remarks: “Mr. Whitefield had often felt his soul so much comforted in
preaching in the Presbyterian meeting-house at Newbury Port, that he
told his friends long before his death, that, if he died in that part
of the world, he wished to be buried under the pulpit of that house.
The people, who remembered his request, had it now in their power to
grant it; and they prepared a vault under the pulpit, where they laid
his body.” During the last hundred years, thousands of persons have
visited that vault; and, as time flows on, the numbers still increase.
The _Christian’s Magazine_, for 1790, inserted a startling letter,
written by “J. Brown, of Epping, Essex,” to the following effect:――
“In 1784, I visited my friends in New England, and, hearing that
Whitefield’s body was undecayed, I went to see it. A lantern and
candle being provided, we entered the tomb. Our guide opened the
coffin lid down to Whitefield’s breast. His body was perfect.
I felt his cheeks, his breast, etc.; and the skin immediately
rose after I had touched it. Even his lips were not consumed, nor
his nose. His skin was considerably discoloured through dust and
age, but there was no effluvium; and even his gown was not much
impaired, nor his wig.”
If this were true in 1784, it had ceased to be a fact in 1796.
In a letter dated “Newbury Port, August 15, 1801,” William Mason
remarks: “About five years ago, a few friends were permitted to open
Whitefield’s coffin. We found the flesh totally consumed, but the
gown, cassock, and bands were almost the same as when he was buried in
them.”[687] After all, the two statements are not incompatible; and it
has been asserted, that “several other corpses are in the same state,”
as Whitefield’s was said to have been in fourteen years after his
decease, “owing to the vast quantities of nitre with which the earth
there abounds.”[688]
A cenotaph in honour of Whitefield’s friends, John and Charles Wesley,
has recently been erected in Westminster Abbey. That is a distinction
which has not been conferred on Whitefield.
Indeed, I am not aware that England has now any monument of Whitefield
whatever. Gillies says that, at the bottom of Mrs. Whitefield’s
monument, in Tottenham Court Road chapel, an inscription was placed in
memory of Whitefield himself; but that monument, years ago, was broken,
and has disappeared. The inscription, composed by Titus Knight, of
Halifax, is not worth quoting. One cenotaph exists――and, so far as
I know, only one, in either England or America. That is in the chapel
containing Whitefield’s bones and dust. It is a plain, but tasteful
tablet, surmounted by a flame burning from an uncovered urn; and its
history is the following. The Rev. Dr. Proudfit, a former pastor of the
old South Church, Newbury Port, remarked at its centenary anniversary
in 1856:――
“As my eye rests on that monument, let me recall the way in
which it came there. I called one evening on Mr. Bartlett. He
told me he had heard Whitefield, when he was boy, and had never
forgotten the impression made upon him by his preaching. He
expressed a desire to have a suitable monument erected to his
memory in this church. He asked if I would look after the matter,
and employ an eminent artist to do the work. I enquired how much
he was willing it should cost. ‘On that point,’ he replied, ‘I
leave you entirely at liberty. Let it be something worthy of a
great and good man.’ That monument, designed by Strickland, and
executed by Strothers, is the result. I used the liberty he gave
me moderately. Had it cost ten times as much, he would, no doubt,
have paid it cheerfully. When the artist presented the demand,
Mr. Bartlett gave him one hundred dollars above the amount. When
I was in England, the congregations at Tottenham Court and at
the Tabernacle intimated a desire to have Whitefield’s remains
removed to England; but when I told them what Mr. Bartlett had
done, they said, if any American gentleman was willing to give
£300 to do honour to Whitefield’s memory, America was well
entitled to his remains.”[689]
This monument was not put up until the year 1828. The inscription,
written by Dr. Ebenezer Porter, of Andover,[690] is as follows:――
This Cenotaph
is erected, with affectionate veneration,
To the Memory of
THE REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD,
Born at Gloucester, England, December 16, 1714;
Educated at Oxford University; ordained 1736.
In a ministry of thirty-four years,
He crossed the Atlantic thirteen times,
And preached more than eighteen thousand Sermons.
As a soldier of the cross, humble, devout, ardent,
He put on the whole armour of God:
Preferring the honour of Christ to his own interest,
repose, reputation, and life.
As a Christian orator, his deep piety, disinterested
zeal, and vivid imagination,
Gave unexampled energy to his look, utterance, and action.
Bold, fervent, pungent, and popular in his eloquence,
No other uninspired man ever preached to so large assemblies,
Or enforced the simple truths of the Gospel by motives so
persuasive and awful, and with an influence so powerful,
on the hearts of his hearers.
