George Whitefield: A Biography, with special reference to his labors in America

"Sunday, April 3. Preached twice this day at Mr. Paul's meeting-house, as on the last Sabbath, but with greater freedom and power, especially in the morning; and I think to as great, if not greater auditories. Dined with Colonel Harvy, another of the council; visited a sick woman, where many came to hear; and expounded afterwards to a great company, at Captain John Dorrel's, Mrs. Dorrel's son, who with his wife courteously entertained me, and desired me to make his house my home. So true is that promise of our Lord, that 'whosoever leaves father or mother, houses or lands, shall have in this life a hundred-fold with persecution, and in the world to come, life everlasting.' Lord, I have experienced the one; in thy good time grant that I may experience the other also.

"Wednesday, April 6. Preached yesterday at the house of Mr. Anthony Smith, of Baylis Bay, with a considerable degree of warmth; and rode afterwards to St. George, the only town on the island. The gentlemen of the town had sent me an invitation by Judge Bascom; and he, with several others, came to visit me at my lodgings; and informed me that the governor desired to see me. About ten I waited upon his excellency, who received me with great civility, and told me he had no objection against my person or my principles, having never yet heard me; and he knew nothing with respect to my conduct in moral life, that might prejudice him against me; but his intentions were to let none preach in the island, unless he had a written license to preach somewhere in America, or the West Indies; at the same time he acknowledged that it was but a matter of mere form. I informed his excellency that I had been regularly inducted into the parish of Savannah; that I was ordained priest by letters dismissory from my lord of London, and was under no church censure from his lordship; and would always read the church prayers, if the clergy would give me the use of their churches. I added farther, that a minister's pulpit was always looked upon as his freehold; and that I knew one clergyman who had denied his own diocesan the use of his pulpit. But I told his excellency I was satisfied with the liberty he allowed me, and would not act contrary to his injunction. I then begged leave to be dismissed, as I was obliged to preach at eleven o'clock. His excellency said he intended to do himself the pleasure to hear me. At eleven, the church bell rung. The church Bible, prayer-book, and cushion, were sent to the town-house. The governor, several of the council, the minister of the parish, and assembly-men, with a great number of the town's people, assembled in great order. I was very sick, through a cold I caught last night; but read the church prayers. The first lesson was the fifteenth chapter of the first book of Samuel. I preached on those words, 'Righteousness exalteth a nation.' Being weak and faint, and afflicted much with the headache, I did not do that justice to my subject which I sometimes am enabled to do; but the Lord so helped me that, as I found afterwards, the governor and the other gentlemen expressed their approbation, and acknowledged they did not expect to be so well entertained. Not unto me, Lord, not unto me, but to thy free grace be all the glory!

"After sermon, Dr. F – bs, and Mr. P – t, the collector, came to me, and desired me to favor them and the gentlemen of the town with my company at dinner. I accepted the invitation. The governor, and the president, and Judge Bascom were there. All wondered at my speaking so freely and fluently without notes. The governor asked whether I used minutes. I answered, 'No.' He said it was a great gift. At table, his excellency introduced something of religion by asking me the meaning of the word Hades. Several other things were started about freewill, Adam's fall, predestination, etc., to all which God enabled me to answer so pertinently, and taught me to mix the utile and dulce [useful and pleasant] so together, that all at table seemed highly pleased, shook me by the hand, and invited me to their respective houses. The governor, in particular, asked me to dine with him on the morrow; and Dr. F – , one of his particular intimates, invited me to drink tea in the afternoon. I thanked all, returned proper respects, and went to my lodgings with some degree of thankfulness for the assistance vouchsafed me, and abased before God at the consideration of my unspeakable unworthiness. In the afternoon, about five o'clock, I expounded the parable of the prodigal son to many people at a private house; and in the evening had liberty to speak freely and closely to those who supped with me. O that this may be the beginning of good gospel times to the inhabitants of this town."

We might fill other pages from Whitefield's journal, but will only give two more passages. The first will show him in connection with the African race, in whose highest welfare he always took a special interest.

