In Sunday’s sermon I mentioned being pelted with pieces of dead cat. Here are the two letters in which Whitefield describes that experience. When I quoted from these in the sermon I didn’t mention the sword attack or the clown who dropped his pants. You’ll have to read that for yourself, and don’t miss the PS to the second letter, it’ll break your heart.
Dear Mr. L–
‘London, May 11,1742.
‘With this I send you a few out of the many notes I. have received from persons who were convicted, converted, or comforted in Moorfields during the late holidays. For many weeks I found my heart much pressed to determine to venture to preach there at this season, when, if ever, Satan’s children keep up their annual rendezvous. I must inform you that Moorfields is a large spacious place, given, as I have been told, by one Madam Moore, on purpose for all sorts of people to divert themselves in. For many years past, from one end to the other, booths of all kinds have been erected for mountebanks, players, puppet-shows, and such like. With a heart bleeding with compassion for so many thousands led captive by the devil at his will, on Whit Monday, at six o’clock in the morning, attended by a large congregation of praying people, I ventured to lift up a standard among them in the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps there were about ten thousand in waiting—not for me, but for Satan’s instruments to amuse them.
Glad was I to find that I had for once, as it were, got the start of the devil. I mounted my field-pulpit; almost all immediately flocked around it. I preached on these words: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so shall the Son of Man be lifted up,” &c. They gazed, they listened, they wept; and I believe that many felt themselves stung with deep conviction for their past sins. All was hushed and solemn.
Being thus encouraged, I ventured out again at noon; but what a scene! The fields, the whole fields seemed, in a bad sense of the word, all white, ready, not for the Redeemer’s, but Beelzebub’s, harvest. All his agents were in full motion—drummers, trumpeters, Merry Andrews [clowns], masters of puppet-shows, exhibitors of wild beasts, players, &c. &c. —all busy in entertaining their respective auditories. I suppose there could not be less than twenty or thirty thousand people. My pulpit was fixed on the opposite side, and immediately, to their great mortification, they found the number of their attendants sadly lessened. Judging that, like St. Paul, I should now be called, as it were, to fight with beasts at Ephesus, I preached from these words: “Great is Diana of the Ephesians.” You may easily guess that there was seme noise among the craftsmen, and that I was honoured with having a few stones, dirt, rotten eggs, and pieces of dead cat thrown at me, whilst engaged in calling them from their favourite, but lying, vanities.
… I think I continued in praying, preaching, and singing—for the noise was too great at times to preach—about three hours. We then retired to the Tabernacle with my pockets full of notes from persons brought under concern, and read them amidst the praises and spiritual acclamations of thousands who joined with the holy angels in rejoicing that so many sinners were snatched, in such an unexpected, unlikely place and manner, out of the very jaws of the devil. This was the beginning of the Tabernacle society. Three hundred and fifty awakened souls were received in one day, and I believe the number of notes exceeded a thousand; but I must have done, believing you want to retire to join in mutual praise and thanksgiving to God and the Lamb with
‘Yours, etc
‘G. WHITEFIELD.
Dear Mr. L–
‘London, May 15, 1742.
‘My dear Friend,—Fresh matter of praise; bless ye the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously! The battle that was begun on Monday was not quite over till Wednesday evening, though the scene of action was a little shifted.
Being strongly invited, and a pulpit being prepared for me by an honest Quaker, a coal merchant, I ventured on Tuesday evening to preach at Mary-le-bone Fields, a place almost as much frequented by boxers, gamesters, and such like, as Moorfields. A vast concourse was assembled together, and as soon as I got into the field-pulpit their countenance bespoke the enmity of their heart against the preacher. I opened with these words—” I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ; for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.” I preached in great jeopardy; for the pulpit being high and the supports not well fixed in the ground, it tottered every time I moved, and numbers of enemies strove to push my friends against the supporters in order to throw me down. But the Redeemer stayed my soul on Himself, therefore I was not much moved, unless with compassion for those to whom I was delivering my Master’s message, which, I had reason to think, by the strong impressions that were made, was welcome to many.
But Satan did not like thus to be attacked in his strongholds, and I narrowly escaped with my life; for as I was passing from the pulpit to the coach, I felt my wig and hat to be almost off. I turned about, and observed a sword just touching my temple. A young rake, as I afterwards found, was determined to stab me; but a gentleman, seeing the sword thrusting near me, struck it up with his cane, and so the destined victim providentially escaped. Such an attempt excited abhorrence ; the enraged multitude soon seized him, and had it not been for one of my friends who received him into his house, he must have undergone a severe discipline.
The next day I renewed my attack in Moorfields; but, would you think it? after they found that pelting, noise, and threatenings would not do, one of the Merry Andrews got up into a tree very near the pulpit, and shamefully exposed his nakedness before all the people. Such a beastly action quite abashed the serious part of my auditory, whilst hundreds of another stamp, instead of rising up to pull down the unhappy wretch, expressed their approbation by repeated laughs. I must own at first it gave me a shock: I thought Satan had now almost outdone himself; but recovering my spirits, I appealed to all, since now they had such a spectacle before them, whether I had wronged human nature insaying, after pious Bishop Hall, ” that man, when left to himself, is half a devil and half a beast;” or, as the great Mr. Law expressed himself, “a motley mixture of the beast and devil.” Silence and attention being thus gained, I concluded with a warm exhortation, and closed our festival enterprises in reading fresh notes that were put up, praising and blessing God amidst thousands at the Tabernacle for what He had done for precious souls, and on account of the deliverances He had wrought out for me and His people. I could enlarge; but being about to embark in the “Mary and Ann” for Scotland, I must hasten to subscribe myself,
‘Yours, etc
‘G. WHITEFIELD.
‘P.S. I cannot help adding, that several little boys and girls, who were fond of sitting round me on the pulpit while I preached, and handing to me people’s notes, though they were often pelted with eggs, dirt, &c. thrown at me, never once gave way; but on the contrary, every time I was struck, turned up their little weeping eyes, and seemed to wish they could receive the blows for me. God make them in their growing years great and living martyrs for Him who out of the mouth of babes and sucklings perfects praise!