He died of asthma, September 30, 1770:
Suddenly exchanging his life of unparalleled labours
for his eternal rest.”
It ought to be added that another, and more imposing, monument to
Whitefield’s memory, was proposed to be erected in 1839. In that year,
the Congregational ministers of Gloucestershire associated themselves
together in a society called the “Christian Union,” and determined to
preach, in the open air, in every town, village, and hamlet of their
county. They went forth, like the seventy of old, by two and two, in
the prosecution of their mission. While these services were being held,
many of the missioners met in a central town, when one of them proposed,
that, as the present year was “the centenary of Whitefield’s labours
in reviving the apostolic practice of open-air preaching,――that as
Whitefield was a native of Gloucester,――and that as Stinchcombe Hill
was one of the places where Whitefield preached a century ago,”――it
would be well to hold a monster meeting there for the promotion of
evangelical religion. The proposal was favourably received; and, on
Tuesday, July 30, nearly one hundred ministers and twenty thousand
people assembled on the summit of this memorable hill. Drs. Redford,
Ross, and Matheson, with the Rev. Messrs. East, Hinton, and Sibree,
preached upon appropriate subjects, previously announced; and hymns,
specially composed by J. Conder, Esq., and others, were sung on the
occasion. The rain, during the afternoon, fell in torrents, but, till
about five o’clock, when they adjourned to Dursley, the vast assemblage
preserved the utmost order and compactness. The party partook of dinner
and tea upon the hill, in large booths and tents erected for the day;
and the services were, in all respects, remarkable. A few fastidious
persons thought the preachers dwelt more on Whitefield than was seemly,
forgetting, however, that the design of the commemoration was specially
to use Whitefield’s character and example for the glory of God, the
illustration of piety, the instruction of the world, and the revival
of religion. The results were, the ministers of the county re-entered
with ardour upon their itinerant engagements, the churches of the
neighbourhood were refreshed, and several modes of perpetuating the
influence of Whitefield’s piety were proposed.
At the half-yearly meeting of the Gloucestershire Association, held in
Bristol soon after, an “Address to the Christian Public” was read and
adopted, and afterwards published, to the following effect:――
“It is proposed to erect, by small subscriptions, a plain
monumental column, surmounted by a statue, on the summit
of Stinchcombe Hill, near Dursley, to commemorate the life
and labours of the Rev. George Whitefield. The site appears
peculiarly eligible, as being situated in the centre of his
native county, the scene of some of his earliest itinerant
labours, surrounded by churches established by his ministry, and
commanding a prospect of twelve or thirteen counties, together
with much of the Bristol Channel. A noble column, upon such
a base, to testify that tens of thousands regard his labours
as blessed of God to the revival of religion in our land, will
exert a moral influence which many may undervalue, but which few
can calculate. Thousands, as they travel on the great highway,
almost beneath the shadow of the statue, will think and talk of
Whitefield,――of his life, his labours, and his holy success, as
they have never done before. Its erection would open a chapter
in the book of providence, which many, who never enter our
sanctuaries, will be obliged to read; and will cherish, perhaps,
amongst themselves, an imitation of those zealous labours, which
God made so pre-eminently useful. We suggest a subscription
of a shilling each person; and hope, by this means, to erect
a magnificent testimonial of one who was in England as great
a blessing to his country, as he was in America an honour.
Whitefield was a man of no sect; the sphere of his labours had
no boundary; holding office, as it were, in every church, his
communion was with the pious of every name. In the erection of
this cenotaph all may unite――the Episcopalian, who would say
with Toplady, that ‘he was a true and faithful son of the Church
of England,’――the Dissenter, who considers his whole course
but practical independency,――the Calvinist, who admires his
conscientious adherence to the truth,――and, likewise, the
Wesleyan, who remembers him as, in life and death, the dearest
friend of Wesley.”[691]
An instinctive awe pervades thoughtful men when in the presence of the
last earthly remains of those who wielded a controlling influence upon
their times. Napoleon lingered thoughtfully and reverently in the tomb
of Frederick the Great. The Prince of Wales took off his hat at the
grave of Washington. This may be a sort of hero-worship, but it is
not a weakness. Thousands have entered the vault beneath the pulpit at
Newbury Port, to look at the open coffin of Whitefield, the good and
eloquent. The coffin, apparently of oak, is yet undecayed, and rests
upon the coffin of a Mr. Prince, a blind preacher, and one of the first
pastors of the church. The skull, the bones of the arms, the backbone,
and the ribs are in good preservation. Many years ago, Mr. Bolton, an
Englishman, and one of Whitefield’s great admirers, wished to obtain
a small memento of the great preacher. A friend of Bolton’s stole the
main bone of Whitefield’s right arm, and sent it to England in a parcel.
