THE intimacy between Berridge and Whitefield has already appeared in previous papers. It ended only with the death of the latter in 1770, and the loss of his friend was bewailed by Berridge as the removal of one barrier to the swelling tide of lawlessness and heathenism. It seemed to him that the faithful were failing from among the children of men, and there were none to step into their places.
Berridge frequently preached at Whitefield’s tabernacle in Moorfields, and Whitefield occasionally visited Berridge at Everton. From one of the latter’s letters it appears that he always provided a rather extravagant feast for his guest. His own table was very frugally spread. “I make no feasts,” said he, “but save all I can to give all I can. I have never been worth a great at the year’s end, nor desire it.” He broke through this rule on Mr. Whitefield’s visits, and always provided for his friend “an eighteen-penny barn-door fowl!” Heaven gave thee the meansel Wilks, of the East India Company, a devout man, who for many years wrote a hymn every morning and evening, leaving at his death the extraordinary number of about 4,700 hymns; Henry Venn, of Yelling, a faithful preacher, and one much blessed in the revival of those days; and, notwithstanding a sharp passage of arms on important doctrinal points, the “saintly Fletcher of Madeley” was truly loved by Berridge as a brother in the Lord. To illumine with delight the saddest scenes, Thornton, of Clapham, a merchant and philanthropist. This good man was known far and wide in that day, for his generous benevolence. He was very rich, but he used his riches to a good purpose, so that Cowper sung,
“Heaven gave thee the means
To illumine with delight the saddest scenes,
Till thy appearance chased the gloom, forlorn
As midnight, and despairing of a morn.”
His purse was always at Berridge’s disposal. For though Berridge inherited a considerable amount of wealth from his father, and his own income as vicar was not small, he gave so liberally that he was often left without means for himself. He had only to ask Thornton for help to receive it, and frequent gifts of money for the poor, of books for distribution, and even of cloth for garments for the lay preachers, whom Berridge largely supported, came to hand and proved a real help. Perhaps the most intimate of his friends was that noble lady, the Countess of Huntingdon. We cannot say how or when their friendship began. In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, dated November 16th, 1762, written in reply to an invitation to go to Brighthelmstone (Brighton) to preach, he referred to a previous visit, which so far as they knew, had yielded no fruit, and he declined to go again; notwithstanding that “you threaten me, madam, like a pope, not like a mother in Israel, when you declare roundly that God will scourge me if I do not come.” The previous visit he believed to have been God’s doing; he could not say so now, and in sending a refusal he felt no check or reproof.
In the spring of 1763 Lady Huntingdon lost her daughter Selina. She wrote to Berridge, doubtless expecting consolation from him, and he gave it too, but perhaps hardly in the manner expected by her. Here is his letter: Ah, my mother! ‘as you now lament, Ah, my daughter?’ Is it not better to have your Selina taken to heaven, than to have your heart divided between Christ and Selina? If she was a silver idol before, might she not have proved a golden one afterward? She is gone to pay a most blessed visit, and will see you again by-and-bye, never to part more. Had she crossed the sea and gone to Ireland, you could have borne it, but now she is gone to heaven ‘tis almost intolerable. Wonderful strange love this! Such behavior in others would not surprise me, but I could almost beat you for it, and I am sure Selina would beat you too, if she was called back but one moment from heaven to gratify your fond desires. I cannot soothe you, and I must not flatter you. I am glad the dear creature is gone to heaven before you; lament, if you please, but glory, glory, glory be to God, saying with adoring hearts, that dear Lamb who has washed them in His blood, and has now made them kings and priests unto God forever and ever, Amen. Oh, madam! what would you have? Is it not better to sing in heaven, ‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slain,’ than crying at Oathall, ‘O wretched woman that I am?’ Is it not better for her to go before, than to stay after you, and then to be lamenting, ‘Ah, my mother!’ as you now lament, ‘Ah, my daughter?’ Is it not better to have your Selina taken to heaven, than to have your heart divided between Christ and Selina? If she was a silver idol before, might she not have proved a golden one afterward? She is gone to pay a most blessed visit, and will see you again by-and-bye, never to part more. Had she crossed the sea and gone to Ireland, you could have borne it, but now she is gone to heaven ‘tis almost intolerable. Wonderful strange love this! Such behavior in others would not surprise me, but I could almost beat you for it, and I am sure Selina would beat you too, if she was called back but one moment from heaven to gratify your fond desires. I cannot soothe you, and I must not flatter you. I am glad the dear creature is gone to heaven before you; lament, if you please, but glory, glory, glory be to God, says
“JOHN BERRIDGE.”
The following letter, too, is quite in Berridge’s style, and shows how much he was at home with her ladyship:
“July 3rd, 1763.
“My Lady,―Oh, heart! heart! what art thou? A mass of fooleries and absurdities! the vainest, foolishest, craftiest, wickedest thing in nature! And yet the Lord Jesus asks me for this heart, woos me for it, died to win it. Oh, wonderful love! adorable condescension!
“‘Take it, Lord, and let it be
Ever closed to all but Thee.’
“J. B.”
Lady Huntingdon on her part was equally free with Berridge, and submitted many of her plans to him, esteeming his judgment, and knowing that he would say what he really thought. She established a college for preachers at Talgarth, in South Wales, and sent the draft of her rules to him for his approval, to receive however his disapproval of the project in return, “for,” asks he, “are we commanded to make laborers, or to pray the Lord to send laborers?” Her ladyship went on with her scheme, and acquainted Berridge with the blessing attending it, so he bade her “rejoice, but rejoice with trembling. Faithful laborers may be expected from thence, but if it is Christ’s college a Judas will certainly be found among them.” As years passed on, Lady Huntingdon had to mourn that some of her preachers deserted her for the ranks of the dissenters, and Berridge still has a word of comfort and advice— “If they depart, let them depart, and rejoice you have been instrumental in sending them forth; if a lively (living) preacher goes, he will prove a live coal among dying embers; if a dead one departs, he is buried out of your sight.”
This―in more than one sense―noble lady died not long before Berridge, and when, he was told of it he said, “I shall go soon.” He was right.
W. J.