speaking, “had rest” from persecution. The only exception was in the case of scurrilous Dr. Free, Vicar of East Coker, and Lecturer at St. Mary Hill, London, and at Newington, Surrey. On Whitsunday, this vehement defender of the Church, preached a sermon, before the University, at St. Mary’s, Oxford, which he immediately published, with a “Preface” and an “Appendix,” and a “Dedication” to the Archbishop of Canterbury. (8vo. 65 pp.) In his “Dedication,” Free informs the Archbishop, that, Wesley and Whitefield “have, by _secret_ advances, so far _stolen_ upon the _common people_, as to seduce _many_ of all _denominations_ from their proper _pastors_; and, aided by this _mixed_ multitude, they threaten the Church of England, the _bulwark_ of the _Protestant_ cause, with a general _alteration_, or total _subversion_.” Free’s “Appendix” chiefly consists of extracts from Whitefield’s Journals, by which he pretends to prove――1. That the “Methodists experiment upon women in _hysteric_ fits, and upon young persons in _convulsions_, under pretence of exorcising devils.” 2. That Whitefield professed to have received “extraordinary inspirations in his _office_ as a _preacher_.” 3. That he and others had “attempted to set up a new form of church-government, through the kingdom, in contempt of the _authority_ of the _Bishops_, and without any _authority_ from the state.” 4. That they had propagated “_atheistical doctrines and propositions_, quite destructive to the morality and well-being of a state.” 5. That they had “abused the _clergy_ in _general_, and the _great lights_ of the Church in _particular_.” 6. That they “imagined God had made them the instruments of a _great work_.” 7. That they used “religiously amorous, melting, and rapturous expressions.”

Whitefield treated the ravings of the Rev. Dr. Free with silent contempt. Wesley wrote the doctor two “letters,” and then left him “to laugh, and scold, and witticise, and call names, just as he pleased.”

Little is known respecting Whitefield’s health, labours, and success, during the first four months of 1759.

On the 4th of January, the Countess of Huntingdon went to Bristol to meet Wesley, who accompanied her to Bath, and preached, to several of the nobility, in her house. Early in February, her ladyship returned to London, and, on Friday, the 16th, the day appointed for a public fast, she went to the Tabernacle, where Whitefield addressed an immense congregation from the words, “Rend your hearts, and not your garments.” At half-past eight in the evening, she heard Wesley at the Foundery, where he preached, to an overflowing multitude, from “Seek the Lord while He may be found.” Her ladyship, profoundly impressed with a conviction of the necessity and power of prayer, arranged for a series of intercession meetings in her own mansion. On Wednesday, February 21, the officiating ministers were Whitefield, Charles Wesley, Venn, and Thomas Maxfield. On Friday, the 23rd, the meeting was conducted by Romaine, Wesley, Madan, and Jones. On Tuesday, the 27th, Wesley writes: “I walked with my brother and Mr. Maxfield to Lady Huntingdon’s. After breakfast, came in Messrs. Whitefield, Madan, Romaine, Jones, Downing, and Venn, with some persons of quality, and a few others. Mr. Whitefield, I found, was to have administered the sacrament; but he insisted upon my doing it: after which, at the request of Lady Huntingdon, I preached on 1 Cor. xiii. 13. O what are the greatest men, to the great God! As the small dust of the balance.”[456] Charles Wesley adds to this account, by saying, “My brother preached, and won all our hearts. I never liked him better, and was never more united to him since his unhappy marriage. We dined at Mr. Madan’s, who took us in his coach.”[457] On Wednesday, the 28th, the service was conducted by Wesley, Venn, and Madan, and, at its close, Whitefield delivered a short exhortation. On Thursday, March 1, the Rev. Thomas Jones preached, and Romaine prayed. On Friday, the 2nd, Charles Wesley gave an address, and Whitefield, Romaine, Downing, and Venn prayed.

These remarkable meetings seem to have been concluded on Tuesday, March 6, when, besides the clergymen already mentioned, there was another present, who afterwards attained a distinguished eminence――John Fletcher, the immortal Vicar of Madeley. First of all, the sacrament was administered by Whitefield. Among the communicants were the Earl and Countess of Dartmouth, the Countess of Chesterfield, Lady Gertrude Hotham, Sir Charles Hotham, Mrs. Carteret, Mrs. Cavendish, Sir Sidney Halford Smythe, Mr. Thornton (of Clapham), the Rev. Messrs. Venn, Jones, Maxfield, Downing, Fletcher, and others. Whitefield addressed the communicants; “and all were touched to the heart,” said Lady Huntingdon, “and dissolved in tears.” Whitefield, Romaine, and Madan prayed. The sacramental service being ended, the Earls of Chesterfield and Holderness, and several others of distinction, were admitted. Whitefield preached, with his accustomed eloquence and energy, from “Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.” The word, remarked Lady Huntingdon, “drew sighs from every heart, and tears from every eye. Mr. Fletcher concluded with a prayer, every syllable of which appeared to be uttered under the immediate teaching of the Spirit; and, he has told me since, that, he never had more intimate communion with God, or enjoyed so much of His immediate presence, as on that occasion.”[458]

