The “Seven Years’ War” was now nearly ended. The campaign of 1762 was eminently successful. Frederick the Great and Prince Ferdinand had been victorious in Germany; Burgoyne had aided Portugal in repelling the Spaniards; and the English fleet and army in the West Indies had taken the Carribbean Islands and Havannah. Lord Bute, the prime minister of England, strongly desired peace, for the English people were complaining loudly of increased taxation. He engaged the neutral king of Sardinia to propose to the court of France negotiations for a termination of the war. Louis XV., like a drowning man, caught at the proposal. The Duke of Bedford was selected as plenipotentiary and ambassador extraordinary to Paris; and the high-born and gallant Duke de Nivernois came toLondon in the same capacity. This was in September; and the negotiations proceeded with such rapidity, that preliminaries for peace were signed at Fontainebleau on the 3rd of November following.
In consequence of these events, Whitefield now had a prospect of carrying out his long-cherished wish to visit his Orphan House, and his numerous friends, across the Atlantic. He wrote, as follows, to the housekeeper of his Orphanage:—
“London, October 15, 1762. I wish to answer your letter in person. I hope the time is now drawing near. I count the weeks, and days, and hours. Blessed be God that you live in such harmony! A house thus united in Jesus will stand. I write this in great haste. I am enabled to preach once a day. Give thanks! give thanks!”
In November, Whitefield went to Bristol, where his “congregations were large, and a most gracious gale of Divine influence attended the word preached.” Having promised to visit Plymouth, he wrote to his friend there, the good Andrew Kinsman:—
“Let grand preparations be made,—as a candle, a book, and a table; above all, much prayer, that I may not again relapse at Plymouth, as the Bristol people say I shall do, by coming at this season of the year.”
On reaching Plymouth, he wrote:—
“Plymouth, December 4, 1762. Being under a positive promise to come here before I left England, I embraced this opportunity. Through mercy, I preached last night, and find no hurt this morning. Many young people, I hear, are under great awakenings. O to begin to wage an eternal war with the devil, the world, and the flesh! I would fain die sword in hand.”
Whitefield had an old trusty servant, Mrs. Elizabeth Wood,[494] to whom he wrote as follows:—
“Plymouth, December 5, 1762. You did very wrong, in not letting me know of your mother’s necessities. She was a widow indeed; but now she is above the reach of everything. I am weary of the world, of the Church, and of myself. I cannot get up to London till near Christmas Day. As affairs are there circumstanced, everything there tends to weigh me down. O that patience may have its perfect work! Let me always know your wants. It is your own fault if you lack anything, whilst I have a farthing.”
Kind-heartedness was a prominent trait in Whitefield’s character. It was during this, or some other visit to Plymouth, that an incident occurred which is worth telling. “Come,” said Whitefield to his friend and host, Andrew Kinsman, “come, let us go to some of the poor and afflicted of your flock. It is not enough that we labour in the pulpit; we must endeavour to be useful out of it.” Away the two friends went, and Whitefield not only gave counsel to those they visited, but monetary aid. Kinsman reminded him that his finances were low, and that he was more bountiful than he could afford. “Young man,” replied Whitefield, “it is not enough to pray, and to put on a serious countenance: ‘pure religion and undefiled is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction,’ and to administer to their wants. My stock, I grant, is nearly exhausted, but God will soon send me a fresh supply.” In the evening, a gentleman called, and asked to see Whitefield. “Sir,” said he, “I heard you preach yesterday: you are on a journey, as well as myself; and, as travelling is expensive, will you do me the honour of accepting this?” The present was five guineas, and came from a man noted for his penuriousness. “Young man,” cried Whitefield, on his return to Kinsman, “young man, God has soon repaid what I bestowed. Learn, in future, not to withhold when it is in the power of your hand to give.”[495]