Bolton was horrified with his friend’s sacrilegious act, and carefully
returned the bone, in 1837, to the Rev. Dr. Stearns, then pastor of the
church at Newbury Port. Great interest was created by the restoration
of Whitefield’s relic; a procession of two thousand people followed it
to the grave; and it was restored to its original position.[692] That
bone now lies crosswise near the region of the breast; and the little
box, in which it was returned, is laid upon the coffin.[693]
The good taste of those who exhibit the dust and bones of Whitefield
may be fairly doubted; but so long as they are exposed to the public
view, Whitefield’s sepulchre will have its visitors. Of the numerous
descriptions published by those whose curiosity or piety had brought
them to Whitefield’s resting-place, one only shall suffice,――and that
by an outsider. Henry Vincent, the eloquent English lecturer, thus
described his visit in 1867[694]:――
“We descended into a cellar, through a trap-door behind the
pulpit, and entered the tomb of the great preacher. The upper
part of the lid of Whitefield’s coffin opens upon hinges.
We opened the coffin carefully, and saw all that was mortal
of the eloquent divine. The bones are blackened, as though
charred by fire. The skull is perfect. I placed my hand upon
the forehead, and thought of the time when the active brain
within throbbed with love to God and man; and when those silent
lips swayed the people of England, from the churchyard in
Islington to Kennington Common,――from the hills and valleys
of Gloucestershire to the mouths of the Cornish mines, and on
through the growing colonies of America. In these days of High
Church pantomime, would it not be well to turn our attention to
the times of Whitefield and his glorious friend Wesley? Not by
new decorations and scenery,――not by candles and crosses,――not
by what Wycliffe boldly called the ‘priests’ rags,’――not by
Pan-Anglican Synods, or by moaning out bits of Scripture in
unearthly chants; but by such lives as those of Whitefield
and Wesley, are the people to be reached and won. I confess
that, as an Englishman, I envy America the possession of the
earthly remains of dear George Whitefield; but perhaps it is
appropriate that, while England claims the dust of Wesley, the
great republic should be the guardian of the dust of his holy
brother.”[695]
The Americans are proud of their possession, and, to this day, not only
preserve his sepulchre, but, at Newbury Port, still use in the pulpit
the old Bible out of which Whitefield was wont to read his texts, and
still keep the old chair in which he died, and still shew the ring
taken from the finger of his corpse.
Excepting the value of the copyright of his publications, Wesley died
almost penniless; and the same would have been Whitefield’s case, but
for certain legacies bequeathed to him only a short time before his
death. By the decease of his wife, in 1768, he became possessed of
£700. Mrs. Thomson, of Tower Hill, bequeathed him £500; Mr. Whitmore,
£100; and Mr. Winder, £100;[697] making a total of £1,400. This, in
round figures, was the sum disposed of in Whitefield’s “last will and
testament.” The Orphan House buildings, furniture, slaves, and lands
might be regarded as property held in trust, and, as such, were left
“to that elect lady, that mother in Israel, that mirror of true and
undefiled religion, the Right Honourable Selina, Countess-Dowager of
Huntingdon;”[698] and, in case of her death, to Whitefield’s “dear
first fellow-traveller, and faithful, invariable friend, the Honourable
James Habersham, Esq., President of His Majesty’s Honourable Council,”
in Georgia. The Tabernacle, and Tottenham Court Road chapel, with the
adjacent manses, coach-houses, stables, and other buildings, having
been erected, in great part, by the subscriptions of the public, were
also, in a certain sense, trust properties; and were left to be managed
by Whitefield’s “worthy, trusty, tried friends, Daniel West, Esq.,
in Church Street, Spitalfields; and Mr. Robert Keen, woollen draper,
in the Minories.” The remainder of Whitefield’s bequests were as
follows:――
£ s. d.
