Volume 2 — 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 Homilies648 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 1867694:—

“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.”