did. The man knew his master, and wrote with the utmost frankness

concerning him.

It is now time to return to Whitefield’s history. Little is known concerning him during the first three months of 1767. They seem, however, to have been chiefly spent in London, where his “feeble hands were full of work.”[561]

The Orphan House in Georgia still occupied his attention. He was anxious for “Bethesda to put on its college dress.”[562] The warm friendship between him and Wesley yet continued. On Ash-Wednesday, March 4, Wesley wrote, “I dined at a friend’s with Mr. Whitefield, still breathing nothing but love.”[563] On the 20th of the same month, the Countess of Huntingdon, at Brighton, had all her chaplains around her, and Whitefield re-opened her ladyship’s enlarged chapel, in that town, by preaching, to a crowded congregation, from “Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: to Him be glory both now and for ever. Amen.”[564]

In April, Whitefield set out for Norwich, and visited Rowland Hill and his Society, at Cambridge, on his way.[565] A month later, he was introduced to a young clergyman, who, afterwards, became famous. Richard de Courcy was the descendant of an ancient and respectable family in Ireland, and was distantly related to Lord Kinsale. He had been educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and, at the age of twenty-three, had received deacon’s orders, and become curate of the Rev. Walter Shirley. Being invited to preach in St. Andrew’s Church, Dublin, his fame brought a crowded congregation. Whilst the prayers were being read, and because the young preacher was a reputed Methodist, the pulpit was seized by order of the metropolitan, Dr. Arthur Smythe, and De Courcy was not allowed to enter it. Upon this, he immediately left the church; the congregation followed him; and, mounting a tombstone, he at once commenced preaching in the open air. This was a crime too great to be forgiven. The bishop refused to ordain him priest. Shirley wrote to the Countess of Huntingdon, and, at her request, De Courcy came to England, expecting, by the help of her ladyship, to obtain ordination by an English bishop. On arriving in London, he immediately called on Whitefield at the Tabernacle House. Whitefield being told who he was, took off his cap, and bending towards De Courcy, and, at the same time placing his hand on the deep scar in his head, said, “Sir, this wound I got in your country for preaching Christ.” De Courcy was captivated, and became Whitefield’s guest, Cornelius Winter being charged to take care of him. The next day, which was Sunday, the young Hibernian preached in Tottenham Court Road chapel, and, by his sermon, laid the foundation of his future popularity. Whitefield and he became ardent friends.[566]

About the middle of the month of May, Whitefield set out for the west of England and Wales. His progress will be best told by extracts from his letters. On arriving at Rodborough, where his old assistant, Thomas Adams, lived and preached, he wrote to Mr. Keen as follows:――

“Rodborough, May 13, 1767. My new horse failed the first night; but, through mercy, we got here last evening. I was regaled with the company of some simple-hearted, first-rate old Methodists, of near thirty years’ standing. God willing, I am to preach to-morrow morning, and to have a general sacrament on Friday evening. Perhaps, I may move after Sunday towards Wales; but, I fear, I shall be obliged to take post-horses. I care not, so that I can ride post to heaven. Hearty love to all who are posting thither, hoping myself to arrive first. This tabernacle often groans under the weight of my feeble labours. O when shall I be unclothed! When, O my God, shall I be clothed upon! But I am a coward, and want to be housed before the storm.”

A week after this, he reached Gloucester, where he spent several days, and wrote as follows:――

“Gloucester, May 20, 1767. We have had good seasons at Rodborough. I have been out twice in the fields. Lady Huntingdon has been wonderfully delighted. She and her company lay at Rodborough House. Dear Mr. Adams is about to be married to a good Christian nurse. He is sickly in body, but healthy in soul.”

“Gloucester, May 21, 1767. I have preached twice in the open air. Thousands and thousands attended. I am about to preach here this morning, in my native city. On Sunday I hope to take to Rodborough wood again. Good Lady Huntingdon and her company were wonderfully delighted. They honoured dear Mr. Adams’s house with their presence. He is but poorly, and wants a nurse. Perhaps, before next Sunday, he may be married to a simple-hearted, plain, good creature, who has waited upon him and the preachers near twenty years. She has no fortune, but is one who, I think, will take care of, and be obedient to him, for Christ’s sake.”

“Gloucester, May 25, 1767. I am just setting out in a post-chaise for Haverfordwest; and I have therefore drawn upon you” (Mr. Keen) “for £20. This is expensive; but it is for One who has promised not to send us a warfare on our own charges. We had a most blessed season yesterday. Thousands and thousands heard, saw, and felt. Mr. Adams preached in the evening, on ‘The Lord is my portion, therefore will I trust in Him.’ A good text for a new-married man. I have advised him to preach next on these words, ‘The Lord’s portion is His people.’ He is now here.”

“Haverfordwest, May 31, 1767, Sunday. I am just come from my field-throne. Thousands and thousands attended by eight in the morning. Life and light seemed to fly all around. On Tuesday, God willing, I am to preach at Woodstock; on Friday, at Pembroke; here again next Sunday; and then for England. Rooms are not so lofty or large, prospects not so pleasant, bedsteads not so easy, in these parts, as in some places in or near London; but all are good enough for young and old pilgrims who have got good breath. I have been pushing dear sick Mr. Davies to go out and preach six miles off. He is gone finely mounted, and, I am persuaded, will return in high spirits. Who knows but preaching may be our grand catholicon again? This is the good, Methodistical, thirty-year-old medicine.”

“Gloucester, June 10, 1767. Blessed be God, I am got on this side the Welsh mountains! Blessed be God, I have been on the other side! What a scene last Sunday![567] What a cry for more of the bread of life! But I was quite worn down. I am now better than could be expected. To-morrow, God willing, my wife shall know what route I take. O when shall I begin to live to Jesus, as I would! I want to be a flame of fire.”

A week after this, Whitefield was in London. During his absence, he had tried to secure the services of Fletcher of Madeley, and Fletcher’s reply to his application is too characteristic to be omitted:――

“MADELEY, _May 18, 1767_.

“REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,――Your mentioning my poor ministrations among your congregations opens again a wound of shame that was but half healed. I feel the need of asking God, you, and your hearers’ pardon, for weakening the glorious matter of the gospel by my wretched, broken manner, and spoiling the heavenly power of it by the uncleanness of my heart and lips. I should be glad to go and be your curate some time this year; but I see no opening, nor the least prospect of any. What between the dead and the living, a parish ties one down more than a wife. If I could go anywhere this year, it should be to Yorkshire, to accompany Lady Huntingdon, according to a design that I had half formed last year; but I fear that I shall be debarred even from this. I set out, God willing, to-morrow morning for Trevecca, to meet her ladyship there, and to show her the way to Madeley, where she proposes to stay three or four days in her way to Derbyshire. What chaplain she will have there I know not; God will provide. I rejoice that, though you are sure of heaven, you have still a desire to inherit the earth, by being a _peacemaker_. Somehow, you will enjoy the blessings that others may possibly refuse.

“Last Sunday seven-night, Captain Scott preached, to my congregation, a sermon, which was more blessed, though preached only upon my horse-block, than a hundred of those I preach in the pulpit. I invited him to come and treat her Ladyship next Sunday with another, now the place is consecrated. If you should ever favour Shropshire with your presence, you shall have the captain’s or the parson’s pulpit at your option. Many ask me whether you will not come to have some fruit here also. What must I answer them? I, and many more, complain of a stagnation in the work. What must we do? Everything buds and blossoms around us, yet our winter is not over. I thought Mr. Newton,[568] who has been three weeks in Shropshire, would have brought the turtle-dove along with him; but I could not prevail upon him to come to this poor Capernaum. I think I hardly ever met his fellow for a judicious spirit. Still, what has God done in him and in me? I am out of hell, and mine eyes have seen something of His salvation. Though I must and do gladly yield to Mr. Newton and all my brethren, yet I must and will contend, that my being in the way to heaven makes me as rich a monument of mercy, as he, or any of them.

“I am, reverend and dear sir, your willing, though halting and unworthy servant,

“JOHN FLETCHER.”

Rowland Hill has been mentioned. Though not ordained, and still an undergraduate at St. John’s College, Cambridge, he had begun to preach. He had also formed a small Society of his fellow-students, and was infusing into them a portion of his own ardent zeal. For these proceedings he was bitterly assailed. His father and mother were decidedly opposed to the action he had taken. His superiors in the University condemned, in the strongest terms, what they were pleased to call his infringements of discipline; and hints were given him of a refusal of testimonials and his degree, as the probable result of his irregularities. In the midst of all this, Whitefield wrote to him as follows:――

“HAVERFORDWEST, _June 4, 1767_.

“MY DEAR PROFESSOR,――I wish you joy of the late high dignity conferred upon you――higher than if you were made the greatest professor in the University of Cambridge.[569] The honourable degrees you intend giving to your promising candidates, I trust, will excite a holy ambition, and a holy emulation. Let me know who is first honoured. As I have been admitted to the degree of doctor for near these thirty years, I assure you I like my field preferment, my airy pluralities, exceeding well.

“For these three weeks past, I have been beating up for fresh recruits in Gloucestershire and South Wales. Thousands and thousands attended. Good Lady Huntingdon was present at one of our reviews. Her ladyship’s aide-de-camp preached in Brecknock Street; and Captain Scott, that glorious field-officer, lately fixed his standard upon dear Mr. Fletcher’s horse-block at Madeley. Being invited thither, I have a great inclination to lift up the Redeemer’s ensign, next week, in the same place;――with what success, you and your dearly beloved candidates for good old Methodistical contempt shall know hereafter. God willing, I intend fighting my way up to town. Soon after my arrival thither, I hope thousands and thousands of vollies of prayers――energetic, effectual, fervent, heaven-besieging, heaven-opening, heaven-taking prayers――shall be poured forth for you all.

“Oh, my dearly beloved and longed for in the Lord, my bowels yearn towards you. Fear not to go without the camp. Keep open the correspondence between the two Universities.[570] Remember the praying legions. They were never known to yield. God bless those who are gone to their respective _cures_! I say not _livings_,――a term of too modern date. Christ is our life. Christ is the Levite’s inheritance. Greet your dear young companions whom I saw. They are welcome to write to me when they please.

“I am, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[571]

At this period, there was great excitement in the English colonies of America respecting the proposed introduction of bishops of the Established Church. The Rev. Thomas Bradbury Chandler, D.D., was now in the forty-first year of his age. He had graduated at Yale College, but, in 1751, came to England, and was episcopally ordained. He returned to America as a missionary of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and became rector of St. John’s Church, at Elizabeth Town, New Jersey, where he long maintained a high character for talent and learning. In the present year, 1767, he published “An Appeal to the Public in Behalf of the Church of England in America,” and dedicated his able performance to Secker, Archbishop of Canterbury. The object of it was to secure the designation of two or more bishops, to reside and to exercise episcopal jurisdiction in ♦the transatlantic settlements.

He alleged that the appointment of commissaries had been a failure, and that, as a consequence, such appointments had ceased for near twenty years. The result of this was, the episcopal clergy in America had no ecclesiastical superiors to unite or to control them; they were independent of each other; and the people were free from all restraints of ecclesiastical authority. For want of bishops, candidates for the ministry had to come to England for ordination, at great hazard and expense; and, because of this, numerous congregations were without ministers. In the province of New Jersey, there were twenty-one churches and congregations, eleven of which were entirely destitute of clergymen, and there were but five to supply the pulpits of the other ten. In Pennsylvania, there were in the city of Philadelphia three churches, and but two ministers; and, in the rest of the province, the number of the churches was twenty-six, and that of the clergy only seven. In North Carolina, there were six clergymen, to supply the wants of twenty-nine parishes, each parish containing a whole county. Another argument adduced by Dr. Chandler was “the impossibility that a bishop residing in England should be sufficiently acquainted with the characters of those coming to them for Holy Orders. To this it was owing, that ordination had been sometimes fraudulently and surreptitiously obtained by such wretches, as were not only a scandal to the Church, but a disgrace to the human species.” Dr. Chandler further stated that the white population of America numbered about three millions; and that, of these, about a third were professed members of the Church of England; “the Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists were not so many; and the Germans, Papists, and other denominations, amounted to more.” Besides these three millions, however, there were, in the different colonies, about 840,000 negroes, most of whom “belonged to the professors of the Church of England.” And there were also the native Indians, the conversion of whom had been almost altogether neglected. It was proposed that the “two or more bishops” to be sent should “have no authority, but purely of a spiritual and ecclesiastical nature; that they should not interfere with the property or privileges, whether civil or religious, of Churchmen or Dissenters; that, in particular, they should have no concern with the Probate of Wills, Letters of Guardianship and Administration, or Marriage Licences, nor be judges of any cases relating thereto; but that they should only ordain and govern the clergy, and administer confirmation to those who might desire it.” It was also proposed that they should be supported, not by _tithes_, but by “perquisites such as the people might freely grant them;” by the interest arising from a fund already in existence for the purpose, in connection with the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts; and, if need were (which was not likely), by the levying of a tax at the rate of fourpence in £100.

Such was the substance of Dr. Chandler’s temperate “Appeal,”――an appeal which embodied the general views and feelings of the clergy and members of the Church of England in America. Considerable excitement existed previous to its publication; but now the subject became one of the great controversies of the day. An American writer affirms that “it had more to do with the American Revolution than is generally supposed.”[572] The _American Whig_, a weekly newspaper, stoutly opposed the scheme of Dr. Chandler. So also did the _Philadelphia Centinél_. Their articles on the subject were reprinted in several of the colonies; and a general agitation followed. The chief opponent, however, was Dr. Chauncy, minister in Boston, who, more than twenty years before, had made a vigorous onslaught upon Whitefield and his co-revivalists. The general apprehension was, that the taxation of the colonies, and the proposal to send them bishops, were parts of the same system, the object of which was to infringe upon the political and religious privileges of the people. Chauncy and his friends were afraid, and perhaps not without reason, that the power and influence of the government were being used to give ascendancy to the Episcopal Church. They were angry with the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts for sending so many of their clergy to New England, where they were not wanted. At this time, there were at least five hundred and fifty educated ministers in the province, and not a town, unless just settled, without a pastor. Besides, the clergy thus sent were arrogant. They spoke of all the inhabitants of the town, in which they lived, as _their_ parishioners, and as bound both by the law of God and the state to be in communion with the Church of England. Other churches were represented as mere excrescences or fungosities, and their ministers were declared to be unauthorised, and their ordinances invalid. All this naturally created opposition among the non-episcopal churches. And, further, though Dr. Chandler professed that the bishops to be sent would be no burden to the population, the people feared it would be otherwise. Already the support of the episcopal clergy had been thrown upon the community in South Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland; and it was thought to be possible and probable that the bishops, if sent, would have to be sustained, at least in part, by the public taxes.

Amid this state of things, Whitefield commenced a correspondence with the Archbishop of Canterbury, respecting the conversion of his Orphanage into a College; and a remembrance of the facts just noticed will help to a better understanding of some parts of that correspondence. The letters are too long to be inserted _in extenso_, but their substance shall be given. They were first published in the month of May, 1768, with the title, “A Letter to his Excellency Governor Wright, giving an Account of the Steps taken relative to the converting the Georgia Orphan House into a College; together with the Literary Correspondence that passed upon that Subject between his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Reverend Mr. Whitefield. To which also is annexed the Plan and Elevation of the present and intended Buildings,[574] and Orphan House Lands adjacent, By G. Whitefield, A.M., late of Pembroke College, Oxford, and Chaplain to the Countess of Huntingdon. London, 1768.” (8vo. 31 pp.)

In his letter to “Governor Wright,” Whitefield mentions the deep interest which his Excellency and the Council of Georgia had taken in the scheme to convert the Orphan House into a College. He relates that, since his return to England, in 1765, he had exerted his utmost efforts to accomplish this; but various circumstances had impeded the fulfilment of his plan. He had “delivered a memorial into the hands of the late Clerk of his Majesty’s most honourable Privy Council.” The memorial had been “transmitted to the Lord President;” and the Lord President had submitted it “to the consideration of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury.” He (Whitefield) had had “a literary correspondence” with his Grace; but the correspondence, and the negotiations, were now ended. He, therefore, wished to lay an account of the whole transactions before his Excellency, and the Council and Assembly of Georgia, and also before “all the other American colonists, and the public in general.”

Whitefield commenced his correspondence with the Archbishop on June 17, 1767, and terminated it on February 12, 1768, within six months of his Grace’s death.

He begins by reminding the Primate that the Lord President had submitted his memorial to his Grace’s consideration, and that the Earl of Dartmouth had put into his hands a copy of the intended charter for the College. The Archbishop had made “judicious corrections,” and had suggested that the charter should provide that the president of the College should be a member or minister of the Church of England. In reply to this, Whitefield writes:――

“I cannot in honour and conscience _oblige_ the master of the Georgia College to be a member or minister of the Church of England. Such an obligation has greatly retarded the progress of the College of New York; as, on the contrary, the letter signed by your Grace, Proprietor Penn, and the late Dr. Chandler, engaging that the College of Philadelphia shall be continued on a _broad bottom_, has promoted the growth of that institution. The trustees of that seminary (as your Grace is pleased to observe) have agreed ‘That their provost shall always be a minister of the Established Church.’ But they are not thereto enjoined by their charter. That is entirely silent concerning this matter. Their agreement is purely voluntary. The wardens of the College of Georgia will not be prohibited by charter from following the example of the trustees of the College of Philadelphia,” if they choose.

“The first master will assuredly be a clergyman of the Church of England. By far the majority of the intended wardens are, and always will be, members of that communion; and, consequently, the choice of a master will always run in that channel. I also desire that some worthy duly qualified minister of that Church may be always found for this office. But, as persons of all denominations have been contributors, I dare not confine or fetter the future electors. The monies for the erecting a college in New York were given by persons of all religious persuasions, in confidence that the college would be founded on an enlarged basis; and great numbers think themselves injured by its being confined within its present contracted boundary. Hence, many fine promising youths are sent from the college in their native city to that of New Jersey. I dread giving the same occasion of offence, and, therefore, am determined to avoid it in the wording of the Georgia College charter.”

The Archbishop had further suggested that the charter should provide for the daily use of the liturgy of the Church of England in the College, and that the doctrines to be taught in it should be specified. Whitefield objected to these suggestions, and wrote:――

“For the same reasons, I dare not enjoin the daily use of our Church liturgy. I myself love to use it. I have fallen a martyr, in respect to bodily health, to the frequent reading it in Tottenham Court chapel. It has, also, been constantly read twice every Sunday in the Orphan House, from its first institution to this very day. The wardens, likewise, when the power is devolved upon them, may determine this point as they please. But I cannot enjoin it by charter; and have, therefore, in the accompanying draught, not only omitted the paragraph concerning public prayer, but also that concerning doctrinal articles.

“Your Grace further wisely observes, ‘His Majesty should be well advised, whom he names for the first master.’ I trust he will be so. I believe the Earl of Dartmouth will be so good as to present the first master to your Grace’s approbation; but, in the meanwhile, you may be assured the lot will not fall upon me. My shoulders are too weak for such an academical burden. My capacity is by no means extensive enough for such a scholastic trust. To be a Presbyter at large is the station which Divine Providence has called me to for near thirty years past. During that space, I trust my eye has been single, and my views disinterested; and my highest, my only ambition is that the last glimmerings of an expiring taper may be blessed to guide some wandering sinners to the practical knowledge of the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls.

“I desire to bless His name, that I have been spared long enough to see the colony of the once-despised Georgia, and the yet more despised Orphan House, advanced to such a promising height. My honoured friend and father, good Bishop Benson, from his dying bed, sent me a benefaction for it of ten guineas, and poured forth his dying breathings for its future prosperity. That your Grace may be instrumental in promoting its welfare, when turned into a College, is the earnest prayer of, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

On July 1, the Archbishop acknowledged the receipt of Whitefield’s letter, and stated that he had put Whitefield’s draught of a charter for the College into the hands of the Lord President, who had promised to consider it, but, meanwhile, desired to know how Whitefield proposed to endow the College. Whitefield replied to this three days afterwards to the following effect:――

“The present annual income of the Orphan House is between four and five hundred pounds sterling. The house is surrounded with 1,800 acres of land. The number of negroes employed on this land, in sawing timber, raising rice for exportation, and corn, with all other provisions for the family, is about thirty. The College will also be immediately possessed of 2,000 acres of land near Altamaha, which were granted me by the Governor and Council, when I was last in Georgia; and 1,000 acres more, left, as I am informed, by the late Rev. Mr. Zububuhler.[575] By laying out £1,000 in purchasing an additional number of negroes, and allowing another £1,000 for repairing the house and building the two intended wings, the present annual income may easily and speedily be augmented to £1,000 per annum.

“Out of this standing fund may be paid the salaries of the master, professors, tutors, etc., and also small exhibitions be allowed for orphans or other poor students, who may have their tutorage and room-rent gratis, and act as servitors to those who enter commoners.

“At present, I would only further propose, that the negro children, belonging to the College, shall be instructed, in their intervals of labour, by one of the poorer students, as is done now by one of the scholars in the present Orphan House. And I do not see why provision may not likewise be made for educating and maintaining a number of Indian children, which, I imagine, may easily be procured from the Creeks, Choctaws, Cherokees, and the other neighbouring nations.”

Such was Whitefield’s scheme. Further correspondence followed. The Lord President expressed the opinion that the head of the College must be a member of the Church of England, and that “the public prayers in the College should not be extempore ones, but the liturgy of the Church, or some part thereof, or some other settled and established form.” Whitefield’s reply is dated, “Tottenham Court, October 16, 1767.” He again objected to any clause being inserted in the charter, making it _obligatory_ that the head of the College should be a member of the Established Church. He reminded the Archbishop that “by far the greatest part of the Orphan House collections and contributions came from _Dissenters_, not only in New England, New York, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, and Scotland, but in England also.” He stated that, since the announcement of the design to turn the Orphan House into a College, and of the approval of that project by the Governor, Council, and Assembly of Georgia, he had visited most of the places where the benefactors of the Orphan House resided, and had frequently been asked, “Upon what bottom the College was to be founded?” To these enquiries he had answered, indeed, he had declared from the pulpit, that “it should be upon a _broad bottom, and no other_.” He then continues:――

“This being the case, I would humbly appeal to the Lord President, whether I can answer it to my God, my conscience, my king, my country, my constituents, and Orphan House benefactors and contributors, both at home and abroad, to betray my trust, forfeit my word, act contrary to my own convictions, and greatly retard and prejudice the growth and progress of the institution, by narrowing its foundation, and thereby letting it fall upon such a bottom, as will occasion general disgust, and most justly open the mouths of persons of all denominations against me. This is what I dare not do.”

Whitefield concludes by telling the Archbishop, that, as the influence of his Grace, and of the Lord President, “will undoubtedly extend itself to others of His Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council,” he will not trouble them again about the business, but will himself “turn the charity into a more generous and extensively useful channel.”

Thus the matter ended. Whitefield tried to convert his Orphan House into a College; but, because the Lord President of the Privy Council, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, insisted that it should practically be an institution of the Church of England, by insisting that its provost should be a member of that Church, his design, together with that of the governor and rulers of Georgia, was frustrated. He was well aware, that, in the present state of excited feeling among the non-episcopalians of America, it would have been worse than useless to turn his Orphanage into a Church of England College. His decision was, at once, just and prudent. When the correspondence with the Archbishop was concluded, Whitefield wrote as follows “To his Excellency James Wright, Esq., Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Province of Georgia”:――

“Thus, may it please your Excellency, concluded my correspondence with his Grace; and, I humbly hope, the Province of Georgia will, in the end, be no loser by this negotiation. For, I now purpose to superadd a public academy to the Orphan House, as the College of Philadelphia[576] as constituted a public academy, as well as charitable school, for some time before its present college charter was granted in 1755.”

Whitefield then suggests that the Orphan House estate, which, for three years, had been neglected, should be vigorously improved, so as to make permanent provision for the maintenance of indigent orphans, and to convert the Orphan House itself into a suitable academy for opulent students. He proposes to send from England proper masters to “prepare for academical honours the many youths, in Georgia and the adjacent provinces, waiting for admission.” He expresses his willingness to settle the whole estate upon trustees, with the proviso, that no opportunity should be neglected “of making fresh application for a college charter, upon a _broad bottom_, whenever those in power might think it for the glory of God, and the interest of their king and country, to grant the same.” And he concludes by hoping, that, in this way, his “beloved Bethesda will not only be continued as a house of mercy for poor orphans, but will be confirmed as a seat and nursery of sound learning and religious education, to the latest posterity.”

On Whitefield’s return to London, in the month of June, 1767, he continued his correspondence with Rowland Hill. The latter had left Cambridge, for the long vacation, and had returned to Hawkstone, the residence of his father. Here he was warmly welcomed by Richard, his elder brother, who, like himself, had lately become a village preacher, and a visitor of prisons; but his parents were profoundly grieved at his religious irregularities; and his walks, amid the beautiful scenery of his father’s grounds, were often sorrowful. To cheer him and his brother, Whitefield wrote as follows:――

“LONDON, _July 14, 1767_.

“Blessed be God, for what he has done for your dear brother! A preaching, prison-preaching, field-preaching esquire strikes more than all black gowns and lawn sleeves in the world. If I am not mistaken, God will let the world, and His own children too, know that He will not be prescribed to, in respect to men, or garbs, or places, much less will He be confined to any order, or set of men under heaven. I wish you both much, very much, prosperity. You will have it. This is the way: walk in it. Both the Tabernacle and the chapel pulpits shall be open to a captain or an esquire sent of God. The good news from Oxford is encouraging.[577] Say what they will, preaching should be one part of the education of a student in divinity. _Usus promptos facit._ Write often and let me know how you go on. What says your friend Mr. Powys. God bless him, and help him to go forwards!”[578]

A week later, Whitefield wrote again:――

“London, July 21, 1767. I hope, ere this comes to hand, you will have taken your second degree. A good degree indeed! To be a preacher,――a young preacher,――a mobbed, perhaps, a stoned preacher,――O what an honour! How many prayers will you get, when I read your letter at the Tabernacle! And the prayers of so many dear children of God will do you no hurt. When we are fighting with Amalek below, it is good to have a Joshua praying for us above. Jesus is our Joshua――Jesus is our intercessor. He liveth, He ever liveth to make intercession, especially for His young soldiers. Yonder, yonder He sits! Whilst praying, He reaches out a crown. At this distance, you may see written in capital letters, ‘_Vincenti dabo_.’ All a gift――a free gift, though purchased by His precious blood. Tell churchmen, tell meetingers, tell the wounded, tell all of this. Tell them when you are young; you may not live to be old. Tell them whilst you are an undergraduate; you may be dead, buried, glorified, before you take a college degree. Tell those who would have you spare yourself, that time is short, that eternity is endless, that the Judge is before the door. God bless you! God bless you! Yours in Jesus,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Before proceeding with Whitefield’s history, extracts from three other letters, to Rowland Hill, may be welcome:――

“London, August 6, 1767. The enclosed made me pity, smile, and rejoice: pity the writer’s ignorance, smile at his worn-out sarcasms, and rejoice that you are called to be a living martyr for our common Lord. Fear not; only go forward. You know Jesus, and, by preaching, will know more. If you write, let him know that Jesus has revealed Himself not only _to_ you by His word, but _in_ you by His spirit; that you look upon those whom he is pleased to term _fanatics_, as the excellent of the earth; and that you choose rather to suffer reproach with them, than to enjoy all the pleasures of sense, and all the preferments in the world.”

“London, August 8, 1767. God be praised, if another of your brothers is gained! What grace is this! Four or five out of one family! It is scarcely to be paralleled. Who knows but the root, as well as the branches, may be taken by and by. Steadiness and perseverance, in the children, will be one of the best means, under God, of convincing the parents. Their present opposition, I think, cannot last very long. If it does, to obey God rather than man, when forbidden to do what is undoubted duty, is the invariable rule. Our dear Penty[579] is under the cross at Cambridge; but _crescit sub pondere_. I should be glad if any one’s exhibition was taken from him for visiting the sick, etc.[580] It would vastly tend to the furtherance of the Gospel; but Satan sees too far, I imagine, to play such a game now. Let him do his work――he is only a mastiff chained. Continue to inform me how he barks, and how far he is permitted to go in your parts; and God’s people shall be more and more stirred up to pray for you all, by yours, in our all-conquering Emmanuel,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[581]

“London, August 26, 1767. Go to Jesus. Learn to pray of the threatened apostles. (Acts iv. 23–30.) I am afraid they will only threaten. If an expulsion should be permitted, it will take place, I believe, only for a little time, and will soon be repented of. Thousands of prayers were put up for you last Monday, at the Tabernacle letter-day. The verses sung were these:――

‘Give him thy strength, O God of pow’r! Then, let men rage and devils roar, Thy faithful witness he shall be: ’Tis fixed, he can do all through Thee.’”

While Whitefield was acquiring new friends, he was faithful to his old. The friendship between him and Wesley was never tenderer than now. During the month of August, Wesley held his annual Conference, in London, and wrote:――

“1767, August 18. Tuesday. I met in Conference with our assistants and a select number of preachers. To these were added, on Thursday and Friday, Mr. Whitefield, Howell Harris, and many stewards and local preachers. Love and harmony reigned from the beginning to the end.”[582]

Such a re-union of old friends, fellow-labourers, and fellow-sufferers, must have been delightful. A trio, like Wesley, Whitefield, and Howell Harris, was a sight worth seeing,――three great reformers, because three great revivers of pure and undefiled religion.

In reference to this Conference, Thomas Olivers remarks:――

“Mr. Whitefield not only attended the Conference, but also invited the preachers to the Tabernacle, ordered them to be placed round the front of his galleries, and preached a good sermon, to encourage them in their holy calling. When he had done, he took them to his house, by ten or twenty at a time, and entertained them in the most genteel, the most hospitable, and the most friendly manner.”

