Women -- Biography; Women -- Social and moral questions
The religious sentiments and the glowing eloquence of the most
remarkable evangelist of modern times soon attracted the attention of
the Countess of Huntingdon, and, in 1748, she made George Whitefield
one of her chaplains. She then, and for many years afterwards, thought
that, as a peeress of the realm, she had a right to employ the
clergymen of the Church whom she had appointed as her chaplains in
openly proclaiming the everlasting gospel. Whitefield often preached in
the drawing-rooms of the Countess to large numbers of the most highly
distinguished nobility. Gifted by nature in an unusual degree as a
public speaker, her chaplain, despite the vilest aspersions, spoke as
one who had received a commission from on high to proclaim the
unsearchable riches of Christ; and this mission he fulfilled with
unabated ardour and success for nearly forty years. In the New World as
well as the Old, Whitefield had his trophies, and was listened to with
great delight by the princes of intellect and the beggars in
understanding. If souls would hear the gospel only under a ceiled roof,
he preached it there. If only in a church or a field, he proclaimed it
there. In temples made with hands, the parliament of letters, of
fashion, of theology, of statesmanship,—such men as Hume, Walpole,
Johnson, Goldsmith, Reynolds, Garrick, Warburton, and Chesterfield,
acknowledged the power of the preacher. On Moorfields, Kennington
Common, and Blackheath, vast crowds were powerfully impressed, and
cried out for salvation. He preached at Kingswood, and the miners came
out of their coal-pits in swarms—thousands on thousands flocked from
Bristol, till about twenty or thirty thousand persons were present. The
singing could be heard for two miles off, and the clear, rich, and
powerful voice of Whitefield could be distinctly heard for about a
mile. This is his own world; he loves, he says, to “mount his field
throne.” These colliers are as ignorant of religion as the inhabitants
of negro-land—as hardened as the islanders of Madagascar—without
feeling or education, profligate, abandoned, ferocious. He addresses
them, and what is the result? Tears flow from eyes which perhaps never
shed them before. Those white streaks which contrast so strongly with
the dark ground on which they are interlined, tell of the emotion that
is going on within. This celebrated preacher, in his letters speaks of
Lady Huntingdon in very flattering terms. He says, “She shines brighter
and brighter every day, and will yet I trust be spared for a nursing
mother to our Israel.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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