Memoir
of
John Gilbert, Esq.
late
naval storekeeper at Antigua.
to which are appended,
a brief sketch of his relic,
Mrs. Anne Gilbert,
by , Wesleyan missionary.
and
A Few Additional Remarks,
by .
Liverpool;
Printed by D. Marples and Co.
18351835.
Memoir.
The design of the following brief Memoir is chiefly
to illustrate the grace of God, as manifested in the
life and character of an individual who was conspicuous
and respected in his immediate sphere of action,
though little known beyond it. The desire of raising
at the same time a Memorial to departed worth, and
thereby gratifying many who loved him, is not
claimed; but there is no intention to panegyrize, and
if at any time it should appear otherwise, it must be
imputed rather to the elevation of those moral and
religious excellencies to which the subject of it had
attained, than to the partiality of friendship, or even
of conjugal affection.
It is not recollected whether it was at the request of
his most endeared friend and companion, or from the
suggestion of his own mind, that, many years ago, he
commenced a narrative of the principal events of his
life: but be that as it may, he found the review to
affect him so much, as to induce him to relinquish it;
and it was not until after his superannuation, in the
year 18321832, that he was persuaded, at the entreaty of
his sisters, to resume it. To the regret of all who
valued him, it is left unfinished; his suffering illness,
of many months’ continuance, rendered any regular
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employment not only irksome, but also impossible.
At the request of many friends, however, it has been
carried down to the period of his death by his now
mourning companion of almost thirty-five years;
and though the critic may condemn, it is hoped the
christian will find nothing materially to disapprove
in the composition altogether. His own part of the
narrative is as follows.—
I was born on the 1767-07-3131st July, 1767, in the town of
St. John, in the Island of Antigua. My father was a
native of the same Island, but was educated in England,
and graduated Bachelor of Physic in Emanuel
College, Cambridge. My mother’s maiden name was
Frye; her native place was the Island of Montserrat,
and she was brought up in a convent in Paris. My
father, being a younger son, and having but an inconsiderable
legacy left him by my grand father, practised
his profession in Antigua with considerable reputation,
until I was a year old; when, having saved
some money, he relinquished his practice and purchased
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two contiguous sugar estates in St. Vincent,
which afterwards proved the destruction of his temporal
prospects, and occasioned my being left, at his
death, though I was his eldest child, without any provision
but two or three slaves, who were unprofitable to
me, and whom I afterwards sold for about £50 sterling.
I was naturally of a fiery temper, but my parents
were careful to restrain it, and to inculcate in me the
best morals; of which themselves were good examples,
although I am not sure that either of them possessed
vital godliness. My mother, when I was very young,
had frequent occasion to punish me, principally on
account of my temper; but when I was about seven
years old, I made a resolution, of which I told my
mother, that I would thenceforth be a good boy; after
which, I think I was punished but twice.
My mother being perfect mistress of the French
language, and my father a man of learning, they
undertook my education at home. My mother taught
me English and French, writing, and geography. My
father instructed me in arithmetic and the Latin language.
The latter I began to learn on the day when
I completed my eighth year. When I was nine years
old, I obtained a reward for construing the first couplet
of Virgil’s first Bucolic; soon after which I lost my
mother. At twelve years old, I commenced the study
of Greek and geometry; but my father’s health then
began to fail, and he died about eight months afterwards.
In him I lost my best earthly friend, my
tutor, and my chief companion.
When I was very young, I believed that God loved
me, although I was not distinctly acquainted with the
plan of salvation; and I used to think and speak with
great delight of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ
to judge the world. For several months (perhaps a
year) before my mother’s death, I had such forebodings
of the loss I was about to sustain, as to be
grievously depressed in spirit every night when I retired
to bed, and often wet my pillow with tears.
At ten years of age I returned to Antigua, where my
father’s circumstances rendered it necessary for him
to resume the practice of his profession. When I
attained about my eleventh year, my conscience became
very tender; and although I made it a point
never, knowingly, to do anything in my father’s absence
which I thought he would disapprove, yet I
seldom slept at night without first bewailing, with
many tears, some occurrence of the day, in which
my youthful inadvertency had carried me beyond the
bounds of propriety. On these occasions, my father
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would hear my sobs (as I lodged upon a small bedstead
contiguous to his own), and would inquire the cause.
I always frankly acknowledged my faults, and my affectionate
parent embraced me, and soothed my sorrow
with assurances of his forgiveness. I also enjoyed
an ignorant peace with God, and had no fear of death.
Some months before my father’s death, my heart foreboded
that event, as it had before done that of my
mother, and I often prayed, in bitter distress, that the
Lord would spare his life, and take mine. When the
deprecated moment approached, and I was about to
lose him, I was introduce for a moment, at my particular
instance, to the side of his bed, and received
his dying benediction, which was pronounced, with
his cold hand upon my head, while I knelt beside
him. I ran from his presence, threw myself upon
my knees on the staircase, and, for the first time, surrendered
him into the hands of God. At that instant
a friend of my father called, and took me away from
the house in a whiskey. I attended my father’s funeral,
but, oh! I was crushed with grief, which occasioned
a spasmodic pain in one of my sides. This
pain stuck by me for some months; and for above a
year after always returned when I passed by the place
of his interment.
I now retired, with my maternal aunt, Mrs. Hunt,
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to Gilbert’s estate, which had been the property of my
grandfather, but now belonged to my cousin-german,
Nathaniel Gilbert, who afterwards entered into holy
orders, and died Vicar of Bledlow, Bucks. This mansion,
formerly the abode of opulence, was now become
the shelter of poverty.
Soon after we went to Gilbert’s, Mr. and Mrs. Morris
paid us a visit. Mr. Morris was then the proprietor
of that much-admired seat in Wales, called Piercefield,
and had been Captain General and Governor in
Chief of St. Vincent, while my father was Treasurer
of that Colony. He now resided upon his estate,
called Crabs, distant about two miles from Gilbert’s.
He was in very embarrassed circumstances, but, as far
as he could, he became a father to me. I was much
with him at Crabs, and at those times was generally
his bed-fellow, while he continued in this Island.
Through the intercession of Mr. Morris, I was received
into the office of Mr. B―e, then a very
eminent lawyer, for the purpose of acquiring that
profession, to which I had been destined by my father.
Mr. B―e allowed me to eat at his table, but I
was very indifferently supplied with clothes. Mr.
B―e was rough and unkind in his deportment
to me; and the transition, from the tenderness of my
father to the unkindness which I now experienced,
was more than my heart could bear, and I spent all
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my afternoons in weeping. At the expiration of five
or six months, Mr. B―e one day got into a passion
with me, and turned me away. I afterwards
learnt, that if I had made some concessions, he would
have allowed me to continue with him; but I was
not sensible of having committed any fault, and was
glad to be dismissed from so harsh a master. I now
returned to Crabs, and staid with Mr. Morris until his
departure for England, when I returned to my aunt
at Gilbert’s.
Before I was quite fourteen years old, my aunt called
me to her one day, and mentioned that she had received
a message from a lady at English Harbor, importing
that Mr. M―n, his Majesty’s Naval Storekeeper,
would willingly receive me into his office. I readily
embraced the offer, borrowed a mule from the estate,
and rode over to Mr. M―n, on the 1781-05-2727th May, 1781.
When I arrived at English Harbor, my spirits sank,
and I wept at the thought of being wholly among
strangers, from whom I anticipated no more kindness
than I had experienced at Mr. B―e’s; but my
apprehensions wronged my new friend, who soothed
me with tenderness, and was always very kind to me.
I ate and drank wholly at Mr. M―n’s charge, but
was almost destitute of clothes.
On the 1782-01-011st of January, 1782, when I had lived
about seven months at English Harbour, Mr. M―n
commenced an allowance to me of £30 currency per
annum (equal at that time to about seventy-two Spanish
milled dollars), to purchase clothes; and whenever
I asked his permission to visit my aunt and
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sisters, he always generously made me a present of
from five to eight dollars to defray the expense of my
journey.
In 17821782, Mr. M―n married Miss ―, whose
disposition towards me was very different from that of
her husband. I nevertheless spent all my evenings
and every Sunday with the family, when business
allowed of my absence from the office. On working
days, my breakfast and dinner were sent to the office,
and my provision at those meals was both very scanty
and very plain. Of this, however, Mr. M. knew
nothing.
In 17831783, my salary was increased to £40 currency.
During the first five months of 17841784, it was raised to
£70 currency; and on the 1784-07-011st of June in that year
I was admitted to the King’s pay, at 4s. 3d. sterling
per day.
At the latter end of 17831783, Mr. M―n removed
his residence from the vicinity of English Harbour,
to the house on Sir John Laforey’s estate, called
Thomas’, where I now spent all my Sundays; but
in the week I provided for myself, as Mr. M―n’s
charge, and spent my evenings at a tavern. In this
year, one of my paternal aunts, Mrs. Horne, and her
daughter Grace (afterwards Mrs. Gilbert, of Bledlow
but now of Woburn), came to Antigua; and out of
compliment to my aunt, who was a Methodist, I
sometimes read the Bible. Happening to meet in
the book of Revelation, with the mention of 144,000
of the tribes of Israel who were sealed in their foreheads,
I conceived the idea that only a determinate
number of mankind were predestined to salvation,
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and was so well convinced that I was a sinner, as
to feel great apprehensions that I was not one of the
favoured few. I therefore prayed earnestly to God
that he would save me, upon any terms which he
should think fit. I soon, however, got rid of this
uneasiness, and relapsed into my former unconcern.
About this time, a conversation with one of my cousins-german
opened to me the system of infidelity.
I soon became a deist, and then an atheist, and
thought myself very wise, having risen superior to
all which I called the prejudices of education in
favour of Christianity, and learned that all religion
originated in ignorance, superstition, and priestcraft.
The moral habits of my childhood were, nevertheless,
all this time, so much a restraint upon me, that I was
never able to run the same lengths of profligacy as
many of my age and country. In business, I was
an example of perseverance and attention.
In 1784-05May, 1784, I was attacked with a fever, which
in two days, reduced me to such a state of weakness
that I could not raise myself in my bed without assistance.
Mr. M―n’s residence was too far distant
to admit of my being removed thither, and Mr. John
Baxter (then a shipwright in the yard, and a local
preacher, but afterwards a travelling preacher in the
Wesleyan society) invited me to his house, where
Mrs. Baxter paid me attention truly maternal. This
illness brought me very near the grave, and my recovery
was very slow; but whenever my kind host or
hostess introduced the subject of religion, I always
answered that it was unfair to take advantage of my
weak condition, which did not allow me to argue, but
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that when I should be restored to health, I would
confute every argument which they could adduce in
favour of Revelation. Mr. Baxter used, notwithstanding,
often to tell me, with tears in his eyes, that
he should one day lean upon his stick and hear me
preach the gospel. At this I always smiled, attributing
his confident expectation to his great partiality
for me; but, at the same time, I felt assured that I
should never be so weak as to believe one word of
the Gospel.
Soon after my recovery, Mr. M―n returned to
his former residence at English Harbour, and I was
restored to the privilege of spending my evenings in
his family, which put an entire stop to my frequenting
the tavern. It appeared to be one of Mr. M’s greatest
gratifications to testify his regard and esteem for me,
and to assure me that no person but a son of his own
should ever intervene between him and me.
I was now brought again near to death, with dreadful
pains in my stomach and bowels attended with
obstinate constipation. In this illness Mrs. M―n
shewed me great kindness and attention, and her conduct
from that time became more and more kind.
To frequent returns of this complaint in my stomach
and bowels, I continued subject for seven years; but
during all this time I never felt the least anxiety about
my salvation.
In 17961796, my friend, Mr. M―n, quitted this
Island for England, from whence he never returned.
At his departure, he left directions with his deputy,
Mr. Dow, to pay me £40 currency per year out of
his emoluments, in addition to my pay from Government.
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I was also allowed a seaman’s proportion of
sea victuals, in common with all the other servants of
the Crown in the department. I now boarded myself
in the family of an aged widow, Mrs. Lorin, and
from this time began to be better acquainted with
the Methodist preachers of whose sincerity I never
doubted, although I had then too mean an opinion
of their understanding and learning to receive any
benefit from their conversation or preaching.