Olivers, who was one of the preachers thus entertained, continues:――

“While Mr. Whitefield lived, he was glad to confirm his love to the members of Mr. Wesley’s Societies, by preaching in their chapels, by sitting at their tables, by lying in their beds, and by conversing with them, late and early, in the most friendly and Christian manner. When he preached in Mr. Wesley’s pulpits, in the north of England, he several times did me the honour of making my house his home. On all such occasions, multitudes can tell what expressions of the highest esteem he frequently made use of, in exhorting Mr. Wesley’s Societies; in keeping lovefeasts, and watch-nights with them; in his table talk; and as he travelled with them by the way. Nay, strange as it may seem, he has been known to say, that he found _more Christian freedom_ among Mr. Wesley’s people than he did among his own in London. As to the preachers in connexion with Mr. Wesley, these have frequently received very great marks of Mr. Whitefield’s esteem. In private, he conversed with them, as with _brethren_ and _fellow-labourers_. In public, he frequently said far greater things in their favour than Mr. Wesley thought it prudent to say. He never seemed happier than when he had a number of them about him. When he had opportunity, he gladly attended our Conferences; sometimes _listening_ to our debates, and at others _joining_ in them. On these occasions, he more than once favoured us with a suitable sermon; and often said such things in our behalf, as decency forbids me to mention.”[583]

A testimony like this from a man of great acuteness, and inflexible veracity, is more than ordinarily valuable. Immediately after Wesley’s Conference, Whitefield was anxious to make another of his gospel tours. Writing to his old assistant, Thomas Adams, on August 14, he says:――

“I have been sick; but, blessed be God! I am better. Who knows but I may be strengthened to take a trip to Scotland. This itch after itinerating, I hope, will never be cured till we come to heaven. Though laymen occupy the pulpits, both at Tottenham Court chapel and the Tabernacle, the congregations increase. ‘Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.’ No weapon, formed against Sion, shall or can prosper. Our Thursday morning six o’clock lecture at the Tabernacle is crowded.”

Whitefield was not able to extend his “trip” as far as Scotland; but he travelled what he called his “northern circuit,” reaching, at least, from Sheffield to Newcastle. He started about the beginning of September, and, on his way, preached at Northampton and Sheffield. He arrived at Leeds on Thursday, September 10,[584] accompanied by the Countess of Huntingdon. Here, they were joined by Captain Scott, who preached to amazing crowds.[585]

From Leeds, Whitefield proceeded further north. He preached at York; and, among many other curious entries in the old book of the Methodist Society in that city, is the following: “1767. September 16. By expenses on account of the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, 14s. 9d.”

On reaching Newcastle, he wrote, as follows, to Mr. Keen:――

“NEWCASTLE, _September 20, 1767_.

“MY DEAR, VERY DEAR FRIEND,――Preaching and travelling prevent writing. Through unmerited mercy, I am well; but, for several reasons, I decline going to Scotland this fall. I have a blessed Methodist field, street-preaching plan before me. This afternoon, in the Castle Garth. To-morrow, Sunderland. Next day, at Mr. Romaine’s mother’s door (at Hartlepool.)[586] Then to Yarm, etc. You may venture to direct for me at Mr. William Shent’s, peruke-maker, at Leeds; but send me no bad news, unless absolutely necessary. Let me enjoy myself in my delightful itinerancy. It is good, both for my body and soul. I have been enabled to preach in the street at several places; and hope to go to Guisborough, Whitby, Scarborough, Malton, York, Leeds, Liverpool, Chester, Manchester, etc., etc. You shall know particulars as we go on. Tender love to all friends. Golden seasons! Golden seasons! Grace! Grace!”

Immediately after Whitefield’s departure from London, Bartholomew Carrol and three other burglars broke into his house, stole a large quantity of linen and other articles, were arrested, and committed for trial at the Old Bailey.[587] In the following letter to Mr. Keen, Whitefield refers to this unpleasantness:――

“Thirsk, September 28, 1767. Never was I so long a stranger to London affairs before. What part of the paragraph is true, about the commitment of several persons for a certain robbery? I hope that death will not be the consequence to any of the criminals. Father, convict, and convert them for Thy infinite mercy’s sake! I should be glad to ramble till their trial is over. I trust there will be no necessity of my appearing in person. To-morrow, God willing, I go to Dr. Conyers.[588] He earnestly desires to see me. Where the next remove will be, I know not. Be pleased to direct to Leeds. Every stage, more and more, convinces me, that old Methodism is the thing. Hallelujah!”

Two days after the date of this letter, Whitefield was at Leeds, and wrote: “I have been enabled to go forth into the highways and hedges, into the streets and lanes of the towns and cities. Good old work! Good old seasons! Help, help to praise Him, whose mercy endureth for ever!” Whitefield’s labours were still of sufficient importance to attract the attention of the public press. _Lloyd’s Evening Post_ of October 2 had the following announcement: “For about a fortnight past, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield has been travelling, and preaching, at York, Thirsk, Yarm, Hartlepool, Stokesley, Sunderland, and Newcastle, where his congregations have been very numerous.”

Whitefield was requested to visit Fletcher at Madeley, but the distance, and the season of the year, deterred his going. He, however, spent two or three days at Huddersfield,[589] with Venn, who had recently lost his wife by death. While in Venn’s home of sorrow, he wrote:――

“Huddersfield, October 6, 1767. How is death scattering his arrows all around us? The call to us is loud, very loud. Its language is quite articulate. ‘Watch and pray, for ye know not at what day or hour the Son of Man cometh.’ What is this world? Nothing, less than nothing. What is the other world? An eternity of endless misery or endless bliss. We have no time to trifle, to be light, foolish, or worldly-minded.”

It ought to be kept in mind, that, in all the towns mentioned in the foregoing extracts, Wesley and his preachers had already formed Societies, and that Whitefield went among them, not as Wesley’s rival, but as his helper. For many years, in his country excursions, Whitefield, without ostentatiously professing it, acted in this capacity,――an important fact, which Whitefield’s biographers, for some reason, have not noticed. Whitefield and Wesley were never firmer friends than now. Writing to Mrs. Moon, of Yarm, a few weeks after Whitefield’s return to London, Wesley says:――

“In every place where Mr. Whitefield has been, he has laboured in the same friendly, Christian manner. God has indeed effectually broken down the wall of partition which was between us. Thirty years ago we were one; then the sower of tares rent us asunder; but now a stronger than he has made us one again.”[590]

On reaching London, Whitefield, in a jubilant strain, wrote to his old helper, Thomas Adams:――

“LONDON, _October 12, 1767_.

“MY VERY DEAR TOMMY,――Good-morrow! This comes to enquire how you and yours do. I am just returned from my northern circuit. It has been pleasant, and, I trust, profitable. Praise the Lord, O our souls! Everywhere the fields have been white, ready unto harvest. I am become a downright street and field preacher. I wish the city, and want of riding, may not hurt me. No nestling, no nestling on this side Jordan. Heaven is the believer’s only resting place. Mr. Joss has been much blessed here.”

If possible, Whitefield was more popular than ever, as the following extract from _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of October 30, will tend to show:――

“Wednesday morning, October 28, was preached, by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, at his Tabernacle near Moorfields, a sermon, for the benefit of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge among the Poor, by distributing Bibles and other good books, before a very polite audience of upwards of six thousand people, and above forty ministers of different persuasions. Near £200 was collected.”[591]

In reference to this remarkable service, on a busy week-day morning, Whitefield simply says: “I would reflect upon Wednesday with humility and gratitude. Lord, what am I? ‘Less than the least of all,’ must be my motto still.”

Whitefield’s text on this occasion was “Thy kingdom come.” The collection was four times larger than usual, and eighty persons became new subscribers. After his sermon, Whitefield dined with the ministers present at Draper’s Hall, and was treated with great respect.[592]

The troubles of Rowland Hill and his associates, at Cambridge, have been repeatedly mentioned, and are alluded to in the following letter, addressed “To the Rev. Mr. Fletcher, Rector of Madeley, near Bridgenorth, Shropshire”:――

“London, October 22, 1767. What more offences! Surely, my dear friend, you must have done Satan some late harm; otherwise, I think, he would not be so angry. I hope he has lost some ground in the north. Street and field-preaching were made very pleasant to me, and, I trust, they were equally profitable. Our truly noble Lady Sussex sends good news from Bath. She recovers strength apace. There is hot work at Cambridge. One dear youth is likely to be expelled. Mr. Lee is suspended without private admonition, or having a moment’s warning. What would become of us, if a hook were not put into the leviathan’s jaws? Adieu! In great haste, but greater love, I hasten to subscribe myself, my dear sir, yours in our all-conquering Emmanuel,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[593]

The storm, which, in one of the universities, burst a few months afterwards, was already brewing. The Methodist students, both at Cambridge and Oxford, were in trouble; and Whitefield did his best to comfort and encourage them. Hence the following extracts from his letters, written at this period:――

“London, October 23, 1767. By your brother’s letter, it appears the hour of expulsion is not yet come. Surely they will not be so imprudent, or act so contrary to the laws of English liberty. I long to know what statutes they say you have broken, and what concessions have been made. Your diocesan will make a strict enquiry. I wish you could recollect all circumstances; the rise and progress of the present contest; with all the various pleadings, threats, conferences, _pro_ and _con_. If confined to college, this will be a good exercise for you. You may lodge it in court, as a proof whether you understand to write plain English, or sound, practical, experimental divinity. This can do you no harm; it may do good. Do, therefore, set about it. Who knows? Sauls may yet become Pauls.”

“London, October 24, 1767. Supposing you made this addition to the motto of your coat of arms,――‘_Nemo me impune lacessit_?’ He who toucheth God’s people, toucheth the apple of His eye. That is a very tender part. I am glad your diocesan is expected soon. I have no expectation of his beating a retreat. ‘To arms! to arms!’ must be the watchword now. The company of the Son of Man is never so sweet as when He walks with us in the fiery furnace. Nothing can stand before an honest, truly Israelitish heart. Those who endeavour to entangle Christ’s followers in their talk, will, in the end, be entangled themselves.”

“London, November 14, 1767. All know my mind. Go forward, I think, is the royal word of command. We may then indeed have a Red Sea to pass through; but the threatening waves shall become a wall on the right hand and on the left. I am ashamed to find so many silenced by mere _bruta fulmina_.”

“London, December 1, 1767. You meet like apostles now; but, when they met between the time of our Lord’s death and resurrection, what trouble did they endure, for fear of the Jews? But be not discouraged. Continue instant in prayer. A risen, an ascended Jesus, will yet appear in the midst of you, renew your commission, and endue you with power from on high. O think of this, ye little college of cast-outs! Do not deny Him in any wise.”

On the day the last extract was written, the Earl of Buchan died at Bath. For some time, his lordship had been in declining health. In Bath, as long as his health permitted, he was a most regular attendant at the chapel of the Countess of Huntingdon, and was in the constant habit of hearing Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, Shirley, Venn, Townsend, Fletcher, and other Methodist clergymen, who supplied the pulpit there. His death was most triumphant. A few days before its occurrence, Lady Huntingdon went to see him, at his particular request. As soon as he could speak, he said: “I have no foundation of hope whatever, but in the sacrifice of the Son of God. I have nowhere else to look,――nothing else to depend upon for eternal life; but my confidence in Him is as firm as a rock.” Among his last sayings, were the words, “Happy! happy! happy!” Thus,――

――“on his dying lips, The sound of glory quiver’d.”

“His lordship’s departure,” wrote Lady Huntingdon, “was not only happy, but triumphant and glorious.”

The event, to these grand old Methodists, was too important to pass unimproved. Whitefield was summoned from London; and, for five days, in the chapel of the Countess of Huntingdon, a series of services were held, which, probably, have no parallel. “The corpse of the late Earl of Buchan,” says _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of December 16, “lay in state, at the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel, from Sunday to Thursday night. Two sermons on the occasion were preached each day by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield and others.”

The story, however, will be best told in the words of Whitefield himself. To the Reverend Walter Shirley, Whitefield wrote:――

“Bath, Tuesday, December 8, 1767. The Earl of Buchan sweetly slept in Jesus last week. His corpse lies deposited in the chapel of good Lady Huntingdon, and is not to be removed till next Friday morning. There have been public prayers and preaching twice every day. The noble relatives constantly attend, and all is more than solemn. Great numbers, of all ranks, crowd to see and hear. The Earl died like the patriarch Jacob; he laid his hands on, and blessed his children; assured them of his personal interest in Jesus; called most gloriously on the Holy Ghost; cried, ‘Happy! happy!’ as long as he could speak; and then――you know what followed.”

In another letter, Whitefield wrote:――

“Bath, Wednesday, December 9, 1767. All has been awful, and more than awful. Last Saturday evening, before the corpse was taken from Buchan House, a word of exhortation was given, and a hymn sung, in the room where the corpse lay. The young Earl stood with his hands on the head of the coffin; the Countess Dowager on his right hand; Lady Ann and Lady Isabella on his left; and their brother Thomas[594] next to their mother, with Miss Orton, Miss Wheeler, and Miss Goddle on one side. All the domestics, with a few friends, were on the other. The word of exhortation[595] was received with great solemnity, and most wept under the parting prayer. At ten, the corpse was removed to good Lady Huntingdon’s chapel, where it was deposited (within a place railed in for that purpose), covered with black baize and the usual funeral concomitants, except escutcheons.

“On Sunday morning all attended, in mourning, at early sacrament. They were seated by themselves, at the feet of the corpse; and, with their head servants, received first, and a particular address was made to them. Immediately after receiving, these verses were sung for them:――

‘Our lives, our blood, we here present, If for Thy truths they may be spent; Fulfil Thy sovereign counsel, Lord,―― Thy will be done, Thy name ador’d!

Give them Thy strength, O God of pow’r! Then let men rave or devils roar, Thy faithful witnesses they’ll be; ’Tis fixed――they can do all through Thee.’

Then they received this blessing: ‘The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you! The Lord cause His face to shine upon you, and give you peace!’ and so returned to their places. Sacrament being ended, the noble mourners returned to good Lady Huntingdon’s house, which was lent them for the day.

“At eleven, public service began. The bereaved relations sat in order within, and the domestics around the outside of the rail. The chapel was more than crowded. Near three hundred tickets, signed by the present Earl, were given out to the nobility and gentry, to be admitted. All was hushed and solemn. Proper hymns were sung, and I preached on these words, ‘I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.’ Attention sat on every face, and deep and almost universal impressions were made.

“The like scene, and if possible more solemn, was exhibited in the evening; and I was enabled to preach a second time. A like power attended the word, as in the morning.

“Ever since, there has been public service and preaching twice a day. This is to be continued till Friday morning. Then all is to be removed to Bristol, in order to be shipped for Scotland. The inscription on the coffin runs thus:――

“His life was honourable, His death blessed; He sought earnestly peace with God;―― He found it, With unspeakable joy, Alone in the merits of Christ Jesus, Witnessed by the Holy Spirit to his soul. He yet speaketh: ‘Go thou, and do likewise.’”

These were strange scenes, but who can find fault with them? And who can estimate their permanent influence upon the eleventh Earl of Buchan, and upon his illustrious brother, then only seventeen years of age, but afterwards Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain?

Whitefield continued preaching at Bath, Bristol, and Kingswood, till December 21, when he set out for London. Meanwhile, the young Earl of Buchan had also come to town, from his father’s funeral in Scotland, and, at once, associated himself with Lord and Lady Dartmouth, Mrs. Carteret, Mrs. Cavendish, and a numerous circle of distinguished persons, the friends of Whitefield and the Methodists. Whitefield refers to this, in the following letter to the Rev. John Gillies:――

“London, December 28, 1767. The present noble Earl of Buchan, I believe, has got the blessing. He seems to determine to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. He has behaved in the most delicate manner to the Countess, and other noble survivors. He stands here in town against all opposition, like an impregnable rock; and I humbly hope will prove the Daniel of the age. He has already been thrown into a den of lions; but he has One with him, who stops the lions’ mouths. You will encourage all God’s people to pray for him. What if you wrote him a line? I am sure it will be taken kindly; for I know he honours and loves you much.

“I am now fifty-three years old. Did you ever hear of such a fifty-three years’ old barren fig-tree? So much digging, so much dunging; and yet so little fruit. God be merciful to me a sinner! A sinner! A sinner! A sinner! He is merciful! His mercy endureth for ever! He yet vouchsafes to bless my feeble labours.”

The young Earl of Buchan did not disappoint Whitefield’s hopes concerning him. Besides maintaining the dignity of the Scottish peerage, and becoming an ardent lover and promoter of literature and the fine arts, he made a public avowal of his religious principles; and, though this drew down upon him the laugh and lash of wits and witlings, he defied their sneers, and dared “to be singularly good;” and, acting under the advice of the Countess of Huntingdon, appointed Venn, Fletcher, and Berridge to be his chaplains.[596]

Benjamin Franklin, the poor printer, was now a man of great distinction. He had visited Holland, Germany, and France; and, for the last two years, had been in England. The degree of LL.D. had been conferred upon him by the three Universities of St. Andrew’s, Edinburgh, and Oxford. In France Louis XV. had shown him marked attention. But, in the midst of all his honours, he still respected his old friend Whitefield. The following letter, which the great preacher addressed to Franklin, is highly characteristic of the writer:――

“TOTTENHAM COURT, _January 21, 1768_.

“MY DEAR DOCTOR,――When will it suit you to have another interview? The” (Bethesda) “College affair is dormant. For above a week, I have been dethroned, by a violent cold and hoarseness. Who but would work and speak for God while it is day! ‘The night cometh when no man can work.’ Through rich grace, I can sing, ‘O death, where is thy sting?’ but only through Jesus of Nazareth. Your daughter, I find, is beginning the world. I wish you joy from the bottom of my heart. You and I shall soon go out of it. Ere long we shall see it burst. Angels shall summon us to attend on the funeral of time; and we shall see eternity rising out of its ashes. That you and I may be in the happy number of those who, in the midst of the tremendous blaze, shall cry Amen! Hallelujah! is the hearty prayer of, my dear Doctor,

“Yours, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[597]

Not long after this, Franklin wrote to Whitefield respecting the disturbances at Boston, which resulted in the American rebellion. Though his affection for Whitefield was undoubtedly sincere, he found it difficult to conceal his scepticism even when writing to his friend. The following is an extract from his letter:――

“I am under continued apprehensions that we may have bad news from America. The sending soldiers to Boston always appeared to me a dangerous step; they could do no good, they might occasion mischief. When I consider the warm resentment of a people who think themselves injured and oppressed, and the common insolence of the soldiery who are taught to consider that people as in rebellion, I cannot but fear the consequences of bringing them together. It seems like setting up a smith’s forge in a magazine of gunpowder. I _see_ with you that our affairs are not well managed by our rulers here below; I wish I could _believe_ with you, that they are well attended to by those above; I rather suspect, from certain circumstances, that though the general government of the universe is well administered, our particular little affairs are perhaps below notice, and left to take the chance of human prudence or imprudence, as either may happen to be uppermost. It is, however, an uncomfortable thought, and I leave it.”

No wonder that Whitefield endorsed his friend’s letter with the words, “_Uncomfortable_ indeed! and, blessed be God, _unscriptural_; for we are fully assured that ‘the Lord reigneth,’ and are directed to cast _all_ our care on Him, because He careth for us.”[598]

Lady Huntingdon was multiplying her chapels; but none of them were episcopally consecrated. Whitefield, the Wesleys, Romaine, Madan, Fletcher, and other Methodist clergymen preached in them as far as they had opportunity; but, it was evident, that, without lay evangelists, the work would be impeded. Captain Scott, Captain Joss, Thomas Adams, and others rendered efficient help to Whitefield in his London chapels; but they were not sufficient to meet the growing wants of himself and the Countess. Hence, her ladyship began to make preparation for the training of converted and zealous men to supply the existing pulpits, and to extend the work. At Trevecca, not far from the residence of Howell Harris, stood an ancient structure, part of an old castle, erected in the reign of Henry II. The date over the entrance is 1176. This venerable ruin belonged to Harris, who rented it to the Countess, for the purpose of its being turned into a sort of ministerial college. The repairs were now in hand, and Harris acted as supervisor. In a letter addressed to him, she wrote:――

“London, February 22, 1768. I think the work cannot be finished, for the furniture, before June; and, therefore, conclude the opening of the school must be delayed until the end of August. I shall be glad to have an exact account of the expenses as they go on.

“What must I say of this poor city? Religion is _fashion_, not faith. Disputing and church party is the subject of all I see. Mr. Wesley and Mr. Whitefield hold up their heads above it. Sandeman principles make some noise. May my soul and spirit, life, mind, and talents, be ever devoted to Christ alone!”[599]

The proposal of her ladyship was to admit none into her school except such as were truly converted to God, and resolved to dedicate themselves to His service. They were to be at liberty to stay three years, during which time they were to have their education gratis, with every necessary of life, and a suit of clothes once a year. Afterwards, those who desired it might enter into the ministry, either in the Established Church, or among Protestants of any other denomination. The plan for the examination of candidates was drawn up, and approved of by Romaine, Venn, Wesley, and others; and Fletcher was fixed upon to be the president.[600]

Little did the Countess think that the time was near when such a provision would become more important than either she or any of her advisers had imagined. A storm had long been gathering, in both the Oxford and Cambridge Universities; and now it burst. A correspondent of _Lloyd’s Evening Post_[601] wrote as follows:――

“St. Edmund’s Hall is the place where a lady sends all those who have a mind to creep into Orders. The other day, several of the undergraduates of that Hall disobliged their tutor; and this one spark set their whole Methodistical foundation on fire. The tutor went immediately to their visitor, and laid open all their proceedings, upon which he appointed a meeting of the heads of houses, where seven of them, one of whom is a gentleman commoner, were accused of their several offences. One, I think, was for procuring a false testimonium;[602] another for preaching in the fields before he was in orders; a letter was read publicly, which the tutor had received from a gentleman, testifying that this man had made him a very good periwig only two years before; two or three for frequenting illicit conventicles; but another was accused only of ignorance, impudence, and disobedience, and is acquitted. All the others were expelled, not only for the offences I have mentioned, but, likewise, for preaching doctrines contrary to the Church of England.”

The “lady” referred to in this letter was the Countess of Huntingdon; but there is not the slightest proof of the accusation brought against her.[603] It might contain a modicum of truth; but the base part of the allegation was false and slanderous. The names of the undergraduates were Benjamin Kay, James Matthews, Thomas Jones, Thomas Grove, Erasmus Middleton, and Joseph Shipman. This is not the place to relate the history of the six expelled students; but, it may be added, that, Mr. Kay was of respectable family, and an excellent scholar. Mr. Matthews, who was charged with having been instructed by Fletcher, of Madeley, with being the associate of known Methodists, and with attending illicit conventicles, was afterwards received into Lady Huntingdon’s Academy at Trevecca. Thomas Jones was the periwig-maker, but, for some time, had resided with John Newton, curate of Olney, under whose instruction he had acquired a knowledge of the Greek and Hebrew Scriptures. Besides the crime of being brought up to the trade of a hair-dresser, he was accused of praying, singing hymns, and expounding the Scriptures in private houses. After his expulsion, he was ordained, became curate of Clifton, near Birmingham, and married the sister of the poet Cowper’s friend, the Lady Austin. Mr. Grove confessed to the Archbishop of Canterbury that he had been led into irregularities; the Chancellor consented to his re-admission; but the Vice-Chancellor refused; and the future history of the submissive undergraduate is unknown. Mr. Middleton was ordained in Ireland by the Bishop of Down; became curate of Romaine and Cadogan; wrote his _Biographia Evangelica_; and finally was presented to the rectory of Turvey, in the county of Bedford. Mr. Shipman, after his expulsion, was admitted to the Academy of the Countess of Huntingdon at Trevecca. His ministry was soon ended; but, at Plymouth, Bristol, Rodborough, and Haverfordwest, his preaching was singularly useful. He died October 31, 1771.

The tutor, who preferred the charges against the Methodist students, was Mr. Higson, who was not always _compos mentis_, and had been treated as insane. The Vice-Chancellor was the Rev. Dr. Durell, who was the determined enemy of the accused. Their friend, the Rev. Dr. Dixon, was the principal of their college. Their judges were Drs. Durell, Randolph, Fothergill, Nowell, and Atterbury. The expulsion took place on March 11, 1768.[604]

The event, as might be expected, created a national sensation. A large number of persons warmly approved of the sentence of the judicial junta; among whom was the famous Dr. Johnson. “Sir,” said Johnson to his friend Boswell, “the expulsion was extremely just and proper. What have they to do at a University, who are not willing to be taught, but will presume to teach? Where is religion to be learnt but at a University? Sir, they were examined, and found to be mighty ignorant fellows.” Boswell: “But was it not hard, sir, to expel them, for I am told they were good beings?” Johnson: “I believe they might be good beings, but they were not fit to be in the University of Oxford. A cow is a very good animal in the field, but we turn her out of a garden.”[605] Johnson’s similitude was more forcible than appropriate; but, even admitting that, in a literary point of view, the expelled were not fit for the University, it may be asked, who were responsible for their admission? Really, their only crimes were, that some of them had been ignobly bred, and all of them had sung, and prayed, and read the Scriptures in private houses. In this respect, they were not alone. Dr. Stillingfleet, Fellow of Merton College, and afterwards Prebendary of Worcester; Mr. Foster, of Queen’s College; Mr. Pugh, of Hertford College; Mr. Gordon, of Magdalen; Mr. Clark, of St. John’s; and Mr. Halward, of Worcester College, had done just the same; but these were gentlemen whom it would have been somewhat perilous to treat with the same collegiate tyranny that was exercised towards the humble undergraduates who were ignominiously expelled.

The latter, however, were not without friends. Rowland Hill and his Methodist associates, Pentycross, Simpson, Robinson, and others, at Cambridge, were in intimate communion with them; and Rowland Hill’s brother, afterwards Sir Richard Hill, became their principal defender. He published his “Pietas Oxoniensis.” (8vo. 85 pp.); which was answered by Dr. Nowell, principal of St. Mary’s Hall. Other pamphlets, _pro et con_, were issued, too numerous to be mentioned here; but Whitefield’s must have attention. It was the last he published, and was entitled, “A Letter to the Reverend Dr. Durell, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford; occasioned by a late Expulsion of Six Students from Edmund Hall. By George Whitefield, M.A., late of Pembroke College, Oxford; and Chaplain to the Countess of Huntingdon.” (8vo., 50 pp.) The “Letter” was dated, “London, April 12, 1768,” and was one of Whitefield’s most spirited productions. In reply to “one article of impeachment, namely, that some of” the six expelled students “were of trades before they entered the University,” he reminded the Vice-Chancellor that there was no “evil or crime worthy of expulsion” in this, for “God took David from the sheep-fold;” “David’s Lord had for his reputed father a carpenter, and, in all probability, worked at the trade of a carpenter Himself;” He “chose poor fishermen to be His apostles;” and St. Paul “laboured with his own hands, and worked at the trade of a tent-maker.”

In reference to the charge of using extempore prayer, Whitefield argued, that, though the “English liturgy is one of the most excellent forms of public prayer in the world,” yet no form “can possibly suit every particular case.” Besides, said he, “what great sinners must they have been, who prayed, in an extempore way, before any forms of prayer existed? The prayers we read of in Scripture,――the prayers which opened and shut heaven, the effectual, fervent, energetic prayers of those righteous and holy men of old, which availed so much with God, were all of an extempore nature. And I am apt to believe, if, not only our students and ministers, but private Christians, were born from above, and taught of God, as those wrestlers with God were, they would want forms of prayer no more than they did.”[606] “The crime of using extempore prayer is not so much as mentioned in any of our law books; and, therefore, a crime for which, it is to be hoped, no student will hereafter be summoned to appear at the bar of any of the reverend doctors of divinity, or heads of houses in the University of Oxford.” “It is also to be hoped that as some have been expelled for extempore praying, we shall hear of some being expelled for extempore swearing.”

One extract must suffice respecting the charge of “singing hymns”:――

“Were the sons of the prophets more frequently to entertain themselves thus, it would be as suitable to the ministerial character as tripping up their heels, skipping and dancing at the music of a ball-room, or playing a first fiddle at a concert. The voice of spiritual melody would be as much to the honour of the University as the more frequent noise of box and dice, at the unlawful games of hazard and back-gammon.”

On the subject of “giving private exhortations,” Whitefield aptly observed:――

“Our all-wise Master sent His disciples on short excursions, before He gave them the more extensive commission to go into all the world; and were our students in general, under proper limitations, to be thus exercised, they would not turn out to be such mere novices, as too many raw creatures do when they make their first appearance in the pulpit. I remember, above thirty years ago, some young students had been visiting the sick and imprisoned, and had been giving a word of exhortation in a private house; and, upon meeting the minister of the parish on their return to college, they frankly told him what they had been doing; when he turned to them, and said, ‘God bless you! I wish we had more such young curates;’――a more Christian sentence this, than that of a late expulsion for the very same supposed crimes and misdemeanours.”

Whitefield proceeded to remind Dr. Durell of the effort which was being made to establish the episcopacy in the American colonies, and of the opposition of the colonists to the scheme, and then added:――

“That persons of all ranks, from Quebec down to the two Floridas, are at this time more than prejudiced against it, is notorious; but how will the thought of the introduction of lord bishops make them shudder, if their lordships should think proper to countenance the expulsion of religious students, whilst those who have no religion at all meet with approbation and applause.”

Turning to the general subject of Methodism, Whitefield continued:――

“It is notorious that the grand cause of these young men’s expulsion was, that they were either real or reputed Methodists. Scarce any now-a-days can pray extempore, sing hymns, go to church or meeting, and abound in other acts of devotion, but they must be immediately dubbed Methodists.”

And then, in reference to the first Oxford Methodists, he added:――

“If worldly church preferments had been their aim, some of them, at least, might have had ladders enough to climb up by; but having received a kind of apostolical commission at their ordination, they would fain keep up the dignity of an apostolic character; and, therefore, without ever so much as designing to enter into any political cabals, or civil or church factions, without turning to the right hand or the left, or troubling the world with a single sermon or pamphlet on the bare externals of religion, they have endeavoured to have but one thing in view, namely, to think of nothing, to know nothing, and to preach of nothing but Jesus Christ, and Him crucified; to spend and be spent for the good of souls, and to glory in nothing saving in the cross of Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto them and they unto the world.”

Such was Whitefield’s last description of the first Methodist preachers. May this be the character of all their successors to the end of time!

Of course, Whitefield’s “Letter” to Dr. Durell evoked replies; but only one of these can be noticed here. It was entitled, “Remarks upon the Rev. Mr. Whitefield’s Letter to the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford; in a Letter to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield. By a late Member of the University of Oxford. Oxford, 1768.” (8vo., 62 pp.) Two or three extracts from this angry and abusive production must be given. In reference to Whitefield himself, the author says:――

“I address you without any hope of reforming you, for, it would be absurd in me to prove a person insane, and, at the same time, attempt to convince him of that insanity. That would be supposing him in his senses in order to satisfy him that he is out of them. My design is to deal with you as magistrates do with an offender, whom they despair of bringing to any good. They animadvert upon him for the good of others, and, by open punishment, aim at suppressing the influence which his advice or example may have had upon his acquaintance.

