To Whitefield, the year 1751 opened sadly. It is true, he speaks of having had “Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon,” in London, and of many being awakened to a consciousness of their sins and danger; but his own health was shaken, his wife was“expecting an hour of travail,” and death was entering the mansion of the Countess of Huntingdon. During the whole of December, the Countess had been dangerously ill; and, at the beginning of 1751, her health declined so rapidly, that Whitefield was requested to hasten to Ashby with all the speed he could. He obeyed the summons; but, before his arrival, death had claimed a victim,—not, however, Whitefield’s honoured patroness; she was spared to the Church and the world forty years longer; but Lady Frances Hastings, sister of her late husband, was taken to the rest of the righteous; and Lady Selina, the Countess’s daughter, was extremely ill, though slowly recovering from a fever. Extracts from two of Whitefield’s letters will tell all that it is needful to relate:—
“Ashby, January 29, 1751. I rode post to Ashby, not knowing whether I should see good Lady Huntingdon alive. Blessed be God! she is somewhat better. Entreat all our friends to pray for her. Her sister-in-law, Lady Frances Hastings, lies dead in the house. She was a retired Christian, lived silently, and died suddenly, without a groan. May my exit be like hers! Whether right or not, I cannot help wishing that I may go off in the same manner. To me it is worse than death, to live to be nursed, and see friends weeping about one. Sudden death is sudden glory. But all this must be left to our heavenly Father.”
Strangely enough, Whitefield’s wish, so often uttered, was literally fulfilled. To Lady Mary Hamilton, Whitefield wrote:—
“Ashby, January 30, 1751. I found good Lady Huntingdon very sick, though, I trust, not unto death. The death of Lady Frances was a translation. Almost all the family have been sick. Lady Selina has had a fever, but is better. Lady Betty is more affected than ever I saw her. Lady Ann bears up pretty well, but Miss Wheeler is inconsolable. It is a house of mourning; that is better than a house of feasting. The corpse is to be interred on Friday” (February 1) “evening. May all who follow it, look and learn! I mean learn to live, and learn to die.”
Whitefield remained some days after the funeral, and then returned to London, where, to use his own expression, his wife was “exceeding bad.” Three weeks afterwards, he wrote the following to Lady Huntingdon; but makes no mention, in any of his letters, of the accouchement of his wife. It is probable, that, like her last, the present child was dead:—
“London, February 26, 1751.
“Ever-honoured Madam,—It would rejoice your ladyship to see what has been doing here. I have not known a more considerable awakening for a long time. The Lord comes down as in the days of old, and the shout of a king is amongst us. Praise the Lord, O my soul! To-morrow, I purpose to leave London; but whether the rain and wind will permit me is uncertain. At present, I am feverish, by my late hurry and fatigue.
“Underneath your ladyship are the everlasting arms. You cannot sink with such a prop. He is faithful, who has promised, that we shall not be tempted above what we are able to bear. This is my daily support. To explain God’s providence by His promise, and not His promise by His providence, I find is the only way both to get and to keep our comforts.”
Whitefield was detained in London a few days longer; but, early in the month of March, set out for Bristol, where the Countess of Huntingdon was then staying for the benefit of her health.
Hervey’s health was such that he was unable to accompany his friend; and, hence, Whitefield applied to the Rev. Thomas Hartley, and, as a persuasion to come, told him that the Countess would be benefited by his visit, he would have access to some of the Bristol pulpits, and, perhaps, would“catch some great fish in the gospel net.”[297]