At twenty years old I was admitted a member of
the society of Freemasons, of which I became enthusiastically
fond. The symbolical representation of
the principal doctrines of religion which Masonry
exhibits, reconciled me in some degree to the Scriptures,
of which I had read very little in my life; but
until the memorable evening of my conversion to
God, I had never any just views of the atonement,
or felt the least concern for my salvation. I would
not, however, be understood to recommend Masonry
to any man; because I do not recollect that I ever
attended a lodge where intemperance was not more
or less practised, or where immoral songs were not
sung.
Both before, and for several years after this, I was
very regular in the profanation of the Sabbath, to
which day I had never been in the habit of paying
much regard. I had also, for some years, lived in
the occasional commission of another sin, very general
among the inhabitants of the West India Islands. I
therefore knew myself to be a sinner, but saw so
many more profligate than myself, that I felt quite
satisfied with the general idea of the mercy of God
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(if such a Being really existed), without inquiring
into the terms of salvation.
Dipping now, occasionally, into books of science,
the anatomy of the eye and ear served to convince
me of the existence of an intelligent, contriving mind,
which had planned and executed the great work of
creation.
About this time, my maternal great aunt, Miss
Bryant, died in the Island of St. Vincent. My
youngest sister and my brother had been living with
her; and as her death deprived them of a home, it
became necessary for me to go for them, and to make
some arrangement for their future support. I therefore
hired a vessel, went to St. Vincent, and brought
my sister and brother to Antigua. A kind aunt took
my sister, and some of our relations generously
undertook the expense of my brother’s education at
Kingswood School, provided I would send him to
England. As I had always spent my little income
as fast as I received it, I had not the means of paying
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my brother’s passage to England, after providing for
him a few clothes, without borrowing money, which I
found no difficulty in doing. I therefore, a few months
afterwards, sent him to England.
In order to repay the money which I had borrowed
for this purpose, I found it necessary to exercise the
greatest economy, which enabled me to discharge the
debt in a very few months. This little taste of the
advantage of economy, together with a desire to become
rich, induced me from this time to save all I
could, and to turn my attention to making money. I
therefore began by purchasing a puncheon or two of
rum at a time, improving it, and selling it again in
about three months, in casks of forty gallons, to the
artificers of the yard, for their domestic consumption.
Miss Lorin, the youngest and only unmarried
daughter of my hostess, suffered great exercise of
mind, I believe from convictions of sin; and my compassion
for her soon grew into love, although she was
fourteen years older than myself. I proposed marriage
to her repeatedly, but she declined it, until about twelve
months after my first proposal, when she consented,
and we were married on the 1789-05-3030th of May, 1789.
Mrs. Lorin soon afterwards died.
I continued in His Majesty’s service until the 1793-03-3131st
of March, 1793, when, finding no probability of obtaining
promotion, and having amassed about £1000
currency by my private trade, I quitted the Yard, and
went to live in the town of St. John, where, having a
large stock of improved rum on hand, I set up a
liquor store.
Not long after my arrival in St. John’s, I received a
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letter, dated St. Christopher’s from my relative, the
Reverend Nathaniel Gilbert, announcing to me his
arrival at the Island from Sierra Leone, where he had
resided some months in the capacity of Chaplain to
the Company, and requesting me to send a small
vessel to convey him to Antigua. With this request
I immediately complied, and my house was my cousin’s
residence for about twelve months, while he continued
in the Island.
My religious notions were at this time very incorrect,
and I was wholly unacquainted with the Scripture
plan of salvation. I had been in the habit of devoting
myself to business on Sundays but saw it proper, out
of compliment to my cousin, to desist from this practice
after his arrival, and to go with him to church.
Whenever we spent the evening at home, our conversation
was sure to be on the subject of religion.
I advanced my strange opinions, endeavoring to support
them by argument, and he endeavoured to correct
my errors. My system of error hinged on one point.
I knew the Jesus Christ was said in the Scriptures to
have become a sacrifice for the sins of the world; and
that he was the son of God, and had no sin; but I
had never heard that he was prompted by compassion
to offer himself a voluntary sacrifice; and thinking it
both cruel and unjust in the Father to punish an innocent
man for the sins of a guilty world, I concluded
that the sufferings of Christ were not real, but only
apparent, and intended mystically to represent that
God, in admitting good men into a state of happiness
after death, made a sacrifice of his justice to his
mercy. After many conversations on other points,
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this idea of mine became the topic of debate. My
error was discovered, and the mystery of divine love
opened to my view. I was all astonishment, and my
heart was instantly broken. “Oh!” said I, “That I
could serve God!—but although I would serve him,
I know my impotence, and the versatility of my disposition.
If I make the attempt, I know I shall soon
tire, and the first temptation will bear away all my
resolutions.” My cousin opened to me the promises
of assistance by Divine grace. “What!” said I,
“will God assign to his servants their work, and then
put his own hand to that work, and assist them, by
the effectual exercise of his own power, in the execution
of it? oh! if I had known this, would I not
have served God all my life? By his grace I will
begin now. If I do not, what excuse will be left me
at the day of judgment?”
The Devil now reminded me of the crosses which
would be annexed to the profession of religion; but
Almighty love constrained me, and “What,” thought
I, “shall I not suffer for him who has suffered so
much for me?”
I had never examined the question, whether men
might know their sins forgiven on earth, but no doubt
remained of my Saviour’s willingness to save me; I
therefore gave myself to him immediately, and instantly
felt a pardon sealed upon my heart. I retired
to my chamber. It was about midnight. My wife
had often mourned my ungodliness. She had now
been asleep for two hours. I wakened her, and told
her my resolution; at which she rejoiced. I had not
prayed for many years; but now I fell upon my
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knees at the side of my bed, and solemnly surrendered
myself to God.
My heart was now filled with growing love to God
and man; and its language was, “Speak, Lord, for
thy servant heareth!—What wouldst thou have me
to do?” I was very ignorant of my duty in many
things, but sin had no more dominion over me, and
as fast as I discovered the will of God, I found it
easy to perform it.
I still had many fears of my own unfaithfulness,
and ardently longed to die, because I could not trust
myself to live, lest I should fall away. I prayed
fervently that God would take me out of the world,
if he saw that, living, I should prove unfaithful to
him. After much wrestling with God to this effect,
one evening, I at length felt some degree of assurance
that my prayer was granted. This I mentioned to
my cousin, and he assured me of persevering grace,
as secured by the promises of God. “Oh then,” Said
I, “I shall know sorrow no more. Let years roll on,
and let God deal with me as he sees fit; what care I
for anything else, so as I am sure of heaven at last?”
My peace and joy flowed as a river, and I soon enjoyed
constant communion with God. My daily
meditations were accompanied with rapturous delight,
and I now longed for death, that I might see
my God and Redeemer face to face. My heart was
sick of love, and, for a time, I was scarcely fit for
business.
When my cousin quitted me to return to England,
fears of my own unfaithfulness returned, and I
mourned my condition, now destitute of a spiritual
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guide. I spent one whole day in weeping and prayer,
and at length concluded to trust myself to Christ
alone as my guide.
I had contracted an intimacy with the Moravian,
as well as with the Methodist missionaries, and considering
both them and myself as members of one
general church, when I was deprived of my spiritual
father, I thought it expedient to become a member
of some church, where I might partake of the ordinances
spiritually administered. The Moravian church
was the nearer to my dwelling, and I offered myself
to them. The minister told me he would gladly receive
me, but as the mission was limited to black
and coloured people, it would be necessary for him
first to write to Germany for permission. I did not
like the delay which this step would occasion, and
therefore associated myself with the Methodists in 17941794.
Fears of falling from grace assailed me after this,
from time to time, for several years. At length, one
day, in an agony of soul, I gave myself afresh into
my Redeemer’s care, by an act of faith, which I could
only justify by my feelings at the time: I prayed in
words like these; “Lord, thou art able to keep me,
for thou thyself hast declared it; and I cast my care
upon thee!—I claim thy promise; and, O Lord!
pardon my boldness—but at thy hand will I require
my soul at the last day!”
I now entered into co-partnership with Mr. Patrick
Playfair and Mr. James Crichton, in a large and
general way of business, under the firm of Playfair,
Gilbert, and Crichton.
Before I knew religion, I had always been very fair
and honourable in all my pecuniary transactions, and
remarkably punctual in my payments, but my heart
was set upon being rich. As soon as I embraced the
Saviour by faith, my mind took an opposite turn, and
these words,—“Lay not up for yourselves treasures
upon earth, for where your treasure is there your heart
will be also,”—excited in me a great dread of riches.
This dread of rich, joined with a desire to be
liberal, and supposing my profits in trade to be considerable,
when, in fact, we were actually sinking
money, soon involved me in debt beyond my means
to pay, which plunged me into great anguish of mind
—excited hard thoughts of God, for suffering me to
be thus deceived—and inspired doubts of a particular
providence. It was many years before I was wholly
delivered from these temptations; and I have found
it much harder to acquiesce in the will of God thus
permitting me to be in debt, than in any other dispensation
of his providence through which I have
passed, and with which the enemy of souls has
threatened me.
Soon after I entered this firm I had a fit of illness,
which nearly brought me to the grave; and at one
moment, while moving from one room to another
supported by two persons, I thought myself expiring;
but oh! the joy with which I was transported at the
thought!
Some time after this my partners, at my instance,
released me from the firm. I commenced business on
my own account, under a letter of license from my
creditors, and Playfair and Crichton continued their
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mercantile pursuits together until they accumulated
large fortunes.
I had now become a class leader in the Methodist
society, and, at the desire of the preachers, had often
taken a part in public prayer-meetings. In the year
17971797 I was desired to preach occasionally, and I have
always since acted as a local preacher, under such
limitations with respect to time and place as my temporal
circumstances rendered expedient. For some
time I found preaching a most distressing exercise to
me, because I could not divest myself of the idea that
my congregations were composed of better christians
than myself. One day in particular, when two travelling
preachers were of the number of my audience, I
was depressed even to misery after I had concluded my
sermon; nevertheless, I always preached when I was
bid, without making any objections. I was also appointed
society steward.
My wife was always a mourner in Zion, and never
obtained a sense of pardon, until she approached her
end. She was attacked with a trifling fever. The
medical man who attended expressed some apprehensions
of apoplexy. The first sunday after she was
taken ill happened to be sacrament day, and I earnestly
sought the Lord on her behalf. When I returned
home, I had a very satisfactory conversation with her,
by which it appeared that she had obtained peace with
God. I do not think that at that time she had any
symptoms of apoplexy; but the doctor prescribed a
blister to cover her whole head. The next day, while
I was at my store, a messenger was sent by the doctor
to desire my presence at home. When I entered the
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chamber, I found her in an apoplexy. I threw myself
on my knees—held up one of her hands in mine
towards heaven, and with many tears delivered her
into the charge of my Saviour. She lay almost two
days and a night in the fit, and then expired. My
soul laboured for her while life lasted, and when it
pleased God to release her, I solemnly returned him
thanks.
As soon as she expired, the superintendent preacher
took me away to his house, and I never returned to
my former residence, but hired a small dwelling of
two rooms, and one female servant, who mended my
clothes and washed them, provided and cooked my
victuals, made up my bed, and so forth. I still kept
a room for business in the commercial part of the
town, and earned a scanty livelihood by buying and
selling, keeping and adjusting accounts, and transacting
any business which I was capable of, and
which was offered to me.
I now determined to have no companion but my
God, and literally prayed day and night, while I was
awake, and howsoever I might be employed. I did
not allow myself to grieve for the loss of my wife,
but preached before sunrise in the chapel, on the third
morning after her death, and slept upon the pillow on
which she died. Nevertheless, I had two short paroxysms
of grief, which I could not wholly resist.
About this time I read the Book of Martyrs. The
question suggested itself to me, whether I should be
willing to suffer as they did; and I could not hope
that I should prove faithful if brought into such circumstances.
This made me miserable, because, on
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counting the cost, I could not endure the thought of
giving up my Savior, and sacrificing my hope of
heaven. I therefore prayed day and night that I
might be made both willing and able to suffer, as well
as to do, all the will of God. At length, I ardently
longed to suffer, that I might be experimentally convinced
that my whole heart was indeed given to God.
Persecution soon afterwards began to threaten me.
I was the leader of the prayer-meeting held in the
chapel, and several pious slaves took part in those
meetings, whom, when I called upon them to pray, I
addressed by the appellation of brother. As I was
an officer in the militia, and connected with many of
the principal people in the Island, my calling slaves
my brethren excited discontent in my brother officers,
and it was rumoured that I should be tried by a court
martial, for acting in this instance so unbecoming the
rank of an officer. I publicly announced my determination
to persevere, and to meet the consequences.