Glorious men, and glorious meetings! No wonder God was present! Who can estimate the results of these godly gatherings? Fresh from such meetings, the Countess of Huntingdon went to Brighton, longing, panting, and praying for the salvation of sinners. She carried to the mansions of the nobility the influence of the services held in her London residence. She took to the houses of the poor the glad tidings of salvation. A soldier’s wife, at Brighton, manifested such anxiety, that the Countess was induced to repeat her visit. The apartment was contiguous to a public bakehouse, and the people, who came to the oven, listened, through a crack in the partition, to her ladyship’s conversations, readings, expositions, and prayers. In a little while, she had, in this humble home, a regular congregation. At first, none but females were admitted; but a blacksmith, named Joseph Wall, a man notorious for his profligacy, by some means, gained admission, was converted, and, for a period of twenty-nine years, adorned the doctrine of God his Saviour. The Countess had become a _preacheress_, and a successful one! In the midst of her Brighton meetings she sent for Whitefield. Whitefield went. His first sermon was preached under a tree, in a field behind the White Lion Inn. Among his hearers was a youth, eighteen years of age, Thomas ♦Tupper, ready to stone the preacher, but who was so affected by Whitefield’s cry of “Turn ye! turn ye!” that he was converted, and became the predecessor of the well-known William Jay of Bath. Another convert, gained on the spot, was Edward Gadsby, who, for more than a quarter of a century afterwards, “walked in the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless.” After this, conversions were multiplied; and the Countess built a small, but neat meeting-house, on the site of the present one in North Street, the expense of which she, either wholly, or in part, defrayed by the sale of her jewels. In 1761, the chapel was opened by Martin Madan; and, in succession, Romaine, Berridge, Venn, and Fletcher, severally took charge of the congregation.[459]

As usual, Whitefield was greatly encouraged by the prosperity of the work of God in London. In a letter to his housekeeper at Bethesda, dated “March 26, 1759,” he wrote, “We live in a changing world, but Bethesda’s God liveth for ever and ever. His word runs and is glorified daily, especially at Tottenham Court. Strange! that nobody will relieve me, that I may once more flee to America. But, heavenly Father, our times are in Thine hands: do with us as seemeth good in Thy sight!”

Before leaving London for his “spring campaign,” Whitefield issued a small publication with the following title: “A Sermon on Christ Crucified. Preached at Paul’s Cross, the Friday before Easter. By John Foxe, the Martyrologist. With a recommendatory preface by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield. London, 1759.”

Nothing need be said of John Foxe’s sermon, but Whitefield’s preface is too good to be omitted.

“To all who attend on the word, preached at the Tabernacle, near
Moorfields, and at Tottenham Court chapel.

“MY DEAR HEARERS,――The ensuing discourse was lately put into my
hands. The title-page informs you when, where, and by whom it
was delivered――namely, near two hundred years ago, in the open
air, from a pulpit made in the shape of a cross in Cheapside,
commonly called Paul’s Cross, and by that venerable man of God,
Mr. John Foxe, Prebend of St. Paul’s, whose Book of Martyrs was,
by order of the government in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, fixed
in all churches, and remains in many to this day. Though some
of the expressions in this sermon may seem to be obsolete, and
others want a little explication, I choose to publish it in its
native dress, not only on account of its being designed for the
instruction and comfort of heavy-laden souls, who are too deeply
impressed to mind the elegancy and correctness of the words and
phrases, but also chiefly that you might have a specimen of that
foolishness of preaching, which, in the days of our forefathers,
was so mighty through God to the pulling down of the outward
strongholds of popery in these kingdoms; and what was infinitely
more (though less discernible by the natural man), the mightier
inward strongholds of sin and corruption, in the hearts of both
Papists and Protestants.

“And would to God, that not only all the ministers of our
Established Church, but of all the Protestant Reformed Churches,
were not only almost, but altogether, such preachers! How would
their hearers’ hearts then burn within them, whilst they were
opening to them, from the Scriptures, man’s original apostacy
from God,――the only means of reconciliation through faith in
the blood of Christ,――a universal morality, as the sole fruit
and proof of such a faith,――an establishment and growth in grace
here,――and, as the blessed and certain consequences of all these,
a perfect consummation of bliss, both of body and soul, in the
full and eternal enjoyment of a Triune God in the kingdom of
heaven hereafter. These are the grand truths delivered in the
following sermon.

“My chief reason for dedicating it to you is to let you see
that the doctrines you daily hear are no new doctrines, but the
very same which were preached two hundred years ago, and that in
the streets too, by the excellent compilers of the Liturgy and
Articles, and who had the honour of being banished and burned,
in the bloody reign of Queen Mary, for adhering to the same.
And, if it should ever happen in our times, that any of their
true-born faithful sons and successors should be excluded pulpits,
denied licenses, or put into spiritual courts for preaching in
the same manner, let them remember, that we live under a reign,
when, though pulpits are shut, the highways and hedges lie open.
Paul’s Cross, as I am informed, was burnt down at the Fire of
London; but Christ crucified, whom Paul preached, may yet be
exalted in the streets and lanes of the city. Our Lord has given
us a universal commission: ‘Go ye, and preach the gospel to
every creature.’ When thrust out of the synagogues, a mountain,
a ship were his pulpit, and the heavens were his sounding-board.
Thus Latimer, Cranmer, Ridley, and Mr. John Foxe, the famous
martyrologist, preached. And who needs be ashamed of copying
after such unexceptionable examples? But I am detaining you too
long. Haste, and read; and if, in reading, you feel what I did,
you will be glad of this sermon.

“I am, my dear hearers, your affectionate friend and ready
servant, in our common Lord,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“London, May 4, 1759.”