Lady Huntingdon 100 0 0
The Honourable James Habersham, for mourning 10 0 0
Gabriel Harris, Esq., of Gloucester 50 0 0
Ambrose Wright, a faithful servant 500 0 0
Mr. Richard Whitefield, a brother 50 0 0
Mr. Thomas Whitefield, a brother 50 0 0
Mr. James Smith, a brother-in-law 80 0 0
Mrs. Frances Hartford, a niece 70 0 0
Mr. J. Crane, steward at the Orphan House 40 0 0
Mr. Benjamin Stirk, for mourning 10 0 0
Peter Edwards,[699] at the Orphan House 50 0 0
William Trigg, at ditto 50 0 0
Mr. Thomas Adams, of Rodborough 50 0 0
Rev. Mr. Howell Davies, for mourning 10 0 0
Mr. Torial Joss, for ditto 10 0 0
Mr. Cornelius Winter, for ditto 10 0 0
Mr. Ambrose Wright’s three brothers, for
ditto 30 0 0
Ditto’s sister-in-law, for ditto 10 0 0
Mr. Richard Smith 50 0 0
The old servants in London, the widows,
etc., for mourning 100 0 0
───── ── ──
£1330 0 0
═════ ══ ══
The residue of Whitefield’s monies, if any, were to be given to the
Orphan House Academy. His wife’s gold watch, he bequeathed to James
Habersham; his wearing apparel, to Richard Smith; to his four executors,
James Habersham, Charles Hardy, Daniel West, and Robert Keen, each a
mourning ring; also, he added:――
“I leave a mourning ring to my honoured and dear friends and
disinterested fellow-labourers, the Rev. Messrs. John and
Charles Wesley, in token of my indissoluble union with them, in
heart and Christian affection, notwithstanding our difference in
judgment about some particular points of doctrine. Grace be with
all them, of whatever denomination, that love our Lord Jesus,
our common Lord, in sincerity.”
The conclusion of Whitefield’s will is too characteristic to be
omitted:――
“To all my other Christian benefactors, and more intimate
acquaintance, I leave my most hearty thanks and blessing,
assuring them that I am more and more convinced of the undoubted
reality and infinite importance of the grand gospel truths,
which I have, from time to time, delivered; and am so far from
repenting my delivering them in an itinerant way, that, had I
strength equal to my inclination, I would preach them from pole
to pole, not only because I have found them to be the power of
God to the salvation of my own soul, but because I am as much
assured that the Great Head of the Church hath called me by
His Word, Providence, and Spirit, to act in this way, as that
the sun shines at noonday. As for my enemies, and misjudging,
mistaken friends, I most freely and heartily forgive them, and
can only add, that the last tremendous day will soon discover
what I have been, what I am, and what I shall be when time
itself shall be no more. And, therefore, from my inmost soul,
I close all, by crying, ‘_Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!_ Even
so, Lord Jesus! Amen and amen!’
“GEORGE WHITEFIELD.”
Whitefield’s will was written by himself, and signed, at the Orphan
House, on March 22, 1770, in the presence of Robert Bolton, Thomas
Dixon, and Cornelius Winter, as witnesses. It was proved in the
Prerogative Court of Canterbury, on February 5, 1771.[700]
When great men die, poets sing. So it was in the case of Whitefield. To
say nothing of poems printed in newspapers and magazines, the following
were a few of the elegies published separately: “Zion in Distress, an
Elegy on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield. By W. S.” “The
Bromsgrove Elegy, in blank verse, in which are represented the Subjects
of his Ministry, his Manner of Preaching, the Success of his Labours,
his excellent Moral Character, and his Death. By John Fellows, of
Bromsgrove, in Worcestershire.” “An Elegy. By Jacob Rowel.” “An Elegy,
exhibiting a brief History of the Life, Labours, and Glorious Death
of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield. By T. Knight, Minister of the
Gospel at Halifax.”[701] “A Monody on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George
Whitefield.” “An Elegiac Poem, dedicated to the Memory of the Rev. Mr.
George Whitefield. By James Stevens, Preacher of the Gospel.” “Elegiac
Lines. By Rev. Mr. De Courcy.”[702] “A Pastoral. By the Rev. Walter
Shirley.”[703]
All these were pious, and some of them respectable. The best published
was by Whitefield’s oldest friend: “An Elegy on the late Reverend
George Whitefield, M.A., who died September 30, 1770, in the 56th year
of his age. By Charles Wesley, M.A., Presbyter of the Church of England.
Bristol: 1771.” (8vo. 29 pp.) No one knew or loved Whitefield better
than Charles Wesley did; and the following extracts from his “Elegy”
may be acceptable:――
“And is my _Whitefield_ enter’d into rest,
With sudden death, with sudden glory blest?
Left for a few sad moments here behind,
I bear his image on my faithful mind;
To future times the fair example tell
Of one who lived, of one who died, so well,
Pay the last office of fraternal love,
And then embrace my happier friend above.”
“Can I the memorable day forget,
When first we, by Divine appointment, met?
Where undisturb’d the thoughtful student roves,
In search of truth, through academic groves,
A modest, pensive youth, who mus’d alone,
Industrious the frequented path to shun:
An Israelite without disguise or art
I saw, I loved, and clasp’d him to my heart,
A stranger as my bosom friend carest,
And unawares receiv’d an angel-guest.”