The objectors dropped the subject, and I heard no
more of the court martial.
In my solitary abode, I practised such abstinence
as to weaken myself much, and mingled tears of love
to my God and Redeemer, and of ardent desires for
heaven, with my scanty meals; and sometimes could
not refrain from praying—“Lord thou knowest my
heart—thou seest what I want—O be not angry with
me for asking thee, but take me to Thyself!” My
meditations were principally on death and the beatific
vision. At length, one day I asked myself the question,
What if it should be the will of God to protract
my earthly existence for two years? The idea distressed
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22
me exceedingly. Suppose it should be for
one year? This also was intolerable. Suppose six
months? This was grievous. I now began to reflect
that I ought to submit willingly to the will of God;
but I wanted power to restrain the ardour of my
longings. At length, it occurred to me that God, who
is intimately acquainted with the constitution of our
nature, had pronounced that “It is not good for man
to be alone;” that while he continued his adopted
children on earth, he had provided comforts suited to
sweeten their present state and condition; and that,
perhaps, I ought to marry. I prayed for direction,
and saw still more clearly that this view was correct.
But whom should I marry? I knew of no single white
woman of whose piety and habits I approved; but I
was acquainted with a Mr. Barry Conyers Hart, a
man of colour, who had a legitimate family, among
whom were several daughters, all of unblemished
reputation, and well informed. He was himself much
respected in the community, notwithstanding his complexion,
and was proprietor of a sugar estate. I was
possessed of no property, and his family was so numerous
that there was no hope of his giving his
daughters any marriage portions; but his two eldest
daughters were both eminently pious. I thought the
eldest of all would suit me best; but I foresaw that
her complexion, and my connexions, would render
the match dreadfully unpopular, and I should incur
bitter persecution. I prayed for direction, but was
at a loss to know how I was to receive such direction.
After some hesitation, it occured to me to examine
the motives which would recommend, and those which
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23
would discourage, such an union, and yield to those
which I should deem most pleasing to God. On
examination, I saw clearly that this marriage would
be for the glory of God, and that nothing but the fear
of man opposed it in my judgment. I therefore
determined on proposing marriage to Miss Anne Hart,
and within a day or two carried that determination
into execution.
Both father and daughter recommended that I
should dismiss the idea, and make a voyage to England
for the benefit of my health, and seek a partner
there, or in some of the other Islands. I knew that
I had not the means of paying the expense of travelling,
or of subsisting elsewhere than in Antigua. I
therefore persisted. Miss Hart recommended that I
should give one week to the reconsideration of the
subject. At the week’s end, I returned of the same
mind, and was accepted.
After this, I paid a weekly visit to my intended, and
the engagement became generally known. Some asserted
that I was mad. The President of the Council
(who, the Governor being absent, was then in the administration
of the Government) sent for Mr. Hart, and
used every argument and threat he could think of, to
persuade him to oppose the marriage. Mr. Hart continued
firm. Mr. Baxter, the Superintendent of the
Wesleyan Mission, called upon me, and assured me
that, from what he has heard, he verily believed
I should be commited to jail as a madman. I was
still unmoved. An officer in that regiment of militia
in which I held a commission, called upon me at the
house of a friend, and informed me that he was
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24
deputed by all the other officers of the corps to say
that they were determined to have no intercourse with
me, and would apply for a court martial to try me,
for acting in a manner inconsistent with my rank and
station, and the character of an officer, if I proceeded
with this marriage. I told him I would resign my
commission, for peace’ sake. The next day, I wrote to
the colonel of the regiment, saying that, “as I found
an engagement upon which my domestic happiness
depended rendered the other officers averse to my
continuing to hold a commission among them, I
inclosed the commission which I had the honour to
hold, and requested he would hand it over to the
Commander-in-chief, with assurances of my constant
and steady attachment to His Majesty and his Government,
and to the existing laws of this Island.” I had
for some time held a commission also as a notary
public. The acting Governor of this Island wrote to
the acting General Governor of the Leeward Islands,
resident at St. Christopher, representing that I had so
basely degraded myself as to be unworthy of my
office. In answer to this letter, he received authority
to deprive me of my notarial commission. The
public whipper was sent to demand it of me. I
referred him to the Public Secretary, in whose office
it was deposited. The painted board which had been
placed over the door of my office, containing the
words “John Gilbert, Notary Public,” was taken
away by an unknown hand, and thrown into the sea.
When the time of my intended marriage drew near,
I applied for a license, as is the universal practice in
these Islands; but was refused. My banns were
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therefore published in the church. A relation of mine
wrote to each of the clergymen in this Island, requesting
them to decline performing the ceremony. I was
informed that he also wrote to the naval Commander-
in-Chief, requesting him to forbid all the Chaplains
of His Majesty’s ships on the station to perform the
office.
It is proper to observe, that is I had determined
upon seducing and degrading the object of my regard
and esteem, I should have been considered by the
ungodly aristocracy of the country as having acted
quite properly, and incurred no reproach from them,
as she was a woman of colour.
I was married on Sunday, the 1798-10-077th of October, 1798.
An unusually large congregation attended; and lest
it should be supposed that I was ashamed of what I
was doing, or doubted the propriety of my conduct, I
turned round, as soon as I had reached the communion-
table, and, before the ceremony commenced, looked
every man, woman, and child mildly, but undauntedly,
in the face, so as to catch every eye.
I write these words on the 1832-06-055th day of June, 1832, and
although nearly thirty-four years have elapsed since my
marriage, I have never once doubted of the propriety
of my conduct in the affair, or had cause to regret my
union with Anne Hart. On the contrary, we are
both firmly persuaded that we acted under the immediate
guidance and direction of Heaven.
But to resume my narrative. When the ceremony
was concluded, we drove to Mr. Hart’s estate, in a
gig which was in waiting for us. On the next morning,
I found the door of the room where I transacted
C
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26
business painted, one-half white, and the other yellow.
Some of my friends would have had me alter the
colours to that with which the door was previously
painted; but I declined it, and was determined the
painters should have ample time to be convinced that
they had not provoked me, and to be sick of beholding
the memorial of their own folly. After this, I was twice
insulted while walking the street, but passed on without
noticing it. In general, the passengers in the
street yielded me the way, as though I were a mighty
conqueror, who had fought with, and vanquished, the
whole community. I went on preaching as usual,
although the Superintendent of the Mission had at
first serious apprehensions that the chapel would be
pulled down, as soon as I should be seen in the pulpit;
but, on the contrary, all the white people, however
void of the fear of God, appeared to be awed at my
presence. For some time, my wife always endeavoured
to steal away to chapel alone, on preaching
day, for fear of being insulted; but I as uniformly
watched, and would not allow her to escape me, but
walked with her, arm-in-arm, to prove that I was
unconquered in the conflict, and was not become
ashamed of her.
I now failed in my mercantile pursuits, and set up
the business of a baker, in which I met with considerable
encouragement, although I neither baked nor
sold on Sundays.
At this point, Mr. Gilbert’s part of the narrative
breaks off, and Mrs. Gilbert takes it up as follows:
My beloved husband, though born with very different
expectations, gladly set about baking, as an
occupation in which I could assist him, and which,
with such assistance, would enable him to employ
himself in the use of his pen. A strong temptation
had been set before him; but he resisted it, in the
power of the Holy Spirit, with his usual decision of
character. While he was in partnership with his
friends Playfair and Crichton, and, as he thought,
growing rich, he had been very liberal to the French
emigrants who fled from Guadaloupe and Martinique,
during the revolution in France. Some of them,
though men of high rank in their native country, were
constrained to seek a subsistence for themselves and
families by various employments opposed to their
former habits and education; while their wives, who
were women of fashion and refinement, aided the
design by the use of their needles, in which they were
remarkably well skilled, and produced most beautiful
specimens of ornamental work. Nor was the benefit
of the laudable efforts of these ladies confined to themselves;
for, from their example, many of the young
females of Antigua learnt the importance of exertion
in the feebler sex. These interesting individuals were
much attached to my dear husband: he could speak
their own language, and they felt great sympathy
towards us both, regarding us as oppressed strangers
in our native land. One of them, a Monsieur M—,
offered to go into partnership with him in the business
of baker and tobacconist, provided he would sell on
Sundays, which was then the universal practice, and
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28
usually attended with great emolument. He said he
knew, admired, my dear Mr. G.’s principles,
and would release him from all interference in the
business from Saturday night till Monday morning;
but Mr. G. told him that would not satisfy him, and
therefore declined entering into any engagement. The
Frenchman was so convinced that his motives were
purely conscientious, that he turned over the house in
which he lived, and all the apparatus belonging to the
tobacco business, to him, and returned to Guadaloupe.
We both laboured hard that we might “owe no man
any thing;” but it pleased God to try our faith closely.
My dear husband fell sick, and was brought nigh to
the grave: soon after his recovery, I had an illness,
which confined me to my bed for six months. As he
was at this time (after being up from three o’clock in
the morning to bake) engaged through the day in
settling some intricate accounts of an extensive firm, it
may be easily conceived his labour, both of body and
mind, was great. He settled one account in particular,
for which the sum of eight hundred dollars was
awarded him by arbitration, and which would not have
been put into his hands if any other person in the
Island could have been found equal to it. The greater
part of this money was appropriated to purchasing the
freedom of a young person who had some claims upon
him, and who was saved from vice and wretchedness
by being rescued from slavery. His being obliged to
spend some hours every day at the merchant’s counting-house
where the books were deposited, and my
inability to attend to business at home, rendered our
circumstances very trying; we therefore determined
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29
upon giving up baking, and opening a school, in
which we could have the assistance of my late dear
sister, Mrs. Thwaites. We accordingly hired a house,
and every arrangement was made for our removal, as
soon as I should recover my strength sufficiently to
attend to it. My heart sunk at the prospect of his
engaging in a school: I knew that he would find it
impossible to obtain regular payments for the children,
some of whom were to board with us; and that his
punctual and upright mind would be continually upon
the rack to obtain the means of defraying the daily
expenses of the establishment; while, after all, his
income would be fluctuating and precarious. We
both went many times to a throne of grace to implore
divine aid and direction, and, by the gracious interposition
of our Heavenly Father, we were released
from this trying attempt to procure a subsistence.
Before I was able to leave my sick-bed, as my dear
Mr. G. was sitting by me one evening, a servant brought
a message, purporting that Mr. Dow (under whom he
had served in the Store-keeper’s Office when a youth,
and who had always cherished a kind regard for him,
and endeavoured to serve him,) wished to speak to
him. My mind being weakened by long bodily indisposition,
I apprehended new trials awaited us, and,
as soon as he returned, eagerly inquired if it was the
case. I remember saying, rather impatiently, “Do
tell me, is it for the better or the worse?” With his
accustomed tenderness, he soothed my fears, and
strove to dissipate my alarm, but did not know what
opinion to give on the proposal which had been made
to him. Mr. M―h, the then Naval Storekeeper,
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30
had written to Mr. D. to request him to ask Mr. Gilbert
to take the situation of second clerk in the Storekeeper’s
office, as the first clerk appeared to be dying.
Mr. G. requested Mr. D. to give him his advice, as
he had already obtained a licence as a schoolmaster,
and was promised a good number of scholars. Mr.
D. told him, though he should be very sorry to lose
him as a neighbour, and should not be able to procure
any body to fill his place in settling the accounts
in Mr. K.’s office, he thought employment in the
Naval-yard more congenial to his habits, as it was the
place in which he had already spent many years of
his life; but that he must at the same time warn him
he would fund the business of the Storekeeper’s Office
oppressive, as the clerks were negligent, and he understood
the writing department to be in a very backward
state; that as, in consequence of a French fleet being
in these seas, there were constantly from six to eight
ships of war in the harbour, he would probably be
under the necessity of writing almost all night, and,
he was afraid, would sink under it. Mr. D. concluded
by advising Mr. G. to go to English Harbour, and
speak to Mr. M—h himself, and kindly offered him
his gig for the purpose. My dear husband told me
his heart shrunk from the idea of taking me to live in
a place where vice of every kind held its undisturbed
dominion, and where there was scarcely a single female
with whom I could associate. I told him I was
willing to go with him under any circumstances, provided
we were convinced that divine Providence
pointed the way. He accordingly went to English
Harbour, and waited upon the Store-keeper, who told
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31
him the office was much in want of an efficient clerk;
that the second would of course expect to succeed the
first, in the event of his death; and that then there
would be a vacancy for the second clerk’s place, which
he would be very glad to see filled by my dear Mr.