"Saturday, May 7. In my conversation these two days with some of my friends, I was diverted much in hearing several things that passed among the poor negroes, since I preached to them last Sunday. One of the women, it seems, said that 'if the book I preached out of was the best book that was ever bought at London, she was sure it had never all that in it which I spoke to the negroes,' The old man who spoke out loud last Sunday, and said 'yes' when I asked them whether all the negroes would not go to heaven, being questioned by somebody why he spoke out so, answered, that 'the gentleman put the question once or twice to them, and the other fools had not the manners to make any answer; till at last I seemed to point at him, and he was ashamed that nobody should answer me, and therefore he did.' Another, wondering why I said negroes had black hearts, was answered by his black brother, 'Ah, thou fool, dost not thou understand it? He means black with sin.' Two girls were overheard by their mistress talking about religion, and they said 'they knew, if they did not repent, they must be damned.' From all which I infer that these negroes on the Bermudas are more awake than I supposed; that their consciences are awake, and consequently prepared in a good measure for hearing the gospel preached to them."

Whitefield sums up the events which had occurred in connection with himself on the Bermudas, the praise of which islands has also been celebrated by the distinguished Bishop Berkeley, who resided there for some time, and by Waller the poet.

"Sunday, May 22. Blessed be God, the little leaven thrown into the three measures of meal begins to ferment and work almost every day for the week past. I have conversed with souls loaded with a sense of their sins, and as far as I can judge, really pricked to the heart. I preached only three times, but to almost three times larger auditories than usual. Indeed, the fields are white, ready to harvest. God has been pleased to bless private visits. Go where I will, upon the least notice, houses are crowded, and the poor souls that follow are soon drenched in tears. This day I took, as it were, another farewell. As the ship did not sail, I preached at Somerset in the morning to a large congregation in the fields; and expounded in the evening at Mr. Harvy's house, around which stood many hundreds of people. But in the morning and evening how did the poor souls weep. Abundance of prayers and blessings were put up for my safe passage to England, and speedy return to the Bermudas again. May they enter into the ears of the Lord of sabaoth. With all humility and thankfulness of heart will I here, O Lord, set up my Ebenezer, for hitherto surely hast thou helped me. Thanks be to the Lord for sending me hither. I have been received in a manner I dared not to expect, and have met with little, very little opposition indeed. The inhabitants seem to be plain and open-hearted. They have loaded me with provisions for my sea-store; and in the several parishes, by a private voluntary contribution, have raised me upwards of one hundred pounds sterling. This will pay a little of Bethesda's debt, and enable me to make such a remittance to my dear yoke-fellow, as may keep her from being embarrassed, or too much beholden in my absence. Blessed be God for bringing me out of my embarrassments by degrees. May the Lord reward all my benefactors a thousand-fold. I hear that what was given, was given heartily, and people only lamented that they could do no more."

Whitefield now transmitted to Georgia what had been collected for the orphan-house; but fearing a relapse, if he returned to the south during the hot season, which was near commencing, and pressed also again to visit England, he took his passage in a brig, and in twenty-eight days arrived at Deal.

On his voyage, he completed an abridgment, which he had previously begun, of "Law's serious Call to a devout and holy Life," which he endeavored to make more useful by excluding whatever is not truly evangelical, and illustrating the subject more fully, especially from the holy Scriptures. He also wrote letters to his friends, one of which strikingly illustrates his Christian humility. It bears date June 24, 1748. "Yesterday I made an end of revising all my journals. Alas, alas, in how many things I have judged and acted wrong. I have been too rash and hasty in giving characters both of places and persons. Being fond of Scripture language, I have used a style too apostolical, and at the same time I have been too bitter in my zeal. Wildfire has been mixed with it, and I find that I frequently wrote and spoke in my own spirit, when I thought I was writing and speaking by the assistance of the Spirit of God. I have, likewise, too much made inward impressions my rule of acting, and too soon and too explicitly published what had been better kept in longer, or told after my death. By these things I have hurt the blessed cause I would defend, and also stirred up a needless opposition. This has humbled me much, and made me think of a saying of Mr. Henry, 'Joseph had more honesty than he had policy, or he never would have told his dreams.' At the same time, I cannot but praise God, who fills me with so much of his holy fire, and carried me, a poor weak youth, through such a torrent, both of popularity and contempt, and set so many seals to my unworthy ministrations. I bless him for ripening my judgment a little more, for giving me to see and confess, and I hope in some degree to correct and amend some of my former mistakes."