“Your sermons are off-hand harangues,――mere enthusiastic rant,――a wild rhapsody of nonsense,――the foam of an over-heated imagination,――like old wives’ fables, or profane and vain babblings,――proceeding from a spirit of pride and ignorance. Such teachers as yourself, are blind leaders of the blind,――jack-o’-lanthorn meteors, or _ignes fatui_, drawing the mazed follower through briars and bogs, till he is plunged into inextricable ruin. But, however absurd and ridiculous your sermons――the _spuings_ of the heart upon the people, in unconcocted sentences――they are tolerable in comparison of your extempore prayers to the Deity.”

This was hardly polite to come from “a late member of the University of Oxford;” but let it pass, and listen to what the accomplished author says of the six expelled students:――

“These low mechanics were moved with the spirit of pride and ignorance, and had no other calls but of vanity, idleness, and hunger; and, I make no doubt, had their attempt to creep through some privy holes, or to climb over the fences into the ministry been crowned with success, they would have scorned the dust from whence they sprung, and, spurred on with the turbulent spirit of ambition, would never have ceased clambering after the higher places, and would even have been dissatisfied, though they reached the highest round of the ecclesiastical ladder.”

One sentence more from this elegant publication:――

“If a large stock of pride, with the profoundest ignorance, and a brow harder than adamant, be sufficient to set up a Methodistical spouter, what occasion is there to send him to the University?”

In order to get rid of a subject so unpleasant, it may be added here, that, besides this, there were several other pamphlets published against Whitefield and the Methodists during the year 1768. For instance, there was “The Troublers of Israel, in which the Principles of those who turn the World upside down are displayed. With a Preface to the Rev. Dr. ――――. To which is prefixed a short introductory Description of Modern Enthusiasts.” (4to.) A kind of opera, exceedingly incoherent, and profanely foolish. 2. “Sermons to Asses” (12mo., 212 pp.), dedicated to Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, and Madan,――chiefly a political publication, with a fling at the Methodists. 3. “Enthusiasm Detected and Defeated. By Samuel Roe, A.M., Vicar of Stotfold, in Bedfordshire.” (8vo., 319 pp.) Principally an attack on Wesley, but not altogether exempting Whitefield. “I humbly propose to the legislative powers,” said the Rev. Samuel Roe, “to make an example of Tabernacle preachers, by enacting a law to _cut out their tongues_, who have been the incorrigible authors of so many mischiefs and distractions throughout the English dominions. And, by the said authority, to _cut out the tongues_ of all field-teachers, and preachers in houses, barns, or elsewhere, without apostolical ordination and legal authority, being approved and licensed to enter upon that most sacred trust.” 4. “The Hypocrite: a Comedy. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane” (8vo.),――in which a Tabernacle enthusiast occupied a prominent position.

Then, in 1769, before Whitefield sailed for America, there were published: 1. “Methodism, a Popish Idol; or the Danger and Harmony of Enthusiasm and Separation. By Booth Braithwaite.” (8vo.) “A raving pamphlet,” said the _Monthly Review_, “against sectaries, with abundant zeal, little knowledge, and less charity.” 2. “A Letter to a Young Gentleman at Oxford, intended for Holy Orders” (8vo.),――in ardent language warning the “young gentleman” against Confessionalists, Monthly Reviewers, Blasphemers, Reprobates, and Methodists. 3. “The Pretences of Enthusiasts Considered and Confuted; a Sermon preached before the University of Oxford, at St. Mary’s, June 26, 1768. By William Hawkins, M.A., Prebendary of Wells. Published by desire.” (8vo., 27 pp.) Mr. Hawkins confesses that he has “little hope of converting spiritual dishonesty, or convincing religious infatuation;” but he insists that “all pretences of illiterate laymen, and ignorant mechanics, _to expound the way of God more perfectly_, in consequence of supernatural inspiration and spiritual illumination, are plainly to be resolved into the artifice of imposture, or the insanity of enthusiasm.”

On the other hand, there was published a curious and well-executed engraving, of folio size, entitled, “The Tree of Life: likewise a View of the New Jerusalem, and this present Evil World; with the Industry of Gospel Ministers in endeavouring to pluck sinners from the wrath to come.” The copy before me is the only one I have ever seen, or heard of; and, therefore, a brief description of it may be welcome. The “Tree of Life” is large and fantastic. Its roots are entitled, “Glorious,” “Gracious,” “Holy,” “Just,” “Wise,” “Almighty,” and “Omnipresent.” On its stem and two lowest branches is a representation of the crucified Saviour. Its twelve fruits are “Everlasting Love,” “Election,” “Pardon,” “Righteousness,” “Refuge,” “Security,” “Peace,” “Sanctification,” “Promises,” “Good-will,” “Perseverance,” and “Eternal Redemption.” Its foliage is inscribed with the words, “Circumcision,” “Baptism,” “Fasting,” “Temptation,” “Victory,” “Poverty,” “Obedience,” “Shame,” “Reproach,” “Imprisonment,” “Stripes,” “Buffeting,” “Death,” and “Resurrection.” “The New Jerusalem” is resplendent with the divine glory, and is surrounded with lovely scenery. “The present Evil World,” at the bottom of the picture, contains a large number of male and female figures, some of them in “the Broad Way,” others indulging in “the Pride of Life,” and others in “Chambering and Wantonness.” In the right hand corner is the “Bottomless Pit,” with sundry demons, and ablaze with fire; while, at its mouth, sits “Babylon, Mother of Harlots,” with a large goblet in her hand; and out of the pit an avaricious-looking wretch is endeavouring to escape, for the purpose of clutching his money bags, which are inscribed with the word “Extortion,” but a grinning fiend has seized him by the long flowing hair of his head, and prevents him going farther. In the midst of one crowd, Wesley is preaching, and represented as crying, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.” In another crowd, _close_ to the “Bottomless Pit,” stands Whitefield, the likeness excellent, and bearing a strong resemblance to the portrait in the present volume. The multitude around him evince great excitement. One man, on his right hand, cries, “What shall I do to be saved?” Another, on his left, whose coat-tail a demon grasps, exclaims, “Save, Lord, or I perish.” And Whitefield, in the midst, dressed in full canonicals, and with hands uplifted, shouts, “Behold the Lamb.” The whole thing is ludicrous; but it was friendly, and, no doubt, was published in favour of Whitefield and his fellow-labourer. Whether it was calculated to answer the artist’s purpose is another question. Sometimes man has need to pray, “Save me from my friends!”

To return to Whitefield’s history. Little is known of his proceedings during the first four months of 1768. The interval seems to have been spent in London, and, doubtless, was well employed in preaching and other religious duties. On Wednesday, March 23, he had to perform a painful duty, to which he had been long accustomed. James Gibson, attorney-at-law, had been found guilty of the crime of forgery, and had been sentenced to suffer death. On the morning of the culprit’s execution, Whitefield attended him in Newgate prison, prayed with him, and administered to him the holy sacrament. Gibson, a good-looking man of about forty-five years of age, professed to rely on the merits of his Saviour; and, in a mourning coach, dressed in black, and wearing a ruffled shirt, was driven to Tyburn, where his behaviour was devout and manly, and his sentence was executed.[607]

At Whitsuntide, Whitefield visited Tunbridge Wells, Lewes, and Brighton. At the first of these places, Lady Huntingdon had procured a permanent residence, on Mount Ephraim; and Whitefield preached twice in the open air. “Very many,” says her ladyship, “were cut to the heart. Sinners trembled exceedingly before the Lord, and a universal impression seemed to abide upon the multitude. Truly God was in the midst of us to wound and to heal.”[608]

The following letter, addressed to Whitefield by Rowland Hill, refers to this visit to Tunbridge Wells, but is chiefly valuable as containing a sketch of the proceedings of the Methodist students at Cambridge, and as exhibiting some of the peculiarities of young Rowland’s character:――

“CAMBRIDGE, _May 12, 1768_.

“REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR,――I am glad to hear we are to expect a smaller edition of your valuable ‘Letter.’[609] I doubt not but it will be of further utility. It has been read much in this place. That and the _Shaver_[610] have been sent for to all the coffee-houses in this University; so that, no doubt, all our heads have seen all that has been written. But if you think it any advantage to send each of our heads a separate copy, I will contrive my best to get it done.

“God be praised for what is doing by the endeavours of dear Lady Huntingdon at Tunbridge Wells! How wonderfully is she carried from one place of dissipation to another! How glorious is her continued progress!

“Blessed be God! we are not without being steeped more than ever in shame in this place; or, as the old proverb goes, we have eaten shame and drank after it, and I trust it digests well. Though we always endeavour to keep clear of a mob, in letting no more know than our different houses will hold, yet, in spite of all that can be done, more or less of the gown constantly attend. The Lord, through much grace, generally keeping me clear of the fear of man, gives me some little strength to tell you all about it; and, as I find burs generally stick faster to people’s clothes than roses, I am sometimes apt to deal in that rough ware. They have hitherto always stood, like poor brow-beaten things, with much attention till we have done, when they generally get together to compare notes, which they afterwards retail among others of the University, drest up in a droll fashion, well embellished, with the addition of many ludicrous lies.

“This makes all, as I pass the streets, stop to wonder at me, as a strange oddity; but, as I am more than ever convinced that the only way God ever will carry on His work, is by the manifestation of His own almighty power, without any of our assisting influence or trimming, I find the only way to meet with a blessing is to be honest and open in telling them the simple truth, and leaving God to bless it. This, I trust, has, in some measure, been the case at Cambridge. Four of the many gownsmen, that have been at times my hearers of late, have never missed an opportunity of attending, and have been at much pains to enquire the time and place of our meeting. After hearing, they wish me a good eve; and, when absent, speak respectfully of the word. Many others, too, having been convinced in their judgments, approve of its being right; while others, filled with the hottest madness, dress me up as a fool, and cudgel me as a knave.

“The other night, the mob of the gown, which raised a second of the town, ran so high at the house where we had a meeting, that the constable, who is a friend, was forced to attend, that no riot might ensue; but, as I thought to be attended with constables was yet too high an honour for such a poor beginner, I hope it was nothing more than what Christian prudence would advise, to be more private the next time, and be contented with a house full, attended only with a few gownsmen by way of bringing up the rear.

“As for our Doctors, ’tis remarkable how very patiently they bear with my conduct, as they now know that as I have but a little while to stay, an expulsion from Cambridge would hardly answer. They seem now to have come to the following compromise――that I am to continue to be possessor of my _professorship_, and to be still bishop over all their parishes, provided I will be contented with houses or barns, and leave them alone with quiet possession of their streets, fields, and churches, and, by and by, they will be glad to sign my _testimonium_, in order to get rid of me. Thus, in the end, I hope, through grace, I shall be enabled to make good what I promised to one, who asked me, when we enthusiasts intended to stop. My answer was, ‘Not at all, till such time as we have carried all before us.’

“I am in the greatest hope that the Lord will soon give dear ―――― a heart to help me. He is a steady, warm, lively Christian, and grows prodigiously, and bids by far the fairest for the predicted phœnix of any that are in this place.

“Do continue to be earnest in prayer to God for us. I want much humbling. Spiritual pride, at present, is my grand temptation.

“Having not any spare time, I am forced to write thus in haste, and conclude with subscribing myself your poorest son and servant for Christ’s sake,

“ROWLAND HILL.”[611]

The foregoing letter is valuable for its facts, if for nothing else. Rowland Hill was evincing courage hardly inferior to that of the first Oxford Methodists. Without courting persecution, he was not afraid of it. To be laughed at was not pleasant, but it was not heeded. Rowland was no longer threatened with expulsion; but he was made the object of collegiate ridicule. Eight months after this, he proceeded to his B.A. degree, and his name appeared in the list of honours.

There can be no doubt that one of the best ways to propagate any new creed or system is to implant it in the national Universities. Whether designedly or otherwise, Methodism had thus been rooted at both Oxford and Cambridge. The Heads of Houses at Oxford did their utmost to destroy it. Those at Cambridge were not so ruthless. Why? Was it because the expelled at Oxford were of low degree? and because the Cambridge leader, Rowland Hill, was the son of an English baronet? Perhaps it was.

Whitefield was generally jubilant. His path was often rough and difficult, but he pursued it singing. The following was addressed to Captain Joss:――

“LONDON, _May 17, 1768_.

“MY DEAR MAN,――Go forward! go forward! is the watchword of the present day. Never mind the envious cry of elder brethren. Had they been hearkened to, the Prodigal must never have come home, nor Goliath’s head have been cut off. All temple-builders, especially when called to work in the field, must endure, not only the contradiction of sinners, but, the contradiction of saints. Happy are they who are so deeply engaged in building as not to have time to hearken to either. I long to come and lend a helping, though feeble hand. But Welsh horses move slowly. If the Welsh apostle comes, I purpose, in the Whitsun week, to make a short excursion into Sussex and Kent, and then for Bristol.

“Blessed be God! the shout of a King is heard in our camps. Let us march forward, with palms of victory in our hands, crying, ‘Hallelujah! The Lord God omnipotent reigneth!’”

A month after the date of this letter Whitefield was in Edinburgh; but how he went, and why he went, no one seems to know. His popularity, however, in the northern metropolis, was as great as ever. Hence he writes:――

“EDINBURGH, _June 15, 1768_.

(TO MR. KEEN) “You would be delighted to see our Orphan House Park assemblies; as large and attentive as ever. Twenty-seven-year-old friends and spiritual children remember the days of old. They are seeking after their first love, and there seems to be a stirring among the dry bones. I cannot tell you when I shall move. Probably within a fortnight.”

“EDINBURGH, _July 2, 1768_.

(TO MR. ANDREW KINSMAN) “My dear Timothy, I am much obliged to you for your staying in London, till I return from Scotland. My journey hither was certainly of God. Could I preach ten times a day, thousands and thousands would attend. I have been confined for a few days, but, on Monday or Tuesday next, hope to mount my throne again. O to die there! Too great, too great an honour to be expected! I thank my wife for her kind letter just received. I am here only in danger of being hugged to death. Friends of all ranks seem heartier and more friendly than ever. All is of Grace! Grace! I go on in my old way, without turning to the right hand or to the left. Providence says every day, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ Tender love to all, particularly to my dear wife. Next post she may expect to hear from me.”

“EDINBURGH, _July 9, 1768_.

(TO MR. KEEN) “God be praised that all is so well in London. Everything goes on better and better here; but I am so worn down by preaching abroad, and by talking at home almost all the day long, that I have determined to set off for London next Tuesday. As you do not mention my wife, I suppose she is out of town.”

Exactly a month after this, Whitefield’s wife was dead. On his return to London, she was attacked with fever, and died on August 9. Five days afterwards, he preached her funeral sermon;[612] and, noticing her fortitude, remarked,――“Do you remember my preaching in those fields by the old stump of a tree? The multitude was great, and many were disposed to be riotous. At first, I addressed them firmly; but when a desperate gang drew near, with the most ferocious and horrid imprecations and menaces, my courage began to fail. My wife was then standing behind me, as I stood on the table. I think I hear her now. She pulled my gown, and, looking up, said, ‘George, play the man for your God.’ My confidence returned. I spoke to the multitude with boldness and affection. They became still, and many were deeply affected.”[613] A monument to the memory of Whitefield’s wife was put up in Tottenham Court Road chapel, with the following inscription:[614]――

“To the memory of Mrs. Whitefield, who, after thirty years’ strong and frequent manifestations of her Redeemer’s love, mixed with strong and frequent strugglings against the buffetings of Satan, and many sicknesses and indwellings of sin, was joyfully released, August 9, 1769.”[615]

Whitefield submitted to his bereavement with Christian resignation. Two days after he preached his wife’s funeral sermon, he wrote, in a letter to Captain Joss:――“Let us work whilst it is day. The late unexpected breach is a fresh proof that the night soon cometh, when no man can work. Pray, where may I find that grand promise made to Abraham after Sarah’s death? May it be fulfilled in you, whilst your Sarah is yet alive! Sweet bereavements, when God Himself fills up the chasm! Through mercy I find it so. Adieu.”

On Wednesday, August 24, Whitefield opened the College of the Countess of Huntingdon at Trevecca, by preaching from the words: “In all places where I record My name, I will come unto thee, and bless thee.” The next day, he gave an exhortation to the students, from: “He shall be great in the sight of the Lord.” And, on Sunday, August 28, preached in the court before the College, to a congregation of thousands, from: “Other foundation can no man lay, than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.”[616]

He then hurried back to London, where he arrived on September 1. His health was broken, and he was again an invalid. In a letter, dated September 6, he wrote to a sick and suffering friend:――

“Why should not one invalid write to another? What if we should meet in our way to heaven unembodied,――freed from everything that at present weighs down our precious and immortal souls? For these two days past I have been almost unable to write: to-day, I am, what they call better.”

Immediately after this, he ruptured a blood-vessel; and, on September 12, remarked:――

“I have been in hopes of my departure. Through hard riding, and frequent preaching, I have burst a vein. The flux is, in a great measure, stopped; but rest and quietness are strictly enjoined.”[617]

Rashly enough, Whitefield re-commenced preaching before the month was ended. One of his friends, Mr. Middleton, died a triumphant death, and Whitefield must preach a funeral sermon. His text was, “I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.” The word “chosen” gave him an opportunity to dwell upon the doctrine of election. “I know no other doctrine,” said he, “that can truly humble man; for either God must choose us, or we must choose God.” As usual, his sermon was interspersed with anecdotes, one of which may be given here. “A noble lady,” said Whitefield, “told me herself, that when she was crying on account of one of her children’s death, her little daughter came to her and said, ‘Mamma, is God Almighty dead, you cry so?’ The lady replied, ‘No.’ ‘Mamma, will you lend me your glove?’ said the child. The mother let her take it; and, in due time, asked for it again. ‘Mamma!’ remarked the child, ‘shall I cry because you have taken back your glove? And shall you cry because God has taken back my sister?’”[618] A reference is made to the death and burial of Mr. Middleton in the following extract from a letter:――

“London, September 26, 1768. For some days, the flux of blood has stopped entirely. Praise the Lord, O my soul! Mr. Middleton is now made perfectly whole. He was buried from the Tabernacle last Wednesday evening, and a subscription is opened for his four orphans.”

“Where is Mr. Middleton now?” cried Whitefield in the sermon just mentioned. “Where is my dear fellow-labourer, that honest, that steady man of God? If in the midst of torture, he could answer his daughter and say, ‘Heaven upon earth! heaven upon earth!’ surely now that he sees God, and sees Christ, he must cry, ‘Heaven in heaven!’”

A few weeks after this, Whitefield set out for Bath and Bristol; and began to have a longing to go to his orphans at Bethesda. He writes:――

“Bristol, November 12, 1768. Bethesda lies upon my heart night and day. Something must be determined speedily. As, I trust, my eye is single, God will assuredly direct my goings. Hitherto, He has helped. He will do so to the end. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

By the end of November, he was back to London, and wrote:――

“November 30, 1768. Many thought I should not hold out from Bath to London; but I cannot as yet go to Him whom my soul loveth. Last Sunday, I creeped up to my gospel-throne; this evening, the same honour is to be conferred upon me. Mr. Wright is going with his brothers to Georgia to finish the wings of the intended College, and repair the present buildings.”

Whitefield’s weakness continued; but he preached as often as he was able. “I love the open bracing air;” said he, on December 14; “preaching within doors, and especially to crowded auditories, is apt to make us nervous.”

In another letter, dated “December 15,” he remarked:――

“You cannot tell how low my late excursion to Bath and Bristol brought me. I would leave future events to God, and, like you merchants, would improve the present _now_. Time is short; eternity is endless. I have considered the affair of the picture. What think you? A limner, who lately drew me, and hung the picture in the Exhibition, asks forty guineas for a copy.[619] I shall not mind him, but send a bust taken several years ago. It shall be presented as a token of my hearty, hearty love to the Orphan House at Edinburgh, and its never-to-be-forgotten friends.”

The first three months of the year 1769 were spent in London. Whitefield was extremely feeble. Wesley wrote:――

“1769. Monday, January 9. I spent a comfortable and profitable hour with Mr. Whitefield, in calling to mind the former times, and the manner wherein God prepared us for a work which it had not then entered into our hearts to conceive.”

And again:――

“Monday, February 27. I had one more agreeable conversation with my old friend and fellow-labourer, George Whitefield. His soul appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking apace; and, unless God interposes with His mighty hand, he must soon finish his labours.”[620]

Comparatively speaking, these three months were a time of inaction; and yet, to Whitefield and others, they were a time of great enjoyment. Lady Huntingdon was now in London, and, at her residence in Portland Row, Cavendish Square, there were delightful re-unions of Methodist clergymen. Whitefield, the two Wesleys, Romaine, Venn, and others, were often assembled there, for preaching, sacramental administration, and Christian fellowship. On the 10th of January, Whitefield administered the sacrament, and Wesley preached on, “By grace are ye saved, through faith.” A week afterwards, Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper, and Whitefield preached. On February 28, Whitefield was present, but wholly unable to take any active part in the services of the day. The Rev. Messrs. Green and Elliott administered the sacrament and Romaine preached. Sometimes Venn administered, and at others preached. When he was able, Whitefield would preach in her ladyship’s drawing-room on several days successively. At the last meeting, previous to the Countess leaving London, Charles Wesley exhorted all present to “stand fast in one mind and in one judgment;” Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper; Venn and Whitefield prayed; and all sang the glorious doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”[621]

By the month of March, Whitefield’s health was considerably improved. In letters, addressed to his old friend, Thomas Adams, he wrote:――

“London, March 11, 1769. My very dear Tommy. Through infinite mercy, I am enabled to preach thrice a week, besides engaging in other occasional exercises. The shout of the King of kings is amongst us. After Easter, I hope to make an elopement to Gloucestershire, and some western parts. I feel the loss of my right hand[622] daily; but right hands and right eyes must be parted with for Him, who ordereth all things well.”

“London, March 31, 1769. Through infinite mercy, I have been enabled to preach four days successively. We have been favoured with a blessed Passover season: all to make us shout louder, ‘Grace! Grace!’”

Whitefield still longed to get away to his beloved Bethesda. On March 17, he wrote to Mr. Dixon, his manager there:――“I am every day, every hour, almost every moment, thinking of, and preparing for America. A pilgrim life to me is the sweetest on this side eternity.” No wonder that Whitefield wished to be at his Orphan House. He had sent workmen to erect the new buildings already mentioned, and, only eight days after the date of this letter to Mr. Dixon, the foundation stones were laid with as much ceremonial pomp as the colony of Georgia could contribute. Hence the following letter, dated “Savannah, in Georgia, March 29, 1769,” and published in _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, of June 2:――

“The Rev. Mr. George Whitefield having sent over proper workmen to erect the necessary additional buildings for the intended Academy at the Orphan House, on Saturday last, being the anniversary of laying the foundation of that house in the year 1739, his Excellency, the Governor, attended by most of the members of the Honourable Council and a great number of other gentlemen, after the service of church was performed, and a sermon preached by the Rev. Mr. Samuel Frink, Rector of Christ Church parish, laid the foundation of both the intended wings; and the whole company, being entertained at dinner in a plentiful and decent manner, returned to their habitations seemingly much pleased with the occasion of their meeting, and their treatment there. From this beginning, we have the most sanguine hopes, that, in a short time, we shall enjoy the advantage of educating our youth within ourselves; a benefit we have, in a great measure, been deprived of, for want of such an establishment.”

Early in April, Whitefield set out to Bath, on a visit to the Countess of Huntingdon. Here and in the neighbourhood, he spent a month, preaching at a large number of places, to most of which he was accompanied by her ladyship, and by Lady Anne Erskine.[623] Bath and Bristol were the chief scenes of action; but he had “a good field-preaching at Kingswood;” had “a blessed day in Bradford _church_;” and also another in “the fields at Frome, where thousands attended.” He had “golden seasons” at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, Dursley, Rodborough, Painswick, Gloucester, and Cheltenham. On his way back to London, he wrote, to Captain Joss:――

“Rodborough, Thursday, May 11, 1769. Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Blessed seasons at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, and Dursley, in our way from Frome. Have been enabled to preach five times this week. It is good to go into the highways and hedges. Field-preaching, field-preaching for ever!”

A week after this, he was in London, and wrote to Thomas Adams, at Rodborough, in the most jubilant strain:――

“London, Thursday, May 18, 1769. My very dear old friend. On Monday we reached Letchlade, on Tuesday Maidenhead, and yesterday London. Never was Rodborough so endeared to me, as at this last visit. Old friends, old gospel wine, and the great Governor ordering to fill to the brim!

‘O to grace what mighty debtors!’

“If we should die singing that hymn, what then? Why, then, welcome, welcome eternity! Christ’s grace will be sufficient for us. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

The next three months were chiefly spent in London. Whitefield complained of a “hoarseness, gotten in the highways and hedges;” but he was as full of holy buoyancy as ever. He had now determined to sail for America, and began to make the necessary preparations for his voyage. He bought “Osnaburg linen,” for his negroes; he begged maps and books for his Bethesda Institution; and, in thanking his friend Mr. Keen for a benefaction to his Orphanage, wrote: “Our Lord will write Himself your debtor for it. His interest is pretty good――‘a hundredfold.’ A hundredfold! What can the most avaricious trader desire more?”

One of his last public services was the opening of the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel at Tunbridge Wells. This took place on Sunday, July 23. The Countess, Lady Anne Erskine, Lady Buchan, and Miss Orton went with him.[624] Early in the morning, a large number of persons assembled at the front of Lady Huntingdon’s residence, and, in the open air, sang hymns and prayed, till the time announced for the commencement of public service in the chapel. “Never,” said her ladyship, “can I forget the sensations of pleasure I felt, on being awoke by the voice of praise and thanksgiving.” The chapel, of course, was thronged. De Courcy read the prayers of the Established Church; and, then, a large crowd not being able to get inside the chapel, Whitefield came out, followed by those who had joined in the reading of the liturgy, and preached to the assembled thousands, from “How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”[625] The sermon was said to be “a perfect piece of oratory.” “Look yonder!” cried the preacher, as he stretched out his hands “Look yonder! What is that I see? It is my agonizing Lord! Hark! hark! hark! Do not you hear? O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!” Simple words, but producing effects which cannot be described. In connection with these and all Whitefield’s utterances, the reader must bear in mind that Whitefield’s face was language, his intonation music, and his action passion. Garrick used to say of him, that, he could make men weep or tremble by his varied pronunciation of the word “Mesopotamia.” This was an exaggeration; but it expressed the opinion of the greatest of theatrical orators concerning the power of Whitefield’s eloquence.

The day at Tunbridge Wells, a hundred and seven years ago, was probably one of the most remarkable in the history of that resort of fashionable gaiety. After Whitefield’s sermon, the sacrament of the Lord’s supper was administered, at which four clergymen attended, besides Whitefield himself. During the day, three of these clergymen, at three different times, preached to the assembled multitudes, from a small mount raised for that purpose at the front of the chapel.[626] One of these was Richard de Courcy,[627] the fervid young Irishman, already mentioned, and whose talent and eloquence made him immensely popular. The chapel itself, said _Lloyd’s Evening Post_[628], “has been inspected by some ingenious artists, and is looked upon to be the most complete piece of Gothic architecture that has been constructed for many years!”

Whitefield’s days in England were now nearly ended. In a letter to Captain Joss, dated “Tottenham Court, August 9, 1769,” he wrote:――

“My hands and heart are full. Last night, I went on board the _Friendship_. The captain is to dine with me to-morrow. I expect to sail the first week in September. You must then be in town.[629] Mr. Brooksbanks will supply your place. I hope all things will be settled on a right plan. I have the greatest confidence in you. I only wish some means may be found to save the late great expense of coach hire. It has mounted very high.”

In another letter, dated ten days later, and addressed to Mr. Adams, Whitefield wrote:――

“My very dear Tommy, talk not of taking a personal leave. You know my make. Paul could stand a _whipping_, but not a _weeping_ farewell. Many thanks for your intended present. God bless you and yours! God bless all our never-to-be-forgotten Gloucestershire friends! I can no more. Adieu! Cease not to pray for, my very dear steady old friend,

“Less than the least of all,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Six days after this, on Friday night, August 25, Whitefield held one of his last sacramental services in England. This was in the Tabernacle, near Moorfields. Nearly two thousand communicants were present![630]

On the Sunday following, he preached his last sermon in Tottenham Court Road chapel. The text was, Genesis xxviii. 12–15. A few extracts must be given. Besides the interest they possess as being among Whitefield’s _last words_ in England, they will help to illustrate his style of preaching, when his work was nearly ended.

“When we are travelling in the woods of America, we are obliged to light a fire; and that keeps off the beasts from us. I have often got up in the night, and said to them that were with me (and God forbid I should ever travel with any one, even a quarter of an hour, without speaking something of Jesus!)――‘This fire,’ said I, ‘is like the fire of God’s love, which keeps off the devil and our own lusts from hurting our souls.’

“It comforts me much, I assure you, to think that, whenever God shall call for me, angels will carry me into the bosom of Abraham; but it comforts me more to think, that, as soon as they lay hold of me, my first question to them will be, ‘Where is my _Master_? Where is my _Jesus_?’ And that, after all my tossings and tumblings here, I shall be brought to see His face at last.

“It is now high time for me to preach my own _funeral sermon_. I am going, for the thirteenth time, to cross the Atlantic. When I came from America last, my health was so bad that I took leave of all friends on the continent, from one end to the other, without the least design of returning to them again. But, to my great surprise, God has been pleased to restore to me some measure of strength; and, though I intended to give up the Orphan House into other hands, God has so ordered it, that his Grace the late Archbishop of Canterbury refused me a charter, unless I would confine it to episcopacy. I could not, in honour, comply with this, as Dissenters, and other serious people of different denominations, had contributed towards its support. I would sooner cut off my head than betray my trust. I always meant the Orphan House to be kept upon a broad bottom, for people of all denominations. I hope, by the 25th of March next, all intended alterations and additions will be completed, and a blessed provision be made for many hundreds; and a comfortable support for poor orphans and poor students. This is my only design in going. I intend to travel all along the continent. I am going in no public capacity. I am going trusting in God to bear my charges. I call heaven and earth to witness that I have never had the love of the world one quarter of an hour in my heart. I might have been rich; but now, though this chapel is built, and though I have a comfortable room to live in, I assure you I built the room at my own expense. It cost nobody but myself anything, and I shall leave it with an easy mind. I have thought of these words with pleasure, ‘I will bring thee again to this land.’ I know not whether that will be my experience; but, blessed be God! I have a better land in view. I do not look upon myself at home till I land in my Father’s house. My greatest trial is to part with those who are as dear to me as my own soul. O keep close to God, my dear London friends. I do not bid you keep close to chapel. You have always done that. I shall endeavour to keep up the word of God among you during my absence. I might have had a thousand a year out of this place, if I had chosen it. When I am gone to heaven, you will see what I have got on earth. I do not like to speak now, because it might be thought boasting.”[631]

Whitefield’s last sermon[632] in London was preached in the Tabernacle, Moorfields, at seven o’clock on Wednesday morning, August 30.[633] The text he selected was, John x. 27, 28. The sermon (if so it may be called) was earnest talk, incoherent, and, some would say, egotistic; but it was interspersed with characteristic sentences.