G. He, however, declined accepting the situation, as
the income would be insufficient for the support of his
family, and he had the prospect of more ample maintenance
as a schoolmaster. The Storekeeper replied
that the second clerk was not willing to give up his
promotion nominally; but that he would let Mr. G.
receive the first clerk’s salary, and be content with
that of the second. My dear Mr. G. objected to this,
and preferred entering upon the school. Accordingly
he concluded the lease of the house, and we removed
into it. The week before the school was to be opened,
an order from Commissioner Lane was handed him,
appointing him first clerk in the Store-keeper’s Office.
He, with his usual consideration for my comfort in all
things, referred it to me, and I had no hesitation in
preferring English Harbour, though attended with
many privations and new trials, considering it an
answer to prayers which I had put up, in great anguish
of spirit, at the prospect of his wearing out his
valuable life without even suitable remuneration for
his toils. He had to pay a sum of money to be released
from the contract about the house. As the
business at English Harbour was pressing, he went
there immediately, leaving me to pack up, and follow
him, which I did in about ten days.
We had not long taken up our residence there,
when the integrity of my husband’s principles began
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32
to give offence, and to occasion gross misrepresentations
of his character. What was chiefly disliked in his
conduct, was his endeavouring, with the permission
of his superior officers, to arrange the business of the
Dock Yard so as to prevent working on the Lord’s
day; the violation of which had been encouraged by
a professor of religion, for his own emolument, and in
order that he might become popular with the artificers.
The force of truth, however, proved irresistible, and
the attacks of Mr. G.’s enemies were so powerless,
that he rose in the esteem of his superiors, and of all
those officers in the navy who knew how to appreciate
intelligence, a conscientious attention to duty, and, in
short, all those qualities which distinguish the gentleman
and the christian. In the mean time, the malice of
his enemies spent itself in low secret abuse. As soon
as Sunday work had received a check, we attended
the Parish Church, the pulpit of which was not then,
as, thank God! we have known it since, occupied by
a minister who preached evangelical doctrines; besides
which, we had no conveyance without borrowing, and
the distance was much beyond a walking one, in this
climate. Among the poor there were a few who loved
the Gospel, and were under the necessity of walking
six or eight miles on the Sabbath to hear it, and to
enjoy christian communion; others also had been
long wishing for Sunday service at English Harbour.
My beloved husband, then filling a situation which
all around us thought incompatible with such an employment,
preached in a small thatched house, in
what was at that time a most wretched place, called
Spring Gardens. None other could be obtained for
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33
such a sacred purpose, and, oh! for ever blessed be
the name of that God who made him instrumental to
the conversion of many precious souls, some of whom
not only hold fast the beginning of their confidence
to this day (though they had to endure bitter persecution,
and even corporal suffering, for the truth’s sake),
but have been eminently useful to others.
I cannot, in my present state of mind, attempt to
do more than relate circumstances as they occur to
my recollection, and that without regard to systematic
arrangement. There is one which I must not omit,
because I think it somewhat remarkable. A captain
in the navy, who had been told (by a man to whom
my dear husband had rendered essential services,
which involved himself in great pecuniary embarrassment,)
that he was “one of the greatest villains in
the Island,” but could not credit the slander, used to
go occasionally, but privately, to hear him preach. It
appears that this gentleman felt the truths delivered,
and wished to call on Mr. G., but thought we should
not like such a visiter; knowing that we did not cultivate
acquaintance with the officers of the navy, and
approving our motives for it. He afterwards died at
English Harbour, and, to our very great surprise, left
my dear husband money to purchase a mourning ring.
His preaching began to diffuse a new and better
feeling in the neighbourhood. Some in the town of
Falmouth, who had been cold professors, attended.
Mothers who had promoted the degradation and impurity
of their daughters, began to bewail their
wickedness, and to wish to screen their yet undebased
offspring from the destroyer. More respect was paid
C2
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34
to the Sabbath, and the rapid stream of ungodliness,
in all its varied forms, received a check which it had
never experienced before. About this time, my later
dear sister, Mrs. Thwaites, was united to Mr. Thwaites,
who was also employed in the Naval Yard. The
congregations became too large for the little thatched
house in Spring Gardens, and Mr. T. opened his
house for the purpose.
We became acquainted with a Mr. A—r, Ordnance
Store-keeper, who had been religiously brought
up, by a pious father. Mr. A. sought the acquaintance
of my dear Mr. G., and was very desirous of having
him in the same department with himself. Seeing
that he had greater application to business than was
consistent with his health, in consequence of having
to make up the deficiencies and neglects of others,
he advised his writing to any friends he might have
in England who had interest in the Ordnance department,
with a view to exchanging his situation. It
happened that Gen. M—, who was then high in rank
in that department, had been an intimate friend of his
father; Mr. G. therefore wrote to him on the subject,
and through his interference procured admission to
the department, “if he should still be disposed to
leave the Naval service.” In the mean time, we had
laid the matter before the Lord, and prayed him, if
the removal was contrary to His will, to prevent it;
and it pleased that Almighty being, to whose control
all the arcana of visible and invisible nature are subject,
on this occasion to direct my dear husband, by a
dream, to remain where he was. The Naval Storekeeper,
whose health required change of climate, had
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35
written to England to recommend a person he wished
to favour as his successor in the Store-keeper’s office,
and a gentleman in the law as Deputy-Treasurer to
Greenwich Hospital, appointments which had till then
been always united in the same person, but, in consequence
of this recommendation, were divided, and
Mr. M—h’s friend appointed to the latter. In conversation
one day with Mr. G., the Store-keeper said,
very disingenuously,—for he had no idea that Mr. G.
had any interest which could avail him, and at the same
time hoped his own application on behalf of the person
he favoured would be successful,—“Gilbert, you
had better apply for the situation of Store-keeper.
Have you any friends in England who can assist you
by their influence?” Mr. G. replied that Mr. M—n,
who had always shewn him the affection of a parent,
was in England, and he knew would be glad to serve
him, but he did not know if he had any interest with
the then ministry. After he came home, however, he
recollected that the then Earl, since Marquis of N—n,
had married a niece of his father, and with prayer,
but with little or no expectation of success, he wrote
to the Earl, and to Mr. M—n. From the former,
he received a prompt and kind reply, telling him he
had written to Lord Melville on the subject of his
letter, and that his Lordship had promised attention
to his wishes, if a vacancy should occur. Mr. M—n,
who resided at Southampton, went up to London,—and
if Mr. G. had been his own son, he could not have
exerted himself more on his behalf,—and finally succeeded
in obtaining for him the appointment, in the
year 18071807.
while the answers to the letters were pending, the
enemies of religion ridiculed the idea of a man who
accounted worldly honours as nothing, and whose life
was devoted to the conscientious discharge of his
public duties, and the religious instruction of the poor,
obtaining a situation which they thought would be
better filled by one who gave his time sparingly to
business, and devoted his income to the popular pleasures
of the world. I recollect one opposer of my dear
husband’s principles and conduct riding up to our
door, and telling me that a ship had just arrived, and
brought a new Store-keeper for the Naval-yard. I
told him we had expected some such event. The next
morning, it appeared that the person from England
was sent to supersede the very man who came to
triumph over what he considered our disappointment;
the same ship also brought letters addressed to “Mr.
Gilbert, Naval Store-keeper,” and the following packet,
official notice of his appointment.
It was now generally reported, that Mr. G. did not
intend to preach any more; in short, that we were going
to lay religion aside. Some of the poor were much
grieved at this, and one woman actually returned to
her house on Sunday morning, weeping bitterly. But,
for ever blessed be that God, who kept us by his grace,
my beloved husband waxed stronger and stronger in
confessing Christ, and as Mr. Thwaites’s house became
too contracted for the purpose, and Mr. G. preached or
expounded the scriptures every Sabbath, the Wesleyan
missionaries preaching once a fortnight, on a night in
the week. We had soon all our rooms, the bed
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37
chambers excepted, quite full, when the weather was
good.
I could here mention the names of some who heard
and received the truth in the love of it; four in particular,
who were attached to the army. In Methodist
Magazine for 18231823, page 704, one is mentioned,
under the head of “Obituary,” who finished his course
with joy. His brother officers in the naval department,
and their families, loved and esteemed him; and though
the former were not at that time men of decided piety,
they admired his consistency of conduct, and in all
times of public or domestic trial he was their confidential
friend and counsellor. There were always a
few in the department, however, who were dissatisfied
with his scrupulous integrity, because his example
overawed and restrained them; but even some of these
he visited., at their own request, when they were about
to leave the world, pointed them to the Lamb of God,
and besought mercy for their souls in earnest prayer.
In 18091809, the first Sunday School known in the West
Indies was commenced in Mr. G.’s house, and he became
a teacher in it himself. Any attempt to detail
the benefits which have resulted from this institution
would swell this memoir, intended only as a sketch,
beyond its proper limits; suffice it to say, “many arise
and call it blessed.” After the arrival in this Island
of his brother-in-law, Mr. D—, at his suggestion to
Mr. G., they united in forming an Auxiliary Bible
Society, which was organized in our house, and many
of its committee meetings held there. The Female
Refuge Society was formed in the same year, 18151815, and
all its meetings carried on in the same place, until, in
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38
consequence of Lady D’Urban’s kind patronage, a
general meeting was held at the Honourable Lady
Grey’s school room, and the children, who before that
period had been placed out in different families for
instruction, were collected together, and a regular establishment
was formed. From their vicinity to us, and
the circumscribed limits of the house they inhabited,
several of the children were constant residents at Clarence
house, except when, in seasons of ill health, or
other peculiarities of circumstance, others by turns
took their places; but on some occasions they were all
collected there, and at such times assembled round
Mr. G. as their common parent, and now bewail his
loss as such. Of this institution it may be truly said,
the blessed effects are evident to all who know anything
of it.
The congregations usually assembling for preaching
increased so much, that they could no longer be
accommodated in our house; subscriptions were therefore
set on foot for building a Methodist chapel.
Mr. G. gave all the assistance in his power, and when
Mr. Thwaites, upon whom the responsibility of erecting
the building rested, found himself deficient in the
means of making up one of the instalments, my dear
husband, having already given all that he could spare
consistently with other demands of a similar nature,
sent him his gold watch-chain, and ever after wore a
bit of black ribbon. A communication was made to
him, from a superior officer, though not in the form of a
direct message, that he had better desist from preaching.
“I will die first,” was his laconic reply. It
was sarcastically enquired of him, how the chapel was
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39
built, and whether the land was public or private
property. He replied, the land had been purchased,
and was private property; and the chapel was built
by subscription; adding, that he was trustee for it.
Thus, on many occasions, did he silence malice and
opposition, by a firm and calm acknowledgment of
the truth.
Soon after we became resident at English Harbour,
Mr. G. formed a fund for relieving the poor, to which
he liberally contributed. He was the treasurer, and,
from the period of its formation until a few months
before his death, though the number of subscribers
was few, had distributed nine hundred and sixty-one
pounds, three shillings, and three half-pence. At the
time of his decease, he was twenty-five pounds in
advance. But was it from this fund alone that he relieved
the poor? I ask my sorrowing heart. Ah! no.
There were many poor people to whom he made a
weekly allowance, independently of it: indeed, none
applied in vain that it was within the compass of his
ability to relieve. On returning home, after office
hours, he has often said to me, “My dear, I have
had such and such applications from the distressed
to-day; did they come to you?” He dreaded the
thought of laying up treasure on earth; and said the
words of our Lord were plain and forcible, “Where
your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
Thank God! we were of one heart and one mind, in
this as in other respects, so that I have often felt
inexpressible satisfaction that he was so minded, and
never had any fears of want if I should be the survivor.
He often felt anxious on my account; but we
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40
could never persuade ourselves to refuse assistance to
those who had not common necessaries, from the fear
of having to endure privations in our own persons.
At the time of his death. Mr. G. was secretary and
treasurer to four charitable institutions in this neigh
bonrhoodneighbourhood, and the friend, director, and upholder of
three others.
At the conclusion of the peace, the naval establishment
at English Harbour was reduced, and the
department left in charge of the Master Shipwright.
My dear husband settled his accounts honourably
with Government, and we removed to St. John’s,
never expecting to reside again at English Harbour.
He engaged in selling goods on commission, and soon
obtained so much business, that, though he was
assisted by myself and an active clerk, both his health
and my own began to fail under incessant exertion.
