The next three months were chiefly spent in London. Whitefield complained of a “hoarseness, gotten in the highways and hedges;” but he was as full of holy buoyancy as ever. He had now determined to sail for America, and began to make the necessary preparations for his voyage. He bought “Osnaburg linen,” for his negroes; he begged maps and books for his Bethesda Institution; and, in thanking his friend Mr. Keen for a benefaction to his Orphanage, wrote: “Our Lord will write Himself your debtor for it. His interest is pretty good—‘a hundredfold.’ A hundredfold! What can the most avaricious trader desire more?”
One of his last public services was the opening of the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel at Tunbridge Wells. This took place on Sunday, July 23. The Countess, Lady Anne Erskine, Lady Buchan, and Miss Orton went with him.[624] Early in the morning, a large number of persons assembled at the front of Lady Huntingdon’s residence, and, in the open air, sang hymns and prayed, till the time announced for the commencement of public service in the chapel. “Never,” said her ladyship, “can I forget the sensations of pleasure I felt, on being awoke by the voice of praise andthanksgiving.” The chapel, of course, was thronged. De Courcy read the prayers of the Established Church; and, then, a large crowd not being able to get inside the chapel, Whitefield came out, followed by those who had joined in the reading of the liturgy, and preached to the assembled thousands, from “How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”[625] The sermon was said to be “a perfect piece of oratory.” “Look yonder!” cried the preacher, as he stretched out his hands “Look yonder! What is that I see? It is my agonizing Lord! Hark! hark! hark! Do not you hear? O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!” Simple words, but producing effects which cannot be described. In connection with these and all Whitefield’s utterances, the reader must bear in mind that Whitefield’s face was language, his intonation music, and his action passion. Garrick used to say of him, that, he could make men weep or tremble by his varied pronunciation of the word “Mesopotamia.” This was an exaggeration; but it expressed the opinion of the greatest of theatrical orators concerning the power of Whitefield’s eloquence.
The day at Tunbridge Wells, a hundred and seven years ago, was probably one of the most remarkable in the history of that resort of fashionable gaiety. After Whitefield’s sermon, the sacrament of the Lord’s supper was administered, at which four clergymen attended, besides Whitefield himself. During the day, three of these clergymen, at three different times, preached to the assembled multitudes, from a small mount raised for that purpose at the front of the chapel.[626] One of these was Richard de Courcy,[627] the fervid young Irishman, already mentioned, and whose talent and eloquence made him immensely popular. The chapel itself, said Lloyd’s Evening Post[628], “has been inspected by some ingenious artists, and is looked upon to be the most completepiece of Gothic architecture that has been constructed for many years!”
Whitefield’s days in England were now nearly ended. In a letter to Captain Joss, dated “Tottenham Court, August 9, 1769,” he wrote:—
“My hands and heart are full. Last night, I went on board the Friendship. The captain is to dine with me to-morrow. I expect to sail the first week in September. You must then be in town.[629] Mr. Brooksbanks will supply your place. I hope all things will be settled on a right plan. I have the greatest confidence in you. I only wish some means may be found to save the late great expense of coach hire. It has mounted very high.”
In another letter, dated ten days later, and addressed to Mr. Adams, Whitefield wrote:—
“My very dear Tommy, talk not of taking a personal leave. You know my make. Paul could stand a whipping, but not a weeping farewell. Many thanks for your intended present. God bless you and yours! God bless all our never-to-be-forgotten Gloucestershire friends! I can no more. Adieu! Cease not to pray for, my very dear steady old friend,
“Less than the least of all,
“George Whitefield.”
Six days after this, on Friday night, August 25, Whitefield held one of his last sacramental services in England. This was in the Tabernacle, near Moorfields. Nearly two thousand communicants were present![630]