In the early part of this year, 1748, the "Gentleman's Magazine" had announced Whitefield's death as having taken place in America. One of his first letters on his arrival at Deal in that year, says, "Words cannot express how joyful my friends were to see me once more in the land of the living, for I find the newspapers had buried me ever since April last. But it seems I am not to die, but live. O that it may be to declare the works of the Lord."

CHAPTER XI.
LABORS IN ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND – CHAPLAIN TO LADY HUNTINGDON.
1748, 1749

On the evening of July 6, 1748, Whitefield again found himself in London, after an absence of nearly four years. Here he was welcomed with joy by many thousands. The large church of St. Bartholomew was at once thrown open to him, where multitudes flocked to hear, and where on the first Sabbath he had a thousand communicants. But in his own more immediate circle many things were in an unhappy condition. His congregation at the Tabernacle had been much scattered during his absence; Antinomianism had made sad havoc among the people; and one of this party threatened to rival him in Moorfields. Whitefield sent him word, "The fields are no doubt as free to you as to another. God send you a clear head and a clean heart. I intend preaching there on Sunday evening." He did so; and found "Moorfields as white to harvest as ever." Our evangelist was again called to mourn the evils of poverty. He found himself compelled to sell his household furniture, to pay, in part, the debts of his orphan-house, which were yet far from being cancelled; his aged mother, for whom he always retained the highest regard, also needed his aid. These and other trials pressed him sorely; but on the other hand, he felt happy in his work, and his congregation were soon reunited, and happy in his labors.

We have seen that as early as 1738, Lady Huntingdon, with his lordship her husband, as frequently as they could, heard Whitefield preach; since that period his lordship had died, leaving her ladyship a widow, in the thirty-ninth year of her age. At what period she became more openly and intimately Whitefield's friend does not appear; but when he landed at Deal from his third visit to America, she sent Howel Harris to bring him to her house at Chelsea, where he preached to large circles of the gay world, who thronged this then fashionable watering-place. For the benefit of this class of hearers, she soon after removed to London, at that time some three miles distant from Chelsea, appointed Whitefield her chaplain, and during the winter of 1748 and '49, opened her splendid mansion in Park-street for the preaching of the gospel. "Good Lady Huntingdon," he writes, "has come to town, and I am to preach twice a week at her house to the great and noble. O that some of them might be effectually called to taste the riches of redeeming love." On the first day appointed, Chesterfield and Bolingbroke, both of them well-known for their gayety and infidelity, and a circle of the nobility, attended; and having heard him once, they desired to come again. "Lord Chesterfield thanked me," he says. "Lord Bolingbroke was moved, and asked me to come and see him the next morning. My hands have been full of work, and I have been among great company. All accepted my sermons. Thus the world turns round. 'In all time of my wealth, good Lord, deliver me.'"

The death-bed of Lord St. John Bolingbroke, whom we have already mentioned as one of his parlor-hearers, exhibited scenes unusual in the circle where he moved. The Bible was read to him, and his cry was, "God be merciful to me a sinner." "My Lord Bolingbroke," wrote Lady Huntingdon to Whitefield, "was much struck with his brother's language in his last moments. O that his eyes might be opened by the illuminating influence of divine truth. He is a singularly awful character; and I am fearfully alarmed, lest the gospel which he so heartily despises, yet affects to reverence, should prove the savor of death unto death to him. Some, I trust, are savingly awakened, while many are inquiring; thus the great Lord of the harvest hath put honor on your ministry, and hath given my heart an encouraging token of the utility of our feeble efforts."

It is related that the Rev. Mr. Church, a clergyman who died curate of Battersea, near London, one day called on Bolingbroke, who said to him, "You have caught me reading John Calvin; he was indeed a man of great parts, profound sense, and vast learning; he handles the doctrines of grace in a very masterly manner." "Doctrines of grace," replied the clergyman; "the doctrines of grace have set all mankind by the ears." "I am surprised to hear you say so," answered Lord Bolingbroke, "you who profess to believe and to preach Christianity. Those doctrines are certainly the doctrines of the Bible, and if I believe the Bible I must believe them. And let me seriously tell you, that the greatest miracle in the world is the subsistence of Christianity, and its continued preservation, as a religion, when the preaching of it is committed to the care of such unchristian men as you."

