It is unpleasant to end the year with a note of discord; but it cannot honestly be avoided.
For the present, Whitefield had one enjoyment, which was almost new to him. He was no longer harassed with literary persecution. The only exception was an 8vo. pamphlet of fifty-one pages, entitled “Candid Remarks on some particular passages in the fifth edition of the Rev. Mr. Whitefield’s Volume of Sermons, printed in the year 1750. In a Letter to a Gentleman. Reading, 1752.” The author, in a gentlemanly way, criticizes some of Whitefield’s doctrines, especially that of “imputed righteousness;” and concludes by saying, though “a zeal for God appears throughout the whole of Whitefield’s performance,” yet “his method of treating his subject, and his manner of dictating to hisaudience, have something in them that may probably work upon the passions, but can never improve the understanding; that may occasion them to affect a superficial appearance of piety, but can hardly incite in them the power; and may induce them to acquiesce so much in the imputative righteousness of Christ, as to forget that they themselves are to be righteous, and ready to every good work, which is an indispensable part of the covenant of grace.”
One of Whitefield’s first anxieties, in 1753, was to sell his plantation in South Carolina. Writing to a friend there, on January 7, he says: “By this conveyance, I send you a power of attorney to dispose of Providence plantation. I leave it to your discretion to sell at what price you please. I would only observe, that I had rather it should be sold for less than its real value, than to keep it any longer in my hands. I do not choose to keep two families longer than is necessary. The money you receive from Providence will be immediately wanted to buy more land, and to pay for opening Bethesda’s new plantation.”
Another was the erection of a new Tabernacle. The wooden meeting-house, in Moorfields, had now stood the storms of a dozen winters. At the best, it was but a huge, ugly shed; and, of course, signs of decay were becoming visible. Still, the uncouth fabric was a sacred one. Many were the mighty sermons preached by Whitefield beneath its roof; and countless were the blessings which had fallen upon its crowds of worshippers. A more durable edifice, however, was greatly needed; and, in the summer of 1751, while at Lady Huntingdon’s residence at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, the project had been discussed, in the presence of her ladyship, Doddridge, Hervey, Hartley, and Stonehouse, all of whom were “most cordial in their approval and promise of support.” Towards the end of 1752, the subject was renewed at the house of Lady Frances Shirley, in South Audley Street; and, in compliance with the urgent entreaties of her ladyship and of the Countess of Huntingdon, Whitefield now began to exert himself in collecting money.He resolved not to begin building till he had £1000 in hand.[313] That amounthe soon obtained; the first brick was laid on the 1st of March, 1753; and, within fifteen weeks afterwards, the structure was opened for public worship; the congregations, during that interval, still continuing to assemble in the wooden tabernacle,which was left standing within the shell of the building in course of erection.[314] The new Tabernacle needs no description; for, though a third has within the last few years been built upon its site, there are thousands still living who have often gazed with reverence at the low, unpretentious edifice where Whitefield so often mounted his pulpit throne, and not a few who found salvation within its walls.It will frequently be mentioned in ensuing extracts from Whitefield’s letters.[315]
There was a third affair, in which Whitefield, at this period, took, perhaps, a more active interest than was necessary. Within the last four years, the Moravians had made themselves more prominent than was consistent with Christian modesty. It was not until the year 1737, that the first Moravian services were held in England. Since then, several of their Societies had been torn by faction. In many instances, they had been the subjects of bitter persecution. Many of their religious rites were silly and objectionable. Their hymns and their literature were, to a great extent, jargon, luscious and irreverent. But, despite all, they had increased in numbers; and, above all, they had at their head an ambitious German count, who had considerable influence in the court of the German who then sat on the British throne. Count Zinzendorf, in 1749, had succeeded in getting the English parliament to pass a bill to the following effect: 1. That the Moravians were an ancient Protestant Episcopal Church. 2. That those of them who scrupled to take an oath, should be exempted doing so, on making a declaration in the presence of Almighty God, as witness of the truth. 3. That they should not be liable to serve upon juries. 4. That, in the colonies, theyshould be exempted from military service, under reasonable conditions. 5. That the verbal declaration of the individual, together with the certificate of a bishop or minister of the Brethren, should be regarded as sufficient proof of membership in the Moravian community. Besides this, the Count was no longer satisfied with “hired lodgings,” in Bloomsbury Square, for “the Congregation House,” but, in 1751, removed to James Hutton’s house and two adjoining ones, in Westminster. The premises were large and pleasant, overlooking the Abbey Gardens; but even they were not good enough to serve as the offices of a body, on whose behalf the whole machinery of parliamentary legislation had been set in motion. Accordingly, the Count bought, of Sir Hans Sloane, a large mansion, in Chelsea, formerly the property of the ducal family of Ancaster, with beautiful grounds bordering on the Thames. In connection with this imposing “Congregation House,” a chapel was fitted up, and a burial ground laid out. These were costly proceedings; and the result of parliamentary negotiations, the purchase of Lindsey House, Chelsea, and other expenditures, was, Count Zinzendorf and the Moravians in England were in debt to the amount of nearly £140,000, and knew not how to pay it.
As will soon be seen, these facts, put in the briefest form possible, and others, which might be mentioned, induced Whitefield, both privately and publicly, to censure the proceedings of his old friends, the Unitas Fratrum.
Whitefield’s plantation at Bethesda, in Georgia, and his slave-cultivated plantation in Carolina, made him anxious. The latter he wished to sell, because, despite all his expectations, it had failed to afford him help in his benevolent designs. Hence the following:—
“London, February 1, 1753.
“I am glad to hear that Ephratah plantation[316] is in some degree opened, and, thereby, a preparation made for future progress. Mr. Fox’s not coming, and going upon lumber, has been a great loss to my poor family; but I hope, ere now, all is settled, and the sowing carried on with vigour. That seems to be the thing which Providence points out at present. As so many negroes are ready, it will be a pity if Bethesda does not do something, as well as the neighbouring planters. If I were not erecting a largeplace for public worship, eighty feet square, I would come over immediately myself; but, perhaps, it will be best to stay till the new governor embarks, or to come a little before him.
“With this, I send your brother a power to dispose of Providence plantation. I hope to hear shortly that you have purchased more negroes. My dear friend, do exert yourself a little for me in this time of my absence. I trust the Orphan-house affairs will soon be so ordered, that no one will be troubled respecting them, but my own domestics. As Nathaniel P—— has behaved so faithfully, I have sent him a full power, in conjunction with Mrs. W——, to act under you. The man and woman who bring this, are, with their son, indentured to me; and I have an excellent schoolmistress, and a young student, engaged to come over shortly. Before long, I suppose, we shall have a large family. Lord, grant it may be a religious one! I would have nothing done to the buildings, besides repairing the piazza, and what else is absolutely necessary, till I come. Perhaps I may bring a carpenter with me, who will stay some years.