Lady Huntingdon’s connection with Bath began as early as 1739, and for the next twenty-five years she was frequently in that fashionable resort; but it was not until 1765 that she bought the land and established the famous Vineyards Chapel.  On October 6, 1765, the chapel was dedicated, and Whitefield preached the first sermon.  “Though a wet day,” he wrote, “the place was very full, and assuredly the Great Shepherd and Bishop of souls consecrated and made it holy ground by His presence.”  Romaine and Fletcher often preached at Bath in the early months of the chapel’s history, and the latter thus referred to his ministry:  “This place is the seat of Satan’s gaudy throne; the Lord hath, nevertheless, a few names here, who are not ashamed of Him, and of whom He is not ashamed, both among the poor and among the rich.”

It was in this chapel that there was the noted “Nicodemus Corner,” a seat carefully shrouded from the public gaze, where sometimes a nobleman and sometimes a bishop heard the goodness of the Gospel.

In this connection may be quoted the following anecdote, given in the Life of Mary Anne Schimmelpenninck, who visited Bath with her mother in 1788.  She writes:—­

“My mother grew better, she frequently took me with her to the Pump Room, and she sometimes told me anecdotes of those she had seen there when a child.  On one occasion, when the room was thronged with company—­and at that time the visitors of Bath were equally distinguished for rank and fashion—­a simple, humble woman, dressed in the severest garb of the Society of Friends, walked into the midst of the assembly and began an address to them on the vanity and follies of the world, and the insufficiency of dogmatic without spiritual religion.  The company seemed taken by surprise, and their attention was arrested for a few moments; as the speaker proceeded, and spoke more and more against the customs of the world, signs of disapprobation appeared.  Amongst those present was one lady with a stern yet high-toned expression of countenance, her air was distinguished; she sat erect, and listened intently to the speaker.  The impatience of the hearers soon became unrestrained.  As the Quaker spoke of giving up the world and its pleasures, hisses, groans, beating of sticks, and cries of ‘Down, down!’ burst from every quarter.  Then the lady I have described arose with dignity, and slowly passing through the crowd, where a passage was involuntarily opened to her, she went up to the speaker, and thanked her, in her own name and in that of all present, for the faithfulness with which she had borne testimony to the truth.  The lady added, ’I am not of your persuasion, nor has it been my belief that our sex are generally deputed to be public teachers; but God who gives the rule can make the exception, and He has indeed put it in the hearts of all His children to honour and venerate fidelity to His commission.  Again I gratefully thank you.’  Side by side with the Quaker she walked to the door of the Pump Room, and then resumed her seat.  This lady was the celebrated Countess of Huntingdon.” [1]