At this period Whitefield renewed his acquaintance with the Rev. James Hervey, who has not improperly been called the Melancthon of the second reformation in England. Among all the converts of our evangelist, no one was more distinguished for piety, or for his fascination as a writer, than this admirable clergyman. His writings, though too flowery in their style, were eminently suitable, as Whitefield himself says, "for the taste of the polite world." Hervey wrote to Whitefield, "Your journals and sermons, and especially that sweet sermon on 'What think ye of Christ?' were a means of bringing me to the knowledge of the truth." Whitefield felt the warmest attachment to Hervey in return, and when he introduced some of his works into America, wrote, "The author is my old friend; a most heavenly-minded creature; one of the first Methodists, who is contented with a small cure, and gives all he has to the poor. We correspond with, though we cannot see each other." Whitefield intimated in one of his journals his intention of sketching Hervey's character, but this was one of the many intended things which were never accomplished. Dr. Doddridge wrote a preface to one of his works, which Warburton, as might be expected, called "a weak rhapsody."

Under the auspices of Lady Huntingdon, a prayer-meeting was established for the women who, from the circles of rank and fashion, became the followers of the Lord. Among these were Lady Frances Gardiner, Lady Mary Hamilton, daughter of the Marquis of Lothian, who had attended the ministry of Whitefield in Scotland, Lady Gertrude Hotham and Countess Delitz, sisters of Lady Chesterfield, Lady Chesterfield herself, and Lady Fanny Shirley. "Religion," says Lady Huntingdon, when writing to Doddridge, "was never so much the subject of conversation as now. Some of the great ones hear with me the gospel patiently, and thus much seed is sown by Mr. Whitefield's preaching. O that it may fall on good ground, and bring forth abundantly."

Some one, we believe a bishop, complained to George II. of the popularity and success of Whitefield, and entreated his majesty in some way or other to silence him. The monarch, thinking, no doubt, of the class described by the martyr Latimer, as "unpreaching prelates," replied with jocose severity, "I believe the best way will be to make a bishop of him."

But if Whitefield was honored by some of the great, he received from others unmingled hostility. Horace Walpole, the gay man, and the corrupt courtier, thought it worth while to introduce the Methodist preacher into his "Private Correspondence." The statement he makes of professed facts is altogether incredible, but shows unmistakably the spirit of the writer. "The apostle Whitefield is come to some shame. He went to Lady Huntingdon lately, and asked for forty pounds for some distressed saint or other. She said she had not so much money in the house, but would give it him the first time she had. He was very pressing, but in vain. At last he said, 'There's your watch and trinkets, you don't want such vanities; I will have that.' She would have put him off; but he persisting, she said, 'Well, if you must have it, you must.' About a fortnight afterwards, going to his house, and being carried into his wife's chamber, among the paraphernalia of the latter the countess found her own offering. This has made a terrible schism; she tells the story herself. I had not it from Saint Frances, [Lady Fanny Shirley,] but I hope it is true." Every thing goes to prove the sincerity of his hope, though founded on falsehood.

It has generally happened that the most effective public speakers, whether secular or sacred, have been accused by a fastidious class with vulgarisms. So with Cicero, Burke, and Chatham; so with Patrick Henry and Daniel Webster; and to turn to eminent preachers, so with Luther, Latimer, and Whitefield. The reason was, that intent on the greatest good to the greatest number, they used what Dr. Johnson, after Daniel Burgess, called "market language." Dr. William Bates, an accomplished and courtly non-conformist minister, in the seventeenth century, once complained in the presence of his faithful but unpolished friend Daniel Burgess, that he found very little success in his work as a minister; when his aged brother smartly replied, "Thank your velvet mouth for that – too fine to speak market language." Whitefield, very happily for thousands, had no squeamishness of this sort.