The Master Shipwright being advanced in years, and
wishing to retire, recommended to my dear Mr. G. to
apply to be re-entered as Store-keeper. It seemed a
hopeless attempt, as there were many applicants on
the spot; he yielded, however, without reluctance, to
the solicitations of his friends, and wrote to the Board.
He was in consequence appointed, and, after an
absence of twenty months, we returned to English
Harbour. Many were astonished at his reinstatement;
but most persons saw the divine hand in it,
and were convinced that God was with him. During
my life, I have had frequent occasion to notice, with
gratitude to our Almighty Benefactor, not only His
goodness in delivering us unexpectedly from painful
and embarrassing circumstances, but in providing at
C9r
41
the same time a comfortable situation for us in future;
and thus conferring a double benefit at once. So it
was in this instance.
It pleased God, after our return, to pour out His
blessing on the Sunday School particularly; its
numbers greatly increased, and some young persons,
who were the first objects of its care, were brought to
a saving acquaintance with the truth as it is in Jesus;
and, I am happy to add, continue to this day, and
are among its most valuable teachers. He re-commenced
preaching in the chapel, and some of those
who appeared dissatisfied with his return became steady
hearers of the word, and doers of it also. He had
occasionally to contend with unreasonable men; but
the result, blessed be God, was invariably such as
proved favourable to the cause of religion, and creditable
to his own character: insomuch that a certain
individual, who had shewn more enmity to him on
account of his religious principles than any one else,
upon his retiring from office in 1832-04April, 1832, wrote of
him to the Admiralty in strong terms of recommendation
and approbation. But it is not to public testimonies
that I need appeal, for the most important
fruits of that grace, which wrought effectually by the
Holy Spirit upon his heart to make him a Christian
in word and deed. If there was one trait more conspicuous
than the rest, amidst the lovely harmony of
graces visible in his character, it was his total renunciation
of self, and entire dependence on the atonement
of our blessed Saviour: and that which made him so
remarkable as a man, and a man filling an important
station in society, was his scrupulous integrity, and
C9v
42
an openness and candour in all his intercourse with
others, which even persons not devoid of piety and
wisdom thought sometimes carried too far, in a disingenuous
and unfriendly world. Upon his retirement
from office, he presented a memorial to the
Navy Board, the reply to which, through mistake,
went so circuitous a route, that he was kept in a state
of suspense for some months. He thought it necessary,
therefore, to forward another to the Board of
Admiralty, a copy of which may be seen at the end
of this statement; and, in consequence, a pension of
£350 sterling was granted.
For the last three or four years of his residence in
this vale of tears, he was a considerable sufferer from
local complaints, of a nature seldom removed at an
advanced period of life; but his active habits and
astonishing patience kept him to the steady performance
of all his duties till within a few months before
his death. Then indeed the cup of bodily suffering
was greatly augmented in bitterness. In 1833-01January,
1833, a severe bowel complaint was succeeded by a
degree of nervous excitement which occasioned incessant
restlessness, exhausting to the animal frame; and
a frequent rush of blood to the head and lungs produced
sensations of suffocation, and other feelings, the
effects of which it was distressing in no small degree
even to witness. In the midst of his severest sufferings,
no impatient expression escaped his lips; sometimes
he would cast an imploring look upward, and exclaim,
in the most affecting manner, “Pity me, my Saviour!”
As far as related to spiritual concerns, his mind was
calm and undisturbed, though his superior understanding
C10r
43
was clouded and impaired by disease. He
had often declared to me, when in his best health,
that the subject of death was more familiar to him
than any other, and he experienced no dismay at any
time when it seemed to approach. He said to his
kind medical friends, “I am not afraid to die. I love
my Saviour, and my Saviour loves me too well to
dispose of me in any way that will not be for my
everlasting benefit; but I should be glad if any thing
could be done to mitigate my bodily sufferings. This
want of breath is very distressing.” His heart glowed
with the tenderest affection towards me, and with
almost parental kindness to all around him, particularly
to a dear, amiable niece of mine, and an interesting
and affectionate young person in the family,
who read to him daily; both of whom attended upon
him with the most assiduous and reverential regard.
The day of his death, 1833-07-16July 16, 1833, (ever memorable
to me!) he took his usual drive out, and, when
he returned, his accustomed refreshment, and did not
appear worse than he had been latterly. He dined at
table, carved a chicken, and ate a small bit; he then
called my attention to the large drops of perspiration
which fell from his eye-lids and under his eyes. Alas!
it was the dew of death, though I knew it not. I
begged him to lie down a little. He rose, and I
accompanied him into the chamber. Being much
fatigued and indisposed myself, I was preparing to
take a little rest, and one of the young friends already
mentioned assisted him into the sitting-room. Almost
immediately one of them came in, and, not wishing
to alarm me, said he appeared poorly. I went
C10v
44
instantly to him, and found him lying in a posture of
ease on the sofa, but his complexion darker than
usual. With a sensation of anguish not to be described,
I took hold of his hand, and fancied I felt his
pulse beat; but it was a delusion—the medical men
came, and found the happy spirit had fled to the
paradise of God! Oh! what tongue or pen can
express the agonies of that moment.—I could only
fall upon my knees, and afresh commend myself and
the orphans around me into the hands of God. I
afterwards learned that when his young guide was
leading him into the sitting-room, he asked with a
smile, “Where are we going to now?” to which she
replied, “I will go wherever you please, sir;” “I am
going to a good place,” he said, (meaning heaven,)
“where I hope you will meet me.” His other young
attendant asked, as he reclined upon the sofa, “Shall
I fan you, Sir?” He smiled at her, and playfully
repeating her words, “Shall I fan you, Sir?” added
“Yes, very gently.” She had scarcely begun to do so,
when he threw his head back, shuddered, groaned,
and died! The whole was almost instantaneous.
Many were the mourners made by this event. The
poor, the widow, and the fatherless, as well as friends
and relatives, lament it; but what are all their losses
compared with mine? The lapse of almost thirty-five
years, with many scenes of sorrow and suffering endured
together, had cemented our union, and increased
the tenderness of our affection to each other; but he
is gone; and to me
“The disenchanted earth has lost its lustre, The great magician’s dead! C11r 45 No, not dead! He lives! he greatly lives! a life on earth Unkindled, unconceived; and from an eye Of tenderness lets heavenly pity fall On me, more justly numbered with the dead.”
Thus far Mrs. Gilbert, and one only less interested
than herself may perhaps hope for indulgence, while
she attempts still further to delineate the character of
the dear departed.
Mr. Gilbert’s intellect was of that powerful order,
which would have secured to him a certain degree of
ascendancy in any circle in which it might have been
his lot to move. He had been early taught, by his
excellent father, to think and reason upon the nature
and fitness of things, and accustomed, while he lived,
to the society of men of sense and education, by many
of whom he was carressed, no doubt, as an intelligent
boy, upon whom his parents had bestowed no inconsiderable
degree of pains. After his irreparable loss,
his introduction into Mr. M―n’s family continued
to him an intercourse with polished society, and his
succeeding public life introduced him to an acquaintance
with a great variety of characters. Amongst the
officers of the British navy, it is well known there are
men, not only of rank and education, but of scientific
and general knowledge; and though Mr. G. conscientiously
abstained from almost all personal intimacy
with any of these, a mind so acute in acquiring knowledge
of every kind could not fail to derive advantage
from his necessary intercourse with them, and with
other persons of the same description who fell in his
C11v
46
way. Nor did his opportunities of mental improvement
cease here: in his leisure hours, he read incessantly,
on a great variety of subjects, and imbibed
from this source, and from his personal experience in
the varied scenes of his life, such an accurate knowledge
of the world, and of human nature, and such a stock of
general information, that, though he had never travelled
beyond some of the Islands of this Archipelago, he
was sometimes resorted to for advice and direction by
men, who, to other advantages, added that of having
visited different parts of the globe.
When he was a very young man, the study of elocution
and astronomy attracted his attention; but
finding such pursuits would engross his mind so much
as to interfere with others of more importance, he relinquished
them. After he became religious, his
enlarged and liberal mind embraced every denomination
of christian professors as brethren. His house
was the centre of union to many of this description.
There, pious Clergymen and members of the established
church, Methodists, Moravians, and Baptists, gave each
other the right hand of fellowship, and seemed to say,
“Names, and sects, and parties fall,
And Christ alone is all in all.”
His affections were fervent, his feelings strong, and
his disposition remarkably open and generous. He
has described his temper as “fiery;” and used to
lament that, before he knew the grace of God which
bringeth salvation, he was sometimes hurried into acts
of passion, which his cooler moments could not justify.
Be that as it may, he was his own accuser; and so far
C12r
47
as the writer knows, there is no other; while, after his
conversion, many can bear witness to his forbearance,
mildness, and patient endurance of injury. In the
latter years of his life particularly, the love of God
dwelt richly in him; and from this hallowed and perennial
source the love of his fellow-creatures emanated
in a conspicuous degree. Between his wife and himself,
there subsisted a delightful union of sentiment
and affection; she was the object of his warmest
esteem; and it might truly be said, “the heart of her
husband trusted in her.” To his worth as a brother,
the writer of this faint outline, with weeping eyes, and
a full heart, bears testimony. After a separation of
many years between himself and his sisters, two of
them returned to Antigua in the year 18131813, and for
nearly twenty years enjoyed the benefit of his conversations,
counsels, and prayers. Their cares, their embarrassments,
and their sorrows were all his own;
while his married sister in particular, and the partner
of her life, are convinced they owed many deliverances
and mercies to his “effectual fervent prayers” on their
behalf. Nor can they fail to remember, that when, by
painful and unexpected circumstances, they were deprived
of a home, his heart and his house were opened
to receive them and theirs, and afforded them a comfortable
residence as long as it was necessary. As a
master of hired servants (for from conscientious motives
he had for many years ceased to be an owner of slaves)
he was certainly too indulgent; but he knew how to
assert his authority, when he thought it needful.
Mrs. Gilbert has noticed his familiarity with the
subject of death, and his composure in the prospect of
C12v
48
it. Perhaps some particulars in proof of the latter,
and his own expression of his sentiments on the
former, at particular seasons, may not be unacceptable.
In 1826-04April, 1826, he writes thus to Mrs. D―, on an
afflictive event which had happened in the family.
“That death is no terrible thing to believers I am
persuaded, and I am happy to learn dear Jude found
my persuasion a just one in her own case. There is
not a day when death is not in my thoughts. I anticipate
it most with respect to myself, my wife, yourself,
and Mr. D.; but the thought is so constantly
present to my mind, that it is not only a common and
certain event, but a desirable one to believers, that I
never feel sorry for the death of pious persons, except
with reference to the living, whose circumstances in
this wearisome world may be rendered distressing or
uncomfortable thereby.”
In reply to a letter from Mrs. D―, on 1832-01-01new year’s
day, 1832, he says, “Mrs. G. and myself are highly
sensible of your affectionate solicitude for our health
and long life; but God knows best whether a much
longer life in this world would be a blessing in these
perilous times. Whenever he does call us hence,
may he bless us with an assurance of a happy
eternity.”
“May God bless you, my dear sister, with just so
many additional years to your life as he sees best;
and when you die, may it be in the full assurance of
faith; the same we wish to Mr. D― and Martha.”
For many years before his death, he had a frequent
tendency of blood to the head, threatening apoplexy;
and in 18221822, he experienced a very alarming illness.
The day on which Mr. Harrison, the Wesleyan missionary,
was married from his house, intending to
spend a few days there, he was suddenly brought to the
verge of the grave. Mr. and Mrs. H., and Mr. Whitehouse,
another missionary of the same denomination,
since dead, “whose praise is in all the churches”
where he was known, were spending the evening with
the family, in singing hymns and praying alternately;
while Mr. G. was thus engaged, and expressing himself
in this way, “Here we are, Lord, with our empty
vessels waiting to be filled,” he was seized with a
catching of his breath, proceeding from strong emotion,
and which was not very uncommon with him when
engaged in importunate prayer; it was, however, more
violent then than ever; and Mr. W., perceiving his
inability to proceed, took up the prayer and continued
it. When they arose from their knees, Mrs. G. observed
him looking about in an enquiring manner,
and, going to him, asked if he wanted anything?
“No,” he replied, “but I should like to know where
I am.” She told him at Clarence-house, and endeavoured
to awaken his recollection to the objects around
him; but he recognized none of them, nor any person
but herself. He appeared full of peace and love,
however, smiled, and when she asked if he knew her,
said, “Yes,” and embraced and kissed her, adding, “I
am going to leave you, my dear.” Medical aid was sent
for, and while the subject of intensely painful interest
was restlessly wandering up and down the verandah,
D
D1v
50
accompanied by his distressed wife, Mr. W. and Mr.