A few days after the date of this Protestant preface, Whitefield left London on another of his gospel tours. Hence the following:――

“BRISTOL, _May 25, 1759_.

“This day se’nnight, I came hither. The next day, the spring
campaign was opened. On the Lord’s-day, we took the field.
Thousands and thousands attended: full as many as in London. The
power of the Lord was present at the three meetings, as well as
at the holy sacrament. Ever since, I have been enabled to preach
twice, and sometimes thrice a day. Never did I see the Bristol
people more attentive or impressed. My body feels the heat, but
no matter. If souls are benefited, all is well.”

Leaving Bristol, Whitefield made his way to Scotland, arriving at Edinburgh on Saturday, the 30th of June.[460] Three days afterwards, he wrote as follows:――

“Edinburgh, July 3, 1759. There has been a long interval between
my last and this. My quick motions and frequent preaching have
been the causes. O what am I that I should be employed for
Jesus! In Gloucestershire, the cup of many of His people ran
over. In Yorkshire, I preached for a week twice a day. Great
congregations! great power! Blessed be the name of the Great God
for ever and ever! Here, also, people, high and low, rich and
poor, flock as usual, morning and evening. I am growing fat; but,
as I take it to be a disease, I hope I shall go home the sooner.
Happy they who are safe in harbour.”

Whitefield spent nearly seven weeks in Scotland, a fortnight in Glasgow, and the remainder of the time in Edinburgh. Of course, his cathedral in the latter city was the Orphan Hospital Park, as usual, where he preached every morning and evening without exception. He did the same in Glasgow, only on the two Sundays that he was there, he preached ten times! He set out for London on Tuesday, August 14;[461] but, before following him, further extracts from his letters must be given. To the Rev. John Gillies, he wrote:――

“Edinburgh, July 7, 1759. I purpose to see Glasgow; but cannot
as yet fix the day. I preach, and people flock as usual; but
Scotland is not London. The Redeemer is doing wonders there.
Every post brings fresh good news. God’s Spirit blows when and
where it listeth. O for a gale before the storm! I expect one is
at hand. The refuge is as near. Jesus is our hiding-place. O for
a hiding-place in heaven! When will my turn come? Some say, not
yet; for I am growing fat. So did Mr. ♦Darracott a little before
he died.”

Whitefield’s obesity was one of his troubles. He disliked it; for it was cumbersome, and made his work more difficult. It was not the result of less labour, or of more physical indulgence. Disease had already seized the strong, active man, and, as Whitefield judged, this was one of its early symptoms. It helped, however, to cure him of a fault. “My friend Mr. Whitefield,” says Romaine, “one day told me, that there was a time in his life when he thought he had never well closed a sermon without a lash at the _fat_, downy doctors of the Establishment. ‘At that period,’ said he, ‘I was not lean myself, though much slenderer than since. I went on, however, and seldom failed to touch pretty smartly upon the objects of my dissatisfaction, till one day, on entering the pulpit at Tottenham Court Road, I found the door apparently narrowed, and moved in obliquely. The idea then struck me, that I was becoming, at least in appearance, a downy doctor myself; and, from that time, I never more made the downy doctors a subject of castigation.’”[462]

“Edinburgh, July 12, 1759. It is well that there is a heaven to
make amends for our disappointments on earth. It is a dead time
in Scotland. There is little or no stirring among the dry bones.
It is not so in London, and several other parts of England. On
Monday, God willing, I go to blow the gospel trumpet at Glasgow.
Lord, what am I, that I should be one of Thy run-abouts! If this
be to be vile, Lord, make me more vile.”

“Glasgow, July 18, 1759. I see the disease, but know not how to
come at a cure. I dread a corpulent body; but it breaks in upon
me like an armed man. O that my heart may not wax gross at the
same time! Congregations in Scotland are very large.”

During his present visit to Scotland, Whitefield preached nearly a hundred times, to ever-increasing congregations. His collections, for the Orphan Hospital, amounted to £215. In most of his sermons, he stirred up the zeal of the people for God, for King George II., and for their country. His last service, on Sunday evening, August 12, was a thanksgiving sermon for the victory of Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick over the French, at Minden, on July 31. Another fact also must be mentioned. Miss Henderson, a young lady of considerable fortune, offered him a gift of £700, which he courteously refused. She then proposed to give it to his Orphan House; but, for some reason, this offer also was declined.[463] This was the mercenary man, who, according to his enemies, was always endeavouring to amass a fortune for himself!

At the end of August, Whitefield was once more in London, and, a fortnight afterwards, wrote the following concerning his Orphan House:――

“London, September 13, 1759. Your letter, dated May 25, which
I received yesterday, gave me unspeakable satisfaction. God
be praised for your success in silk-worms! God be praised that
Bethesda is out of debt! God be praised for all His tender
mercies to me and mine! Praise the Lord, O our souls! I wish
some of the children could be bred up for the ministry. What a
pity that I cannot have a grammar school! I shall think and pray,
and then write to you on this head. It is a most discouraging
thing, that good places cannot be found for the boys when fit to
go out. By this means, they are kept in the house beyond their
time, both to their own hurt, and to the further expense of
the institution. Could you let me know what stock of cattle you
have, and what hogs you kill? The more particular you are about
everything, the better. I long for the account. I am glad you
received the books. More are to be sent from Scotland. I do not
much care for R――――’s being at Bethesda, unless he is a true
penitent. How does my nephew go on?”

It is a remarkable fact, that hardly anything is known of Whitefield’s public ministry for the next five months. During this interval, however, he is not entirely shrouded from the public eye.