“Sheep,” said Whitefield, “love to be together. They don’t love to be alone. You seldom see a sheep by itself; and Christ’s people may well be compared to them in this. Oh, think some, if we had great people on our side, the King, Lords, and Commons! What then? Alas! alas! Do you think the Church of God would go on a bit the better? No! no! Religion never prospers when it has too much sunshine. Dr. Marryat was not ashamed to preach in _market language_; and I once heard him say at Pinner’s Hall, ‘God has a great dog to fetch His sheep back when they wander.’ Yes, when God’s people wander, He sends the devil after them, and suffers him to bark at them; but instead of barking them further off, he only barks them back again to the fold of Christ.”

In another part of his discourse, Whitefield, unnecessarily if not egotistically, stated that, before he was twenty-two years of age, he had the offer of two parishes, by Benson, Bishop of Gloucester; that, when he first came to London, most of the metropolitan churches were open to him; and that twelve or fourteen constables had to guard the doors of the churches where he preached. He then referred to his intention to turn the Orphan House into a College; and highly eulogised Mr. and Mrs. Dixon, his “old servants” there, and also the Messrs. Wright and Mr. Crane, whom he had sent out to execute the improvements and additions to the building. He concluded as follows:――

“This is the thirteenth time of my crossing the mighty waters. It is a little difficult at this time of life; but I delight in the cause, and God fills me with a peace that is unutterable. I expect many trials while on board. Satan always meets me there; but God, I believe, will keep me. I thank God, I have the honour of leaving everything quite well and easy at both ends of the town. If I am drowned, I will say, if I can, while I am drowning, ‘Lord, take care of my English friends!’ Some of you, I doubt not, will be gone to Christ before my return; but, though parted, it will be to meet again for ever. God grant that none who weep now at my parting, may weep at our meeting at the day of judgment! Come, sinner, come, see what it is to have eternal life! Haste! haste! haste away to the great, the glorious Shepherd! I care not what shepherds you are under, so that you are kept near the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you! The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace!”

Such was Whitefield’s final benediction upon his Tabernacle congregation, on Wednesday _morning_, August 30. In point of fact, this was a _second_ farewell sermon, in the same building; for, on the Wednesday night previous, he had addressed those of the congregation who were unable to attend a week-day morning service. His sermon, on that occasion, was, in all respects, superior to his final one. The text was, “And thy God thy glory” (Isaiah lx. 19). He then made his last London collection.

“The Tabernacle has been repaired,” said he; “and I wish to leave it unencumbered. I told my friends, I would make a collection. Remember, it is not for me, but for yourselves――for the place where you are to meet, when I am tossing on the water, and in a foreign clime. The arrears are nearly £70. I hope you will not run away. If you can say, God is my glory, you will not push one upon another, as though you would lose yourselves in a crowd, and say, Nobody sees me. Does not God Almighty see you? You must excuse me. I cannot say much more. I beg you will excuse me from a particular parting with you. Take my public farewell. I will pray for you when in the cabin; I will pray for you when tempests are about me; and this shall be my prayer, ‘O God, be Thou their God! and grant their God may be their glory!’”

A few other extracts, from Whitefield’s last sermons in London, may be welcome. They are taken from the 8vo. volume, published by Gurney immediately after Whitefield’s death.[634]

“_The Devil’s Children._――‘O,’ says one, ‘I never felt the devil.’ I am sure thou mayest feel him now. Thou art _dadda’s_ own child. Thou art speaking the very language of the devil; and he is teaching thee to deny thy own father. Graceless child of the devil, if thou hast never felt the devil’s fiery darts, it is because the devil is sure of thee. He has got thee into a damnable slumber. May the God of love awaken thee before real damnation comes!” (p. 262.)

“_Persecution._――Our suffering times will be our best times. I know I had more comfort in Moorfields and on Kennington Common, especially when rotten eggs, cats, and dogs were thrown upon me,――I had more comfort in these burning bushes than I have had when I have been in ease. I remember when I was preaching at Exeter, and a stone made my forehead bleed, the word came with double power; and a labourer, wounded at the same time by another stone, came to me and said. ‘The man gave me a wound, but Jesus healed me; I never had my bonds broken till my head was’” (p. 268).

“_Penitents._――I have reason to believe, from the notes put up at both ends of the town, that many of you have arrows of conviction stuck fast in your souls. I have taken in near two hundred, at Tottenham Court Road, within a fortnight. God is thus at work. Let the devil roar; we will go on in the name of the Lord” (p. 280).

“_Self-condemnation._――I wish I could make you all angry. I am a sad mischief-maker; but I don’t want to make you angry with one another. Some people, who profess to have grace in their hearts, seem resolved to set all God’s people at variance. They are like Samson’s foxes with firebrands in their tails, setting fire to all about them. Are any of you come from the Foundery, or any other place, to-night? I care not where you come from. I pray God you may all quarrel; that is, I want you to fall out with your own hearts” (p. 289).

“_Baptismal Controversy._――It is a strange thing how bigots can set the world on fire by throwing water at one another; and that people cannot be baptized, without shewing that the chief thing they have been baptized into, are the waters of strife. This is making sport for the devil. For my part, I do not enter into the debate about infant or adult baptism, nor yet about its mode. I believe you might as well attempt to draw two parallel lines, and bring them to meet at some certain place, as to bring these learned combatants together; for, of all disputants, religious disputants are the most obstinate and fiery” (p. 297).

“_Catholicity._――The world pretty well knows the temper of my mind, both in respect to politics and church-government. I am a professed avower of moderation. I don’t care whether you go to church or meeting. I profess to be a member of the Church of England; but, if they will not let me preach in a church, I will preach anywhere. All the world is my parish; and I will preach wherever God gives me an opportunity. You will never find me disputing about the outward appendages of religion. Don’t tell me you are a Baptist, an Independent, a Presbyterian, a Dissenter: tell me you are a Christian. That is all I want. This is the religion of heaven, and must be ours upon earth” (p. 310).

“_Whitefield’s Salary._――I intend to give you a parting word on Sunday evening, and to take my last farewell in the ensuing week, for I must have a day or two to dispatch my private business. As this place has been repaired, and I am wishful to leave everything clear before I go, a collection must be made for defraying the expense incurred. The world thinks I am very rich. A man, the other day, sent me word, that, if I did not lay £30 in a certain place, I should be killed. You yourselves, perhaps, think I get a great deal for preaching here; and, therefore, now that I am going away, I will tell you my stated allowance for preaching at the Tabernacle. I have no more from this place than £100 a year; and, yet, when I asked last night how the accounts stood, I was told there were £50 arrears. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘ungrateful as it is to me, I will make a collection, that all may be left free.’ There are not six people in this Tabernacle from whom I have had the value of a guinea from last January to the present month of August; nor have I had a guinea from all the ordinances of the place towards bearing the expenses of my voyage” (p. 372).

These _Whitefieldiana_ might easily be multiplied, but sufficient have been given to shew the familiar, and (as some will think) the objectionable style used by Whitefield at the close of his public ministry. His sermons now, as compared with those he published at the commencement of his career, were notably inferior. As compared with the sermons preached and printed by Wesley, they were a perfect contrast. They were neither scriptural expositions nor doctrinal disquisitions; but free and easy talk, intermixed with anecdotes, personal reminiscences, and quaint quotations. Matthew Henry’s Exposition was Whitefield’s favourite Commentary; and to this circumstance Wesley attributed the quaintness of Whitefield’s style. In the preface to his “Explanatory Notes upon the Old Testament,” published in 1765, Wesley, with an obvious reference to Whitefield, says:――

“I omit” (in these Notes) “abundance of Mr. Henry’s quaint sayings and lively antitheses; as, ‘God feeds His _birds_. Shall He not feed His _babes_?’ I used once to wonder, whence some, whom I greatly esteem, had so many pretty turns in preaching. But when I read Mr. Henry, my wonder ceased. I saw they were only copying after him: although probably without designing it. They generally consulted his exposition of their text, and frequently just before preaching. And, hence, little witticisms and a kind of archness insensibly stole upon them, and took the place of that strong, manly eloquence, which they would otherwise have learned from the inspired writers.”

Two of Whitefield’s _last sermons in England_ were preached at Gravesend, on Sunday, September 3, 1769. Hence the following, taken from _St. James’s Chronicle_, for September 7: “On Saturday last, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield went from town to Gravesend, where he preached, on Sunday morning, in the Methodist Tabernacle, and, in the evening, in the Market Place.” Whitefield himself writes:――

“Sunday, September 3. Preached this morning at the Methodist Tabernacle, from John xii. 32. The congregation was not very large, but God gave me great freedom of speech. In the afternoon, I preached in the Market Place, from Genesis iii. 13, to a much larger, but not more devout auditory. In the outskirts, some were a little noisy, but most were very attentive, and I was enabled to lift up my voice like a trumpet. The evening was spent, as the night before, with my Christian friends from London.”

“Monday, September 4. Had my dear Christian friends on board to breakfast with me this morning. Conversation was sweet, but parting bitter. However, I was helped to bear up; and, after their departure the Divine Presence made up the loss of all.”[635]

_SEVENTH VISIT TO AMERICA._

SEPTEMBER, 1769, TO SEPTEMBER, 1770.

WHITEFIELD embarked for America on September 4th; but it was not until the end of the month that he looked his last look on glorious old England. His detentions were annoying; but they gave him the opportunity of writing last letters to his friends.[636] Extracts from these will be welcome.

To his old assistant, Thomas Adams, of Rodborough, he wrote:――

“On board the _Friendship_, (Captain Ball,) September 5, 1769. Six in the morning. My very dear Tommy, I could not write you whilst ashore, but drop you a few lines now I am come on board. Just now we have taken up the anchor; and I trust my anchor is within the veil. I have not been in better spirits for some years; and I am persuaded this voyage will be for the Redeemer’s glory, and the welfare of precious souls. Our parting solemnities have been exceedingly awful. O England! England! God preserve thee from every threatening storm!”

To a lady and her daughter, at Gravesend, who had shewn him kindness, he thus expressed his thanks:――

“September 6, 1769. God bless and reward you and your daughter! Gravesend Bethels, I trust, will not easily be forgotten. I am sure you do not forget to pray for a very worthless worm. Jesus, the never-failing, ever-loving, altogether-lovely Jesus, comforts me.”

To other friends Whitefield wrote:――

“September 7, 1769. I am comforted on every side. Fine accommodations. A civil captain and passengers. All willing to attend on divine worship. Praise the Lord, O my soul! I am brave as to my bodily health. Grace! Grace!”

“September 8, 1769. O these partings! Without Divine support, they would be intolerable. But with that, we can do even this and everything besides, which we are called to do or suffer. Everything turns out beyond expectation, as to bodily health, ship accommodation, and civility of passengers. I only want somebody with more brains about me. O the privilege and honour of leaving a little all, for the great unfailing All, the ever-blessed God!”

To his faithful friend, Mr. Robert Keen, Whitefield addressed the following:――

“September 8, 1769. Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Hitherto the Lord helps. We have had contrary winds to the Downs, but not violent. The young soldiers are not yet sick, though the ship has some motion. I seem to be now, as I was thirty years ago. Praise the Lord, O my soul! The care of my annual pensioners, with all money matters, I must beg you to take wholly into your hands.”

His letter to Wesley shall be given at full length:――

“THE DOWNS, ON BOARD THE ‘FRIENDSHIP,’ _September 12, 1769_.

“REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR,――What hath God wrought _for_ us, _in_ us, _by_ us! I sailed out of these Downs almost thirty-three years ago. O the height, the depth, the length, the breadth of Thy love, O God! Surely it passeth knowledge. Help, help us, O heavenly Father, to adore what we cannot fully comprehend! I am glad to hear that you had such a Pentecost season at the College.[637] One would hope that these are earnests of good things to come, and that our Lord will not remove His candlestick from among us. Duty is ours. Future things belong to Him, who always did, and always will, order all things well.

‘Leave to His sovereign sway, To choose and to command; So shall we wondering own His way, How wise, how strong His hand.’

“Mutual Christian love will not permit you, and those in connection with you, to forget a willing pilgrim, going now across the Atlantic for the thirteenth time. At present, I am kept from staggering; being fully persuaded that this voyage will be for the Redeemer’s glory, and the welfare of precious and immortal souls. O to be kept from flagging in the latter stages of our road! _Ipse, Deo volente, sequar, etsi non passibus aequis._ Cordial love and respect await your brother, and all that are so kind as to enquire after, and be concerned for,

“Reverend and very dear sir,

“Less than the least of all,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”[638]

It is a remarkable fact that, at the very time Whitefield was making his last voyage to America, Richard Boardman and Joseph Pilmoor, Wesley’s first two missionaries to the same field of labour, were being borne, through the same storms and tempests, to their destination. Whitefield’s work in America was nearly ended; but he had prepared the way for Wesley’s preachers, and for the founding of a church, now the largest on that immense continent.

Three days before Whitefield wrote to Wesley, he and his fellow-voyagers encountered a tremendous storm. One ship, in their immediate neighbourhood, was wrecked; and, when opposite to Deal, the _Friendship_ became _wind-bound_, and was detained three weeks. This gave Whitefield an opportunity to stand once more on the shores of his native land. It so happened, that, just as the ship arrived at Deal, the Rev. Dr. Gibbons, the eminent tutor of the Dissenting Academy at Mile End, and the Rev. Mr. Bradbury, of Ramsgate, came to Deal for the purpose of ordaining a young Dissenting minister. Having ascertained that the _Friendship_ was lying in the Downs, Gibbons and Bradbury went on board, and so urgently desired Whitefield to come on shore, that, contrary to his intention, he left the ship, and attended the ordination services. Mr. Bradbury prevailed upon him to go to Ramsgate, where he preached on Friday and Saturday, September 15 and 16. These were Whitefield’s _last sermons_ in England.[639] They are referred to in the following extracts from Whitefield’s letters. Writing to Mr. Robert Keen, he said:――

“Deal, September 14, 1769. For wise reasons, we are detained in the Downs. Who knows but it may be to awaken some souls at Deal? A peculiar providence brought me here. Warm-hearted Dr. Gibbons came on board to pay me a visit, was sick, lay in my state-room, and learnt experimentally to pray for those who occupy their business in great waters. Mr. Bradbury, of Ramsgate, and young Mr. G――――ner, who was ordained yesterday, followed after. At their request, I came ashore yesterday morning. The ordination was very solemn. I have not been more affected under any public ministrations a great while. At the request of many, I preached in the evening to a crowded auditory; and spent the remainder of the night in godly conversation. If the wind continues contrary, perhaps I may make an elopement to Margate. I wish I could see my sermon that is printed. If I die, let not the Hymn Book be cashiered. I am glad to hear of the _Amens_ at Tottenham Court. The ship that was lost has been taken up and brought in. The passengers escaped in the boat. What are we that we should be preserved? Grace! Grace!”

In another letter to Mr. Keen, Whitefield wrote:――

“Deal, September 15, 1769. Mr. Bradbury put me under an arrest, and is carrying me away to Ramsgate. I hope to arrest some poor runaway bankrupts for the Captain of our Salvation. For Christ’s sake, let all means be used to keep up and increase the Tottenham Court and Tabernacle Societies.”

In a third letter to the same gentleman, is the following:――

“Deal, September 17, 1769. I have just returned from Ramsgate, and am going on board. Never did any creature shew greater civility, heartiness, politeness, and generosity than Mr. Bradbury. His friends were hearty too. I preached on Friday and Saturday. It was hard parting this morning. I expect a long passage, but all is well. I could not go to Margate.”

Whitefield’s congregations at Ramsgate were not large, but attentive, and the behaviour of the people delighted him.[640] Early on Sunday morning, he hastened back to Deal, went on board, and preached in the afternoon; but it was not until the Tuesday following that the ship again set sail, and even then the attempt to proceed turned out a failure. Whitefield wrote:――

“Monday, September 25. Weighed anchor last Tuesday morning, with a small favourable gale and fine weather. So many ships, which had lain in the Downs, moving at the same time, and gently gliding by us, together with the prospect of the adjacent shore, made a most agreeable scene. But it proved a very transient one. By the time we got to Fairlee, the wind backened, clouds gathered, very violent gales succeeded, and, for several days, we were so tossed, that, after coming over against Brighton, the captain turned back (as did many other ships), and anchored off New Romney and Dungenness. Lord, in Thine own time, Thou wilt give the winds a commission to carry us forward towards our desired port.”[641]

It was not until nine weeks after this that Whitefield landed in America. His travelling companions were Cornelius Winter and Mr. Smith. His time was chiefly spent in writing letters, composing sermons, and reading the History of England. Whenever the weather would permit, he preached, with his accustomed energy, to the crew and passengers, all of whom treated him with profound respect. Sometimes he suffered great languor, and depression;[642] but, upon the whole, he was, at the end of his voyage, in better health than he had been for years past.[643] Arriving at Charleston on Thursday, November 30, he commenced preaching on the following afternoon, and, for ten days, continued to delight and profit large congregations. Mr. Wright, his manager at Bethesda, met him; and, on Sunday, December 10, he and his party set sail for Georgia. Hence the following, addressed to Mr. Keen:――

“Charleston, December 9, 1769. So much company crowds in, that, together with my preaching every other day, etc., I have scarce the least leisure. To-morrow, I set off by water to Georgia, the roads being almost impassable by land. Mr. Wright is come to go with me, and acquaints me that all is in great forwardness at Bethesda.”

The voyage to Savannah was made in an open boat. Cornelius Winter writes:――“We had a pleasant passage through the Sounds, and frequently went on shore, and regaled ourselves in the woods. The simplicity of the negroes, who rowed us, was very diverting. We stopped at a plantation called Port Royal, where we were most kindly refreshed and entertained; and safely arrived at Savannah on December 14. Mr. Whitefield was cheerful and easy, and seemed to have lost a weight of care.”

At the beginning of the year 1770, Whitefield was at his beloved Bethesda, and wrote:――

“Bethesda, January 11, 1770. Everything here exceeds my most sanguine expectations. I am almost tempted to say, ‘It is good to be here.’ But all must give way to gospel-ranging. Divine employ!

‘For this let men revile my name, I’d shun no cross, I’d fear no shame.’

“I hope London friends meet with enough of this. It is bad, more than bad, when the offence of the cross ceaseth. This cannot be, till we cease to be crucified to the world, and the world ceases to be crucified unto us: and, when that is the case, things are very bad.”

Four days after this, Whitefield wrote his last letter to Charles Wesley, a letter breathing with the love of a warm-hearted friendship of more than thirty years’ continuance. It shall be given in its entirety:――

“BETHESDA, _January 15, 1770_.

“MY VERY DEAR OLD FRIEND,――I wrote to your honoured brother from on board ship. Since then what wonders have I seen! what innumerable mercies have I received!――a long, trying, but, I humbly hope, profitable passage.

“My poor, feeble labours were owned in Charleston; and everything is more than promising in Georgia. The increase of this once so much despised colony is indescribable. Good, I trust, is doing at Savannah, and Bethesda is like to blossom as the rose; the situation most delightful, very salubrious, and everything excellently adapted for the intended purpose. All admire the goodness, strength, and beauty of the late improvements. In a few months, the intended plan, I hope, will be completed, and a solid, lasting foundation laid for the support and education of many as yet unborn. Nothing is wanted but a judicious and moderately learned single-hearted master. Surely the glorious Emmanuel will point out one in His own due time. Do pray. I am sure, prayers put up above thirty years ago are now being answered; and, I am persuaded, we shall yet see greater things than these. Who would have thought that such a worthless creature as this letter-writer should live to be fifty-five years old? I can only sit down and cry, ‘What hath God wrought!’ My bodily health is much improved, and my soul is on the wing for another gospel range.

“You and all your connexions will not cease to pray for me. I would fain begin to do something for my God. My heart’s desire and incessant prayer to the God of my life is, that the word of the Lord may prosper in your hands, and run and be glorified more and more. O to work while it is day! O to be found on the full stretch for Him who was stretched, and who groaned, and bled, and died for us! Unutterable love! I am lost in wonder and amazement, and, therefore, although with regret, I must hasten to subscribe myself, my very dear sir, less than the least of all,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

“P.S. Cordial love awaits your whole self, and enquiring friends, and all that love the ever-living, altogether-lovely Jesus in sincerity. I hope to write to your honoured brother soon. Brethren, pray for us.”[644]

Sunday, January 28, was a remarkable day in the history of Bethesda. James Wright, Esq. (created a baronet in 1772), Governor of Georgia, the Council of Georgia, the House of Assembly with their president, James Habersham, Esq., and a large number of colonists, assembled at Whitefield’s Orphan House, for the purpose indicated in the following extract from the Journals of the House of Assembly:――

“COMMONS HOUSE OF ASSEMBLY, _January 29, 1770_.

“Mr. Speaker reported, that he, with the House, having waited on the Reverend Mr. Whitefield, in consequence of his invitation, at the Orphan House Academy, heard him preach a very suitable and pious sermon on the occasion; and, with great pleasure, observed the promising appearance of improvement towards the good purposes intended, and the decency and propriety of behaviour of the several residents there; and were sensibly affected, when they saw the happy success which has attended Mr. Whitefield’s indefatigable zeal for promoting the welfare of the province in general, and the Orphan House in particular.

“Ordered, that this report be printed in the _Gazette_.

“JOHN SIMPSON, Clerk.”

The article printed in the _Georgia Gazette_, and which Gillies gives in his “Life of Whitefield,” states, among other things, that “the two additional wings for apartments for students were a hundred and fifty feet each in length, and were in a state of forwardness.” Instead, however, of inserting here the official announcement of the Georgian Legislature, a letter, written the day after the rulers of the Province assembled at Bethesda, is introduced, as containing the same facts, but in greater detail. It was addressed to a friend in London:――

“SAVANNAH, _January 29, 1770, Monday morning_.

“You would have been pleased to have been at the Orphan House Academy yesterday, where his Excellency our Governor, the Hon. the Council, and the Commons House of Assembly, were agreeably entertained in consequence of an invitation given them by the Founder, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield. Everything was conducted with much decency and order. His Excellency was received at the bottom door by the officers, orphans, and other domestics; and was then escorted upstairs by Mr. Whitefield, through a gallery near sixty feet long, into a large room thirty feet in length, with six windows, canvassed and made ready for blue paper hangings. In a room of the same extent over against it (intended for the library, and in which a considerable number of books is already deposited), was prepared, on a long table and adjacent sideboard, cold tongue, ham, tea, etc., for the gentlemen to refresh themselves with, after their ten miles’ ride, from Savannah. Between eleven and twelve, the bell rung for public worship. A procession was formed in the long gallery, and moved forward to the chapel in the following order: The orphans, in round, black, flat caps, and black gowns; the chaplain in his gown; the workmen and assistants; the steward and superintendent, with their white wands; the clerk of the chapel; the Founder in his university square cap, with the Rev. Mr. Ellington, now missionary at Augusta, and designed to be chaplain, and teacher of English and elocution at the Orphan House Academy; then his Excellency, followed by his Council and the Chief Justice; then the Speaker, succeeded by the other Commons, and a number of gentlemen and strangers, among whom were the Governor’s two sons. As the procession moved along, the clerk of the chapel began a doxology, the singing of which was harmonious and striking. At the chapel door, the orphans, officers, and domestics broke into ranks on the right hand and the left; and, as his Excellency with his train went up the chapel stairs, the orphans sang,――

‘Live by heaven and earth ador’d, Three in One, and One in Three, Holy, holy, holy Lord, All glory be to Thee!’

“The Governor being seated fronting the chapel door, in a great chair, with tapestry hangings behind, and a covered desk before him, divine service began. Mr. Ellington read prayers; and then Mr. Whitefield enlarged, for about three-quarters of an hour, on ‘The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation of this house; his hands shall also finish it; and thou shalt know that the Lord of hosts hath sent me unto you. For who hath despised the day of small things?’ (Zech. iv. 9, 10.) His whole paraphrase was pertinent and affecting; but when he came to give us an account of the small beginnings of our now flourishing Province, of which he was an eye-witness; and also of the trials and hardships, obloquy and contempt, he had undergone in maintaining, for so long a term, such a numerous orphan family, in such a desert; as well as the remarkable supports and providences that had attended him in laying the foundation, and raising the superstructure of the Orphan House Academy to its present promising height; especially when he came to address his Excellency, the Council, Speaker, etc., etc.,――the whole auditory seemed to be deeply affected; and his own heart seemed too big to speak, and unable to give itself proper vent. Sermon being ended, all returned in the same manner as they came, the clerk, orphans, etc., singing as they walked,――

‘This God is the God we adore, Our faithful, unchangeable friend, Whose love is as large as His power, And neither knows measure nor end. ’Tis Jesus, the first and the last, Whose Spirit shall guide us safe home; We’ll praise Him for all that is past, And trust Him for all that’s to come.’

“In about half an hour the bell rung for dinner. All went down, in order, to a large dining room, intended hereafter for academical exercises. It is forty feet long, with eight sash windows, and the Founder’s picture, at full length, at the upper end. Two tables, the one long and the other oval, were well covered with a proper variety of plain and well-dressed dishes. After dinner, two toasts were given by his Excellency, viz., ‘The King,’ and ‘Success to the Orphan House College.’ The whole company broke up, and went away, in their several carriages, about five in the afternoon. One thing gave me particular pleasure: when the Governor drank ‘The King,’ Mr. Whitefield added, ‘And let all the people say, Amen;’ upon which a loud amen was repeated from one end of the room to the other.

“Upon the whole, all seemed most surprisingly pleased with their spiritual and bodily entertainment, as well as with the elegance, firmness, and dispatch of the late repairs, and additional buildings and improvements. The situation is most salubrious and inviting; the air free and open; and a salt-water creek, which will bring up a large schooner east and west, ebbs and flows at a small distance from the house. I suppose there might be above twenty carriages, besides horsemen; and there would have been as many more, had not the invitation been confined, by way of compliment, to the Governor, Council, and Commons House of Assembly. A strange sight this, in the once despised, deserted Province of Georgia, where, as Mr. Whitefield told us in his discourse, about thirty years ago, scarce any person of property lived; and lands, which now sell for £3 an acre, might have been purchased almost for threepence.

“But I must have done. Excuse me for being so prolix. Yesterday’s scene so lies before me, that, to tell you the truth, I wanted to vent my feelings. If Mr. Whitefield intends, as I am informed he does, to give a more general invitation to the gentlemen in and about Savannah, I will endeavour to be amongst them. Accept this hasty scribble (as I hear the ship sails to-morrow), as a mark of my being, dear sir, your obliged friend and servant.”

The “more general invitation,” mentioned at the close of this long letter, was issued. Hence the following extract from the _Georgia Gazette_:――

“Bethesda, January 29, 1770. A more particular application being impracticable, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield takes this method of begging the favour of the company of as many gentlemen and captains of ships in and about Savannah, as it may suit to accept this invitation, to dine with him at the Orphan House Academy next Sunday. Public service to begin exactly at eleven o’clock.

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Of this second assembly at Bethesda, no record now exists. Bethesda was ten miles from Savannah, a considerable distance for the rulers and legislators of Georgia to travel. They all went by Whitefield’s own invitation. They gratefully acknowledged the great service which he had rendered, not only to the Orphan House in particular, but to Georgia in general. They had “a handsome and plentiful dinner.” This could hardly be avoided, considering the distance the company had travelled; but the entertainment would have been more appropriate on a weekday than on a Sunday.[645] The new buildings were in a state of forwardness, and were tasteful, and well executed. Whitefield’s sermon was “suitable and pious.” And the behaviour of the Orphan House inmates was decent and proper. Perhaps, the official reports of the Assembly and of the _Gazette_ of Georgia were, in some respects, more eulogistic than they should have been. At all events, Whitefield’s _Sunday_ entertainment, his orphans, and Mr. Wright, the architect and builder of his additional accommodations, were unfavourably regarded by certain of his friends in England. Berridge, often his honest and hearty assistant at Tottenham Court Road, in a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, dated May, 1771, observed:――

“Cornelius Winter, who went to Georgia with Mr. Whitefield, says there are but few orphans in the House, and no symptoms of grace in any. Mr. Wright has the management of the whole house, and seems neither to have zeal nor grace enough for the work. Mr. Whitefield made a sumptuous feast on a Sunday, for all the better-dressed people, intending to renew this every year by way of commemoration; but I hope you will put a stop to this _guttling_ business. I wish the Orphan House may not soon become a mere blue-coat hospital and grammar school. If Mr. Fletcher would go to Georgia for a year, things might be on a better footing. I never could relish Mr. Wright; he seems a mere cabinet-maker, without godliness.”[646]

Berridge was dissatisfied; but it is only fair to add, that, when he thus wrote to Lady Huntingdon, he was looking at things through the spectacles of young Cornelius Winter, and that Winter was disappointed and soured because Whitefield had not done all he wished in endeavouring to obtain for him episcopal ordination.

Whitefield’s sermon on this memorable Sunday was one of his best; but want of space prevents the insertion of lengthened extracts. He expressed the opinion that the colonies in America were likely to become “one of the most opulent and powerful empires in the world.” He told his congregation that, when he first came to Georgia, “the whole country almost was left desolate, and the metropolis, Savannah, was but like a cottage in a vineyard, or as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers.” He reminded them that it had been reported to the House of Commons, that “the very existence of the colony was, in a great measure, if not totally, owing to the building and supporting of the Orphan House.” One peculiar feature of his sermon was his addressing personally and severally the different sections of his congregation. “I dare not conclude,” said he, “without offering to your Excellency our pepper-corn of acknowledgment for the countenance you have always shewn Bethesda, and for the honour you did us last year in laying the first brick of yonder wings: in thus doing, you have honoured Bethesda’s God.” Then turning to his old friend Habersham, now President of the Upper House of Assembly, Whitefield said: “Next to his Excellency, my dear Mr. President, I must beg your acceptance both of thanks and congratulation. For you were not only my dear familiar friend, and first fellow-traveller in this infant province, but you were directed by Providence to this spot; you laid the second brick of this house; and watched, prayed, and wrought for the family’s good. You were a witness of innumerable trials, and were the partner of my joys and griefs. You will have now the pleasure of seeing the Orphan House a fruitful bough, its branches running over the wall. For this, no doubt, God has smiled upon and blessed you, in a manner we could not expect, much less design. May He continue to bless you with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ Jesus! Look to the rock from whence you have been hewn; and may your children never be ashamed that their father married a real Christian, who was born again under this roof!” Whitefield then proceeded to address the “Gentlemen of his Majesty’s Council,” and the “Speaker and Members of the General Assembly,” and, finally, his “Reverend Brethren,” and “the inhabitants of the colony” in general.

