12. Marriage 111
12
MarriageHowell Harris, following his conversion in 1735, had promised himself that henceforth he would give himself wholly over to God and that no member of the opposite sex would ever have a place in his life. But by 1739 he had fallen in love with a Welsh widow, Mrs. Elizabeth James. She was an earnest Christian, and Harris developed so sacred an affection for her that in his letters he would not put her name into writing but referred to her with a +. Her affection for him, this mighty masculine man of God, was equally strong, and had he but proposed marriage her answer undoubtedly would have been an immediate and rapturous "Yes." But he was never ready to make the proposal, and he thought instead of returning to the condition he spoke of as "Having nothing between my soul and God!"
Harris saw in Whitefield a means of escaping his entanglement. Since he thought so highly of Whitefield and was so in love with Mrs. James, he felt he could perform the greatest favor to each of them by offering to step aside and suggesting that they would make ideal marriage partners for each other. Upon Whitefield's return from America, Harris had written to him of this plan, and Whitefield arranged to meet him. As they conversed, Whitefield asked if Harris really meant to give up his friendship with Mrs. James, and being assured he did, when Whitefield's ministry took him to the west of England he crossed into Wales and visited her. He wrote to her from Scotland, believing she was God's choice for him; and he rode, as we have seen, to Wales with the intention of marrying her.
Mrs. James came of a good family and had proved an earnest and active Christian. Harris had formed several Religious Societies, and these she regularly visited, dealing especially with the women members, answering their questions and urging them to continue on in Christian practice. These were days in which Harris frequently met violent opposition, and this she also confronted and did so with courage. Harris speaks of her as ". . . having no beauty, youth or riches, none but a competency." She had her own cottage in Abergavenny, where she lived with her teenaged daughter Nancy.
Her qualities, however, were chiefly of the spiritual kind. Her letters are full of Biblical quotations and abound in the intermixture of sorrow for spiritual failure and a joy that rose almost to ecstasy. There was a tenderness about her with which she often ministered to Harris and lifted him out of his despondencies.
Whitefield had arranged that when he reached Mrs. James's home Harris would meet him there. He was prepared to marry her right away.
But Mrs. James was not as ready as he. When Harris had first spoken of turning her over to Whitefield she had said,
... if you were my own father you had no right of disposing me against my will. You say ye thought of parting with her ye Lord has made as your own soul was cutting till ye Lord let you see eternity &c. Pray, think what those thoughts must give me.1
And now as the three of them met in her home Harris reported,
Bro. Whit. . . full of tenderness and love and simplicity, taking her as from God, (having nothing carnal of nature in him), that he feels in his heart solid, rooted and grounded love for her.
She objected much, about her regards to me & that she could not help it still. & he said he would not love her the less or be jealous and was for marrying now. . . .2
Thus Mrs. James was confronted with making a great decision. Would she remain in the friendship of Howell Harris, the mighty man of the Welsh hills, hoping he would someday propose marriage, or would she accept the proposal of George Whitefield, the evangelist of international prominence, and marry right away?
This was the dilemma Mrs. James faced. And by the time Whitefield had been in Abergavenny four days she had made up her mind: she agreed to marry him. To him the solemn occasion required special spiritual preparation, and in a letter to Lord Leven he said, "I find a restraint upon me now so that I cannot write. God calls me to retirement, being to enter the marriage state to-morrow."3
But as the wedding party (which included a few friends, and Howell Harris who was to present the bride) went to the church at Llantilio, their request to have the marriage ceremony performed met a blank refusal. Whitefield and Harris were clerical outcasts to the rector. Thereupon they rode on to Usk, where they met the same response. Then on to Llanllowel, and by evening they reached Calcott, being in each place refused. But the people rallied by seeing the party ride past their farms and through their towns, and Whitefield closed the day with an open-air meeting.
On the next day, however, they came to Caerphilly, where the clergyman, the Rev. John Smith, a friend of the revival, was willing to marry them.