Nearly sixty years ago, had died the Rev. Samuel Clarke, M.A., one of the noble brotherhood of Christian clergymen, ejected from their pulpits by the Act of Uniformity in 1662. His father was one of the best oriental scholars of the age; and father and son combined quitted livings worth £600 a year. The son settled at High Wycombe,――“a man of considerable learning; a good critic, especially in the Scriptures; a great textuary; an excellent preacher; a great enemy of superstition and bigotry; yet zealous for unaffected piety and extensive charity.”[464] He was the author of several works, but his principal publication was “Annotations on the Bible,”――a work designed at the Oxford University, and the labour of his life. A new edition of this valuable, but almost unknown, Commentary, was published in 1759; and, for the new edition, Whitefield wrote a recommendatory preface, which is dated “London, October 1, 1759.” No useful end would be answered by the insertion of Whitefield’s preface. A brief extract from it must suffice:――

“In my poor opinion, next to holy Mr. Matthew Henry’s
incomparable Comment upon the Bible, the Rev. Samuel Clarke’s
Annotations seem to be the best calculated for universal
edification. Though short, they contain, generally speaking,
a full and spiritual interpretation of the most difficult
words and phrases. A great many parallel scriptures are most
judiciously inserted. And an analysis of the contents of every
book and chapter is added. It may be, that, the curious and very
critical reader may meet with a few exceptionable expressions;
but, alas! if we forbear reading any book or comment, till we
meet with one that will suit every taste, and is liable to no
exception, I fear, we must never read at all. The best of men’s
books, as well as the best of men themselves, are but men and
the books of men, at the best. It is the peculiar property of
Thy life, and of Thy Book, O blessed Jesus! to be exempt from
all imperfections.”

News having arrived of Boscawen’s capture of the Toulon fleet off Cape Lagos, in Portugal; and of the victory on the heights of Abraham, and the surrender of Quebec, Whitefield, too impulsive to wait for royal proclamations, preached three thanksgiving sermons, on Friday, October 19. This, forsooth! gave great offence to the notorious anti-Methodist, Dr. Free, who wrote:――

“From Mr. Whitefield’s great _booth_, we had a pompous article
in _St. James’s Evening Post_, of October 20, 1759, stating
that, the day before, ‘the Rev. Mr. Whitefield preached three
thanksgiving sermons, two in the morning at the Tabernacle,
and one at his chapel at Tottenham Court, to numerous audiences
of persons of distinction.’ By which, it appears, that,
being _without law_, he did not think it decency to wait
till his Majesty appointed the day of thanksgiving; but
pert,――forward,――an enthusiast,――he sounds his own trumpet,
sets up his own standard, and is attended in his irregularities
by numerous persons of distinction.”[465]

Dr. Free was not the only clergyman who pleased himself by attacking Whitefield. The Rev. Mr. Downes, rector of St. Michael’s, Wood Street, and lecturer of St. Mary-le-Bow, published his “Methodism Examined and Exposed” (8vo. 106 pp.), in which Whitefield and Wesley were abused with a vehemence unbefitting a Christian minister.[466]

Towards the end of the year, Whitefield stirred a nest of hornets. He preached a sermon against attending theatres. This evoked a sixpenny pamphlet, with the title, “A Discourse concerning Plays and Players. Occasioned by a late and very extraordinary Sermon, in which some sentiments relative to the above subjects were delivered in a very copious and affecting manner, from the Pulpit of a certain popular Preacher of the Society called Methodists.” The writer of the pamphlet professed to be a Methodist himself. As such, he had long entertained an “ignorant” zeal against theatres; but he had recently been cured of his “blind prejudice,” by conversing with a comedian, and by seeing Garrick act. In consequence of this conversion, he had been much offended by the sermon in question, because it threatened attenders at theatres with damnation. Whitefield’s sermon brought upon him other attacks, besides this of a professed Methodist; but it must suffice at present to insert an extract from the _Monthly Review_, for November, 1759, in which the “Discourse” of the theatre-going Methodist is noticed:――

“We hope the pious orator, Mr. Whitefield, made some reserve in
favour of those who frequent the theatres in the neighbourhood
of Moorfields, Tottenham Court, Cow Cross, and Broad St. Giles.
But, after all, it were no wonder, that a Whitefield, or a
Wesley should be jealous of so powerful a rival as a Garrick;
or even a Woodward, a Shuter, or a Yates. However, it must
be allowed uncharitable in any performers, or managers, thus
to consign each other’s audiences to the devil. We hope our
good friends of Drury Lane and Covent Garden have never been
chargeable with such unfair and unchristian dealings. Emulation
is certainly commendable, while accompanied with honesty
and decency; and if we can improve and extend our traffic by
furnishing a better commodity than another can, why, it is all
fair; but neither decency nor honesty will allow us to break
the windows, or to abuse or frighten away the customers, of _our
rivals in trade_.”

These were the first mutterings of one of the most violent storms that ever burst upon the head of Whitefield; but more of this anon.

Whitefield began the year 1760 by enlarging the Tottenham Court chapel, opened only three years before. He wrote to a friend in America:――

“London, February 5, 1760. I am growing very corpulent, but, I
trust, not too corpulent for another voyage, when called to it.
Every day the work increases. On Sunday last, a new enlargement
of the chapel was opened, and a great concourse of people
assembled.”