Some ladies called one Saturday morning to pay a visit to Lady Huntingdon, and during the interview, her ladyship inquired of them if they had ever heard Mr. Whitefield preach. On being answered in the negative, she said, "I wish you would hear him; he is to preach to-morrow evening." They promised her ladyship they would certainly attend. They fulfilled their promise; and when they called on her ladyship the next Monday morning, she anxiously inquired if they had heard Mr. Whitefield on the previous evening, and how they liked him. The reply was, "Oh, my lady, of all the preachers we ever heard, he is the most strange and unaccountable! Among other preposterous things, would your ladyship believe it, he declared that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive sinners, that he did not object to receive even the devil's castaways! Now, my lady, did you ever hear of such a thing since you were born?" Her ladyship, in reply, said, "There is something, I acknowledge, a little singular in the invitation, and I do not recollect to have met with it before; but as Mr. Whitefield is below in the parlor, we will have him up, and let him answer for himself."

On Mr. Whitefield's entering the drawing-room, Lady Huntingdon said, "Sir, these ladies have been preferring a very heavy charge against you, and I thought it best that you should come up and defend yourself. They say, that in your sermon last evening, in speaking of the willingness of Jesus Christ to receive sinners, you said, that 'so ready was Christ to receive sinners who came to him, that he was willing to receive even the devil's castaways.'" Mr. Whitefield immediately replied, "I certainly, my lady, must plead guilty to the charge; whether I did what was right, or otherwise, your ladyship shall judge when you have heard a fact. Did your ladyship notice, about half an hour ago, a very modest single rap at the door? It was given by a poor, miserable looking aged female, who requested to speak with me. I desired that she might be shown into the parlor, when she thus addressed me: 'I believe, sir, you preached last evening at such a chapel.' 'Yes, I did.' 'Ah, sir, I was accidentally passing the door of that chapel, and hearing the voice of some one preaching, I did what I have never been in the habit of doing – I went in; and one of the first things I heard you say, was, that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive sinners, that he did not object to receive the devil's castaways. Do you think, sir, that Jesus Christ would receive me?' I answered her that there was not a doubt of it, if she was but willing to go to him."

It is pleasant to add, that the impression conveyed in the singular language of Mr. Whitefield ended in the conversion of the poor woman to God. She gave satisfactory evidence that her great and numerous sins had been forgiven through the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. Was Mr. Whitefield to be censured for the use of this language?

In September, 1748, Mr. Whitefield made his third visit to Scotland, where he met with a cordial welcome, and where his labors became increasingly valued. Some of the clergy at Glasgow, Perth, and Edinburgh used their influence to exclude him from the pulpits, but the majority voted in his favor; and a full examination vindicated his character, and made his excellences more generally known. All the ministers who were disposed to invite him to preach, were at liberty to do so, except in the presbytery of Edinburgh; here, however, he was accommodated by the magistrates with a church to preach in whenever he visited the city. In Scotland he now warmly advocated the cause of the college in New Jersey: of the results of his labors we shall hear more hereafter.

On his return to London, Whitefield resumed his preaching at Lady Huntingdon's to "the great ones," as he calls them. Thirty, and sometimes even sixty persons of rank attended, although the newspapers gave false and degrading accounts of the reception he met with in Scotland. He now availed himself of the influence he possessed, to forward his intended college, in addition to his orphan-house, for which his plea was, "If some such thing be not done, I cannot see how the southern parts will be provided with ministers; for all are afraid to go over." On this ground he appealed to the trustees of Georgia; reminding them that he had expended five thousand pounds upon the orphan-house; begging them to relieve it, as a charitable institution, from all quit-rent and taxes; and especially to allow him the labor of blacks in cultivating the farm. "White hands," he said, "had left his tract of land uncultivated."

It will not be expected that Whitefield could stay long, even in the courtly circles of London, where he met with so much acceptance. We very soon find him among his old friends at Gloucester and Bristol. The bishop of the latter see, he says, behaved very respectfully to him; he visited also his old tutor, now become one of the prebendaries, and met with the old kindness received at Oxford. "I told him, that my judgment, as I trust, was a little more ripened than it was some years ago; and that as fast as I found out my faults, I should be glad to acknowledge them. He said the offence of the governors of the church would wear off as I grew moderate." The evangelist did not tell the doctor how little he cared for such moderation as the governors of the church in that day required; but he wrote to Lady Huntingdon, on the subject of their favor, "I am pretty easy about that. If I can but act an honest part, and be kept from trimming, I leave all consequences to Him who orders all things well." During this journey, many new converts were won. One of these was a counsellor, who was so much affected, that his zeal in inviting others to hear Whitefield led his wife to suspect him of madness.