The ceremony took place November 14, 1741. Harris wrote,
. . . went with Bro. Whit, + and Bro. Sims and his wife, to be married in the Chapel to the Church past 11. Great earnestness to pray for them. When it was over we retired to sing an hymn by Bro. Cennick on marriage. Then to receive the sacrament.... Then Bro. Whit preached with an amazing power on Matt 9:12.4
And thus, with the rite finally performed, Whitefield's brief and extraordinary association with Elizabeth James came to its happy fulfillment: marriage.
Whitefield entered this new state determined that it would in no way interfere with his ministry. To Gilbert Tennent he wrote,
I married one who was a widow, of about thirty-six years of age ... neither rich in fortune nor beautiful as to her person, but, I believe a true child of God, and would not, I think, attempt to hinder me in his work for the world.5
There was no honeymoon, but Whitefield stayed at his wife's cottage for a week, preaching twice a day in the area round about. Then leaving her and her daughter there, he set out on a preaching tour to Bristol, then on to Gloucester, and finally to London. After a month he returned to Abergavenny for Christmas Day, but on the following morning he was on his way to Bristol and London again. He described his manner of life, saying, "I sleep and eat but little, and am constantly employed from morning till midnight." He apparently felt he had succeeded in his determination to continue his ministry without distraction.
Three months after the wedding Elizabeth joined him in London. This meant vacating her cottage and entering the rented lodgings he had obtained in the city. Moreover, it meant meeting his congregation: they knew he had married and that his bride was a widow some ten years older than himself, one who was spoken of as "having no beauty." We may well imagine her self-consciousness as the people—especially the women—passed their opinions of her when she first entered the Tabernacle.
Certain authors have assumed that Whitefield's marriage was not a happy one. In contradiction we notice that he referred to Elizabeth in such terms as "my help meet," "my dear partner," and "my dear yoke-fellow." To a husband and wife whose marriage brought them much contentment he stated, "Happy pair! I know by sweet experience the comforts you enjoy." And Howell Harris referred to Elizabeth as "a blessing and glory to her husband," and remarked, "Is not that marriage of Thine own making!" Several similar items could also be cited, all manifesting their married happiness.
Nevert heless, the Whitefields had their sorrows. After three years had passed Elizabeth bore a son, and in the Tabernacle Whitefield made a statement that, having named him "John," he knew he would grow up to be a great preacher—"another John the Baptist." His words proved groundless.
Elizabeth and Whitefield were then living in rented lodgings in London, but since he lacked the money to maintain even this poor housing they decided that she and John had best move to her cottage in Wales. The land was then in Winter, and they traveled in a coach that was, of course, unheated, over roads that were frozen and rutted. As Whitefield had planned, upon reaching Gloucester they broke their jour ney by spending a few days at The Bell Inn, which was then operated by his brother. But while they were there the baby grew sick, and despite the best efforts of a physician the baby died.
Whitefield was away preaching at the time, and when he returned to Gloucester he learned the sad news. He joined his wife in her mourning, but although she urged him to stay with her, he quoted the Psalm, "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing," and as usual he went out to preach. He stated,
. . . just as I was concluding my sermon the bell struck out for the funeral. At first... it gave nature a shake, but looking up I recovered strength.... Our parting with him was solemn. We kneeled down and shed many tears. . . . And then, as he died in the house in which I was born, he was taken and laid out in the church where I was baptized, first communicated and first preached. .. . I was comforted from that passage in the Book of Kings, 'Is it well with thee? .. . Is it well with the child?' And she answered 'It is well.'6
Elizabeth prepared to continue her journey to her cottage alone, except for a woman who accompanied her. Whitefield, however, had given much of her furniture to needy people in Abergavenny. He sought to borrow some from friends in Gloucester, and with a measure of joy he reported obtaining a secondhand set of curtains. Yet this was the man whom many charged with becoming rich through funds given for the Orphan House.
One of Whitefield's most noticeable faults had been his practice of depending on impulses, believing they were given by God. But following the manifest failure of his certainty that his boy was to become another John the Baptist, he realized the falsity of the practice. It did not again appear throughout his life.
Mrs. Whitefield accompanied her husband, as we shall see, on his next trip to America, which kept them out of England for almost four years. But before that she accompanied him on his second visit to Scotland, witnessing with him the power and glories of the revival at Cambuslang.