Immediately after this, Whitefield published a 12mo. pamphlet of twenty-four pages, entitled “Russian Cruelty; being the substance of several Letters from sundry Clergymen, in the New Marche of Brandenburg.” The letters are full of horrible details respecting the cruelties practised by the Russian army in Germany; and, in his preface, Whitefield ardently asks for sympathy and help on behalf of the distressed Protestants in that country. The preface is dated “March 2, 1760.” Friday, March 14, was appointed to be observed by a general fast; and, on the Sunday previous, says _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, “the Rev. Mr. Whitefield preached at his Tabernacle, at Tottenham Court Road, to a very numerous audience. In his discourse, he took occasion to mention the cruelties exercised by the Russian Cossacks upon the Protestant subjects of the Duchy of Mecklenburg, and earnestly to recommend a collection for their relief on the day of the public fast. The money is to be paid into the hands of the minister of the Lutheran chapel in London, by him to be transmitted to Germany, and there to be distributed in a proper manner to the objects worthy of relief.” Remembering the worth of money a hundred years ago, Whitefield’s collections were enormous. The following is taken from _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of March 17, 1760:――

“On the Fast-day, upwards of £400 were collected at Mr.
Whitefield’s chapel in Tottenham Court Road, and at the
Tabernacle, in Moorfields, for the relief of the distressed
Protestants in and about Custrin, in the New Marche of
Brandenburg; many of whom have been not only plundered and
stripped of all they had, but have likewise been cruelly
tortured and abused by the savage Cossacks and other irregular
troops of the Russian army.”[467]

It is a strange and disgraceful coincidence, that, on the very Fast-day, when Whitefield was so nobly exerting himself to redress the Russian cruelties in Germany, one of Whitefield’s friends, within a dozen miles of London, was being treated with cruelty dishonourable to the character of old England. Hence the following taken from _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of March 21, 1760:――

“Last Friday (the Fast-day) a terrible riot happened at Kingston,
in Surrey, occasioned by a Methodist preacher, who came there,
and assembled a great number of people together in a barn to
hear him. Whilst he was preaching, an impudent fellow threw some
dirt at him, which created a great disturbance; and the mob, at
last, dragged the preacher into the street, and rolled him in
a ditch; and, had it not been for the humanity and good-nature
of a gentleman near the spot, who took him into his house,
he, in all likelihood, would have been murdered. Some of the
Inniskilling dragoons being there among the mob, with their
swords, wounded and bruised several of the people, and put the
whole town into an uproar; but, by the prudent behaviour of
their commanding officer, all ill consequences were prevented.
He ordered the drums to beat, assembled the dragoons in the
yard of the Sun Inn, and kept them there for some time, and
then ordered them to their quarters.”

One of the notable events of 1760 was the trial and the execution of the half mad and intensely wicked Earl Ferrers, for the brutal murder of Mr. Johnson, his steward. The notorious Earl being nearly related to the Countess of Huntingdon, she and all her Methodist friends felt a profoundly painful interest in the case. The trial, which lasted three days, commenced in Westminster Hall, on April 16. Charles Wesley writes:――

“April 17, 1760. Yesterday morning, my heart was overwhelmed
with sorrow. Not in my own will did I enter the place of
judgment. George Whitefield and his wife sat next me. The lords
entered with the utmost state: first the barons, then the lords,
bishops, earls, dukes, and Lord High Steward. Most of the royal
family, the peeresses, and chief gentry of the kingdom, and the
foreign ambassadors were present, and made it one of the most
august assemblies in Europe; but the pomp was quite lost upon
me.”[468]

After his condemnation, the Earl was often visited, in the Tower of London, by the Countess of Huntingdon, and twice by Whitefield, to whom he behaved with great politeness. At her ladyship’s request, Whitefield repeatedly offered up public prayer for the unhappy murderer. “That impertinent fellow,” said Horace Walpole, “told his enthusiasts that my lord’s heart was stone.” So it was. Earl Ferrers ended his ignoble life, on the scaffold, May 5, 1760. “With all his madness,” sneered the flippant writer just mentioned, “Lord Ferrers was not mad enough to be struck with Lady Huntingdon’s sermons. The Methodists have nothing to brag of his conversion, though Whitefield prayed for him, and preached about him.”[469]

At the period when Whitefield was visiting Earl Ferrers in the Tower, there was another convict, belonging to another class of society, who secured his pity and attentions. Robert Tilling, coachman to Mr. Lloyd, a merchant living in Devonshire Square, Bishopsgate Street, had presented himself at the bedside of his master, at four o’clock in the morning of February 19; pointed a pistol at his head; demanded the keys of his escritoir; and threatened to blow out his brains, unless the demand was granted. The keys were given up; the merchant was robbed of his money; the coachman was arrested; was tried at the Old Bailey; confessed his crime; was sentenced to be hanged; and, in company with three others, was executed, at Tyburn, on Monday, April 28. The body was conveyed to Whitefield’s Tabernacle in Moorfields, where, _horresco referens!_ it was exposed to the public view. On April 30, it was carried to Tindall’s burying ground in Bunhill Fields. The rest of the story may be told by an extract from _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of the 5th of May:――

“We are informed that there was a prodigious concourse of people
to hear Mr. Whitefield speak in Bunhill Fields, at the grave
of Robert Tilling; some think not less than twenty thousand.
There was no burial office read; but, after the corpse had been
laid in the ground some time, Mr. Whitefield came, and, in a
declamatory way, shewed how the wages of sin was death,――gave
some account of the malefactor’s penitence,――exhorted all
in general to turn from their vices and come to Christ,――and
pressed all servants in particular to take warning by the
criminal’s execution, and shew all fidelity to their masters.”