After his sermon, a speech was delivered by one of Whitefield’s orphans;[647] then came the “handsome and plentiful dinner;” and so ended the proceedings of the memorable Sunday at Bethesda, January 28, 1770.

Five days after this, Whitefield and his manager, Thomas Dixon, appeared “before the Honourable Noble Jones, Esq., Senior Assistant Justice for the Province of Georgia,” for the purpose of being sworn that the Orphan-house accounts, from February 9, 1765, to the present date, and which amounted on the debit side to £2,548 17s. 0½d., and on the credit side to £1,313 19s. 6¾d., “contained, to the best of their knowledge, a just and true statement of all the monies received and expended during this period. The accounts thus presented were handed to James Edward Powell and Grey Elliot, members of his Majesty’s Council for Georgia, who, after carefully examining them, swore, before Noble Jones, that they were perfectly correct; and added:――

“We find that the whole of the sums expended on account of the Orphan House amount to £15,404 2s. 5¼d. sterling, and the whole receipts to £12,104 19s. 1½d.; and that the benefactions of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield to the Orphan House have, at different times, amounted to £3, 299 3s. 3¾d. sterling; and that no charge whatever has been made by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, either for travelling charges or otherwise, nor any other charge for the salary of any person whatever, employed or concerned in the management of the said Orphan House; and that clear and distinct vouchers for the whole amount of the sums expended have been laid before us, except for four articles, amounting together to £40 1s. 1d., being monies expended and paid by the said Mr. Whitefield on several occasions, the particulars of which are laid before us, but no receipt had been by him taken for the same.

“JAMES EDWARD POWELL. “GREY ELLIOT.

“Sworn this second day of February, 1770, before me; in justification whereof, I have caused the seal of the general Court to be affixed.

“N. JONES.”

This is a notable document. The Orphan House had been built thirty years, and had been continuously maintained. The sum of £15,404 had been expended, and, excepting £40, vouchers for the whole of this amount were now produced. Not a penny had been paid out of the general fund to either Whitefield of any of his managers; and Whitefield himself, out of his own private means, had contributed £3299 3s. 3¾d.! As a curiosity, the following general balance sheet of receipts and expenditure, from December, 1738, to February, 1770, taken from the Orphan House’s authenticated book, may interest the reader:――

RECEIPTS. £ s. d.

Benefactions and Collections in England 4471 0 6¼ Ditto, in Scotland 978 2 5½ Ditto, in Georgia 275 5 7½ Ditto, in Charleston 567 1 9¾ Ditto, in Beaufort 16 10 7 Ditto, in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, etc. 1809 6 10½ Ditto, in Lisbon 3 12 0 Cash received for payment of boarders, cocoons, rice, lumber, indigo, provisions, etc. 3983 19 3 The Rev. Mr. Whitefield’s benefactions, being the sums expended more than received 3299 3 3¾ ────────────── £15,404 2 5¼ ══════════════

EXPENDITURE. £ s. d.

To April 16, 1746—Sundries, per audit 5511 17 9¼ To Feb. 25, 1752, do. 2026 13 7½ To Feb. 19, 1755, do. 1966 18 2 To Feb. 9, 1765, do. 3349 15 10 To Feb. 2, 1770, do. 2548 17 0½ ────────────── £15,404 2 5¼ ══════════════

During the thirty years that had elapsed since the Orphan House was built, 140 boys and 43 girls had been “clothed, educated, maintained, and suitably provided for;” and, besides these, “many other poor children had been _occasionally_ received, educated, and maintained.”

The Orphan House family now consisted of _whites_: Managers and carpenters, 9; boys, 15; girl, 1; total, 25. And of _negroes_: Men 24, of whom 16 were fit for any labour; 7 old, but capable of some service; and 1 so old as to be useless; women, 11, of whom 8 were capable of the usual labour; 2 old, but able to assist in the business of the house; and 1 almost incapable of any service; children, 15, all employed as far as their strength permitted; total, 50.

The lands granted to Whitefield, in _trust_ for his Orphan House, were a tract of 500 acres, called Bethesda, on which the Orphan House was erected; another of 419 acres, called Nazareth; a third of 419 acres, called Ephratah, on which were the principal planting improvements; and a fourth of 500 acres, adjoining Ephratah, and called Huntingdon. Besides these, three other tracts, amounting to 2,000 acres, and contiguous to the former, had been granted to him, _in trust_, for the endowment of his College.

As one object of Whitefield’s present visit to America was to start his College, or, to speak more properly, his Academy, he drew up a set of Rules, to be observed by the inmates of his establishment, of which the following is a summary:――

1. Morning Prayer was to begin constantly, every day in the year, at half-past five o’clock. Evening Prayer every night. On every Sunday, besides a short prayer with a psalm or hymn early in the morning, full Prayers and a Sermon at ten; the same at three in the afternoon; a short prayer and a hymn at half-past six in the evening; the first Lesson to be read at dinner; the same at supper; and a short hymn at each meal.

2. Great care to be taken, that all read, write, speak, and behave properly.

3. All the statutes to be read to every student at admission, and thrice a year, at Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas, publicly.

4. No cards, dice, or gaming of any kind to be allowed, on pain of expulsion; and no music but divine psalmody.

5. All to be taught _Bland’s Manual Exercise_, but not bound to attend on musters or other exercises, unless on account of an alarm.

6. No one to be suffered to run into arrears for above half a year; and a certain amount of caution money to be paid.

7. All students to furnish their own rooms, and to sleep on mattresses.

8. No one suffered to go to Savannah without leave.

9. Breakfast at seven; dinner at twelve; supper at six, through all the year; and the utmost neatness to be observed and maintained in every room.

10. All orphans and students to learn and repeat the Thirty-nine Articles.

11. The Homilies[648] to be read publicly, every year, by the students in rotation.

12. All to be thoroughly instructed in the history of Georgia, and the constitution of England, before being taught the history of Greece and Rome.

13. The young negro boys to be baptized and taught to read; the young negro girls to be taught to work with the needle.

14. The following divinity books to be read:――The Commentaries of Henry, Doddridge, Guise, Burkit, and Clarke; Wilson’s Dictionary, Professor Francke’s Manuductio, Doddridge’s Rise and Progress, Boston’s Fourfold State, and his book on the Covenant, Jenks on the Righteousness of Christ, and also his Meditations, Hervey’s Theron and Aspasio, Hall’s Contemplations, and other works, Edwards’s Preacher, Trapp on the Old and New Testament, Poole’s Annotations, Warner’s Tracts, Leighton’s Comment on the first Epistle of Peter, Pearson on the Creed, Edwards’s Veritas Redux, and Owen and Bunyan’s Works.

It is a singular fact, that, except reading, writing, history, and divinity, Whitefield entirely omits the education to be given. To prevent a recurrence to the subject, the future history of Whitefield’s Orphanage and Academy may here be added to the foregoing details.

By his will, Whitefield bequeathed the Orphan House and other buildings, together with all the lands already mentioned, and also all his negroes, to the Countess of Huntingdon, for the same purposes as he himself held them. The Governor and Council of Georgia had expected the property to be placed under their direction, and considerable disappointment was felt. Most, however, of the religious people in the colony were satisfied; and a letter from her ladyship to the Governor and Council reconciled even many of them to the disposition in her favour.[649] The Countess determined to send from England a president and master for the Orphan House, and, at the same time, to dispatch a number of her Trevecca students as missionaries to the Indians and to the people in the back settlements. The students, summoned from all parts of the kingdom, assembled at Trevecca, on the 9th of October, 1772. The Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley, the Rev. Mr. Glascott, the Rev. John Crosse, afterwards vicar of Bradford, and the Rev. Mr. Piercy, rector of St. Paul’s, Charleston, met them. Public services were held daily for a fortnight. At the end of the month, Piercy and the missionaries embarked for Georgia. Piercy was to be the president of the Orphan House, the Rev. Mr. Crosse was to be the master, and the Countess’s own housekeeper was sent to regulate the household matters according to her ladyship’s direction.[650] The missionaries were welcomed by the people, and, for a brief period, affairs at the Orphan House seemed to prosper.

In the month of June, 1773, this historic edifice was burnt. Francis Asbury, one of Wesley’s missionaries in America wrote:――

“New York, July 2, 1773. Arrived the sorrowful news of the destruction of Mr. Whitefield’s Orphan House. As there was no fire in the house, it was supposed to have been set on fire by lightning. The fire broke out about seven or eight o’clock at night, and consumed the whole building, except the two wings.”[651]

Lady Huntingdon lamented the loss, but wrote: “I could never wish it for one moment to be otherwise, believing the Lord removed it out of our way, and that it was not somehow on that right foundation of simplicity and faith our work must stand upon.”[652] Honest Berridge, of Everton, entertained the same opinion. “It excites in me no surprise,” said he, “that the Orphan House is burnt. It was originally intended for orphans, and as such was a laudable design; but it ceased to be an Orphan House, in order to become a lumber-house for human learning; and God has cast a brand of His displeasure upon it. But how gracious the Lord has been to Mr. Whitefield, in preserving it during his lifetime.”[653]

This is not the place to recite the annoyances and troubles which Whitefield’s bequest entailed on the Countess of Huntingdon. Suffice it to say, that, in 1782, during the war with England, the Americans confiscated the Orphan House estates;[654] and that, in 1800, when the place was visited by a Methodist preacher, the two unburnt wings were fast decaying. In one of them, lived a small family of whites; in part of the other, a family of negro slaves, the remainder being converted into a stable. The brick walls which formerly enclosed the whole of the Orphan House premises were levelled with the ground, and, in many places, the foundations were ploughed up. There was no school of any kind; and the whole was rented for thirty dollars per annum.[655]

“The ruins,” writes Dr. Stevens, “the only memorial of a great and benevolent scheme, were also the memento of the great Methodist evangelist. If the ostensible design of the institution had failed, it had accomplished a greater result which was destined never to fail; for it had been the centre of American attraction to its founder, had prompted his thirteen passages across the Atlantic, and had thus led to those extraordinary travels and labours, from Georgia to Maine, which quickened with spiritual life the Protestantism of the continent, and opened the career of Methodism in the western hemisphere.”[656]

We return to Whitefield’s history. After the auditing of his Orphan House accounts, he went to Charleston, where he remained about a month. He was now in better health than he had been for many years, and was “enabled to preach almost every day.” The establishment of his College, however, was still a great anxiety. In a letter to Mr. Keen, dated “Charleston, February 10, 1770,” he wrote:――

“I have, more than once, conversed with the Governor of Georgia, in the most explicit manner, concerning an Act of the Assembly for the establishment of the intended Orphan House College. He most readily consents. I have shewn him a draught, which he much approves of; and all will be finished on my return from the northward. Meanwhile, the buildings will be carried on. Since my being in Charleston, I have shewn the draught to some persons of great eminence and influence. They highly approve of it, and willingly consent to be some of the wardens: near twenty are to be of Georgia, about six of this place, one of Philadelphia, one of New York, one of Boston, three of Edinburgh, two of Glasgow, and six of London. Those of Georgia and South Carolina are to be qualified; the others to be only honorary corresponding wardens.”

In the same month, Wesley wrote to Whitefield; and, because the letter happened to be the last he addressed to his old friend, and because it expressed Wesley’s opinions respecting the intended College, it shall be given at full length.

“LEWISHAM, _February 21, 1770_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,――Mr. Keen informed me some time since of your safe arrival in Carolina; of which, indeed, I could not doubt for a moment, notwithstanding the idle report of your being cast away, which was so current in London. I trust our Lord has more work for you to do in Europe, as well as in America. And who knows, but, before your return to England, I may pay another visit to the New World? I have been strongly solicited by several of our friends in New York and Philadelphia. They urge many reasons, some of which appear to be of considerable weight; and my age is no objection at all; for, I bless God, my health is not barely as good, but abundantly better in several respects, than when I was five-and-twenty. But there are so many reasons on the other side, that as yet I can determine nothing: so I must wait for further light. Here I am: let the Lord do with me as seemeth Him good. For the present, I must beg of you to supply my lack of service, by encouraging our preachers as you judge best, who are as yet comparatively young and inexperienced;[657] by giving them such advices as you think proper; and, above all, by exhorting them, not only to love one another, but, if it be possible, as much as lies in them, to live peaceably with all men.

“Some time ago, since you went hence, I heard a circumstance which gave me a good deal of concern; namely, that the College or Academy in Georgia had swallowed up the Orphan House. Shall I give my judgment without being asked? Methinks, friendship requires I should. Are there not, then, two points which come in view――a point of mercy, and a point of justice? With regard to the former, may it not be inquired, Can anything on earth be a greater charity, than to bring up orphans? What is a college or an academy compared to this? unless you could have such a college as perhaps is not upon earth. I know the value of learning, and am more in danger of prizing it too much, than too little. But, still, I cannot place the giving it to five hundred students, on a level with saving the bodies, if not the souls too, of five hundred orphans. But let us pass from the point of mercy to that of justice. You had land given, and collected money, for an Orphan House. Are you at liberty to apply this to any other purpose,――at least, while there are any orphans in Georgia left? I just touch upon this, though it is an important point, and leave it to your own consideration, whether part of it, at least, might not properly be applied to carry on the original design.

“In speaking thus freely, I have given you a fresh proof of the sincerity with which I am your ever affectionate friend and brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[658]

Wesley’s letter, though it may lack Whitefield’s gushing lovingness, is the letter of a fond and faithful friend, and fully proves that, to the last, the two great evangelists were not rivals, as some have represented them, but affectionate and confiding fellow-workers. Whitefield dearly loved Wesley, and by his actions shewed he did; and Wesley equally felt for Whitefield warm affection. “In every place,” said he, after Whitefield’s death, “I wish to shew all possible respect to the memory of that great and good man.”[659] “I believe he was highly favoured of God; yea, that he was one of the most eminent ministers that has appeared in England, or perhaps in the world, during the present century.”[660]

Early in the month of March, Whitefield returned to Bethesda, where he continued till near the end of April. In a letter to Mr. Keen, he wrote:――

“SAVANNAH, _March 11, 1770_.

“MY VERY DEAR WORTHY FRIEND,――Blessed be God, the good wine seemed to be kept till the last at Charleston. Last Thursday” (March 8) “I returned, and found all well at Bethesda. I am come to town to preach this morning, though somewhat fatigued with being on the water three nights. Upon the whole, however, I am better in health than I have been for many years. Praise the Lord, O my soul!”[661]

Further extracts from letters to Mr. Keen will pourtray Whitefield’s views and feelings at this period of his history. He was happy in a luxuriant wilderness.

“Bethesda, April 6, 1770. How glad would many be to see our _Goshen_, our _Bethel_, our _Bethesda_! Never did I enjoy such domestic peace, comfort, and joy, during my whole pilgrimage. It is unspeakable, it is full of glory. Peace, unutterable peace, attends our paths, and a pleasing prospect of increasing prosperity is continually rising to our view. I have lately taken six poor children, and purpose to add greatly to their number. Dear Mr. Dixon and his wife are to sail next month for Portsmouth. We part with great respect. Fain would I retain such an old, tried, disinterested friend, in the service of the sanctuary, and near my person; but what scheme to pursue I know not, being so uncertain as to the path I shall be called to take. A few months will determine: perhaps a few weeks.”

“Bethesda, April 16, 1770. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! All is well, all more than well here! Never, never did I enjoy such domestic peace and happiness. I have taken in about ten orphans. Prizes! prizes! Hallelujah! Join, join in praising Him whose mercy endureth for ever! If possible, I shall write a line to the Welsh brethren. They have indeed sustained a loss in the death of Mr. Howell Davies. God sanctify it! Surely my turn will come by-and-by.”[662]

“Bethesda, April 20, 1770. We enjoy a little heaven upon earth here. With regret, I go northward, as far as Philadelphia at least, next Monday. Everything concurs to shew me, that Bethesda affairs must go on, as yet, in their old channel. A few months may open strange scenes. O for a spirit of love and moderation on all sides, and on both sides of the water! In all probability, I shall not return hither till November. Was ever man blessed with such a set of skillful, peaceful, laborious helpers! O Bethesda, my Bethel, my Peniel! My happiness is inconceivable. Nine or ten orphans have been lately taken in. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Let chapel, tabernacle, heaven, and earth, resound with hallelujah!”

“Savannah, April 24, 1770. Five in the morning. I am just going into the boat, in order to embark for Philadelphia. This will prove a blessed year for me, at the day of judgment. Hallelujah! Come, Lord, come! Mr. Robert Wright is a quiet, ingenuous, good creature, and his wife an excellent mistress of the family. Such a set of helpers I never met with. They will go on with the buildings, while I take my gospel range to the northward.”

Whitefield had now left his beloved Bethesda for ever. He arrived in Philadelphia on Sunday, the 6th of May, and met with the missionaries of his old friend Wesley, Messrs. Boardman and Pilmoor, whom he encouraged to proceed to their arduous work.[663] Writing to Mr. Keen, he says:――

“Philadelphia, May 9, 1770. I arrived here on the 6th instant. The evening following, I was enabled to preach to a large auditory, and am to repeat the delightful task this evening. Pulpits and hearts seem to be as open to me as ever. Praise the Lord, O our souls! I have my old plan in view, to travel in these northern parts all summer, and return late in the fall to Georgia. Through infinite mercy, I continue in good health, and am more and more in love with a pilgrim life.”

“Philadelphia, May 24, 1770. I have now been here nearly three weeks. People of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many, and, I trust, they will abide. To all the _Episcopal Churches_, as well as to most of the other places of worship, I have free access. My health is preserved; and, though I preach twice on the Lord’s-day, and three or four times a week besides, I am rather better than I have been for many years. This is the Lord’s doing. To Him be all the glory!”

Three weeks after this, Whitefield wrote again to Mr. Keen:――

“Philadelphia, June 14, 1770. I have just returned from a hundred and fifty miles’ circuit, in which I have been enabled to preach every day. So many new, as well as old, doors are open, and so many invitations sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn myself. However, at present I am bound for New York, and so on further northward.”

He arrived at New York on Saturday, June 23, and, in another letter to Mr. Keen, remarked:――

“New York, June 30, 1770. I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach four times, and am to preach again this evening. Congregations are larger than ever. Next week, I purpose to go to Albany: from thence, perhaps, to the Oneida Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress. Mr. Kirkland accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary. Everything possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his heart.”

A word must be interposed respecting this valuable man. Samuel Kirkland had been educated in Dr. Wheelock’s school, and in New Jersey College. While at school, he had learned the language of the Mohawks; and, in 1764, commenced a journey to the Senecas, among whom he spent a year and a half. In 1766, he was ordained a missionary to the Indians; and, in 1769, removed with his wife to the Oneida tribe, for whose benefit he laboured more than forty years. His son, Dr. Kirkland, became president of Harvard College. No wonder Whitefield fell in love with such a man. Unfortunately, no record of his visit to the “Indian congress” now exists; but an idea of his enormous labours may be gathered from the following letter to Mr. Keen:――

“New York, July 29, 1770. During this month, I have been above a five hundred miles’ circuit, and have been enabled to preach every day. The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected, particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk, Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Powkeepsy, Fishkill, New Rumburt, New Windsor, and Peckshill. Last night, I returned hither, and hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this new world! All fresh work where I have been. The Divine influence has been as at the first. Invitations crowd upon me, both from ministers and people, from many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The poor criminal, hearing I was in the country, had sent me several letters. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adjacent tree. Solemn! solemn! After being by himself about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of Divine consolations. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart. He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin; added, I trust, a word in season; prayed; gave the blessing; and took my leave. I hope effectual good was done to the hearers and spectators.”

While travelling this “five hundred miles’ circuit,” Whitefield, one day, dined, with a number of ministers, at the manse of his old friend, the Rev. William Tennent. After dinner, as often happened, Whitefield expressed his joy at the thought of soon dying and being admitted into heaven; and, then, appealing to the ministers present, he asked if his joy was shared by them. Generally they assented; but Tennent continued silent. “Brother Tennent,” said Whitefield, “you are the oldest man among us. Do you not rejoice that your being called home is so near at hand?” “I have no wish about it,” bluntly answered Tennent. Whitefield pressed his question, and Tennent again replied, “No, sir, it is no pleasure to me at all; and, if you knew your duty, it would be none to you. I have nothing to do with death. My business is to live as _long_ as I can, and as _well_ as I can.” Whitefield was not satisfied, and a third time urged the good old man to state, whether he would not choose to die, if death were left to his own choice. “Sir,” answered Tennent, “I have no choice about it. I am God’s servant, and have engaged to do His business as long as He pleases to continue me therein. But now, brother Whitefield, let me ask you a question. What do you think I would say, if I were to send my man Tom into the field to plough, and if at noon I should find him lounging under a tree, and complaining, ‘Master, the sun is hot, and the ploughing hard, and I am weary of my work, and overdone with heat: do, master, let me go home and rest’? What would I say? Why, that he was a lazy fellow, and that it was his business to do the work I had appointed him, until I should think fit to call him home.” For the present, at least, Whitefield was silenced, and was taught, that it is every Christian man’s duty to say, “All the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change come.”[664]

Whitefield’s preaching was never more popular and powerful than now. Sharon has been mentioned in the foregoing extract. The minister here was the Rev. Cotton Mather Smith, who offered him his pulpit. Whitefield selected his favourite subject, and preached from, “Ye must be born again.” The immense congregation was moved and melted throughout, but the pronunciation of the concluding words of the sermon, it is said, produced a life-time impression on those who heard them: “Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon this garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into this garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.” (Solomon’s Song, iv. 16.) Simple words, but uttered in a manner and with a pathos which thrilled the enormous crowd, and which caused many of them to follow him into the adjacent towns for several successive days.[665]

Another anecdote may be inserted here. An eminent shipbuilder being invited to hear Whitefield, at first made several objections, but at last was persuaded to go. “What do you think of Mr. Whitefield?” asked his friend. “Think,” said he, “I never heard such a man in my life. I tell you, sir, every Sunday, when I go to church, I can build a ship from stem to stern, under the sermon; but, were it to save my soul, under Mr. Whitefield, I could not lay a single plank.”[666]

Whitefield sailed from New York on Tuesday, July 31st, and arrived at New Port on the Friday following. With the exception of six days, on five of which he was seriously ill, he preached daily until he died. From August 4th to 8th inclusive, he preached at New Port; August 9th to 12th, at Providence; August 13th, at Attleborough; and 14th, at Wrentham. With the exception of the 19th, when he discoursed at Malden, he officiated every day at Boston, from the 15th to the 25th. On August 26th, he preached at Medford; on the 27th, at Charlestown; and on the 28th, at Cambridge. The next two days were employed at Boston; August 31st, at Roxbury Plain; September 1st, at Milton; 2nd, at Roxbury; 3rd, at Boston; 5th, at Salem; 6th, at Marble Head; 7th, at Salem; 8th, at Cape Ann; 9th, at Ipswich; 10th and 11th, at Newbury Port; and 12th and 13th, at Rowley. On the 14th and two following days, he was disabled by violent diarrhœa. From September 17th to 19th, he again preached at Boston; and on the 20th, at Newton. The next two days he was ill, but managed to travel from Boston to Portsmouth, where he preached on the 23rd to the 25th.[667] The 26th, he employed at Kittery; the 27th, at Old York; the 28th, at Portsmouth; and the 29th, at Exeter.[668] At six o’clock in the morning of the 30th, he died.

Thus were spent the last two months of Whitefield’s life. He was too much occupied to have time for his wonted correspondence with his friends; but there are two letters, belonging to this interval, which must be quoted: the first to Mr. Wright, his manager at Bethesda; the second to his beloved and faithful friend, Mr. Keen, of London.

“BOSTON, _September 17, 1770_.

“DEAR MR. WRIGHT,――Blessed be God! I find all is well at Bethesda; only I want to know what things are needed, that I may order them from Philadelphia, by Captain Souder. Fain would I contrive to come by him, but people are so importunate for my stay in these parts, that I fear it will be impracticable. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in Thy way! He will, He will! My God will supply all my wants, according to the riches of His grace in Christ Jesus. Two or three evenings ago, I was taken in the night with a violent lax, attended with retching and shivering, so that I was obliged to return to Boston. Through infinite mercy, I am restored, and to-morrow morning hope to begin _to begin_ again. Never was the word received with greater eagerness than now. All opposition seems, as it were, for a while to cease. I find God’s time is the best. The season is critical as to outward circumstances. But when forts are given up, the Lord Jesus can appoint salvation for walls and bulwarks. He has promised to be a wall of fire round about His people. This comforts me concerning Bethesda, though we should have a Spanish war. You will be pleased to hear I never was carried through the summer’s heat so well. I hope it has been so with you, and all my family. Hoping ere long to see you, I am, etc.,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

The letter to Mr. Keen, written only seven days before Whitefield’s death, was to the following effect:――

“PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE, _September 23, 1770_.

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,――By this time, I thought to be moving southward: but never was greater importunity used to detain me longer in these northern parts. Poor New England is much to be pitied; Boston people most of all. How falsely misrepresented! What a mercy that our Christian charter cannot be dissolved! Blessed be God for an unchangeable Jesus! You will see, by the many invitations enclosed, what a door is opened for preaching His everlasting gospel. I was so ill on Friday, that I could not preach, though thousands were waiting to hear. Well, the day of release will shortly come, but it does not seem yet; for, by riding sixty miles, I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow. I hope my blessed Master will accept of these poor efforts to serve Him. O for a warm heart! O to stand fast in the faith, to quit ourselves like men, and to be strong! May this be the happy experience of you and yours! If spared so long, I expect to see Georgia about Christmas. Still pray and praise. I am so poorly, and so engaged when able to preach, that this must apologize for not writing to more friends. It is quite impracticable. Hoping to see all dear friends about the time proposed, and earnestly desiring a continued interest in all your prayers, I must hasten to subscribe myself,

“My dear, very dear sir,

“Less than the least of all,

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

This was Whitefield’s last letter; at all events, no letter of a subsequent date has been published.

Though Whitefield scarcely alludes to the circumstance, it ought to be noted, that, the last six months of his life were spent in the midst of great political excitement. It is a well-known fact, that the inhabitants of the British colonies in America strongly objected to pay taxes upon goods imported from England; and defended themselves by the famous aphorism, “Taxation, without representation, is tyranny.” So stout was their resistance, that, during the year 1769, the exports of English merchants fell short of what they had been to the value of three-quarters of a million sterling; and, since the year 1767, the revenue, received by government from duties paid in America, had decreased from £110,000 to £30,000. In consequence of this state of things, Lord North, on the 5th of March, 1770, moved in the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill to repeal all the American taxes and duties, except the duty upon tea. Great debates followed. On the 1st of May, the opposition called for the correspondence with the American colonies. Eight days later, Burke moved eight resolutions censuring the plan the government were pursuing. On the 14th of May, Chatham moved that, in consequence of “the alarming disorders in his Majesty’s American dominions,” an humble address be presented to the king, beseeching him “to take the recent and genuine sense of the people, by dissolving this present parliament, and calling another, with all convenient dispatch.”

So much as it regards England. In America, the excitement had become dangerous. In nearly all the principal seaports of the colonies, committees had been appointed, by the people, to examine cargoes arriving from Great Britain, and to prevent the sale of taxed commodities. At Boston, meetings were regularly held, and strong votes of censure passed upon every one who dared to introduce or sell any of the prohibited goods; and, still further to increase the odium and danger of such departures from the popular will, the names of offenders were published in the newspapers, with comments representing them as slaves and traitors.

As might naturally be expected, riots followed. In the month of February, 1770, the shop of Theophilus Lillie was attacked. A friend of Lillie’s seized a gun, and fired upon the assailants. The shot killed Christopher Snider, a dirty boy, who, as “the first martyr to the glorious cause of liberty,” was buried with great pomp, the procession which followed the young reformer to his grave being a quarter of a mile in length. In the meantime, the inhabitants of Boston, and the soldiers quartered there, were perpetually quarrelling. No man in a red coat could go through the streets without being insulted, and no discipline could prevent the soldiers from retorting. Words led to blows. On the 2nd of March, a private of the 29th Regiment got into a quarrel, and was beaten by a set of ropemakers. A dozen of the soldier’s comrades chastised the ropemakers, and made them run for their very lives. The townspeople were exasperated, and armed themselves with clubs. Meetings were held by the mob; and, on the 5th of March, a crowd, with sticks and clubs, marched to Dock Square, and made an attack upon the soldiers. Muskets were fired, and the rioters ran away; but three were killed, and five were dangerously wounded. The subject need not here be pursued at greater length. In point of fact, the American Rebellion was begun, and, during the last six months of his eventful life, Whitefield preached among the excited and angry discontents. In some degree, he evidently sympathised with their protests concerning their grievances; and, hence, the exclamations in his last letter to Mr. Keen: “Poor New England is much to be pitied! Boston people most of all! How falsely misrepresented!” No doubt, both sides were misrepresented. The hour was pregnant with the most disastrous events. For years afterwards, the roar and ravages of war were terrific. Fortunately for himself, Whitefield escaped to the land of love, and peace, and blessedness, while the storm was only gathering, and before it burst in all its devastating deadliness.

On Saturday morning, September 29, Whitefield set out from Portsmouth to Boston, with the intention of preaching at Newbury Port next morning. On the way, he was stopped at Exeter, fifteen miles from Portsmouth, and was prevailed upon to give a sermon to the people there. A friend said to him, “Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach.” “True, sir,” replied Whitefield; and then, clasping his hands, and looking up to heaven, he added, “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work, but not of it. If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in the fields, seal Thy truth, and come home and die!” An immense multitude assembled. He mounted a hogshead.[669] His text was, “Examine yourselves, whether you be in the faith.” One, who was present, thus described the preacher and his sermon:――

“The subject was ‘Faith and works.’ He rose up sluggishly and wearily, as if worn down and exhausted by his stupendous labours. His face seemed bloated, his voice was hoarse, his enunciation heavy. Sentence after sentence was thrown off in rough, disjointed portions, without much regard to point or beauty. At length, his mind kindled, and his lion-like voice roared to the extremities of his audience. He was speaking of the inefficiency of works to merit salvation, and suddenly cried out in a tone of thunder, ‘Works! works! a man get to heaven by works! I would as soon think of climbing to the moon on a rope of sand!’”[670]

Another gentleman, who was present, wrote:――

“Mr. Whitefield rose, and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. He remained several minutes unable to speak; and then said, ‘I will wait for the gracious assistance of God; for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.’ He then delivered, perhaps, one of his best sermons. ‘I go,’ he cried, ‘I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, has given light to many. It is now about to set for――no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortal glory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh, thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands. How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ! But I die to be _with_ Him.’”[671]

Whitefield’s sermon was two hours in length,――characteristic of the man, but, in his present health, quite enough to kill him.

