Soon after this, Whitefield joined her ladyship at Bristol, where he spent about a month, but, to a great extent, was prevented preaching. Hence the following:—
“Bristol, November 30.
“For near ten days past, I have preached in pain, occasioned by a sore throat, which I find now is the beginning of a quinsy. The doctor tells me silence and warmth may cure me; but (if I had my will) heaven is my choice, especially if I can speak no longer for my God on earth. However, painful as the medicine of silence is, I have promised to be very obedient, and, therefore, I have not preached this morning.”
Whitefield returned to London towards the end of December, and closed the year by writing to the Countess of Huntingdon:—
“London, December 31, 1755.
“Ever-honoured Madam,—Your ladyship’s kind and condescending letter should not have been so long unanswered, had not bodily weakness, and my Christmas labours, prevented my writing. It has been a joyful-mourning season. Saturday last being my birthday, my soul was deeply exercised, from morning till evening, in thinking how much, in one-and-forty years, I had sinned against God, and how little I have done for Him. This impression yet lies deep upon my heart, and, therefore, I purpose to end the old year by preaching on these words, ‘I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.’ O that all things belonging to the old man may die in me, and all things belonging to the new man may live and grow in me!But, alas! this is a work of time. Every day and every hour must we be passing from death to life. Mortification and vivification make up the whole of the Divine work in the new-born soul.
“But shall I conceal the goodness of my long-suffering Master? No, I dare not; for, in spite of my unworthiness, He still continues to smile upon my poor ministrations. A noble chapel is now opened in Long Acre, where I am to read prayers and preach twice a week. Hundreds went away last night, who could not come in; but those who could, I trust, met with Jesus.”
Long Acre has just been mentioned,—Long Acre, with the London theatres on the left, and Wesley’s West Street chapel on the right,—then a fashionable street; now, to a great extent, consisting of workshops for making and exhibiting all kinds of carriages. In the theatres, John Rich, the harlequin, with a kind of dumb eloquence, was electrifying his audiences by the mere gesticulations of his body. Catherine Clive was cleverly acting the characters of chambermaids, fashionable ladies, country girls, romps, hoydens, dowdies, superannuated beauties, viragoes, and humorists. David Garrick, who once said “I would give a hundred guineas if I could only say ‘Oh!’ like Mr. Whitefield,” was the celebrated manager of the theatre in Drury Lane. Margaret Woffington was an admired favourite at Covent Garden. And Samuel Foote was at the height of his popularity.
The chapel in Long Acre[381] was rented by the Rev. John Barnard, one of Whitefield’s early converts, who was now an Independent minister, but afterwards became a Sandemanian, and was ultimately expelled by that Society for entertaining too exalted notions of his preaching powers.[382]
The Dean of Westminster, who, in some capacity, claimed some sort of clerical jurisdiction in Long Acre, was Zachary Pearce, D.D., the son of a distiller in Holborn; from 1748 to 1756, was Bishop of Bangor; and, afterwards, Bishop of Rochester;—an accomplished scholar, a perspicuous writer,a feeble orator, an active prelate, and a hearty hater of the Methodists.