Having “spent all the last winter in London,” Whitefield set out, in the month of May, on another of his evangelistic tours. First of all, he went to Gloucestershire; in June he went to Wales; in July, to Bristol; and in August came back to London. In September and October, he had “a ramble of two months in Yorkshire;”[470] after which, as usual, he returned to his “winter quarters,” in the metropolis.[471] Hardly anything is known of these preaching journeys. The following are extracts from his letters:――

“Bristol, July 5, 1760. When in the fields, ten thousand,
perhaps more, assemble here. When under cover, there are more
than the Tabernacle will hold; at least, in the evening. Every
time, the house is a Bethel, a house of God, a gate of heaven. I
thought my wife’s illness would have hastened me to London; but,
as she is now recovering, I would fain proceed in my summer’s
campaign. I am persuaded I am the better for your prayers. Never
were they more charitably bestowed. I am a worm, and no man.
O blessed Jesus, how good Thou art! With all Thy other mercies,
give, O give me an humble and a thankful heart!”

“Bristol, July 8, 1760. I have sympathised with you, in respect
to your fears about the _Indian_ war. Lord Jesus, grant the
Indians may not come near Bethesda! In heaven, all alarms will
be over. I long for those blessed mansions. But nothing kills
me. My wife was lately just got into harbour, but is driven back
again. Blessed be God, we are sure of getting in at last. Jesus
is our pilot. I am going on in my old way, saving that I grow
fatter and fatter every day. Lord, help me to work it down! But
it seems working will not do it.”

“London, August 15, 1760. How do I long to hear of God’s
appearing for Georgia and Bethesda! I trust the Indians will not
be permitted to disturb a family planted by God’s own right hand,
and for His own glory. But the Divine judgments are a great deep.
I trust some Bethesda letters will soon put me out of suspense.
I wrote to you by the convoy that took your new governor. I hope
he will behave friendly to the Orphan House. If we make the Lord
Jesus our friend, all will be well. Many here are seeking His
friendship. Satan is angry. I am now mimicked and burlesqued
upon the public stage. All hail such contempt! God forbid that
I should glory, save in the cross of Jesus Christ! It is sweet!
It is sweet! What a mercy is it, that we have got an abiding
inheritance in the kingdom of heaven! Of this we can never be
robbed. _Hallelujah!_”

It is a remarkable fact, that, though the burlesquing of Whitefield, in 1760, was a most disgraceful, and almost unparalleled outrage against all propriety, the above and another introduced hereafter are the only instances, in Whitefield’s published letters, where he mentions it. The subject is disgusting; but it must be noticed.

Samuel Foote was born at Truro, in Cornwall. His father was member of Parliament for Tiverton. Young Foote was educated at Worcester College, Oxford. On leaving the University, he became student of law in the Temple. He married a young lady of a good family and some fortune; but, their tempers not agreeing, harmony did not long subsist between them. Foote now launched into all the fashionable follies of the age, gambling not excepted; and, in a few years, squandered all his money. His necessities led him to the stage. In 1747, when about twenty-six years of age, he opened the little theatre in the Haymarket, taking upon himself the double character of author and performer. His first dramatic piece was called “The Diversions of the Morning,” and was chiefly a description of several well-known living persons. For years after, Foote continued to select, for the entertainment of the town, such public characters as seemed most likely to amuse the attendants at his theatre. In 1760, he published and performed “The Minor,” a filthy and profane burlesque of Whitefield and his followers. Six years afterwards, he broke his leg, and was compelled to undergo an amputation. His last piece was brought out in 1776, and was called “The Trip to Paris.” In this, he made a pointed attack on the character of the Duchess of Kingston. The Lord Chamberlain interdicted the performance. Foote made some alterations in the play, and brought it out under the title of “The Capuchin.” In this, he levelled his satire, not only against the Duchess, but against her bosom friend, Dr. Jackson, the editor of a newspaper. Foote grew in wickedness, as he grew in years. He was charged with an unnatural crime, but was acquitted. The man, however, who had been stigmatizing public and living persons, for the last thirty years, was annoyed at being stigmatized himself. His spirits sank; his health failed; and, while on the stage, he was seized with paralysis. Soon afterwards, he set out for France; but died suddenly, at Dover, on October 21, 1777. He was privately interred in Westminster Abbey.[472] “Foote,” said Boswell to Johnson, both of whom were well acquainted with the zany, “Foote has a great deal of humour.” Johnson: “Yes, sir.” Boswell: “He has a singular talent for exhibiting character.” Johnson: “Sir, it is not a talent――it is a vice: it is what others abstain from. It is not comedy, which exhibits the character of a species, as that of a miser gathered from many misers: it is a farce, which exhibits individuals.” Boswell: “Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” Johnson: “I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel: but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to say, he has never thought upon the subject.”[473]

This profane and filthy-minded comedian was the author of the infamous production, which brought upon Whitefield an unequalled torrent of abuse and ridicule. Its title was, “The Minor, a Comedy, written by Mr. Foote. As it is now acting at the New Theatre in the Hay-Market. By authority from the Lord Chamberlain.[474] _Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum._ London, 1760.” (8vo. 91 pp.)