H. retired to a chamber to supplicate the God of
heaven and earth on his behalf. When the doctor
arrived, Mr. G. told him he “was not at all solicitous
about the event of his illness, for he was in the hand
of God.” As soon as he was in bed, his medical
attendant having, as he said, “been obliged to bleed
him almost to death to save his life,” Messrs. W.
and H. went in to see him, and he desired the
former to “kneel down and tell his Saviour, for he
could not do it himself, that he gave himself up to
him entirely.” Mr. W., however, would not venture
to do any thing further to excite his over-wrought
feelings. Such was the impression made on the
minds of the missionaries, by the circumstances of
this illness, that they were much affected, not only at
the time, but long afterwards Mr. Whitehouse was
heard to declare, that if he could have chosen he
would not have been absent on any account. On
this melancholy wedding-night, Mrs. Harrison, an
amiable and pious young woman, sat by the bedside,
weeping, and holding one of Mr. G.’s hands
in her’s, whom she then deplored as dying, unconscious
that her own redeemed spirit would take its
flight previously to his. When he recovered his
recollection, he said there had been a complete blank
in his life for several hours; and that he awoke gradually,
as from a dream of half-formed visions, of
which he could make nothing. He told his sister,
Mrs. D. (who, with his friend, Mr. Garling, hastened
to Clarence-house as soon as they heard of his illness,
leaving her sister and Mr. D. to follow, if necessary),
D2r
51
that with respect to himself, he really did not care
about living, but there were some for whom he should
like to see a provision made before he died; he knew,
indeed, that God could do this under any circumstances,
but he usually employed ordinary means.
He said, repeatedly, how delightfully he should have
died if he had gone off during the time of his insensibility
—he should have known nothing of the
passage out of time into eternity; and such, as has
been seen, was his actual departure at last. What
human heart can conceive the glorious transition!
“All bliss, without a pang to cloud it! All joy, without a pain to shroud it! Not slain, but caught, up as it were, To meet his Saviour in the air.”
At another time he said to his sister (for we return
to the period when he was still a sufferer), “that he
felt he loved God, and he believed God loved him;
he believed too that his fellow-creatures loved him,”
many being the testimonies of regard he received at
that time; “that he had had only one source of anxiety,
and that he had just given up to God. He had
entered into covenant with him, to take him out of the
world when and how he pleased, if he would only take
care of all those for whose sakes he wished to live.”
His heart seemed to overflow with love, not merely to
all about him, but towards his absent friends also,
many of whom he mentioned, and noticed their most
strikingly characteristic traits with much affection.
Such were the sentiments and feelings of the subject
of this short memoir in 18221822; in 1833-03March, 1833, Mrs.
D2v
52
D. thus writes of him to a sister in town. “My
dear brother has been talking to me in a very affecting
manner to-day. He says it is impressed upon his
mind, that not much of his earthly course remains to
be run, and that he has been making a new will, because
the change of a circumstance under which the
old one was written makes it necessary. He spoke of
the little he had to bequeath, even to his valuable wife,
and seemed to regret it on our account also. Seeing
me much affected, he tried, with that fraternal tenderness
which he has ever evinced towards me, to comfort
me, by reminding me what times of tribulation were
approaching, and what a mercy it would be for us all
to be sheltered before the battle of Armageddon.
‘God,’ he said, ‘had done all things well for us
hitherto, and therefore we might safely trust ourselves
in his hands, to do with us as he pleased.’ I do not
expect that he will recover. He is too evidently declining.
But, oh! let us pray that the sad depression
under which he labours, but which happily does not
appear to have the least bearing on spiritual subjects,
may be taken away, and that peace and serenity of
mind may accompany the closing scenes of his life.
Let us pray also that each of us may be as well prepared
to obey the Bridegroom’s summons as our
much-loved brother is.”
In another letter to her sister, Mrs. D. says; “My
dear brother, speaking again on the subject of his
death last night, said he felt much at the prospect of
leaving his wife unprovided for; that he knew there
D3r
53
was a promise to widows, and he had no doubt she
would be supplied with the necessaries of life, but
persons circumstanced as she would be had much to
endure; he thought, too, that we might be so circumstanced
as to require his particular assistance; and
even on account of ― (whom he could and
did help), he felt a good deal, and for the Refuge
children not a little. He had told his heavenly Father
all this, and begged him to take care of and provide
for all whom he felt thus anxious about; and he
thought he had heard, and would answer, his prayer.
He knew that he was only a tool in the hand of the
Almighty, by which he carried on the purposes of
his providence in these respects, and that he could
employ any other instrument he pleased to effect the
same ends; nevertheless, he had still many painful
sensations on the subject. With respect to himself,
he had no doubt of his adoption. He committed no
wilful sin; he saw in himself marks of the renewed
nature; and he could, and did, go to his heavenly
Father with all the confidence—yea, even more
confidence—than he should have gone with to his
affectionate earthly parent: but when he thought of
being exalted above angels, and principalities, and
powers, and enjoying the beatific vision, he could
scarcely believe it, and was ready to exclaim, with
David, ‘Who am I, Lord?’ ‘that I should be so honoured
and exalted?—Can it be that such a one as
I should be so distinguished?’—It was the hardest
thing to believe. But again, he considered, ‘Will not
He who gave his only begotten Son—will not that
Son, who left the bosom of his Father, between whom
D3v
54
and himself there subsisted an union of affection
stronger and closer than we are capable of forming
any conception of, do this also?’ I regret that I
cannot remember further particulars of the conversation,
or his expressions more exactly, by which I fail
to do justice to his sentiments.”
One excellence in Mr. Gilbert’s character, which
has not yet been noticed, and which was too remarkable
to be passed over in silence, was his happy talent
of introducing religion into his most common conversation;
not intrusively, nor unseasonably, but in an
easy, familiar, and pleasant way; insomuch that,
unless particular business was the object of the interview,
and required immediate discussion, it was impossible
to be many minutes in his company without
perceiving that he delighted in God and heavenly
things, and that therefore a holy savour of them was
diffused through all his words and actions.
There are some circumstances of his life, which, if
tenderness to the memory of those who are gone to
give an account of the deeds done in the body, and
delicacy towards their living connexions, did not plead
for their being suppressed, would more strikingly
develop features of his mind which have not been
brought prominently forward here, and would add to
the lustre of his general character.
Suffice it, however, to say, that “his record is on
high, and his reward with his God.”
“He is gone to the grave—but we will not deplore him, Whose God was his ransom, his guardian, and guide; He gave him, and took him, and soon will restore him; And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died.”
D4r 55With the Memorial already referred to, three Letters
are appended to this statement, which, it is hoped,
will not be unacceptable to the pious reader.
Memorial.
To the Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners
for executing the Office of Lord High
Admiral of the United Kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland.
The humble Memorial of John Gilbert, late
Naval Store-keeper at Antigua,
Sheweth,
That your memorialist was introduced into
the Store-keeper’s Office of Antigua Yard, on the
1781-05-2727th May, 1781, and served therein, without pay,
until the 1784-06-011st of June, 1784, when he was entered on
the establishment as Store-porter; but, besides the
occasional duty of receiving and issuing stores, was
employed in drawing working plans of the buildings
soon afterwards erected by contract in the Yard, and
at the Naval Hospital; making annual copies of the
plan of the Yard, exhibiting the alterations and improvements
made therein, for the information of the
Navy Board; drawing and copying contracts; writing
and copying letters on his Majesty’s service, and other
confidential business.
That, seeing no prospect of being better provided
for in the Yard, he at length withdrew from the service,
on the 1793-03-3131st of March, 1793.
That, at the desire of Mr. Hugh M‘Ilraith, who
was appointed Store-keeper after the death of Mr.
George Kittoe, your memorialist relinquished the private
engagement in which he had embarked, and
accepted the appointment of Store-keeper’s first clerk,
on the 1803-12-2323d December, 1803, and served in that capacity
until the 1807-04-2020th of April, 1807, when your Lordships
were pleased to appoint him Store-keeper and Naval Officer.
That he served in the latter capacity until the 1817-02-1616th
of February, 1817, when, after disbursing more than
half a million sterling on behalf of Government, he
was reduced to a pension of £200 per annum, and
paid over, in the presence of Commissioner Lewis,
the full balance of cash in his custody, to Mr. William
Lemon, Master Shipwright, who was left in
charge of the establishment.
That your Lordships were pleased, on the 1818-06-2626th
June, 1818, to re-appoint your memorialist to the
office of Store-keeper and Naval Officer, and that he
served therein to the 10th day of April, in this present
year, when (in pursuance to direction of your Lordships,
communicated in the Navy Board’s letter of
1832-01-2424th January, 1832,) your memorialist, having transferred
his charge to the Clerk and Storehouse-keeper,
dismissed himself from the establishment of the Yard.
That your memorialist has, in the whole, served as
D5r
57
first Clerk and Store-keeper, twenty-six years, eleven
months, and nine days.
That since the 1831-07-011st of July, 1831, (when an account
was begun to be kept, in pursuance of directions from
the Navy Board, of the daily attendance of officers
and clerks,) your memorialist has been absent from
duty one day in consequence of sickness, one day in
consequence of heavy rains, and one day in consequence
of private but indispensable business.
That your memorialist has been so happy, during
the whole period of his service, as to meet the approbation
of his superiors; but, being always upright and
faithful in the execution of his duty, has retired from
office destitute of any means of support, but such
pension as may be granted to him in consideration
of past services, but of which pension he has not received
advice, although he memorialized the Navy
Board on 31st March last; and has since transmitted
a duplicate of that memorial.
That your memorialist, having been nearly six
months out of pay, is threatened with utter destitution
and want, unless he obtains speedy relief by a
pension.
Your memorialist, therefore, most humbly prays
that your Lordships will be pleased to allow him a
suitable provision for the short remnant of his days.
And your memorialist, as in duty bound, shall ever
pray, &c.
Antigua, 1832-09-2828th September, 1832.
Letters.
To one of his sisters.
1797-08August, 1797.
My dear Sister,
I rejoice at being told that God in mercy
hath been pleased to put his fear into your heart; and
that I may, if possible, be instrumental in his hands
to the building you up in the most holy faith of our
Lord Christ, I write this letter, purely to exhort you
to press after that holiness without which no man
shall see the Lord.
Let us, then, not by way of judging our unhappy
fellow sinners, who are running blindfold down the
broad road to destruction, but by way of marking that
way to avoid it ourselves, examine for a moment into
their pursuits and temper.
Money, pleasure, dissipation, and the honour and
esteem of men, are the objects of wisdom to the world
around us. The corrupt policy of a heart at enmity
with God and his most holy law, and of an understanding
blinded by the prejudice of perverted affections,
are the sources of their wisdom. And their
own heads, aided by the carnal reasoning of their
fellow sinners, are the repositories, the only treasuries,
in which they know that any wisdom is laid up, for
their guidance in the slippery paths of this transitory
life.
To be as good as their neighbours, and not notoriously
scandalous for evil deeds in the sight of man, is
all the righteousness or justification that they can
plead, before a God who is of purer eyes than to
behold iniquity. For, refusing to accept of Christ upon
the terms of that same God, they are denied the merits
of his death and passion upon the terms that they
themselves would prescribe to him.
The highest degree of reformation that they propose
to themselves, in their most serious moments, is to be
merely external, and not to reach the thoughts and intents
of the heart. It is all within their own reach,
and is to be attained at the time that shall best suit
their own convenience, and in their own strength.
Finally, their hopes of eternal redemption from the
wrath and curse of God, are founded in the blasphemous
idea, that he will at least depart from his word, and
prove himself a liar, rather than doom such mighty
legions at once to everlasting destruction.
The friendship of such a world as this, is enmity
against God. And, alas! we are all, or were all, at
some period of our lives, of the number of these members
of antichrist, children of the devil, and heirs of
hell; and without being “born again, not of the will
of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of the will of
God,” we can never see the kingdom of God, nor discern
the things that make for our temporal and eternal
peace.