The Rev. Jonathan Parsons, who, for the last twenty-four years, had been the Presbyterian minister at Newbury Port, met him at Exeter. In piety, the two were kindred spirits. Mr. Parsons’ congregation was one of the largest in America. As a preacher, he was eminently useful; his imagination was rich, and his voice clear and commanding. He was well skilled in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages; and many were the seals of his faithful ministry, which closed six years after that of his friend Whitefield’s.

After Whitefield’s enormous sermon, the two friends dined at Captain Gillman’s, and then started for Newbury Port. On arriving there, Whitefield was so exhausted, that he was unable to leave the boat without assistance, but, in the course of the evening, he recovered his spirits.[672]

Newbury Port was an ordinary New England village; in fact, it remains such at the present day,――its streets narrow, and not overcrowded with either traffic or passengers.[673] It is a remarkable coincidence, that, _exactly_ thirty years before his death, Whitefield, for the first time, visited the place which contains his sepulchre. In his Journal, he wrote:――

“Tuesday, September 30, 1740. Preached at Ipswich in the morning to many thousands. There was a great melting in the congregation. Dined. Set out for Newbury, another town twelve miles from Ipswich, and arrived about three. Here again the power of the Lord accompanied the word. The meeting-house was very large. Many ministers were present, and the people were greatly affected. Blessed be God!”

Little did the great preacher think, that, on the same day, thirty years afterwards, his work would terminate in the meeting-house’s manse. The venerable building still stands, in a narrow lane, and, though now used as two comfortable residences, the spacious entrance hall yet exists, and likewise the fine oak staircase which led to the room in which Whitefield died.[674]

While Whitefield partook of an early supper, the people assembled at the front of the parsonage, and even crowded into its hall, impatient to hear a few words from the man they so greatly loved. “I am tired,” said Whitefield, “and must go to bed.” He took a candle, and was hastening to his chamber. The sight of the people moved him; and, pausing on the staircase, he began to speak to them. He had preached his last sermon; this was to be his last exhortation. There he stood, the crowd in the hall “gazing up at him with tearful eyes, as Elisha at the ascending prophet. His voice flowed on until the candle which he held in his hand burned away and _went out in its socket_! The next morning he was not, for God had taken him!”[675]

Mr. Richard Smith, who had accompanied Whitefield from England, and had attended him in his journeyings, followed him to his chamber. He found him reading the Bible, and with Dr. Watts’s Psalms before him. Whitefield drank some water-gruel, knelt by his bedside, engaged in prayer, and then went to rest. He slept till two in the morning, when he asked for cider, and drank a wine-glassful.

“He panted for want of breath,” says Mr. Smith. “I asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘My asthma is returning; I must have two or three days’ rest. Two or three days’ riding, without preaching, will set me up again.’ Though the window had been half up all night, he asked me to put it a little higher. ‘I cannot breathe,’ said he, ‘but I hope I shall be better by-and-by. A good pulpit sweat to-day may give me relief. I shall be better after preaching.’ I said to him, I wished he would not preach so often. He replied, ‘I had rather wear out, than rust out.’ He then sat up in bed and prayed that God would bless his preaching where he had been, and also bless his preaching that day, that more souls might be brought to Christ. He prayed for direction, whether he should winter at Boston, or hasten southward. He asked for blessings on his Bethesda College and his family there; likewise on the congregations at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court chapel, and on all his English friends.

“He then lay down to sleep again. This was nigh three o’clock. At a quarter to four he awoke, and said, ‘My asthma, my asthma is coming on again. I wish I had not promised to preach at Haverhill to-morrow. I don’t think I shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I am no better to-morrow, I will take a two or three days’ ride.’ He then asked me to warm him a little gruel; and, in breaking the firewood, I awoke Mr. Parsons, who rose and came in. He went to Mr. Whitefield’s bedside, and asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘I am almost suffocated. I can scarce breathe. My asthma quite chokes me.’ He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This was exactly at five o’clock. Soon after, he turned to me, and said, ‘I am dying.’ I said, ‘I hope not, sir.’ He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. I went for Dr. Sawyer; and, on my coming back, I saw death on his face. We offered him warm wine with lavender drops, which he refused. I persuaded him to sit down and put on his cloak; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then offered him the glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. In a little while, he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm. I was continually employed in taking the mucus from his mouth, bathing his temples, and rubbing his wrists. His hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor came, and felt his pulse, he said, ‘He is a dead man.’ Mr. Parsons replied, ‘I do not believe it. You must do something, doctor.’ He answered, ‘I cannot. He is now near his last breath.’[676] And indeed so it proved; for he fetched but one gasp, stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at six o’clock.”[677]

Thus died the most popular and powerful evangelist of modern times, on Sunday morning, September 30, 1770. “I shall die silent,” remarked Whitefield at the dinner table of Finley, the president of New Jersey College: “I shall die silent. It has pleased God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for Him during my life, that He will require none from me when I die.” Whitefield’s words were strangely verified. In this respect, his death was a contrast to that of his friend Wesley.

Whitefield was interred on Tuesday, October 2. “At one o’clock, all the bells in Newbury Port were tolled for half an hour, and all the ships in the harbour hoisted signals of mourning. At two o’clock, the bells tolled a second time. At three o’clock, the bells called to attend the funeral.”[678] Meanwhile, a large number of ministers had assembled at the manse of Mr. Parsons, and had spent two hours in conversation respecting Whitefield’s usefulness, and in prayer that his mantle might fall on them and others. The pall-bearers were the Revs. Samuel Haven, D.D., of Portsmouth; Daniel Rogers, of Exeter; Jedediah Jewet and James Chandler, of Rowley; Moses Parsons, of Newbury; and Edward Bass, D.D.,[679] the first bishop of the Church of England in Massachusetts. The funeral procession was a mile in length. About 6,000 persons crowded within the church, and many thousands stood outside.[680] The corpse being placed at the foot of the pulpit, the Rev. Daniel Rogers offered prayer, in which he confessed that he owed his conversion to Whitefield’s ministry, and then exclaiming, “O my Father! my Father!” stopped and wept as though his heart was breaking. The scene was one never to be forgotten. The crowded congregation were bathed in tears. Rogers recovered himself, finished his prayer, sat down, and sobbed. [681] One of the deacons gave out the hymn beginning with the line,――

“Why do we mourn departing friends?”

Some of the people sang, and some wept, and others sang and wept alternately. The coffin was then put into a newly prepared tomb, beneath the pulpit; and, before the tomb was sealed, the Rev. Jedediah Jewet delivered a suitable address, in the course of which he spoke of Whitefield’s “peculiar and eminent gifts for the gospel ministry, and his fervour, diligence, and success in the work of it.” “What a friend,” cried Jewet, “he has been to us, and our interests, religious and civil; to New England, and to all the British colonies on the continent!”[682] After this, another prayer was offered, and the immense crowd departed, weeping through the streets, as in mournful groups they wended their way to their respective homes.[683]

The sensation occasioned by the sudden decease of the “man greatly beloved” was enormous. The people came in crowds, begging to be allowed to see his corpse. Ministers of all denominations hastened to the house of Mr. Parsons, where several of them related how his ministry had been the means of their conversion. Two days before his death, he had preached at Portsmouth, and one of his hearers was a young man named Benjamin Randall, then unconverted, and also cherishing a dislike to Whitefield. “O how wonderful he spoke!” wrote Randall. His soul inflamed with love, his arms extended, and tears rolling from his eyes――with what power he spoke!” At noon on Sunday, a stranger was seen riding through the streets of Portsmouth, and crying at the different corners, “Whitefield is dead! Whitefield is dead!” Young Randall heard the announcement. It pierced his heart. He afterwards wrote: “It was September 30, 1770――that memorable day! that blessed day to Whitefield! that blessed day to me! A voice sounded through my soul, more loud and startling than ever thunder pealed upon my ears, ‘_Whitefield is dead!_’ Whitefield is now in heaven, but I am on the road to hell. He was a man of God, and yet I reviled him. He taught me the way to heaven, but I regarded it not. O that I could hear his voice again!” Whitefield’s death led to Randall’s conversion. He became a Baptist minister, and _founded_ the Free-Will Baptist denomination, which now numbers sixty thousand church members, more than a thousand ministers, two colleges, and one theological seminary; and also has its weekly periodicals, its _Quarterly Review_, and its flourishing missions in India.[684]

The effect of Whitefield’s death upon the inhabitants of Georgia was indescribable. All the black cloth in the colony was bought up. The pulpit and desk, the chandeliers and organ, the pews of the Governor and Council in the church at Savannah were draped with mourning; and the Governor and members of the two Houses of Assembly went in procession to the church, and were received by the organ playing a funereal dirge.[685] A sum of money also was unanimously voted for the removal of Whitefield’s remains to Georgia, to be interred at his Orphan House; but the people of Newbury Port strongly objected, and the design had to be relinquished. Forty-five years later, however, when a new county was formed in Georgia, it received the name of Whitefield, in memory of his worth and useful services.[686]

Jesse Lee, in his “History of the American Methodists,” (page 36,) remarks: “Mr. Whitefield had often felt his soul so much comforted in preaching in the Presbyterian meeting-house at Newbury Port, that he told his friends long before his death, that, if he died in that part of the world, he wished to be buried under the pulpit of that house. The people, who remembered his request, had it now in their power to grant it; and they prepared a vault under the pulpit, where they laid his body.” During the last hundred years, thousands of persons have visited that vault; and, as time flows on, the numbers still increase. The _Christian’s Magazine_, for 1790, inserted a startling letter, written by “J. Brown, of Epping, Essex,” to the following effect:――

“In 1784, I visited my friends in New England, and, hearing that Whitefield’s body was undecayed, I went to see it. A lantern and candle being provided, we entered the tomb. Our guide opened the coffin lid down to Whitefield’s breast. His body was perfect. I felt his cheeks, his breast, etc.; and the skin immediately rose after I had touched it. Even his lips were not consumed, nor his nose. His skin was considerably discoloured through dust and age, but there was no effluvium; and even his gown was not much impaired, nor his wig.”

If this were true in 1784, it had ceased to be a fact in 1796. In a letter dated “Newbury Port, August 15, 1801,” William Mason remarks: “About five years ago, a few friends were permitted to open Whitefield’s coffin. We found the flesh totally consumed, but the gown, cassock, and bands were almost the same as when he was buried in them.”[687] After all, the two statements are not incompatible; and it has been asserted, that “several other corpses are in the same state,” as Whitefield’s was said to have been in fourteen years after his decease, “owing to the vast quantities of nitre with which the earth there abounds.”[688]

A cenotaph in honour of Whitefield’s friends, John and Charles Wesley, has recently been erected in Westminster Abbey. That is a distinction which has not been conferred on Whitefield.

Indeed, I am not aware that England has now any monument of Whitefield whatever. Gillies says that, at the bottom of Mrs. Whitefield’s monument, in Tottenham Court Road chapel, an inscription was placed in memory of Whitefield himself; but that monument, years ago, was broken, and has disappeared. The inscription, composed by Titus Knight, of Halifax, is not worth quoting. One cenotaph exists――and, so far as I know, only one, in either England or America. That is in the chapel containing Whitefield’s bones and dust. It is a plain, but tasteful tablet, surmounted by a flame burning from an uncovered urn; and its history is the following. The Rev. Dr. Proudfit, a former pastor of the old South Church, Newbury Port, remarked at its centenary anniversary in 1856:――

“As my eye rests on that monument, let me recall the way in which it came there. I called one evening on Mr. Bartlett. He told me he had heard Whitefield, when he was boy, and had never forgotten the impression made upon him by his preaching. He expressed a desire to have a suitable monument erected to his memory in this church. He asked if I would look after the matter, and employ an eminent artist to do the work. I enquired how much he was willing it should cost. ‘On that point,’ he replied, ‘I leave you entirely at liberty. Let it be something worthy of a great and good man.’ That monument, designed by Strickland, and executed by Strothers, is the result. I used the liberty he gave me moderately. Had it cost ten times as much, he would, no doubt, have paid it cheerfully. When the artist presented the demand, Mr. Bartlett gave him one hundred dollars above the amount. When I was in England, the congregations at Tottenham Court and at the Tabernacle intimated a desire to have Whitefield’s remains removed to England; but when I told them what Mr. Bartlett had done, they said, if any American gentleman was willing to give £300 to do honour to Whitefield’s memory, America was well entitled to his remains.”[689]

This monument was not put up until the year 1828. The inscription, written by Dr. Ebenezer Porter, of Andover,[690] is as follows:――

This Cenotaph is erected, with affectionate veneration, To the Memory of THE REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, Born at Gloucester, England, December 16, 1714; Educated at Oxford University; ordained 1736. In a ministry of thirty-four years, He crossed the Atlantic thirteen times, And preached more than eighteen thousand Sermons. As a soldier of the cross, humble, devout, ardent, He put on the whole armour of God: Preferring the honour of Christ to his own interest, repose, reputation, and life. As a Christian orator, his deep piety, disinterested zeal, and vivid imagination, Gave unexampled energy to his look, utterance, and action. Bold, fervent, pungent, and popular in his eloquence, No other uninspired man ever preached to so large assemblies, Or enforced the simple truths of the Gospel by motives so persuasive and awful, and with an influence so powerful, on the hearts of his hearers. He died of asthma, September 30, 1770: Suddenly exchanging his life of unparalleled labours for his eternal rest.”

It ought to be added that another, and more imposing, monument to Whitefield’s memory, was proposed to be erected in 1839. In that year, the Congregational ministers of Gloucestershire associated themselves together in a society called the “Christian Union,” and determined to preach, in the open air, in every town, village, and hamlet of their county. They went forth, like the seventy of old, by two and two, in the prosecution of their mission. While these services were being held, many of the missioners met in a central town, when one of them proposed, that, as the present year was “the centenary of Whitefield’s labours in reviving the apostolic practice of open-air preaching,――that as Whitefield was a native of Gloucester,――and that as Stinchcombe Hill was one of the places where Whitefield preached a century ago,”――it would be well to hold a monster meeting there for the promotion of evangelical religion. The proposal was favourably received; and, on Tuesday, July 30, nearly one hundred ministers and twenty thousand people assembled on the summit of this memorable hill. Drs. Redford, Ross, and Matheson, with the Rev. Messrs. East, Hinton, and Sibree, preached upon appropriate subjects, previously announced; and hymns, specially composed by J. Conder, Esq., and others, were sung on the occasion. The rain, during the afternoon, fell in torrents, but, till about five o’clock, when they adjourned to Dursley, the vast assemblage preserved the utmost order and compactness. The party partook of dinner and tea upon the hill, in large booths and tents erected for the day; and the services were, in all respects, remarkable. A few fastidious persons thought the preachers dwelt more on Whitefield than was seemly, forgetting, however, that the design of the commemoration was specially to use Whitefield’s character and example for the glory of God, the illustration of piety, the instruction of the world, and the revival of religion. The results were, the ministers of the county re-entered with ardour upon their itinerant engagements, the churches of the neighbourhood were refreshed, and several modes of perpetuating the influence of Whitefield’s piety were proposed.

At the half-yearly meeting of the Gloucestershire Association, held in Bristol soon after, an “Address to the Christian Public” was read and adopted, and afterwards published, to the following effect:――

“It is proposed to erect, by small subscriptions, a plain monumental column, surmounted by a statue, on the summit of Stinchcombe Hill, near Dursley, to commemorate the life and labours of the Rev. George Whitefield. The site appears peculiarly eligible, as being situated in the centre of his native county, the scene of some of his earliest itinerant labours, surrounded by churches established by his ministry, and commanding a prospect of twelve or thirteen counties, together with much of the Bristol Channel. A noble column, upon such a base, to testify that tens of thousands regard his labours as blessed of God to the revival of religion in our land, will exert a moral influence which many may undervalue, but which few can calculate. Thousands, as they travel on the great highway, almost beneath the shadow of the statue, will think and talk of Whitefield,――of his life, his labours, and his holy success, as they have never done before. Its erection would open a chapter in the book of providence, which many, who never enter our sanctuaries, will be obliged to read; and will cherish, perhaps, amongst themselves, an imitation of those zealous labours, which God made so pre-eminently useful. We suggest a subscription of a shilling each person; and hope, by this means, to erect a magnificent testimonial of one who was in England as great a blessing to his country, as he was in America an honour. Whitefield was a man of no sect; the sphere of his labours had no boundary; holding office, as it were, in every church, his communion was with the pious of every name. In the erection of this cenotaph all may unite――the Episcopalian, who would say with Toplady, that ‘he was a true and faithful son of the Church of England,’――the Dissenter, who considers his whole course but practical independency,――the Calvinist, who admires his conscientious adherence to the truth,――and, likewise, the Wesleyan, who remembers him as, in life and death, the dearest friend of Wesley.”[691]

An instinctive awe pervades thoughtful men when in the presence of the last earthly remains of those who wielded a controlling influence upon their times. Napoleon lingered thoughtfully and reverently in the tomb of Frederick the Great. The Prince of Wales took off his hat at the grave of Washington. This may be a sort of hero-worship, but it is not a weakness. Thousands have entered the vault beneath the pulpit at Newbury Port, to look at the open coffin of Whitefield, the good and eloquent. The coffin, apparently of oak, is yet undecayed, and rests upon the coffin of a Mr. Prince, a blind preacher, and one of the first pastors of the church. The skull, the bones of the arms, the backbone, and the ribs are in good preservation. Many years ago, Mr. Bolton, an Englishman, and one of Whitefield’s great admirers, wished to obtain a small memento of the great preacher. A friend of Bolton’s stole the main bone of Whitefield’s right arm, and sent it to England in a parcel. Bolton was horrified with his friend’s sacrilegious act, and carefully returned the bone, in 1837, to the Rev. Dr. Stearns, then pastor of the church at Newbury Port. Great interest was created by the restoration of Whitefield’s relic; a procession of two thousand people followed it to the grave; and it was restored to its original position.[692] That bone now lies crosswise near the region of the breast; and the little box, in which it was returned, is laid upon the coffin.[693]

The good taste of those who exhibit the dust and bones of Whitefield may be fairly doubted; but so long as they are exposed to the public view, Whitefield’s sepulchre will have its visitors. Of the numerous descriptions published by those whose curiosity or piety had brought them to Whitefield’s resting-place, one only shall suffice,――and that by an outsider. Henry Vincent, the eloquent English lecturer, thus described his visit in 1867[694]:――

“We descended into a cellar, through a trap-door behind the pulpit, and entered the tomb of the great preacher. The upper part of the lid of Whitefield’s coffin opens upon hinges. We opened the coffin carefully, and saw all that was mortal of the eloquent divine. The bones are blackened, as though charred by fire. The skull is perfect. I placed my hand upon the forehead, and thought of the time when the active brain within throbbed with love to God and man; and when those silent lips swayed the people of England, from the churchyard in Islington to Kennington Common,――from the hills and valleys of Gloucestershire to the mouths of the Cornish mines, and on through the growing colonies of America. In these days of High Church pantomime, would it not be well to turn our attention to the times of Whitefield and his glorious friend Wesley? Not by new decorations and scenery,――not by candles and crosses,――not by what Wycliffe boldly called the ‘priests’ rags,’――not by Pan-Anglican Synods, or by moaning out bits of Scripture in unearthly chants; but by such lives as those of Whitefield and Wesley, are the people to be reached and won. I confess that, as an Englishman, I envy America the possession of the earthly remains of dear George Whitefield; but perhaps it is appropriate that, while England claims the dust of Wesley, the great republic should be the guardian of the dust of his holy brother.”[695]

The Americans are proud of their possession, and, to this day, not only preserve his sepulchre, but, at Newbury Port, still use in the pulpit the old Bible out of which Whitefield was wont to read his texts, and still keep the old chair in which he died, and still shew the ring taken from the finger of his corpse.

Excepting the value of the copyright of his publications, Wesley died almost penniless; and the same would have been Whitefield’s case, but for certain legacies bequeathed to him only a short time before his death. By the decease of his wife, in 1768, he became possessed of £700. Mrs. Thomson, of Tower Hill, bequeathed him £500; Mr. Whitmore, £100; and Mr. Winder, £100;[697] making a total of £1,400. This, in round figures, was the sum disposed of in Whitefield’s “last will and testament.” The Orphan House buildings, furniture, slaves, and lands might be regarded as property held in trust, and, as such, were left “to that elect lady, that mother in Israel, that mirror of true and undefiled religion, the Right Honourable Selina, Countess-Dowager of Huntingdon;”[698] and, in case of her death, to Whitefield’s “dear first fellow-traveller, and faithful, invariable friend, the Honourable James Habersham, Esq., President of His Majesty’s Honourable Council,” in Georgia. The Tabernacle, and Tottenham Court Road chapel, with the adjacent manses, coach-houses, stables, and other buildings, having been erected, in great part, by the subscriptions of the public, were also, in a certain sense, trust properties; and were left to be managed by Whitefield’s “worthy, trusty, tried friends, Daniel West, Esq., in Church Street, Spitalfields; and Mr. Robert Keen, woollen draper, in the Minories.” The remainder of Whitefield’s bequests were as follows:――

£ s. d. Lady Huntingdon 100 0 0 The Honourable James Habersham, for mourning 10 0 0 Gabriel Harris, Esq., of Gloucester 50 0 0 Ambrose Wright, a faithful servant 500 0 0 Mr. Richard Whitefield, a brother 50 0 0 Mr. Thomas Whitefield, a brother 50 0 0 Mr. James Smith, a brother-in-law 80 0 0 Mrs. Frances Hartford, a niece 70 0 0 Mr. J. Crane, steward at the Orphan House 40 0 0 Mr. Benjamin Stirk, for mourning 10 0 0 Peter Edwards,[699] at the Orphan House 50 0 0 William Trigg, at ditto 50 0 0 Mr. Thomas Adams, of Rodborough 50 0 0 Rev. Mr. Howell Davies, for mourning 10 0 0 Mr. Torial Joss, for ditto 10 0 0 Mr. Cornelius Winter, for ditto 10 0 0 Mr. Ambrose Wright’s three brothers, for ditto 30 0 0 Ditto’s sister-in-law, for ditto 10 0 0 Mr. Richard Smith 50 0 0 The old servants in London, the widows, etc., for mourning 100 0 0 ───── ── ── £1330 0 0 ═════ ══ ══

The residue of Whitefield’s monies, if any, were to be given to the Orphan House Academy. His wife’s gold watch, he bequeathed to James Habersham; his wearing apparel, to Richard Smith; to his four executors, James Habersham, Charles Hardy, Daniel West, and Robert Keen, each a mourning ring; also, he added:――

“I leave a mourning ring to my honoured and dear friends and disinterested fellow-labourers, the Rev. Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, in token of my indissoluble union with them, in heart and Christian affection, notwithstanding our difference in judgment about some particular points of doctrine. Grace be with all them, of whatever denomination, that love our Lord Jesus, our common Lord, in sincerity.”

The conclusion of Whitefield’s will is too characteristic to be omitted:――

“To all my other Christian benefactors, and more intimate acquaintance, I leave my most hearty thanks and blessing, assuring them that I am more and more convinced of the undoubted reality and infinite importance of the grand gospel truths, which I have, from time to time, delivered; and am so far from repenting my delivering them in an itinerant way, that, had I strength equal to my inclination, I would preach them from pole to pole, not only because I have found them to be the power of God to the salvation of my own soul, but because I am as much assured that the Great Head of the Church hath called me by His Word, Providence, and Spirit, to act in this way, as that the sun shines at noonday. As for my enemies, and misjudging, mistaken friends, I most freely and heartily forgive them, and can only add, that the last tremendous day will soon discover what I have been, what I am, and what I shall be when time itself shall be no more. And, therefore, from my inmost soul, I close all, by crying, ‘_Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!_ Even so, Lord Jesus! Amen and amen!’

“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”

Whitefield’s will was written by himself, and signed, at the Orphan House, on March 22, 1770, in the presence of Robert Bolton, Thomas Dixon, and Cornelius Winter, as witnesses. It was proved in the Prerogative Court of Canterbury, on February 5, 1771.[700]

When great men die, poets sing. So it was in the case of Whitefield. To say nothing of poems printed in newspapers and magazines, the following were a few of the elegies published separately: “Zion in Distress, an Elegy on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield. By W. S.” “The Bromsgrove Elegy, in blank verse, in which are represented the Subjects of his Ministry, his Manner of Preaching, the Success of his Labours, his excellent Moral Character, and his Death. By John Fellows, of Bromsgrove, in Worcestershire.” “An Elegy. By Jacob Rowel.” “An Elegy, exhibiting a brief History of the Life, Labours, and Glorious Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield. By T. Knight, Minister of the Gospel at Halifax.”[701] “A Monody on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield.” “An Elegiac Poem, dedicated to the Memory of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield. By James Stevens, Preacher of the Gospel.” “Elegiac Lines. By Rev. Mr. De Courcy.”[702] “A Pastoral. By the Rev. Walter Shirley.”[703]

All these were pious, and some of them respectable. The best published was by Whitefield’s oldest friend: “An Elegy on the late Reverend George Whitefield, M.A., who died September 30, 1770, in the 56th year of his age. By Charles Wesley, M.A., Presbyter of the Church of England. Bristol: 1771.” (8vo. 29 pp.) No one knew or loved Whitefield better than Charles Wesley did; and the following extracts from his “Elegy” may be acceptable:――

“And is my _Whitefield_ enter’d into rest, With sudden death, with sudden glory blest? Left for a few sad moments here behind, I bear his image on my faithful mind; To future times the fair example tell Of one who lived, of one who died, so well, Pay the last office of fraternal love, And then embrace my happier friend above.”

“Can I the memorable day forget, When first we, by Divine appointment, met? Where undisturb’d the thoughtful student roves, In search of truth, through academic groves, A modest, pensive youth, who mus’d alone, Industrious the frequented path to shun: An Israelite without disguise or art I saw, I loved, and clasp’d him to my heart, A stranger as my bosom friend carest, And unawares receiv’d an angel-guest.”

“Through his abundant toils, with fixt amaze, We see reviv’d the work of ancient days; In his unspotted life, with joy we see The fervours of primeval piety: A pattern to the flock by Jesus bought, A living witness of the truths He taught,―― He shew’d the man regenerate from above, By fraudless innocence, and childlike love. For friendship form’d by nature and by grace, (His heart made up of truth and tenderness), Stranger to guile, unknowing to deceive, In anger, malice, or revenge to live, Betwixt the mountain and the multitude, His life was spent in prayer and doing good.”

“Though long by following multitudes admir’d, No party for himself he e’er desir’d, His one desire to make the Saviour known, To magnify the name of Christ alone: If others strove who should the greatest be, No lover of pre-eminence was he, Nor envied those his Lord vouchsaf’d to bless, But joy’d in theirs as in his own success, His friends in honour to himself preferr’d, And least of all in his own eyes appear’d.”

“Single his eye, transparently sincere, His upright heart did in his words appear, His cheerful heart did in his visage shine; A man of true simplicity divine, Not always as the serpent wise, yet love Preserv’d him harmless as the gentle dove; Or if into mistake through haste he fell, He shew’d what others labour to conceal; Convinc’d, no palliating excuses sought, But freely own’d his error, or his fault.”

“Shall I a momentary loss deplore, Lamenting after him that weeps no more? What though, forbid by the Atlantic wave, I cannot share my old companion’s grave, Yet, at the trumpet’s call, my dust shall rise, With his fly up to Jesus in the skies, And live with him the life that never dies.”

Charles Wesley often wrote more polished poetry than this, but his loving lines truthfully pourtray some of the features of Whitefield’s character, and, likewise, shew the profound affection which he cherished for his brother George.

Before leaving the poets, another extract may be welcome. There is no evidence to shew that Whitefield and William Cowper were personally acquainted, but John Newton and some other of Cowper’s friends were among Whitefield’s most ardent admirers; and, therefore, it is not surprising that Cowper should have enshrined the famous preacher in his poesy. Soon after Whitefield’s death, Cowper wrote his well-known poem, entitled “Hope,” in which Whitefield was graphically described as follows:――

“Leuconomus (beneath well-sounding Greek) I slur a name a poet must not speak, Stood pilloried on infamy’s high stage, And bore the pelting scorn of half an age, The very butt of slander, and the blot For every dart that malice ever shot. “The man that mention’d _him_, at once dismiss’d All mercy from his lips, and sneer’d and hiss’d; His crimes were such as Sodom never knew, And Perjury stood up to swear all true; His aim was mischief, and his zeal pretence, His speech rebellion against common sense; A knave, when tried on honesty’s plain rule, And when by that of reason, a mere fool; The world’s best comfort was, his doom was pass’d, Die when he might, he must be damn’d at last. “Now, Truth, perform thine office; waft aside The curtain drawn by prejudice and pride, Reveal (the man is dead) to wondering eyes This more than monster in his proper guise. “He loved the world that hated him; the tear That dropp’d upon his Bible was sincere. Assail’d by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was a blameless life, And he that forged and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother’s interest in his heart. Paul’s love of Christ, and steadiness unbribed, Were copied close in him, and well transcribed; He follow’d Paul; his zeal a kindred flame, His apostolic charity the same; Like him, cross’d cheerfully tempestuous seas, Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease; Like him he labour’d, and, like him content To bear it, suffer’d shame where’er he went. “Blush, Calumny; and write upon his tomb, If honest eulogy can spare thee room, Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies, Which, aim’d at him, have pierced the offended skies; And say, Blot out my sin, confess’d, deplored, Against Thine image in Thy saint, O Lord!”