“The Minor” was first acted early in July, 1760.[475] It would be far worse than offensive to give an outline of it in a work like this. How educated and respectable people could listen to such ribald and blasphemous outpourings it is difficult to imagine. The whole thing is so steeped in lewdness, that it would be criminal even to reproduce the plot. Suffice it to say, that Foote was not only the author of the piece, but its chief actor. He performed the three characters, “Shift,” “Smirk,” and “Mrs. Cole.” He declaimed against “the Itinerant Field Orators, who are at declared enmity with common sense, and yet have the address to poison the principles, and, at the same time, to pick the pockets of half our industrious fellow-subjects.” He lays it down, that, “ridicule is the only antidote against this pernicious poison. Methodism is a madness that arguments can never cure; and, should a little wholesome severity be applied, persecution would be the immediate cry. Where then can we have recourse but to the comic muse? Perhaps the archness and severity of her smile may redress an evil, that the laws cannot reach, or reason reclaim.” Such, forsooth, were the virtuous motives which prompted Foote, in the profanest language, and in the character of a _bawd_, to ridicule the greatest evangelist of his age, and one whom all men now delight to honour. In a literary point of view, “The Minor” is despicable; in a moral, it is _unquotable_.

The Countess of Huntingdon waited on the Duke of Devonshire, the Lord Chamberlain, and requested its suppression; but was told her request could not be granted. She had an interview with Garrick, who professed to be offended with the comedy;[476] and yet, shortly after, admitted it into his own theatre in Drury Lane.

In the very month when it first appeared, even the _Monthly Review_, no friend to the Methodists, condemned it. Hence the following:――

“The spirit of puffing, which so strongly characterizes the
present age, is become so universal, that almost every class
seems to be moved by it. In time past, it was chiefly confined
to quack doctors, booksellers, and advertising tailors; but
now even the wits of the town are seized by it, and every
farce-writer ostentatiously styles his _petit piece_ of three
acts, a comedy. This of Mr. Foote’s is one of the number;
but it no more deserves the title of a comedy than ‘The Stage
Coach,’ ‘The Devil to Pay,’ or any of those inferior dramatic
productions, which usually appear as the humble attendants upon
works of the higher order――the tragedies and comedies of _five
acts_.

“The success of the present performance, during the
representation, arose from the author’s extraordinary talent
at mimicry; but it is not calculated to please equally in
the perusal. The satire levelled at the great leader of the
Methodists seems to be extremely out of character. It is no
less unjust to Mr. Whitefield, than absurd, to suppose a man
of his penetration, either conniving at, or being the dupe of,
an old bawd’s hypocrisy, in continuing to follow her iniquitous
occupation, while she frequents the Tabernacle, and cants about
the new birth. And when we are told that an occasional hymn
is given out, and a thanksgiving sermon preached, on occasion
of Mother Cole’s (Douglas’s) recovery from sickness, who can
forbear smiling――not with approbation of the conceit, but,
with contempt for the author of such improbable scandal? We
despise and abhor all enthusiastic flights, and high pretentions
to extraordinary sanctity, as much as Mr. Foote can do; but,
without entering into the enquiry whether or not these are
proper objects of playhouse ridicule, it is most certain, that
no man, or body of men, ought to be charged with more than they
are guilty of; and that there is not a juster maxim in the moral
world, than, ‘_Give the devil his due[477]_.’”

In the month of August,[478] 1760, there appeared a pamphlet with the title, “Christian and Critical Remarks on a Droll, or Interlude, called ‘The Minor,’ now acting by a Company of Stage-Players in the Hay-Market, and said to be acted by Authority; in which the Blasphemy, Falsehood, and Scurrility of that Piece are properly considered, answered, and exposed. By a Minister of the Church of Christ. London, 1760.” (8vo. 41 pp.) The writer says Foote “has gone beyond any of his competitors in debauching, if possible, and debasing the stage. He has done this, by doing that which nobody else in these kingdoms had the confidence to attempt; I mean by the introduction of real and living characters into his pieces.” And then, it is correctly added, “The name of the Spirit of God is bandied about from the mouth of vagabond to vagabond, in order to raise a laugh in honour of the devil.”

A month later, was published a 4to. shilling pamphlet, entitled, “A Satyrical Dialogue between the celebrated Mr. F――te and Dr. Squintum,” which the _Monthly Review_ pronounced, “Dirty trash: intended to vilify Mr. Whitefield.” Also, a folio publication (price 1s.), with the title, “A Letter of Expostulation from the Manager of the Theatre in Tottenham Court, to the Manager of the Theatre in the Hay-Market, relative to a new Comedy, called ‘The Minor.’” In this infamous and lewd production, Whitefield is represented as being jealous of Foote in gulling the public, and, therefore, proposes that they become partners. Much of it cannot be quoted. The following are among the less objectionable lines. Addressing Foote, Whitefield, at the Tabernacle, is made to say:――

“Your talent of humour shall have its full swing,
Here pleasure and profit are both on the wing:
Love-feasts――and ladies intriguing――and cash――
Keep on but the vizor,――have at ’em slap-dash――
No bait shall be wanting the trade to advance,
We’ll now and then tip ’em a drum and a dance.”

In the month of October, the storm was continued, and, if possible, became more furious. A long letter was inserted in _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, in which, after praising Foote for his mimicry in “The Minor,” the writer adds: “Religion is too sacred (be it exercised in ever so absurd a manner) to become the butt of public mockery. If the exercise of it should be unwarrantable, the laws will check it, without calling theatrical buffoonery to their assistance.”