To them who are thus spiritually regenerated, Christ
is made of God the object of all wisdom—the only
object worthy of study—the source of true wisdom,
from whence they derive knowledge of God and his
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attributes, knowledge of themselves, knowledge of sin,
knowledge of true virtue, and knowledge of true happiness
—and the repository where infinite and infallible
wisdom is treasured up for their use; to the
guidance of which they may safely trust themselves
and their concerns, both spiritual and temporal, knowing
that he never sleeps, that the hairs of their heads
are all numbered, and that now a sparrow falls to the
ground but by his appointment; and that he shall so
circumvent their most deadly foes, the world, the flesh,
and the devil, that the utmost efforts of their malice
and treachery shall only advance the interest of his
beloved, and contribute to the working out their complete
salvation.
By the grace of God, viewing themselves condemned
in their best performances by that law which they
revere and approve, and which they delight in after
the inward man, they surrender at discretion—they
accept deliverance on the terms of the gospel, and are
justified, or accounted righteous, by the same grace,
through faith in the all-atoning sacrifice and infinite
merits of Christ, whom they have taken for their king,
and desire to rule their souls, and direct every thought
and intent of their hearts.
By the Spirit of God within them, their hearts are
led heavenward on the wings of love. They hunger
and thirst after righteousness, and groan after an entire
conformity to Christ, and the full enjoyment of God.
They are disgusted with the evil which they find interwoven
with their nature. By repeated experience,
they are assured that they can never obtain the victory
by the strength of their own arm. Thus, every other
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refuge being cut off, they are driven to depend solely
upon the grace which has made them willing, to make
them also able, steadily to follow their Lord in the
narrow path of sanctity; and this He who hatch undertaken
for them shall surely perform on this side the
grave, since, as I hinted before, “without holiness no
man can see the Lord.”
By the evidence of the Eternal Spirit witnessing
with their spirits, they know that they are born of
God. They know, by the spirit of adoption, which
enables them to say “Abba, Father,” that they are
children of the Highest, “and if children, then heirs;
heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ.” Being
divinely certified of the truth and love of Christ, they
trust their all in his hands, as unto a faithful Creator,
knowing that he is both able and willing to keep it to
the last; and they embrace the rack and the stake,
they meet death in its most horrid forms, knowing
that he shall prove at length their redemption from
this, who is their last enemy.
Enough for doctrine. Now for application.
My dear sister, let Christ be made to you of God,
your only wisdom—your sole righteousness—your
complete sanctification—and your divine certainty of
final redemption.
That which a man loves, he will pursue—what he
is indifferent to, he will neglect—what he hates, he
will flee from. To be Christ’s disciple, it is not only
necessary that we should believe with the heart as
well as the head, and love him above all things, but
we have his own testimony that without we are indifferent
to all the things of this lower world,—nay even
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to life and death,—so as to possess the very highest
degree of what the world calls enthusiasm, we cannot
follow him. Thus, “he that findeth his life shall lose
it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find
it.” And, “if any man come to me, and hate not
his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and
brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he
cannot be my disciple.” We must love Him with all
our hearts, souls, powers, and faculties, so as to have
no love left for any thing else. Then, as He is pure,
essential love, we shall, through him, and for His
sake, love our neighbours as ourselves, and all things
else as he loves them. I say, through Him, and for
His sake; and however paradoxical this may appear,
you must join me in asserting, that this is the only
lawful love of the creature, when you consider that if
our love for the latter be independent of our love to
the former, this will assuredly militate against that,—
it will oppose, it will draw us off from that, and prevent
our being always on God’s side—united with
Him in affections, in judgment, and in will, upon all
occasions, so as to have the same views, the same
ends, the same interests, the same friends, and the
same enemies that He has. When your eye is single,
your whole body shall be filled with Divine light.
When your heart is pure, you shall see God, and
dwell with Him even here below. The martyrs
enjoyed God in the flames.
I say, then, Mortify self. Let Christ be the only
object of your wisdom—of your study—of your pursuit.
Account all things but dung and dross for the
excellency of the knowledge that is in Him—and He
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will become the sole object of your love. He will
also become to you the source of wisdom, from whence
you shall derive a daily increase of self-acquaintance
and humility, and a daily increase of the knowledge
of God, wherewith you shall soar above the clouds,
and be lost in the blaze and glory of His attributes.
Do not forget that the hairs of your head are all
numbered. Do not forget that unbounded love is the
law which rules the Divinity; and that Omniscience
provides for you, out of the inexhaustible treasury of
Omnipotence.
Nothing in the world is indifferent. It is either
your duty to speak, or your duty to be silent; your
duty to act, or your duty to rest. Whenever duty
does not call you to speak, it does call you to be
silent. Whenever it does not call you to act, it does
call you to rest. It always calls you to avoid distraction
and dissipation, and to turn the eye of your
mind inward upon the motions of the flesh and of the
Spirit, that you may quell the one, and pursue the
other. This cannot be done in noise, hurry, or bustle.
Live daily, hourly, momentarily, in the habit of self-
examination, and you shall find enough to condemn
you (without committing the external acts of murder
or adultery), and to require the imputed righteousness
and passion of our Lord Christ. The language of
faith is—“Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief.”
“Lord, I am willing to obey thee, be the consequences
what they may; grant me, therefore, strength,
for without thee I can do nothing! Lord, I am thine—
I have nothing but from thee—Thy will be done—
take my property, my peace, my health, my friends,
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my reputation, my life—take my dearest son, Isaac,
if thou seest good, only do thou sanctify me, love me,
and smile upon me!” It looks for all things from
God, and resigns all things to God. This is the faith
which was imputed to Abraham for righteousness.
This is the faith by which the just have lived, do live,
and must live. Do not, therefore, light this lamp
of faith once a month only, when you partake the
memorials of your Lord’s dying love, but let it be the
business of your life to watch it every moment—to
trim it, and to keep it always burning bright. Thus
you shall live in Christ Jesus. There shall be no
more condemnation for you, and you shall see your
title clear to a mansion in that city which is out of
sight, and whose maker and builder is God.
For sanctification, keep your eyes upon Christ—he
is your exemplar. Follow Him. Think like Him.
Speak like Him. Act like Him. Some will tell you
that, as Christ united the Godhead with the human
nature in his own person, you must not desire to
come up to His bright example, nor aim by any
means at a mark so distant. I tell you, listen not to
them. They speak by the instigation of the devil.
The man who can be content even with a small degree
of unholiness is not born of God. If the Eternal
Spirit dwell in you, you must and ever will hunger
and thirst after all the perfections of the Divinity.
You will desire to be perfect, even as your Father
who is in heaven is perfect. And then, blessed are
you, for Christ hath promised that you shall have
your heart’s desire. “Blessed are they that hunger
and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.”
Finally; remember that if the Spirit which raised
up Christ from the dead dwell in you, it is a free
gift, which you could not purchase. You could not
even ask for it in a manner pleasing or acceptable to
God before you possessed it. Besides, when you
did not enjoy some degree of this inestimable gift, you
did not know the value of it, nor ever desired to
possess it. It is, therefore, an earnest of better things.
He who gave you life, when you were dead in the
grave of your carnal pollutions, shall much more
preserve that life he has so given, since you are
brought within the pale of His promises, have been
adopted into His family, and have been taught to ask,
that you may receive; and this same Spirit shall raise
up your mortal body at the last day, to receive the
everlasting portion of the blessed. May God grant
this, is the prayer of
Your affectionate Brother.
To the Rev. Mr. ―.
Antigua, 1820-02-2222d February, 1820.
My dear Sir,
I hope that, if you are not already safely
landed at the haven where you would be, you will
enjoy that pleasure within a few days. We have had
blowing weather since you left us, but I hope it has
not reached your little bark. Be assured your trio
has been thought of every day at Clarence House,
and been remembered in our prayers.
As I feel much interest both in your personal welfare
and in the success of your ministry, you must
forgive me if I write to you without that reserve which
worldly politeness would impose, but Christian benevolence
forbids. I have some fears for you, arising
out of the conversations with which you favoured me
while in Antigua; not that you are disposed to lay
too great a stress upon morality, for none can insist
upon morality more strenuously than our blessed Lord
himself did, who enjoined that we should be “perfect,
even as our Father who is in heaven is perfect;” but
from the strong objections you expressed to persons
preaching upon the new birth, I fear you are not
sufficiently convinced that “unless we be born again,
we cannot see the kingdom of God.”
This important change, this sine qua non in true
religion, is expressed in Scripture by several other
significant figures, such as a “new creation,” “a resurrection
from the dead,” “a new man,” “a clean
heart,” “a right spirit,” &c., all meaning, unquestionably,
a signal change in the hidden man of the heart,
by the agency of the Holy Spirit. This change of
heart, then, is not the fruit of regeneration, but is
regeneration itself, and is evident to the conscience of
every man who has experienced it. But whosoever
has experienced this inward change will, most assuredly,
exhibit the fruits of it, in holiness of life and
conversation; for, says our Lord, “by their fruits ye
shall know them.” Nevertheless, the outward fruits,
if they are to be found without the inward grace, will
not do; for “by the deeds of the law shall no flesh
be saved;” and “without faith it is impossible to
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please God.” We have to do with God, as well as
man; and if it were possible for the purest mere moralist
to reach heaven, he would soon tire of that
eternal song of praise, which is the spontaneous and
delightful effusion of a heart, arrived at the blessed
abodes, big with the love of God.
All created intelligences, in a state of innocence,
are, doubtless, bound to their great Creator, like our
first parents, by three great ties—fear, love, and self-
interest. All these ties were broken, when our first
mother, Eve, believed the Devil in preference to God.
He broke the bond of fear, when he persuaded her
that God would not execute his threat upon her disobedience:
he broke that of love, when he taught that
God was a hard master, and had, unkindly, imposed
an unnecessary restraint upon her: and he untied the
knot of self-interest, by inducing her to believe that
she would be a gainer by sin. Adam, it appears, was
not deceived, but held the truth in unrighteousness,
idolatrously preferring his wife to his God, and
choosing to share her fate, by joining in the transgression,
rather than to cleave to his creator in the
way of obedience.
Not all the sons and daughters of Adam are profligates,
but all are sinners, because all inherit a disposition
to love the creature more than the Creator,
and to believe these same suggestions of the Devil,
rather than the revelation of God; and this disposition
afterwards proves its existence, by our fearing
man rather than God, desiring wealth, honour, or
pleasure more than the favour of the Most High, and
seeking our happiness in forbidden objects, or at best
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in something that is not God. Thus the “carnal
mind is become enmity against God.”
In this statement I have not mentioned one external
immorality, but I have mentioned enormous sins;
for it is not necessary that we should put a trumpet
to our mouths and say, with a voice fit to wake the
dead, “God, thou art a liar; I believe not thy threats,
thy proffered favour I desire not, and the restraints of
thy law I hate.” I say, it is not necessary to utter
words like these with a trumpet voice, for the most
secret thought, of this or a similar complexion, is
heard, loud as thunder, in the courts of heaven, and
causes angels to start from their thrones, electrified
with horror and amazement. These sentiments are,
nevertheless, common to every unregenerate man, and
prove the necessity of regeneration.
All that we are, and all that we have, is the gift of
God, and He can control or resume his gifts as he
sees fit. One only thing we can refuse to God, and
one only boon does our heavenly Father ask of us.
Like the tenderest of parents, he cries, “My son, give
me thy heart.” Of what avail, then, is all our obedience,
if we refuse him our hearts, which our obligations
to his bounty, his own intrinsic perfections, and
the laws of the universe demand. As the best of
Beings, he cannot forget his claims; and as the Ruler
of the universe, responsible to himself for the right
use of his talent of authority, he will not omit to
assert them. All our works then, be they ever so right
in themselves, partake of the nature of sin, while the
supreme place in our affections is withheld from God,
or while we possess not that faith which worketh by love.
As by unbelief man departed from God, by faith
he must return. Faith in the threatenings, is that
“fear of the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom”
—the first effectual and uniformly operative motive
for “perfecting holiness.” Faith in the promises,
points the believer to his true interests,—is the
foundation of that hope which blooms with immortality
—overcomes the dread of death—raises him
above all earthly hopes and fears, and renders him
independent of all but God: and faith in that revelation
which God has given of his love to us in Christ,
is the mean of rekindling in our hearts that flame of
love which unbelief had extinguished, and that confidence
which the consciousness of sin had destroyed;
for “we love God, because” we believe “he first
loved us.”
Perhaps, however, I have mistaken your views.
May it be so! And if so, forgive my mistake. I
shall be highly gratified to learn that you indeed
teach the despised, but essential, doctrines of the fall,
the sinfulness, helplessness, and misery of man, his
recovery by faith alone in Christ, the new birth, the
witness of the Spirit, and the sanctification of our
nature by the Holy Ghost given unto us.