No higher eulogy on Whitefield than this of the poet Cowper can be properly pronounced. It elaborates that of the celebrated Rev. Benjamin Grosvenor, D.D., who, after listening to one of Whitefield’s sermons about the year 1741, remarked, “If the Apostle Paul had preached to this auditory, he would have preached in the same manner.”[704]

“If you should die abroad,” said Mr. Keen, “whom shall we get to preach your funeral sermon? Must it be your old friend the Rev. Mr. John Wesley?” This question was often put, and as often Whitefield answered, “He is the man.”[705]

The news of Whitefield’s death reached London on November 5.[706] At the time, Wesley was at Norwich; but, five days afterwards, he wrote:――

“Saturday, November 10, 1770. I returned to London, and had the melancholy news of Mr. Whitefield’s death confirmed by his executors, who desired me to preach his funeral sermon on Sunday, the 18th.[707] In order to write this, I retired to Lewisham on Monday; and, on Sunday following, went to the chapel in Tottenham Court Road. An immense multitude was gathered together from all corners of the town.[708] I was at first afraid that a great part of the congregation would not be able to hear; but it pleased God so to strengthen my voice, that even those at the door heard distinctly. It was an awful season: all were still as night; most appeared to be deeply affected; and an impression was made on many, which one would hope will not speedily be effaced.

“The time appointed for my beginning at the Tabernacle was half an hour after five; but it was quite filled at three; so I began at four. At first, the noise was exceeding great; but it ceased when I began to speak; and my voice was again so strengthened that all who were within could hear, unless an accidental noise hindered here or there for a few moments. O that all may hear the voice of Him with whom are the issues of life and death; and who so loudly, by this unexpected stroke, calls all His children to love one another!”

In addition to the services on November 18, Wesley, on two other occasions, improved the death of his old and much-loved friend. Hence the following extracts from his Journal:――

“Friday, November 23. Being desired by the trustees of the Tabernacle at Greenwich to preach Mr. Whitefield’s funeral sermon there, I went over to-day for that purpose; but neither would this house contain the congregation. Those who could not get in made some noise at first; but in a little while all were silent. Here, likewise, I trust God has given a blow to that bigotry which had prevailed for many years.

“Wednesday, January 2, 1771. I preached, in the evening, at Deptford, a kind of funeral sermon for Mr. Whitefield. In every place, I wish to shew all possible respect to the memory of that great and good man.”

Wesley’s sermon was official; and was published, with the title, “A Sermon on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield. Preached at the Chapel in Tottenham Court Road, and at the Tabernacle near Moorfields, on Sunday, November 18, 1770. By John Wesley, M.A., late Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxon., and Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Countess-Dowager of Buchan. 1770.” (8vo. 32 pp.)

No man was so well qualified to form a correct estimate of Whitefield’s life as Wesley was. For thirty-seven years, they had been loving, frank, confiding friends. Wesley was a singularly keen observer of human character; and, moreover, he was without envy, was incapable of using flattery, and was far too honest to say anything but what he thought. In this instance, he took a text (Numbers xxiii. 10) without expounding it. His sermon was simply a review of Whitefield’s “life, and death, and character,” with an enquiry how his sudden removal ought to be improved. The first dozen pages are filled with a condensed summary of Whitefield’s Journals down to the year 1741;――“Journals,” says Wesley, “which, for their artless and unaffected simplicity, may vie with any writings of the kind.” And then, in reference to Whitefield’s labours already sketched, Wesley adds:――

“How exact a specimen is this of his labours, both in Europe and America, for the honour of his beloved Master, during the thirty years that followed! as well as of the uninterrupted showers of blessings wherewith God was pleased to succeed his labours! Is it not much to be lamented, that anything should have prevented his continuing this account till at least near the time when he was called by his Lord to enjoy the fruit of his labour? If he has left any papers of this kind, and his friends count me worthy of the honour, it would be my glory and joy to methodize, transcribe, and prepare them for the public view.”

Wesley then gives an extract from the _Boston Gazette_, which he virtually adopts as expressing his own opinions:――

“In his public labours, Mr. Whitefield has for many years astonished the world with his eloquence and devotion. With what divine pathos did he persuade the impenitent sinner to embrace the practice of piety and virtue! Filled with the spirit of grace, he spoke from the heart; and, with a fervency of zeal perhaps unequalled since the days of the apostles, adorned the truths he delivered with the most graceful charms of rhetoric and oratory. From the pulpit he was unrivalled in the command of an over-crowded auditory. Nor was he less agreeable and instructive in his private conversation: happy in a remarkable ease of address, willing to communicate, studious to edify.”

Wesley next proceeds to give his own sketch of Whitefield’s character, and which, abbreviated, is as follows:――

“Mention has already been made of his unparalleled _zeal_, his indefatigable _activity_, his _tender-heartedness_ to the afflicted, and _charitableness_ toward the poor. But should we not likewise mention his deep _gratitude_ to all whom God had used as instruments of good to him? of whom he did not cease to speak in the most respectful manner, even to his dying day.[709] Should we not mention, that he had a heart susceptible of the most generous and the most tender _friendship_? I have frequently thought, that this, of all others, was the distinguishing part of his character. How few have we known of so kind a temper, of such large and flowing affections! Was it not principally by this that the hearts of others were so strangely drawn and knit to him? Can anything but love beget love? This shone in his very countenance, and continually breathed in all his words, whether in public or private. Was it not this, which, quick and penetrating as lightning, flew from heart to heart? which gave life to his sermons, his conversations, his letters? Ye are witnesses.

“He was also endued with the most nice and unblemished _modesty_. His office called him to converse, very frequently and largely, with women as well as men; and those of every age and condition. But his whole behaviour toward them was a practical comment on that advice of St. Paul to Timothy, ‘_Intreat the elder women as mothers, the younger as sisters, with all purity._’[710]

“The _frankness and openness_ of his conversation was as far removed from rudeness on the one hand, as from guile and disguise on the other. Was not this frankness at once a fruit and a proof of his _courage_ and _intrepidity_? Armed with these, he feared not the faces of men, but used _great plainness of speech_ to persons of every rank and condition, high and low, rich and poor; endeavouring only _by manifestation of the truth_ to _commend himself to every man’s conscience in the sight of God_.

“His _steadiness_ appeared in whatever he undertook for his Master’s sake. Witness one instance for all, the Orphan House in Georgia, which he began and perfected, in spite of all discouragements. Indeed, in whatever concerned himself, he was pliant and flexible. In this case, he was _easy to be intreated_, easy to be either convinced or persuaded. But he was immoveable in the things of God, or wherever his conscience was concerned. None could persuade, any more than affright him, to vary in the least point from that _integrity_, which was inseparable from his whole character, and regulated all his words and actions.

“If it be enquired, what was the foundation of this integrity, or of his sincerity, courage, patience, and every other valuable and amiable quality, it is easy to give the answer. It was not the excellence of his natural temper; not the strength of his understanding; it was not the force of education; no, nor the advice of his friends. It was no other than faith in a bleeding Lord; _faith of the operation of God_. It was _a lively hope of an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away_. It was _the love of God shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost, which was given unto him_, filling his soul with tender, disinterested love to every child of man. From this source arose that torrent of _eloquence_, which frequently bore down all before it; from this, that astonishing force of _persuasion_, which the most hardened sinners could not resist. This it was, which often made his _head as waters_, and his _eyes as a fountain of tears_. This it was, which enabled him to pour out his soul in _prayer_, in a manner peculiar to himself, with such fulness and ease united together, with such strength and variety both of sentiment and expression.

“I may close this head with observing, what an honour it pleased God to put upon His faithful servant, by allowing him to declare His everlasting gospel in so many various countries, to such numbers of people, and with so great an effect on so many of their precious souls. Have we read or heard of any person since the apostles, who testified the gospel of the grace of God, through so widely extended a space, through so large a part of the habitable world? Have we read or heard of any person, who called so many thousands, so many myriads of sinners to repentance? Above all, have we read or heard of any, who has been a blessed instrument in the hand of God of _bringing_ so many sinners from _darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God_?”

Like all Wesley’s writings, this sketch of Whitefield’s character is concise, but terse, pointed, and comprehensive. He concludes by improving Whitefield’s death. The grand lesson to be learned was to “keep close to the _grand doctrines_ which” Whitefield “delivered; and to drink into his _spirit_,” a lesson which the Methodists of the present day have more need to study and to lay to heart than the Methodists of any previous generation.

The “_grand doctrines_” specified by Wesley were, that “There is _no power_ (by nature) and _no merit_ in man. All power to think, speak, or act aright, is in and from the Spirit of Christ: and all merit is in the blood of Christ. All men are _dead in trespasses and sins_: all are _by nature children of wrath_: all are _guilty before God_, liable to death, temporal and eternal. We become interested in what Christ has done and suffered, _not by works, lest any man should boast_; but by faith alone. _We conclude_, says the Apostle, _that a man is justified by faith, without the works of the law_. And _to as many as_ thus receive Him, giveth He power _to become the sons of God: even to those that believe in His name, who are born, not of the will of man, but of God_. And except a man _be thus born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God_. But all who are thus _born of the Spirit_, have _the kingdom of God within them_. That _mind is in them which was in Christ Jesus_, enabling them to _walk as Christ also walked_. His indwelling Spirit makes them both holy in heart, and _holy in all manner of conversation_.”

These were the doctrines of Wesley, Whitefield, and the first Methodists, _par excellence_, and no pulpit of the present age has a right to be designated _Methodist_, in which these doctrines do not occupy the same prominent position. “May they not,” says Wesley, “be summed up, as it were, in two words, _The new birth_, and _justification by faith_”?

Immediately after the publication of his sermon, Wesley was attacked by the _Gospel Magazine_, and charged “with asserting a gross falsehood,” in saying that “the grand fundamental doctrines which Mr. Whitefield everywhere preached,” were those just specified. In an unamiable outburst of Calvinistic zeal, the editor maintained that Whitefield’s “grand fundamental doctrines, which he everywhere preached, were the everlasting covenant between the Father and the Son, and absolute predestination flowing therefrom.”

To this Wesley quietly replied:――

“I join issue on this head. Whether the doctrines of the eternal covenant, and of absolute predestination, are the grand fundamental doctrines of Christianity or not, I affirm again, 1. That Mr. Whitefield did not everywhere preach these; 2. That he did everywhere preach the new birth, and justification by faith.

“1. He did not everywhere preach the eternal covenant, and absolute predestination. In all the times I myself heard him preach, I never heard him utter a sentence, either on one or the other. Yea, all the times he preached in West Street chapel, and in our other chapels throughout England, he did not preach these doctrines at all,――no, not in a single paragraph; which, by the bye, is a demonstration that he did not think them the fundamental doctrines of Christianity.

“2. Both in West Street chapel, and all our other chapels throughout England, he did preach the necessity of the new birth, and justification by faith, as clearly as he has done in his two volumes of printed sermons. Therefore all that I have asserted is true, and proveable by ten thousand witnesses.”[711]

It is scarcely necessary to add to Wesley’s delineation of his much-loved friend and fellow-worker; and yet there are other sketches, by those who were intimately acquainted with the great evangelist, which may be briefly noticed. “Funeral sermons were preached in the principal cities of America,”[712] including one at Newbury Port, by the Rev. Jonathan Parsons; three at Savannah,[713] by the Rev. Samuel Frink, rector, the Rev. Edward Ellington, and the Rev. John Joachim Zubley,[714] Presbyterian; two at Charlestown, by the Revds. Mr. Whitaker, and Josiah Smith; at least, one at Philadelphia, by the Rev. James Sproat, D.D., the successor of Gilbert Tennent; and two at Boston, one by the Rev. Ebenezer Pemberton, D.D., and the other by the Rev. Samuel Cooper, D.D.[715] In England, sermons were preached by Wesley, Venn, Romaine, Madan, John Newton, Berridge, Haweis, and several other clergymen of the Church of England; also by the Rev. Thomas Gibbons, D.D.; the Rev. John Trotter, D.D.; the Rev. John Langford; the Rev. Samuel Brewer; the Rev. Charles Skelton;[716] and others among the Dissenters.[717] Besides Wesley’s, the following sermons were _published_:――1. “To Live is Christ, to Die is Gain. A Funeral Sermon on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, who died suddenly of a fit of the Asthma, at Newbury Port, at six of the clock, Lord’s-day Morning, Sept. 30, 1770. The Sermon preached the same day (afternoon), by Jonathan Parsons, A.M., and Minister of the Presbyterian Church there. To which are added, An Account of his Interment; the Speech over his Grave, by the Rev. Mr. Jewet; and some Verses to his Memory, by the Rev. Thomas Gibbons, D.D. 1771.” (8vo. 35 pp.) 2. “Heaven, the Residence of the Saints: a Sermon, delivered at the Thursday Lecture at Boston, in America, October 11, 1770. By Ebenezer Pemberton, D.D., Pastor of a Church in Boston, 1771.” (8vo. 31 pp.) 3. “The Reproach of Christ the Christian’s Treasure: a Sermon preached at Christ Church, Savannah, in Georgia, on Sunday, November 11, 1770. By Edward Ellington, V.D.M. London, 1771.” (8vo. 31 pp.)[718] 4. “A Minister Dead, yet Speaking. Being the Substance of two Discourses, preached November 11, 1770. By the Rev. Mr. D. Edwards. London.” (8vo. 24 pp.) 5. “A Token of Respect to the Memory of the Rev. George Whitefield, A.M. Being the Substance of a Sermon preached on his Death, at the Right Hon. the Countess of Huntingdon’s Chapel at Bath, the 18th of November, 1770. By the Rev. Mr. Venn, London, 1770.” (8vo. 20 pp.) 6. “The Exalted State of the Faithful Ministers of Christ, after Death, described and considered. A Sermon preached on Sabbath-day Evening, December 2, 1770. By John Langford, Minister of the Gospel, and Pastor of that part of the Church of Christ, meeting in Black’s Fields, Southwark. London, 1770.” (8vo. 40 pp.) 7. “Grace and Truth, or a Summary of Gospel Doctrine, considered in a Funeral Discourse, preached on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, A.B. By R. Elliot, A.B. London, 1770.” (12mo. 46 pp.)

From these, and from contemporaneous publications, many extracts might be furnished. Mr. Parsons told his congregation that he had enjoyed Whitefield’s friendship for thirty years; and that it was by Whitefield’s “advice and influence” that he had settled at Newbury Port a quarter of a century ago. Mr. Parsons continued:――

“When Mr. Whitefield first came to Boston, Dr. Coleman wrote to me, that, ‘the wonderful man was come, and they had had a week of sabbaths; that Mr. Whitefield’s zeal for Christ was extraordinary; and yet he recommended himself to his thousands of hearers, by his engagedness for holiness and souls.’ I soon had opportunity to observe, that, wherever he flew, like a flame of fire, his ministry gave a general alarm to all sorts of people, though, before that, they had, for a long time, been sunk into dead formality. Ministers and their congregations seemed to be at ease; but Mr. Whitefield’s preaching appeared to be from the heart. We were convinced that he believed the message he brought to us, to be of the last importance. His popularity exceeded all that I ever knew. The last sermon that he preached only yesterday, though under the disadvantage of a stage in the open air, was delivered with such clearness, pathos, and eloquence, as to please and surprise the surrounding thousands. As, for many years, he had been waiting and hoping for his last change, he then declared that he hoped it was the last time he should ever preach. His countenance shone like the unclouded sun.”

Dr. Pemberton, in his sermon, founded upon 1 Peter i. 4, observes:――

“I am not fond of funeral panegyrics, which are oftener adapted to flatter the dead than to instruct the living. But where persons have been distinguishedly honoured by heaven, and employed to do uncommon service for God’s Church on earth, it would be criminal ingratitude to suffer them to drop into the dust without the most respectful notice. Posterity will view Mr. Whitefield, in many respects, as one of the most extraordinary characters of the present age. His zealous, incessant, and successful labours, in Europe and America, are without a parallel. We beheld here a new star arise in the hemisphere of these western churches, and its salutary influences were diffused through a great part of the British settlements in these remote regions. We heard from a divine of the Church of England those great doctrines of the gospel, which our ancestors brought with them from their native country. In his repeated progresses through the colonies, he was favoured with the same success which attended him on the other side of the Atlantic. He preached from day to day in thronged assemblies; yet his hearers never discovered the least weariness, but always followed him with increasing ardour. When in the pulpit, every eye was fixed on his expressive countenance; every ear was charmed with his melodious voice; all sorts of persons were captivated with the propriety and beauty of his address. Many in all parts of the land were turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. He was no contracted bigot, but embraced Christians of every denomination in the arms of his charity, and acknowledged them to be children of the same Father, servants of the same Master, heirs of the same undefiled inheritance. He was always received by multitudes with pleasure when he favoured us with his labours; but he never had a more obliging reception than in his last visit. Men of the first distinction in the province, not only attended his ministry, but gave him the highest marks of respect. With what faithfulness did he declare unto us the whole counsel of God! With what solemnity did he reprove us for our increasing degeneracy! With what zeal did he exhort us to remember from whence we were fallen, and repent and do our first works, lest God should come and remove our candlestick out of its place. On every occasion, he expressed an uncommon concern for our _civil_ as well as our _religious_ privileges, the dear-bought purchase of our heroic ancestors. With what fervency did he pray that they might be transmitted entire to the most distant posterity! He embraced every opportunity, in public and private, to persuade us to lay aside our party prejudices and passions, that with undivided hearts we might unite in every proper method to secure our future prosperity. Perhaps no man, since the apostolic age, preached oftener, or with greater success. If we view his private character, he will appear in the most amiable light: the polite gentleman, the faithful friend, the engaging companion――above all, the sincere Christian――were visible in the whole of his deportment. With large opportunities of accumulating wealth, he never discovered the least tincture of avarice. What he received from the kindness of his friends, he generously employed in offices of piety and charity. His benevolent mind was perpetually forming plans of extensive usefulness. I have not drawn an imaginary portrait, but described a character in real life. I am not representing a perfect man; but this may be said of Mr. Whitefield with justice, that, after the most public appearances for above thirty years, and the most critical examination of his conduct, no other blemish could be fixed upon him, than what arose from the common frailties of human nature, and the peculiar circumstances which attended his first entrance into public life. The imprudences of inexperienced youth he frequently acknowledged from the pulpit with a frankness which will for ever do honour to his memory. He took care to prevent any bad consequences that might flow from his unguarded censures in the early days of his ministry. The longer he lived, the more he evidently increased in _purity of doctrine_, in _humility, meekness, prudence, patience_, and the other amiable virtues of the _Christian life_.”

A testimony like this, coming from, not only a distinguished minister, but one who had been intimately acquainted with Whitefield for the last thirty years, is of more than ordinary importance.

The sermon, written by Cornelius Winter, and preached by the Rev. Edward Ellington, in Whitefield’s old church in Savannah, is respectable, but contains no facts not already noticed. The same may be said respecting the Rev. D. Edwards’s two discourses.

The sermon by the Rev. Henry Venn is what might be expected from a man of his piety and talents; and as he and Whitefield were loving friends, and Methodist co-workers, the following extract will be acceptable:――

“Mr. Whitefield’s doctrine was the doctrine of the Reformers, of the Apostles, and of Christ; and the doctrine which he preached, he eminently adorned by his zeal, and by his works. If the greatness, extent, success, and disinterestedness of a man’s labour can give him distinction amongst the followers of Christ, we are warranted to affirm, that scarce any one of His ministers, since the days of the apostles, has exceeded, scarce any one has equalled, Mr. Whitefield.”

Venn proceeds to state, that, for many years, Whitefield preached from forty to sixty hours every week, besides “offering up prayers and intercessions, and singing hymns and spiritual songs in every house to which he was invited.”

Mr. Langford’s sermon supplies no additional information respecting Whitefield; neither does Mr. Elliot’s. Toplady wrote:――

“I deem myself happy in thus publicly avowing the inexpressible esteem in which I held this wonderful man, and the affectionate veneration which I must ever retain for the memory of one whose acquaintance and ministry were attended with the most important spiritual benefit to me, and to tens of thousands besides. It will not be saying too much, if I term him the apostle of the English empire, in point of zeal for God, a long course of indefatigable and incessant labours, unparalleled disinterestedness, and astonishing extensive usefulness. If the most absolute command over the passions of immense auditories be a mark of a consummate orator, he was the greatest of the age. If the strongest good sense, the most generous expansions of heart, the most artless but captivating affability, the most liberal exemption from bigotry, the purest and most transpicuous integrity, the brightest cheerfulness, and the promptest wit, enter into the composition of social excellence, he was one of the best companions in the world. If to be steadfast, and unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; if a union of the most brilliant with the most solid ministerial gifts, ballasted by a deep and humbling experience of grace, and crowned with the most extended success in the conversion of sinners and the edification of saints, be signatures of a special commission from heaven, Mr. Whitefield cannot but stand highest on the modern list of Christian ministers. He was the prince of preachers. On the whole, he was the least imperfect character I ever knew. It appears, from a book in which this great man of God minuted the times and places of his ministerial labours, that he preached upwards of eighteen thousand sermons, from the time of his ordination to that of his death. To which we may add, upwards of one thousand four hundred and sixty letters, written to his friends and acquaintance.”[719]

John Newton, in a sermon, preached in his church at Olney, on November 11, said: “I have had some opportunities of looking over the history of the Church in past ages, and I am not backward to say, that I have not read or heard of any person, since the days of the apostles, of whom it may more emphatically be said, ‘He was a burning and shining light,’ than of the late Mr. Whitefield. The Lord gave him a manner of preaching, which was peculiarly his own. He copied from none, and I never met any one who could imitate him with success. Those who attempted, generally made themselves disagreeable. Other ministers, perhaps, could preach the gospel as clearly, and in general say the same things; but, I believe, no man living could say them in his way.”

“I bless God,” added the Olney curate, “that I have lived in the time of Mr. Whitefield. Many were the winter mornings in which I got up at four, to attend his Tabernacle discourses at five; and I have seen Moorfields as full of lanthorns at these times as, I suppose, the Haymarket is full of flambeaux on an opera night. If any one were to ask me who was the second preacher I ever heard, I should be at some loss to answer; but, in regard to the first, Mr. Whitefield exceeded so far every other man of my time, that I should be at none. He was the original of popular preaching, and all our popular ministers are only his copies.”[720]

Honest Berridge took for his text, at Everton, “Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children of men.” He told his hearers that the £1,500, of which Whitefield had died possessed, was money which he had only recently received. By the death of his wife, two years ago, he had become entitled to £800; and the remaining £700 had been bequeathed to him, in four separate legacies, by friends not long deceased.[721]

Many of the newspapers and magazines of the day contained sketches of Whitefield’s career and character. The following, published in the _Scots’ Magazine_, is a fair specimen of others:――

“Mr. Whitefield was well known over all the British empire, as a faithful, laborious, and successful minister of the gospel of Christ. The character of this truly pious and extraordinary person must be deeply impressed upon the heart of every friend to true, genuine, vital Christianity. For above thirty years, he has astonished the world, as a prodigy of eloquence, by which he was enabled to melt the most obdurate and stubborn sinners. Though, in the pulpit, he often found it necessary _by the terrors of the Lord to persuade men_, he had nothing gloomy in his nature, being singularly charitable and tender-hearted; and, in his private conversation, cheerful, communicative, and entertaining. To the very meanest, he was always easy of access, and ever ready to listen to, and relieve their bodily as well as their spiritual necessities; shewing himself, in every respect, a faithful steward of the extensive charities he drew from his numerous and compassionate hearers. He constantly enforced upon his audiences every moral duty, particularly industry in their different callings, obedience to their superiors, and in a most especial manner loyalty to our amiable Sovereign, never once endeavouring in these distracted times to make a factious use of the great influence he held among his numerous adherents.”

The _Pennsylvania Journal_ also published a letter, dated “Boston, October 1, 1770,” from which the following is an extract:――

“In his public performances, Mr. Whitefield has, for a long course of years, astonished the world as a prodigy of eloquence and devotion. With what divine pathos did he plead with the impenitent sinner! Filled with the spirit of grace, he spoke from the heart; and with a fervency of zeal perhaps unequalled since the days of the Apostles. He was unrivalled in the command of an ever-crowded and admiring auditory; nor was he less entertaining and instructive in his private conversation. Happy in a remarkable ease of address, willing to communicate, studious to edify, and formed to amuse――such, in more retired life, was he whom we now lament.”[722]

Except the Wesleys, perhaps no one was better acquainted with Whitefield than the Rev. Dr. Gillies, of Glasgow, whose “Memoirs of Whitefield” were published in the month of June, 1772.[723] Omitting, as far as possible, the traits of Whitefield’s character already noticed, Dr. Gillies’ sketch may fitly close these eulogies by Whitefield’s friends.

“Mr. Whitefield’s person was graceful, and well proportioned. His stature was rather above the middle size. His complexion was very fair. His eyes were of a dark blue colour, and small, but sprightly. He had a squint with one of them, occasioned either by the ignorance, or carelessness of the nurse who attended him in the measles, when he was about four years old. His features were in general good and regular. His countenance was manly, and his voice exceeding strong; yet both were softened with an uncommon degree of sweetness. He was always very clean and neat, and often said pleasantly, that ‘a minister of the gospel ought to be without spot.’ His deportment was decent and easy, without the least stiffness or formality; and his engaging polite manner made his company universally agreeable. In his youth, he was very slender, and moved his body with great agility of action, suitable to his discourse; but about the fortieth year of his age, he began to grow corpulent; which however, was solely the effect of his disease, being always, even to a proverb, remarkable for his moderation both in eating and drinking. Several prints have been done of him, which exhibit a very bad likeness. The best resemblance of him in his younger years, before he became corpulent, is that mezzotinto scraping which represents him at full length, with one hand on his breast, and holding a small Bible in the other; but the late paintings, the one by Mr. Hone,[724] and the other by Mr. Russell, are certainly the justest likenesses of his person.

“In reviewing the life of this extraordinary man, we are struck with his unwearied diligence. Early in the morning, he rose to his Master’s work, and, all the day long, was employed in a continual succession of different duties. When he was visited with any distress or affliction, preaching, as he himself tells us, was his catholicon, and prayer his antidote against every trial. When we consider what exertion of voice was necessary to reach his large congregations,――also that he preached generally twice or thrice every day, and often four times on the Lord’s-day, and above all, the waste of strength and spirits every sermon must have cost him, through the earnestness of his delivery,――it is astonishing how his constitution held out so long.

“His eloquence was great, and of the true and noblest kind. He was utterly devoid of all appearance of affectation. He seemed to be quite unconscious of the talents he possessed. The importance of his subject, and the regard due to his hearers, engrossed all his concern. He spoke like one who did not seek their applause, but was anxious for their best interests. And the effect, in some measure, corresponded to the design. His congregations did not amuse themselves with commending his discourses, but entered into his views, felt his passions, and were willing, for the time at least, to comply with his requests. This was especially remarkable at his charity sermons, when the most worldly-minded were made to part with their money in so generous a manner, that, when they returned to their former temper, they were ready to think that it had been conjured from them by some inexplicable charm.

“He had a strong and musical voice, and a wonderful command of it. His pronunciation was not only proper, but manly and graceful. He was never at a loss for the most natural and strong expressions. The grand sources of his eloquence were an exceeding lively imagination, and an action still more lively. Every accent of his voice spoke to the ear; every feature of his face, and every motion of his hands, spoke to the eye. The most dissipated and thoughtless found their attention involuntarily fixed; and the dullest and most ignorant could not but understand. Had his natural talents for oratory been employed in secular affairs, and been somewhat more improved by refinements of art and embellishments of erudition, it is possible they would soon have advanced him to distinguished wealth and renown.

“But not to dwell longer on his accomplishments as an orator, one thing remains to be mentioned of an infinitely higher order, namely, the power of God, which so remarkably accompanied his labours. It is here Mr. Whitefield is most to be envied. When we consider the multitudes that were brought under lasting religious impressions, and the multitudes that were wrought upon in the same manner by the ministry of others, excited by his example, we are led into the same sentiment with Mr. Wesley in his funeral sermon, ‘What an honour hath it pleased God to put upon His faithful servant!’

“True, this excellent character was shaded with some infirmities. What else could be expected in the present condition of humanity? But it ought to be observed, that, as there was something very amiable in the frankness which prevented his concealing them, so, through his openness to conviction, his teachableness, and his readiness to confess and correct his mistakes, they became still fewer and smaller as he advanced in knowledge and experience.

“When he first set out in the ministry, his youth and inexperience led him into many expressions which were contrary to sound doctrine, and which made many of the sermons he first printed justly exceptionable; but reading, experience, and a deeper knowledge of his own heart, convinced him of his errors, and, upon all occasions, he avowed his belief of the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England, and the Standards of the Church of Scotland. ‘He loved his friend’ (Wesley), ‘but he would not part with a grain of sacred truth for the brother of his heart.’”[725]

My task is nearly ended. I am not conscious of having omitted a single fact, of any importance, in Whitefield’s history. His life is a suggestive one; but want of space prevents enlargement on the countless incidents in his remarkable career. These have been narrated with as much clearness as the writer could command. The reader can form his own reflections. Preachers, especially, will do well to make Whitefield the subject of prayerful study. Let them try to imitate him in the use of his matchless voice. A man had better not preach at all, than preach so mumblingly that only half of what he says is heard. He vexes his hearers without doing them any good. If Whitefield had tried to add to his facial beauty, by omitting to shave his upper lip, even he would not have spoken so distinctly and audibly as he did. Whitefield’s preaching was always warm, earnest, pointed,――addressed to the heart rather than the head. He left the impression that he intensely believed what he said. “_Clear but cold_, is too descriptive of much modern preaching. It is the frosty moonlight of a winter’s night, not the warm sunshine of a summer’s day.”[726] If such had been Whitefield’s preaching, what would his success have been? The man’s faith filled and fired him with enthusiasm. On themes such as the ruin of man, the love of God, the death of Christ, the salvation of souls, the felicities of heaven, and the torments of hell, it was impossible for Whitefield to be calm. If Whitefield had preached on _little subjects_, he might have been as cool as many of his fellows, and might have courted favour by yielding to the fastidious tastes of respectable congregations, desiring the sentimental, the picturesque, and the imaginative, but turning with disgust from the solemn, the alarming, the awakening. Whitefield was not a coward. No fetters of custom, or trammels of conventionality, could enslave him. He never unmanned himself by prophesying smooth things, for fear of offending his auditors. His life was spent in _testifying_ a _few_ great truths in which he had an intense, divinely given, vivid faith,――truths, always unpopular among philosophers, but truths everywhere needed by human beings,――the only truths which meet the yearnings of human nature. Whitefield had no time for lesser truths. He durst not amuse his hearers by preaching them. He saw the people perishing, and he had not the hardihood to trifle in his attempts to save them. His congregations always knew what would be the substance of his sermons. Added to all this, Whitefield was full of religious feeling. Except when sleeping, he seemed to pray and praise always and everywhere. He was “full of faith and the Holy Ghost.” A vivid spirituality inflamed his soul. His ideas of God and Christ, of sin and holiness, of faith and pardon, of heaven and hell, were not merely thoughts, but sentiments. Without this, Whitefield’s eloquence would only have been elocution, and his sermons, instead of being “mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds,” would have been――what?――theatrical orations!