Three months before, as soon as “The Minor” appeared, there was published, a shilling pamphlet, with the false title: “A Genuine Letter from a Methodist Preacher in the Country, to Laurence Sterne, M.A., Prebendary of York.” Now, in the month of October, the same “nonsensical and profane” thing was re-issued with an altered title: “A Letter from the Rev. George Whitefield, B.A., to the Rev. Laurence Sterne, M.A., the supposed Author of ‘The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy.’” Even the _Monthly Review_ now became indignant, and said, “The impudence of our low dirty, hedge-publishers is risen to a most shameful height. To take such scandalous liberties with names, as is here done with that of Mr. Whitefield, is surely insufferable in any well-regulated community. If it is not in that gentleman’s power to procure redress of such a flagrant injury, it is high time to provide the means of punishing such audacious proceedings for the future.”

The volatile Foote also added to his previous crime, the publication of an 8vo. pamphlet, of 40 pages, entitled, “A Letter from Mr. Foote to the Reverend Author of the Remarks, Critical and Christian, on ‘The Minor.’” The mendacious reviler writes:――

“I am extremely puzzled in what manner to address you; it being
impossible to determine, from the title you assume, whether you
are an authorised pastor, or a peruke-maker,――a real clergyman,
or a corn-cutter.”

Again:――

“I have heard George Whitefield’s mother frequently declare that
he was a dull, stupid, heavy boy, totally incapable of their
business at the ‘Bell,’ a principal inn at Gloucester.

“The force and miserable effects of Whitefield’s mystic
doctrines are obvious enough. _Bedlam_ loudly proclaims
the power of your preacher, and scarce a street in town but
boasts its tabernacle; where some, from interested views, and
others――unhappy creatures! mistaking the idle offspring of a
distempered brain for divine inspiration, broach such doctrines
as are not only repugnant to Christianity, but destructive even
to civil society.

“I believe Whitefield is too cunning to let anybody into the
secret as to the quantity of wealth he has amassed; but, from
your own computation of males fit to carry arms, who are listed
in his service, and the price they are well known to pay for
admittance, even into the gallery of his theatre, I should
suppose his annual income must double the primate’s. To this
may be added private benefactions and occasional contributions.”

One more specimen of Foote’s audacious scurrility must suffice. He concludes his pamphlet thus:――

“You a reformer! Are these the proofs of your mission? Repent,
and, by way of atonement and mortification, summon your
misguided flock; reveal your impious frauds, and restore the
poor deluded people to their senses and their proper pastors.
If you still persist, I must, after your example, conclude
with wishing that those teachers amongst you, who are mad, were
confined closely in _Bedlam_, and those who are wicked, were
lodged safely in _Bridewell_; and then, I think the public would
get rid of you all. But, whilst you continue triumphantly at
large, spiritualized and divine as you may think yourselves,
I shall still take the liberty to follow you, as the boy did
Philip, with a loud memento that you are merely men.”

The reader must pardon these long extracts from such a writer; for, without them, it is difficult to convey an adequate idea of what a sensitive man like Whitefield must have suffered from the publication of such falsehoods and abuse. Unfortunately more must follow.

In the month of November, Garrick permitted “The Minor” to be acted in Drury Lane Theatre, but with some insignificant alterations, the chief of which was, in lieu of a filthy and profane sentence, which cannot be quoted, Mrs. Cole, the bawd, was represented as saying, “Dr. Squintum washed me with the soap-suds and scouring sand of the Tabernacle, and I became as clean and bright as a pewter-platter.”[479] The theatre was crowded, and thus even Garrick, as well as Foote, began to make money by holding up Whitefield to the ridicule of the large and fashionable assemblies of the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. It was now that one of the personal friends of Whitefield stepped into the lists. The Rev. Martin Madan[480] published an 8vo. pamphlet of 48 pages, entitled, “A Letter to David Garrick, Esq.; occasioned by the intended Representation of ‘The Minor’ at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane.” In an advertisement, Mr. Madan states that the first performance of ‘The Minor’ in Drury-Lane had been fixed for October 25, but the sudden death of King George the Second, on the morning of that day, occasioned a short postponement. Madan refrains from discussing “the absolute unlawfulness of stage entertainments,” because that point had been “ably and unanswerably proved by the masterly pen of the Rev. Mr. William Law.” He says, “Mr. Whitefield knows nothing of the writing of this letter;[481] and I will not say one word in behalf of him. I shall put him as much out of the case as if there was no such man breathing. I profess no attempt to defend anything but the truths of the Bible, and consequently the religion of this country, as by law established.” Madan declares that, instead of “The Minor” being styled a comedy, it deserved the name of “A Dramatic Libel against the Christian Religion;” and, by quotations, proceeds to state his reasons, for this assertion, adding:――

“Does Mr. Garrick think such language as this is fit for the
entertainment of polite ears? Would any one imagine that these
speeches, if weighed one moment in the balance of reason (to
say nothing of religion), could possibly be introduced, with the
least degree of approbation, before any audience, except the
inhabitants of Bridewell or Newgate? I blush for my countrymen,
when I recollect, that even this _vile stuff_ was attended to in
the Hay-Market, by crowded audiences, for above thirty nights,
and that with applause; whereas it was dismissed, with deserved
abhorrence, after being _one_ night _only_ offered to the people
of Ireland, at one of their theatres. This I have been credibly
informed of, and believe it to be true.”

After furnishing other quotations from “The Minor,” Madan again addresses Garrick thus:――