“Through his abundant toils, with fixt amaze,
We see reviv’d the work of ancient days;
In his unspotted life, with joy we see
The fervours of primeval piety:
A pattern to the flock by Jesus bought,
A living witness of the truths He taught,――
He shew’d the man regenerate from above,
By fraudless innocence, and childlike love.
For friendship form’d by nature and by grace,
(His heart made up of truth and tenderness),
Stranger to guile, unknowing to deceive,
In anger, malice, or revenge to live,
Betwixt the mountain and the multitude,
His life was spent in prayer and doing good.”
“Though long by following multitudes admir’d,
No party for himself he e’er desir’d,
His one desire to make the Saviour known,
To magnify the name of Christ alone:
If others strove who should the greatest be,
No lover of pre-eminence was he,
Nor envied those his Lord vouchsaf’d to bless,
But joy’d in theirs as in his own success,
His friends in honour to himself preferr’d,
And least of all in his own eyes appear’d.”
“Single his eye, transparently sincere,
His upright heart did in his words appear,
His cheerful heart did in his visage shine;
A man of true simplicity divine,
Not always as the serpent wise, yet love
Preserv’d him harmless as the gentle dove;
Or if into mistake through haste he fell,
He shew’d what others labour to conceal;
Convinc’d, no palliating excuses sought,
But freely own’d his error, or his fault.”
“Shall I a momentary loss deplore,
Lamenting after him that weeps no more?
What though, forbid by the Atlantic wave,
I cannot share my old companion’s grave,
Yet, at the trumpet’s call, my dust shall rise,
With his fly up to Jesus in the skies,
And live with him the life that never dies.”
Charles Wesley often wrote more polished poetry than this, but his
loving lines truthfully pourtray some of the features of Whitefield’s
character, and, likewise, shew the profound affection which he
cherished for his brother George.
Before leaving the poets, another extract may be welcome. There is no
evidence to shew that Whitefield and William Cowper were personally
acquainted, but John Newton and some other of Cowper’s friends were
among Whitefield’s most ardent admirers; and, therefore, it is not
surprising that Cowper should have enshrined the famous preacher in
his poesy. Soon after Whitefield’s death, Cowper wrote his well-known
poem, entitled “Hope,” in which Whitefield was graphically described
as follows:――
“Leuconomus (beneath well-sounding Greek)
I slur a name a poet must not speak,
Stood pilloried on infamy’s high stage,
And bore the pelting scorn of half an age,
The very butt of slander, and the blot
For every dart that malice ever shot.
“The man that mention’d _him_, at once dismiss’d
All mercy from his lips, and sneer’d and hiss’d;
His crimes were such as Sodom never knew,
And Perjury stood up to swear all true;
His aim was mischief, and his zeal pretence,
His speech rebellion against common sense;
A knave, when tried on honesty’s plain rule,
And when by that of reason, a mere fool;
The world’s best comfort was, his doom was pass’d,
Die when he might, he must be damn’d at last.
“Now, Truth, perform thine office; waft aside
The curtain drawn by prejudice and pride,
Reveal (the man is dead) to wondering eyes
This more than monster in his proper guise.
“He loved the world that hated him; the tear
That dropp’d upon his Bible was sincere.
Assail’d by scandal and the tongue of strife,
His only answer was a blameless life,
And he that forged and he that threw the dart,
Had each a brother’s interest in his heart.
Paul’s love of Christ, and steadiness unbribed,
Were copied close in him, and well transcribed;
He follow’d Paul; his zeal a kindred flame,
His apostolic charity the same;
Like him, cross’d cheerfully tempestuous seas,
Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease;
Like him he labour’d, and, like him content
To bear it, suffer’d shame where’er he went.
“Blush, Calumny; and write upon his tomb,
If honest eulogy can spare thee room,
Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies,
Which, aim’d at him, have pierced the offended skies;
And say, Blot out my sin, confess’d, deplored,
Against Thine image in Thy saint, O Lord!”
No higher eulogy on Whitefield than this of the poet Cowper can be
properly pronounced. It elaborates that of the celebrated Rev. Benjamin
Grosvenor, D.D., who, after listening to one of Whitefield’s sermons
about the year 1741, remarked, “If the Apostle Paul had preached to
this auditory, he would have preached in the same manner.”[704]
“If you should die abroad,” said Mr. Keen, “whom shall we get to preach
your funeral sermon? Must it be your old friend the Rev. Mr. John
Wesley?” This question was often put, and as often Whitefield answered,
“He is the man.”[705]