Whitefield left no “_Societies_,” as his friend Wesley did; but Whitefield’s ministry was the means of converting tens of thousands of sinners from the errors of their ways. O that this could be said of twenty of the preachers of the present day! Their influence, direct and indirect, would set “the kingdoms on a blaze.” Not a few of Whitefield’s converts became ministers; and, as children often resemble their parents, most of the ministers who owned Whitefield as their spiritual father, were, though in an inferior degree, a resemblance of himself, in their spirit, labours, and success. Except at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court Road, Whitefield created no “golden candlestick” (Rev. i. 20), but he everywhere carried a torch kindled at the altar of heaven, and with it lighted “candlesticks that had gone out.” He is inseparably connected with the history of the _evangelical_ party of the Church of England, beginning with men like Berridge, Venn, Madan, Romaine, Newton, and others, and resulting in a fact of inconceivable importance, namely, that, thousands of the pulpits of the Established Church are now occupied by ministers of a kindred spirit. Plenty of evidence has been furnished, in the first volume of the present work, of the apathy and worldliness of the Congregationalists of England and the Presbyterians of Scotland. The contrast between the state of these churches in 1739 and 1876 is almost a contrast between life and death. Whitefield is credited with having preached for the Dissenters of England to a greater extent than he is entitled to; but he did preach for them, in Northamptonshire, Herts, Gloucestershire, and other places, and they, not improperly, attribute much of their revived religion to his instrumentality. His usefulness in Scotland is much more apparent and undoubted. With no wish to depreciate the Erskines and their friends, it is not too much to say, that, Whitefield was the first great agent of that resuscitation of religion, which has effectually counteracted the Socinian and semi-infidel tendencies which prevailed in the Presbyterian Churches across the border, and which has infused into them the new and universal life they now exhibit. Whitefield’s service to Ireland was small,――a contrast to that rendered by his friend Wesley; but his usefulness in Wales was incalculable. Though not the founder of the Calvinistic Methodists, he was, for years, and until he resigned the honour, their elected moderator; and, to the end of life, he took a warm and active interest in their welfare and prosperity. Their chapels are found in every town and almost every village of the Principality; their ordained ministers number more than four hundred; their communicants nearly a hundred thousand; and their hearers about a quarter of a million. What is called “Lady Huntingdon’s Connection” was not formally established until thirteen years after Whitefield’s death; but Whitefield chiefly, in connection with other clergymen of the Established Church, had prepared the way for this; and now, in the days of its decline, it possesses about half a hundred chapels, and its Cheshunt College, the substitute of the one at Trevecca, which Whitefield opened two years before he died.

In other ways, Great Britain was immensely benefited by Whitefield’s labours. Methodists especially, and other evangelists, must not forget that Whitefield was the first who revived the good old practice of preaching out of doors. He was not formally one of Wesley’s “assistants;” but, for many years, he preached, in the north of England, and other places, to Wesley’s congregations, and fostered and promoted their religious life. His enormous collections, also, were, to a great extent, the beginning of the marvellous beneficence which now distinguishes the British churches. And, once again, his catholicity of spirit greatly tended to usher in the age of friendliness among professing Christians.

All this may be said with truthfulness respecting the influence he exerted in his native country; but, perhaps, his usefulness in America was greater even than in England. An American author,[727] of great eminence, observes:――

“The ‘Great Awakening’ here had commenced before his arrival, but it was comparatively local, and its visible interest at least had mostly subsided. Edwards and some of his ministerial associates were yet praying and writing respecting it in New England; and the Tennents, Blairs, Finley, Rowland, and others, were devotedly labouring, in detail, in the Middle States, against the moral stupor of the times; but Whitefield’s coming at once renewed the revival and gave it universality, if not unity. He alone of all its promoters represented it in all parts of the country; and, at every repeated visit, renewed its progress. In the South, he was almost its only labourer. His preaching, and especially his volume of sermons, read by Morris, founded the Presbyterian Church in Virginia; for, before that period, there was not a Dissenting minister settled in the colony. In the Middle States, Whitefield’s labours had a profound effect. He was an apostle to Philadelphia; he rallied around him its preachers, and stimulated them by his example. In New Jersey and New York, he exerted a similar influence; and the frequent repetition of his visits through about thirty years did not allow the evangelical interests of the churches to subside. The ministers in the Synod of New York more than tripled in seven years after his first visit. In New England, the effects of Edwards’s labours were reproduced and rendered general by Whitefield’s frequent passages. One hundred and fifty Congregational Churches were founded in less than twenty years; and it has been estimated that about forty thousand souls were converted in New England alone. The effects of the great revival, of which Whitefield had thus become the ostensible representative, have been profound and permanent. The Protestantism of the United States has taken its subsequent character from it; and the ‘Holy Club’ at Oxford maybe recognized as historically connected with the evangelical religion of all this continent. The effect of the ‘awakening’ on the character of the ministers was one of its greatest results. Since that period, the ‘evangelical’ character of the American pastorate has not, as before, been exceptional, but general. Its influence on the discipline of the Church was also one of its most important blessings. It banished the ‘Halfway Covenant,’ which had filled the eastern churches with unconverted members. It made personal regeneration a requisite among the qualifications for the Christian ministry; and it introduced that general and profound conviction of the essential spirituality of religion, and the necessary independence of Church and State, which soon after began, and has since completed, the overthrow of all legal connection between the two throughout the country. It gave origin to Princeton College and its distinguished Theological Seminary, and also to Dartmouth College; for both were founded by Whitefield’s fellow-labourers, and the Methodists of England contributed their money to both.”

This, written by one so well acquainted with the history of America as Dr. Stevens, deserves more than ordinary attention. One more fact must be noticed, though included in the general statement just given. There cannot be a doubt that Whitefield’s labours in America prepared the way for Wesley’s itinerants. The first two, Richard Boardman and Joseph Pilmoor, arrived before his last visit; and, in Philadelphia, he gave them his blessing. That was in the year 1769. Now the _Methodist Episcopal Church alone_ has 12 bishops;[728] 81 annual conferences; 10,923 itinerant preachers; 12,881 local preachers; 1,580,559 church members; 15,633 church edifices, valued at $71,353,234; 5,017 parsonages, valued at $9,731,628; 19,287 Sunday-schools; 207,182 Sunday-school officers and teachers; and 1,406,168 Sunday-school scholars. It has also two large “book concerns,” at New York, and at Cincinnati; and 20 periodicals, published under the direction of the General Conference, besides a number of others edited and published by members of the Methodist Episcopal Church on their own responsibility. It has publishing houses at Bremen in Germany; Gottenberg in Sweden; in the city of Mexico; and at Foochow in China. It has seven _German_ conferences, with 511 itinerant preachers; 556 local preachers; 47,698 church members; 610 church edifices; 294 parsonages; 940 Sunday-schools; 7,908 Sunday-school officers and teachers; and 46,998 Sunday-school scholars. Its Foreign Missionary Society has 369 missionaries and assistant missionaries; 310 teachers; 16,127 church members; 111 church edifices, valued at $396,171; 55 parsonages, valued at $70,750; 426 Sunday-schools; 18,971 Sunday-school scholars; and 180 day-schools, with 5,329 pupils. Besides these, the same Foreign Missionary Society employs 251 missionaries “among foreign populations in the United States,” and 2,307 “domestic missionaries,” who have under their care unitedly 56,241 church members. The Methodist Episcopal Church has its “Woman’s Foreign Missionary Society,” with 19 missionaries; 100 schools; 108 Bible-women and teachers; 159 orphans; and an annual income of $64,309. It has its “Freedmen’s Aid Society,” with an income of $86,560 yearly. It has a “Tract Society,” the receipts of which, for the year 1874, were $19,840. It has 27 “universities and colleges,” with 216 “instructors,” and 5,090 students; also 69 “academies and seminaries,” with 504 “instructors,” and 14,100 students; the estimated value of these collegiate properties being about seven million dollars. To these must be added the “Boston University School of Theology,” with 90 students; the “Drew Theological Seminary,” with 125 students; the “Garrett Biblical Institute,” with 156 students; the “Martin Mission Institute,” with 10 students; and the “India Conference Theological Seminary,” with 27 students.

These statistics, which could be multiplied if it were desirable, belong to the “Methodist Episcopal Church” alone; but, since it was founded in 1769, the following Methodist Churches have seceded from it, namely:――

Itinerant Local Church Ministers. Preachers. Members. ───────── ───────── ─────── Methodist, Episcopal, South 3,485 5,356 712,765 Coloured Methodist Episcopal 635 683 80,000 African Methodist Episcopal 600 1,450 200,000 African Methodist Episcopal Zion 1,200 800 225,000 Evangelical Association 835 503 95,253 United Brethren 967 1,709 131,850 The Methodist Church 775 507 55,183 Methodist Protestant Church 650 200 54,319 American Wesleyan Church 250 190 20,000 Free Methodists 90 80 6,000 Primitive Methodists 20 25 2,800 Congregational Methodists 23 9,500

The financial and other statistics of these seceding Methodist Churches might easily be given; but it is enough to say, that, including the mother of them all, “The Methodist Episcopal Church,” there are now, in the United States of America, where Whitefield laboured with such marvellous success, 20,453 ordained Methodist ministers; 24,384 lay preachers; 3,173,229 church members; and, according to the returns of the Government census of 1870, more than six millions and a half of people, who, under the head of “Religious Denominational Preferences,” entered themselves as “Methodists.”

_Laus Deo!_

FINIS.

INDEX.

NAMES OF PERSONS AND PLACES.

Aberdeen, i. 522.

Aberdeen, Earl of, ii. 210.

Aberford, ii. 234, 464.

Abergavenny, i. 196, 530; ii. 79, 87, 225.

Abingdon, i. 264.

Abingdon (America), i. 332, 374.

Adams, Rev. Dr. William, i. 10, 15.

Adams, Thomas, ii. 57, 63, 114–119, 148, 148, 224, 287, 317, 453, 462, 488, 517, 532, 534, 558, 560, 562, 569, 588, 609.

Aglionby, William, i. 139.

Ailesbury, Lady, ii. 407.

Aldridge, ii. 86.

Allen, William, i. 378.

Allens Town (America), i. 384.

Allt, William, ii. 112.

Alnwick, ii. 285, 312, 412.

Alpraham, ii. 315, 316.

America, i. 127.

Amwell (America), i. 379.

Ancaster, Duchess of, i. 78, 160; ii. 209.

Annapolis (America), i. 340.

Appleton, Rev. Dr. Nathaniel, i. 423.

Argyll, Duchess of, ii. 209.

Asbury, Francis, ii. 584.

Ashby, ii. 256, 258, 265, 269.

Athlone, ii. 238, 273–275, 397.

Attleborough (America), ii. 592.

Avebury, ii. 111.

Axminster, ii. 77.

Baddiley, Rev. William, ii. 242, 259.

Badsey, i. 200, 201.

Ball, Roger, ii. 274.

Bandon, ii. 274, 275.

Bangor, Bishop of, ii. 39.

Barber, Jonathan, i. 445, 460, 476; ii. 24, 60.

Barker, Rev. John, ii. 73.

Barnard, Rev. John, ii. 355, 357, 362.

Barnardcastle, ii. 313.

Bartlett, Mr., ii. 603.

Bascombe, Judge, ii. 181.

Basingstoke, i. 175, 264–267.

Baskinridge (America), i. 433.

Bass, Rev. Dr. Edward, ii. 600.

Bate, Rev. James, i. 289.

Bateman, Rev. Richard Thomas, ii. 62, 160, 186, 189, 197, 214.

Bath, i. 2, 73, 78, 106, 176, 184, 550; ii. 109, 161, 282, 345, 346, 374, 406, 489, 493, 496, 500, 539, 557, 559.

Bath, Earl of, ii. 193, 211, 318.

Bath, Countess of, ii. 208, 249.

Beard, Thomas, ii. 105.

Beauclerk, Lord Sidney, ii. 37.

Beaulieu, Earl of, ii. 210.

Beaumont, James, ii. 109.

Beaumont, John ii. 48, 49, 57.

Bedford, i. 231; ii. 315, 410.

Bedford, Rev. Arthur, i. 74, 151.

Bedford, Duchess of, ii. 407.

Belcher, Hon. Jonathan, i. 410, 418, 421, 425, 434; ii. 227, 252, 255, 334, 341, 342, 402.

Belfast, ii. 274, 276.

Bell, George, ii. 492.

Bell, William, ii. 304.

Benezet, Anthony, i. 384.

Bengeworth, i. 200.

Bennet, John, ii. 235.

Bennet, Rev. Mr., ii. 78, 253, 254.

Bennett, Mr., i. 173.

Benson, Bishop, i. 43, 47, 72, 106, 157–159, 261, 310, 349.

Bermudas, ii. 179.

Berridge, Rev. John, ii. 410, 417, 441, 452, 462, 504, 539–541, 578, 584, 620, 625, 631.

Bertie, Lady Eleanor, ii. 209.

Berwick, ii. 262, 285, 312.

Bethell, Mrs. Bridget, i. 106.

Bevan, Mrs., ii. 345, 346.

Beveridge, Bishop, i. 88.

Bexley, i. 162, 239, 241–246, 249, 272.

Bideford, ii. 78, 102, 254, 270.

Birmingham, ii. 81, 82, 87, 113, 161, 315.

Birstal, ii. 236, 285, 310, 315, 380–383.

Bishop Auckland, ii. 412.

Bishop Stortford, i. 251.

♦Bisset, Rev. John, i. 522; ii. 16.

Bissicks, Thomas, i. 530, 536.

Blackheath, i. 239, 241, 244–246, 272, 276, 277.

Blackwell, Ebenezer, i. 255, 309, 378; ii. 236, 280.

Blair, Rev. Dr. Robert, ii. 72.

Blair, Rev. Samuel, i. 322, 386, 477.

Blendon, i. 239.

Boardman, Richard, ii. 571, 586, 588, 633.

Bohemia (America), ii. 170, 178, 337.

Bohler, Rev. Peter, i. 148, 379, 382, 437; ii. 303–305.

Bolingbroke, Lord, ii. 194, 210, 215.

Bolton, ii. 259, 285, 315, 352.

Bolton, Duke of, ii. 37.

Bolton, Robert, ii. 610.

Boltzius, Rev. John Martin, i. 137, 141.

Boscawen, Mrs., ii. 209.

Boston (America), i. 407–411, 417, 424, 434, 476; ii. 12, 130, 144–147, 152, 174, 335–337, 472, 475, 592–596, 600.

Boswell, James, ii. 544.

Boulter, Archbishop, i. 147.

Bovey-Tracey, ii. 215.

Bradbury, Rev. Mr., ii. 571, 572.

Bradford (Wilts), ii. 374, 559.

Bradford (Yorkshire), ii. 310, 352, 381.

Brainerd, Rev. David, ii. 152.

Braintree, ii. 112.

Braithwaite, Booth, ii. 549.

Brattle, Colonel, i. 423.

Brecon, ii. 59.

Brewer, Rev. Samuel, ii. 620.

Brewood, ii. 112, 113.

Brighton, ii. 416, 515, 551.

Brislington, i. 185.

Bristol, i. 2, 7, 33, 36, 73, 77, 78, 106, 177–186, 194, 258–263, 474, 477–483, 533, 540, 547; ii. 54, 64, 109, 161, 204, 206, 214, 216, 224, 229, 249, 270, 282, 317, 345, 346, 354, 363, 374, 377, 399, 406, 407, 419, 427, 443, 452, 454, 487, 488, 493, 496, 500, 539, 557, 605.

Bristol (America), i. 384.

Broad-Oaks, i. 249.

Brockden, Mr., i. 436.

Bromsgrove, ii. 82.

Broughton, Rev. Thomas, i. 14, 54, 56, 60, 149, 349.

Browne, Rev. Moses, ii. 264, 265, 268.

Bryan, Hugh, i. 349, 448, 449, 459.

Bryan, Jonathan, ii. 23.

Buchan, Earl of, ii. 536–539.

Buchan, Lady, ii. 560.

Buckingham, Duchess of, i. 78, 160; ii. 37.

Bunyan, John. ii. 507.

Burder, Rev. George, ii. 563.

Burgess, Rev. Daniel, ii. 365.

Burlington, Earl of, ii. 210.

Burr, Rev. Aaron, ii. 256, 337, 342, 385, 402.

Burscough, Bishop, i. 146.

Bute, Lord, ii. 440.

Butler, Bishop, i. 66, 182, 233, 349.

Butterfield, Colonel, ii. 181.

Byles, Rev. Dr. Matthew, i. 411.

Byrom, Dr., i. 254.

Caerleon, i. 167, 196.

Caerphilly, i. 539.

Cambridge, i. 516, 551.

Cambridge (America), i. 409, 410, 418, 421, 423, 477, 495; ii. 592.

Cambuslang, ii. 2, 5, 6, 29, 454.

Campbell, Hon. Hume, ii. 366.

Campbell, Rev. Mr., i. 379.

Campbell, Lady Betty, ii. 209.

Canterbury, ii. 266.

Cape Ann (America), ii. 592.

Cape Breton (America), ii. 149.

Cardiff, i. 188, 189; ii. 58.

Cardigan, Lady, ii. 209.

Carmarthen, ii. 58, 59, 226.

Carolina (America), i. 129.

Carteret, Mrs., ii. 416.

Castle-Combe, ii. 559.

Cathcart, Lord, ii. 391.

Causton, Thomas, i. 142.

Cennick, John, i. 467, 471, 483–485, 490, 492, 508, 523, 536, 539, 548, 553; ii. 4–6, 40, 48, 49, 61, 98, 100, 103, 111, 113, 114, 147, 148, 158, 174, 224, 238, 294.

Chafford Common, i. 258.

Chalford, i. 199.

Chandler, Dr. Samuel, i. 67.

Chandler, Rev. Isaac, i. 396.

Chandler, Rev. James, ii. 600.

Chandler, Rev. Dr. Thomas Bradbury, ii. 520.

Chapman, Rev. William, i. 73, 193, 550, 552; ii. 54.

Charleston (America), i. 345, 346, 357–359, 395, 401, 402, 404, 405, 448–450, 459, 477; ii. 169, 179, 278, 279, 340, 484, 573, 585, 587.

Charlestown (America), i. 592.

Charlton, i. 241, 254.

Chatham, i. 272; ii. 264, 353, 379, 380.

Chauncy, Rev. Dr. Charles, ii. 125–130.

Checkley, Rev. Samuel, i. 409.

Chelmsford, ii. 112.

Cheltenham, i. 199; ii. 400, 401, 560.

Chepstow, i. 197.

Chester, ii. 316.

Chester (America), i. 337, 386.

Chesterfield, Countess of, ii. 244, 245, 415, 440.

Chesterfield, Earl of, ii. 194, 211, 318, 345, 416.

Cheyne, Dr., i. 106.

Chinley, ii. 285, 384.

Chippenham, ii. 77, 559.

Christian Bridge (America), i. 339.

Chubb, Thomas, i. 176.

Church, Rev. Thomas, ii. 95–97.

Cirencester, i. 255, 256, 264.

Clap, Rev. Nathaniel, i. 406.

Clap, Rev. Thomas, i. 430; ii. 134, 138.

Clapham, ii. 385, 404.

Clarke, Rev. Samuel, ii. 421.

Clayton, Rev. John, i. 14, 56, 148, 149.

Clements, William, ii. 108.

Clive, Catherine, ii. 355.

Coal-Pit Heath, i. 185.

Cobham, Lady, i. 78, 160.

Coc, Captain, i. 146.

Cochrane, Colonel, i. 123.

Cockman, Dr., i. 73.

Cole, Rev. Thomas, i. 41, 204, 349.

Collet, Mr., ii. 489.

Collumpton, ii. 76.

Colman, Rev. Dr. Benjamin, i. 330, 352, 408, 411, 417, 418, 425; ii. 38, 127, 144, 621.

Columbine, General, i. 117.

Comihoy, i. 196.

Concord (America), i. 425.

Conjuet, Anthony, ii. 107.

Connolly, Lady Anne, ii. 407.

Conyers, Rev. Dr., ii. 506, 533.

Cook, George, ii. 110, 111.

Cooke, Rev. Samuel, ii. 142.

Cooper, Rev. Dr. Samuel, ii. 620.

Cooper, T., i. 118.

Cooper, Rev. William, i. 408, 422, 424, 459.

Corbusiers, Colonel, ii. 181.

Cork, ii. 238–241, 245, 261, 274, 275, 397.

Cottell, Isaac, ii. 111.

Courcy, Rev. Richard de, ii. 516, 561, 611.

Coventry, ii. 316.

Coventry, Lady, ii. 407.

Cowper, William, ii. 613.

Cox, James, ii. 367.

Cox, Lady, i. 106, 349.

Crane, Mr. J., ii. 564, 609.

Cross, George, ii. 112.

Cross, Rev. Mr., i. 433, 434, 477.

Crosse, Rev. John, ii. 584.

Crossly, Rev. David, ii. 105.

Croswell, A., i. 361.

Cruttenden, Robert, ii. 98, 214, 217, 277.

Cudworth, William, ii. 347, 348.

Cumberland, Duke of, ii. 37.

Cutler, Rev. Dr. Timothy, ii. 123.

Dacre, Lady, ii. 407.

Dacre, Lord, ii. 407.

Dagge, Mr., i. 178, 179.

Darien, i. 139, 357.

Darlington, ii. 411.

Darney, William, ii. 316.

Darracott, Rev. Risdon, ii. 75, 77, 113, 250, 419.

Dartmouth, Countess of, ii. 415.

Dartmouth, Earl of, ii. 399–401, 415, 495, 524, 525.

Davenport, Rev. James, i. 446; ii. 126, 397.

Davies, Rev. Henry, ii. 48.

Davies, Rev. Howell, ii. 48, 57, 62, 187, 188, 493, 500, 518, 588, 609.

Davies, Rev. James, ii. 48.

Davies, Rev. Samuel, ii. 166, 322–324, 338.

Deal, i. 113, 114; ii. 184, 571.

Delamotte, Charles, i. 60, 75, 130, 135, 250.

Delamotte, Miss Elizabeth, i. 369.

Delamotte, Mr., i. 241, 244, 246, 248–251, 271, 272, 370.

Delamotte, William, i. 250, 355, 394, 415.

Delany, Rev. Dr., i. 147.

Delitz, Countess, ii. 209, 216, 225, 265, 406.

Deptford, i. 109, 272, 485.

Derby (America), i. 386.

♦Dickinson, Rev. Jonathan, i. 331; ii. 342.

Dinwiddie, Governor, ii. 338.

Dirleton, Lady, i. 533.

Dixon, Rev. Dr., ii. 543.

Dixon, Thomas, ii. 559, 564, 610.

Doddridge, Rev. Dr. Philip, i. 66, 220, 231, 313; ii. 34, 71–77, 195, 207, 255, 256, 260, 279, 290.

Dodington, George Bubb, ii. 210.

Dorchester (America), i. 397.

♦Dorrel, Captain, ii. 181.

Downes, Rev. John, ii. 422.

Downing, Rev. Mr., ii. 399–401, 415.

Dublin, i. 147; ii. 235, 238, 273–275, 286, 394–397.

Dudley, ii. 316.

Dulwich, i. 241, 244.

Dummer, i. 56–60, 62, 64, 176.

Durant, Rev. Mr., i. 173.

Durell, Rev. Dr., ii. 543–547.

Durham, ii. 412.

Dursley, ii. 53, 54, 559, 605.

East, Rev. Mr., ii. 605.

Ebenezer (America), i. 392.

Edgecumbe, Lord, ii. 407.

Edinburgh, i. 518, 524, 528; ii. 4, 6, 161, 196–200, 261, 276, 277, 284, 311, 312, 382, 391, 393, 394, 410, 411, 419, 445, 454, 464, 554.

Edwards, Rev. D., ii. 621, 623.

Edwards, Elizabeth, i. 1.

Edwards, Rev. Jonathan, i. 274, 426–429; ii. 19, 22, 32, 138, 343, 410.

Edwards, John, ii. 111, 161, 179, 286, 287, 352, 396, 487.

Edwards, Peter, ii. 609.

Edwin, Mrs., ii. 173.

Eells, Rev. Nathaniel, ii. 130, 139.

Egmont, Earl, i. 241.

Elberton, i. 185.

Elizabeth Town (America), i. 331, 383; ii. 334.

Ellington, Rev. Edward, ii. 576, 609, 619, 621, 623.

Elliott, Rev. R., ii. 558, 621, 624.

Emerson, Rev. Daniel, i. 410.

Emerson, Rev. Mr., ii. 144.

Epworth, ii. 285.

Erskine, David, i. 516.

Erskine, Lady Anne, ii. 559, 560.

Erskine, Lord Chancellor, ii. 537.

Erskine, Rev. Ebenezer, i. 274, 497–510, 516; ii. 9, 22, 32.

Erskine, Rev. Ralph, i. 216, 267–270, 274, 311, 333, 352, 376, 461, 497–510, 517; ii. 15.

Essex, Lady, ii. 407.

Evans, John, ii. 108.

Everton, ii. 410, 462, 464.

Evesham, i. 200, 257.

Exeter, ii. 67, 77, 113–119, 215, 217, 230, 232, 254, 270, 398, 399, 498.

Exeter (America), ii. 593, 596, 597.

Fagg’s Manor (America), i. 386.

Falmouth, i. 459.

Fawcett, Rev. Dr. John, ii. 381, 497.

Fawcett, Rev. Mr., ii. 75, 77.

Fellows, Mr. John, ii. 610.

Ferrers, Earl, ii. 425.

Ferrers, Lady, ii. 209.

Finley, Rev. Dr. Samuel, ii. 167.

Fisher, Rev. James, i. 497.

Fitch, Rev. Jabez, ii. 121.

Fitzroy, General George, ii. 373.

Fitzwalter, Lady, ii. 209.

Fletcher, Rev. John, ii. 415, 417, 499, 502, 518, 520, 535, 539, 542, 543, 578.

Foote, Samuel, ii. 355, 428–439, 505.

Fox, Hon. Charles, ii. 440.

Foxcroft, Rev. Thomas, i. 409, 410; ii. 140.

Foxe, Rev. John, ii. 417.

Francke, Professor, ii. 405.

Frankland, Lady Anne, i. 159.

Franklin, Benjamin, i. 337–339, 360, 374, 377, 439; ii. 228, 250, 283, 378, 539, 629.

Frederica (America), i. 138, 357; ii. 97.

Frederick, King of Prussia, ii. 395, 441.

Frederick, Prince of Wales, ii. 37.

Free, Rev. Dr., ii. 413, 422.

Freehold (America), i. 325, 326, 384.

Frelinghuysen, Rev. T. J., i. 331.

Frenchay, i. 186.

Frey, Andrew, ii. 308.

Frink, Rev. Samuel, ii. 559, 619.

Frome, ii. 374, 559.

Gadsby, Edward, ii. 417.

Galatin, Colonel, ii. 237, 259, 276, 346.

Galatin, Mrs., ii. 237.

Gambold, Rev. John, i. 14.

Garden, Rev. Alexander, i. 142, 357, 359–364, 396–400, 404, 405, 463, 477, 539.

Gardiner, Colonel, ii. 33, 46.

Gardiner, Lady Frances, ii. 33, 37, 262.

Garrick, David, ii. 355, 390, 433.

Gee, Rev. Joshua, i. 409; ii. 144.

Georgia (America), i. 128, 140–142; ii. 23, 334.

Germain, Lady Betty, ii. 209, 216.

German Town (America), i. 337, 374.

Gibb, Rev. Adam, i. 509–513; ii. 22, 200.

Gibbons, Rev. Dr. Thomas, ii. 204, 214, 374, 571, 620.

Gibbs, Rev. Mr., i. 177, 180.

Gibraltar, i. 116–121.

Gibson, Bishop, i. 65, 74, 157, 291, 310, 405, 546; ii. 87–94, 197.

Gibson, James, ii. 550.

Gideon, Miss, ii. 405.

Gidley, Gustavus, ii. 498.

Gifford, Rev. Dr., ii. 243, 244, 374, 461.

Gilbert, Colonel, ii. 181.

Gill, Rev. Dr. John, i. 67.

Gillies, Rev. John, i. 1; ii. 262, 284, 293, 312, 316, 323, 336, 356, 397, 398, 410, 412, 419, 442, 445, 495, 627.

Gillman, Captain, ii. 597.

Gladman, Captain, i. 308, 339, 383.

Glascott, Rev. Mr., ii. 584.

Glasgow, i. 518; ii. 5, 197–199, 262, 276, 277, 284, 311–314, 382, 392, 399, 410, 411, 419, 454, 465.

Gloucester, i. 1–3, 7, 33, 48–53, 79, 106, 197, 256–258, 263, 480, 539, 540, 548; ii. 52, 59, 83, 85, 87, 204, 206, 213, 224, 249, 316, 345, 374, 406, 517, 559.

Gloucester (America), i. 374.

Godwin, E., ii. 109, 110.

Grafton, Duke of, ii. 440.

Grafton, Duchess of, ii. 407.

Granville, Madam, i. 106.

Graves, Rev. Charles Caspar, ii. 260.

Gravesend, i. 111, 162, 239, 241, 272; ii. 568, 569.

Green, Bishop, ii. 450.

Green, Rev. Mr., ii. 558.

Green, William, ii. 257.

Greenwich (America), i. 374.

Grenaw, Rev. Mr., i. 141.

Grevil, Mrs., i. 167.

Grey, Rev. Dr. Zachary, ii. 124, 125.

Grigg, Rev. Mr., ii. 253.

Grigsby, Rev. W., ii. 291.

Grimshaw, Rev. William, ii. 218, 219, 234, 258, 293, 383, 384.

Grinfield, Mrs., ii. 282, 322, 345, 346.

Grosvenor, Rev. Dr. Benjamin, ii. 374, 614.

Grove, Thomas, ii. 543.

Gumley, Colonel, ii. 249.

Gurney, Joseph, ii. 401, 565.

Gwennap, ii. 253.

Habersham, James, i. 84, 110, 113, 114, 119, 122, 125, 140, 350, 351, 388, 395, 461, 465, 476, 485, 491, 493, 517, 531, 538;