An interesting fact connected with Gloucestershire, his native county, may be introduced in this place, though we are not sure that it occurred during this journey. John Skinner of Houndscroft was a strolling fiddler, going from fair to fair, supplying music to any party that would hire him. Having determined to interrupt Mr. Whitefield while preaching, he obtained a standing on a ladder raised to a window near the pulpit. Here he remained a quiet, if not an attentive hearer, till the text was read, when he intended to begin his annoying exercise on the violin. It pleased God, however, while he was putting his instrument in tune, to convey the word preached with irresistible power to his soul; his attention was diverted from his original purpose, he heard the whole sermon, and became a new man.

Happily Whitefield was blessed in bringing to Christ many who were made eminently useful. Among others we might mention the late Rev. Cornelius Winter, an eminent minister, who afterwards accompanied our evangelist in his last voyage to America, and who after his death conveyed his will to England, and sought ordination to return and labor in Georgia. Disappointed in this, he became an able and successful minister in England; and also trained several young men for the Christian ministry, including the late celebrated William Jay of Bath. Whitefield had often been heard by Winter with great pleasure, for he admired his eloquence; but for some time no good effects were apparent. One night, while playing at cards, an amusement in which he much delighted, and though surrounded by a number of gay companions, the thought presented itself to Winter's mind that he might that evening hear his favorite preacher. He broke off from play in the midst of the game, which made his companions very angry, as they suspected where he was going. He tells us that it was a night much to be remembered. He had reason to hope the scales of ignorance were then removed from his eyes, he had a sense of his misery as a sinner, and was led to earnest inquiry after the way of salvation. It is scarcely necessary to say, that he never again played at cards.

From the exhilarating scenes of Gloucestershire and Bristol, we must accompany Whitefield into Cornwall, among the glens and dales of which, or on the seaside to a somewhat similar population and with almost equal success, he spoke "all the words of this life." The robust and determined miners of the west of England, whose very employment gives hardihood alike to their character and frame, at first received him in somewhat rough and unpolished style, but were soon after melted and transformed by the grace which had displayed its triumphs among their brethren at Kingswood. "I am just returned," he writes on one occasion, "from near the Land's End, where thousands and thousands heard the gospel gladly. Everywhere the word of God has run and been glorified. Every day I have been travelling and preaching; and could I stay a month, it might be spent to great advantage. At a place called Port Isaac, the Redeemer's stately steps were indeed seen. At Camelford I preached with great quietness in the streets. At St. Ann's we had a very powerful season; and yesterday at Redruth several thousands attended, and the word was quick and powerful." Again he writes, "Immediately after writing my last, I preached to many thousands at a place called Gwennap. The rain descended, but the grace of God seemed to fall like a gentle dew, sprinkling rain upon our souls. It was indeed a fine spring shower. In the evening I rode to St. Ives, and preached to many who gladly attended to hear the word; a great power seemed to accompany it. On the Lord's day I preached twice to great auditories. On Monday I preached again at Redruth, at ten in the morning, to nearly, as they were computed, ten thousand souls. Arrows of conviction seemed to fly fast." Again, in a communication to the Countess of Huntingdon, he says, "I have been very near the Land's End, and everywhere souls have fled to hear the word preached, 'like doves to their windows.' The harvest is great, yea, very great, but laborers are few. O that the Lord of the harvest would thrust out more laborers." And yet again he says, "Invitations are sent to me from Falmouth and several other places, but I cannot attend to them all at present. I want more tongues, more bodies, more souls, for the Lord Jesus. Had I ten thousand, he should have them all." Such was the noble spirit he displayed, and such were the manner and fruits of his "entering in among" the, at that time, benighted children of Cornwall. A great light shone upon them. They came from the caverns of the earth to welcome its rising, and to look upon its brightness. Thousands of them were indeed "brought out of darkness into marvellous light," and turned by it from sin to holiness, and from Satan to God; and thousands are still rejoicing in its beams.