Mrs. Gilbert and my sister Martha join in best
compliments to your father, aunt, and self, with
My dear Sir,
Yours very truly.
To Mrs. D.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
With respect to the best manner of reviewing the
providential dealings of God with us, so as to excite
gratitude and confidence, my idea is, that we should
compare our own mercies with the mercies enjoyed
by others; thus—He has placed me in a Christian
land, where the gospel is preached in its purity, and
the Bible is common in our mother tongue, and not
among Heathens, Jews, Mahomedans, or Heretics.
He has taken care that I should be able to read His
Word for myself, while the great bulk of the human
species have no access to revealed truth. He has
given me parents, or senior relations, who have
watched over my morals, so as to prevent my sinking
into those depths of depravity that bar the heart
against true religion; as is the case with thousands
who hear the gospel. He has prolonged my period
of life, until I should yield to the invitations of the
gospel; while He has cut off in their sins thousands
all around me, who were not worse nor older than
myself. He has led me, by a multitude of minute
steps in his providence, to seek and find a habitation
in Him, the living and true God; while some, far
more prosperous than myself with reference to this
life, have not had the same providential advantages.
As nothing is unknown to our God, He was well
acquainted with the result of all these co-operative
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means in my salvation, and certainly intended them to
produce the foreseen effect.
Had I been rich, I should probably have forgotten
God, in the giddy vortex of prosperity. Had I been
much poorer, and more ignorant than I am, I should
have been exposed to a multitude of temptations, from
which, under present circumstances, I am preserved.
Many thunder-clouds have obscured my prospects in
life, and threatened calamities from which I have
been graciously delivered.
My afflictions have all proved means of grace to
my soul. They have served as my good Shepherd’s
dogs, to drive home the stray sheep to his fold. They
have made it impossible for me to be comfortable
without an Almighty friend.
By all these, and a thousand other schemes and
plans of mercy, God has proven that He has a favour
unto me. He has brought me safe to the present
period of life, notwithstanding all my fears; and why
should I doubt that He will carry me safe through
the remaining short period of my sublunary existence?
I must not judge of what I may expect from His
fatherly kindness, by what others may experience;
but judge of His future dealings with me, individually,
by the past proofs of His favour, unmerited as
that favour has been.
After thus looking back upon past favours, we may
look forward to future favours, secured to us by the
divine promises; and, like the miser, delight our eyes
by the view of our riches.
Cast your care upon God, my dear sister, for He
careth for you. Let Him be the depositary of all
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your secret sorrows and fears—your confidential
friend.
Adieu. My love to your trio, and kind regards to
Mr. Garling.
Your affectionate Brother.
The Compiler of these sheets, having sent the
manuscript to Mr. Gilbert’s valued friend, Mr. Garling,
for his opinion, is happy in being enabled to
add that gentleman’s testimony respecting the subject
of them in his own words, which are as follow:
My dear Madam,
I have just finished reading to Mrs. G. the
interesting Memoir of our highly esteemed Christian
friend, your late dear brother, which we think will prove
a gratification to all who knew him, and instructive to
its readers in general. Mr. Gilbert’s character was
conspicuous, in official integrity, personal uprightness,
and capability for all general business. The former
might at times have occasioned an idea of harshness
or stiffness, in his mode of transacting business, had
it not been accompanied, as it was in him, by unaffected
politeness and urbanity, and a readiness to
oblige to the utmost limit of his instructions. That
which peculiarly struck me, in my intercourse with
him, was the instructive strain of conversation adopted
by him, invariably displaying sound sense, a thinking
mind, and true Christian piety; so that I always felt
it a privilege to be in his company, and, I trust I
may say, usually the better for it.
“The memory of the just is blessed.”
A
Brief Sketch
of
Mrs. Anne Gilbert,
By the
Rev. Wm. Box, Wesleyan Missionary;
And
A few additional remarks
By a Christian friend.
Brief Sketch.
Our lately departed friend was born of parents who
were the subjects of regenerating grace, and who
industriously strove to bring up their children in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord. Anne, their
first child, was, with her sister Elizabeth, early in
life favoured with the friendship and ministry of the
celebrated Dr. Coke, when he first, with several other
missionaries, landed on this island; but this favourable
circumstance was not fully improved by the two
sisters, who, in the self-righteousness of their hearts,
continued outer court worshippers, notwithstanding
the affectionate and earnest overtures of those holy
men to bring them into “the communion of saints.”
However, it was not long after the Doctor’s departure,
and of the Rev. Mr. Warrener’s appointment to
St. John’s, that Anne, whose religious experience
and history we are now especially considering, was
brought to feel that in her, that is, in her flesh, dwelt
no good thing; that she was very far gone from original
righteousness, and needed some one to answer
the enquiry, “Who will shew me any good?”—The
ministry of Mr. Warner served to exhibit the way
of salvation, and to encourage her in the pursuit of it.
She joined the Methodist Society, in company with
her sister, and soon became an ardent seeker of salvationE
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through a crucified Redeemer. There was
nothing peculiar either in her repentance unto life,
or in the manner of her obtaining the pearl of great
price; it was while secluded in her place of prayer
and study, and while pouring out her heart to God
for the manifestation of his mercy, that divine light
filled her mind, and she was enabled to believed in
Jesus Christ, as having loved her, and given himself
for her: then it was that she found “redemption
through his blood, even the forgiveness of her sins,”
and received the Holy Spirit of adoption, witnessing
with her spirit that she was a child of God. From
that time to the period of her exchanging mortality
for immortality, a period of about fifty years, it is
not known that she ever lost her assurance of being
personally interested in the salvation of the gospel.
It is to be lamented that, some time ago, our dear
sister (no doubt from the best motives) destroyed all
the documents which had reference to her religious
progress; so that we are left ignorant, to a great extent,
of her early career in the way to heaven: but in the
absence of information written with ink, her whole life
was “an epistle of Christ, written with the Spirit of
the living God;” so that those who knew her longest,
and knew her most, “are witnesses, and God also,
how holily, and justly, and unblameably she behaved
herself among them that believe, (as also in the
world;) and how she exhorted and comforted, and
charged every one, as a mother doth her children,
that they should walk worthy of God, who had called
them unto his kingdom and glory.”
Perhaps no departed saint could be more appropriately
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denominated “a mother in Israel,” than her
whose remains we so lately committed to the silent
grave. Deprived at a very early age of her mother,
the management and care of a numerous family principally
devolved on her, whose temporal and spiritual
interests alike lay near her heart. Her advice, her
prayers, her example were continued on their behalf,
until “the weary wheels of life stood still,” and they
saw her no more.
Of her union with the late excellent Mr. Gilbert, it
is unnecessary to say more, than that it was founded
upon a mutual affection, which sprang from a perception
of that moral excellence in each other which
alone constitutes true greatness—which alone yields
true happiness. It was an affection which could not
be eradicated from their kindred spirits, either by the
sneers of the scornful, the contempt of the proud, the
animadversions of fools, or the combined influence
of power, prejudice, and poverty. It was an affection
resulting from that love, “which many waters cannot
quench,” and which is “stronger than death.” The
union which cemented and consummated this reciprocal
regard was a long and blissful one; the Lord
lengthened out their domestic tranquility for upwards
of thirty-four years; until, in his wise providence,
about twelve months since, he cut their earthly bond
asunder, and said to his most infirm servant, “Come
up higher, and behold my glory.” But this union
produced no change either in the principles or practice
of our lamented friend, excepting that, while the
former continued to improve, the latter was correspondent
thereto. The commanding situation in life
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enjoyed by Mrs. G. gave her constant opportunities
of exhibiting the nature, sincerity, and strength of her
Christian principles, in that steady and undeviating
course of practical piety, which, while it illustrated
the excellency of our holy religion, enriched her with
a degree of moral influence which rarely falls to the
share of a single individual. It was this great and
general influence, which she had the power of exerting,
that rendered her so suitable and efficient an
instrument in the hands of God for the furtherance of
his righteous cause in this part of the world. Scarcely
one servant of Christ, who has laboured in this island,
but has enjoyed her friendship, and benefited by her
judicious intimations; “many of them are now, as she
is, sleeping in the dust of the earth,” but many
remain who can testify how she has laboured with
them in the gospel, by obtaining doors for its promulgation,
by personally declaring to others its hallowing
truths, and by assiduously leading that part of
the flock of God committed to her care in all the
paths of righteousness and holiness.
In the establishment and support of Refuge Societies,
for such of the female sex as were either comparatively
or entirely destitute—in the formation of
Benevolent Institutions, for feeding the hungry, clothing
the naked, and relieving the afflicted—in the
extension of Sabbath and other Schools, for the
instruction of the young—and in the promotion of
every cause having for its object the general welfare
of her undying fellow creatures, and especially of
such as were too long accounted the filth and offscouring
of all things, she was “instant in season and out
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of season;” nor is it too much to hope that scores, if
not hundreds, of those whom she has nurtured in
domestic and religious life, will be the crown of her
rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus.
There is, however, another, and an additional reason
to be assigned for that extraordinary and successful
influence which our deceased friend exerted upon the
various objects of her solicitude; and that is, her
intellectual superiority, her magnanimity, the which
no one ever denied, whatever views might be entertained
as to its proper application. Possessed of a
vigorous and clear conception, of a discriminating
and correct judgment, and furnished with no common
measure of valuable knowledge, she was not only
enabled to give the best advice to those who sought it,
but her decisions were ordinarily regarded as wise and
right—they carried conviction to the mind of the
inquirer, and that, not only in instances where education
had not formed it for private judgment, but
also where the mind has been cultivated and matured.
She had a piercing wit, which was sometimes admirably
employed in the exposure and censure of vanity
and sin. She displayed, on almost all occasions, a
self-possession, a kind of moral majesty, indicative of
conscious rectitude and mental strength; nothing
perhaps was too great for her grasp, had not her
numerous and pressing avocations prevented her from
becoming, in the strict sense of the term, “a literary
character.” With the best literature—the records of
eternal truth, she was intimately acquainted; they
had been the subjects of her meditation day and
night for half a century; her knowledge of these
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unchangeable verities conduced to her personal comfort
and support throughout life, and especially when
her heart and flesh failed her; and it gave her the
means and ability of doing good to thousands in her
day and generation. In her domestic concerns, she
was conscientious, systematic, careful, economical,
strict, and uniform. In her person, there were combined
(especially before the infirmities of age made
inroads upon it,) a kind, yet firm countenance, with a
noble, yet graceful mien; which, together with her
many other amiabilities, have ever gained her the
esteem and commendation of those who estimate their
fellows, not by their exaltedness of station, not by
any local circumstances, not by their caste or colour,
but by that moral and mental excellence which alone
is pleasing to God, and which alone is deserving the
praise and imitation of mortals.
Having thus imperfectly shown the blessed effects
of religion upon the renewed heart and enlightened
mind of our dear sister, while in the dawn and meridian
of life, let us briefly mark its operation when the
time drew near that she should die. It is not necessary
to state the nature of her last sickness; suffice it
to say that, in spite of the greatest skill and solicitude
of her medical practitioner, it was a sickness
ordained to be unto death. From its commencement
to its termination, it appears she had a presentiment
that it would end in her dissolution; and so, after
several weeks of severe, excruciating suffering, her
anticipations were realized. “Who knows,” said she,
“but that this” (pointing to her excoriated finger,) “is
intended to take me home;” and it proved that this
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apparently insignificant accident issued in her separation
from us.
The time would fail to mention all her dying sayings;
they were heard by many, and can be forgotten
by few; but it must suffice to observe, that during
her final sickness she was fully resigned to the will of
God, although she more than once feared that her
faith would fail, so that her constant prayer was that
the Lord would give her patience to the end. She ever
spoke of herself as a sinner, saved by grace; and as
having no other foundation for her eternal salvation
than faith in the atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ.
She regarded herself as a weak, unfaithful, and unprofitable
servant, and as “less than the least of all
saints.” She exhorted all who came to see her, giving
every one a word in season, and blessing them in the
name of the Lord. She retained her faculties to the
last moment, and enjoyed, throughout her affliction,
the peace of God which passeth understanding. She
could confidently say, in the immediate prospect of
dissolution, “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and
that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth:
and though, after my skin, worms destroy this body,
yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see
for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another;
though my reins be consumed within me.”
Job xix. 25—27. Being turned, for the last time,
upon her weary and painful side, she said,
“‘Now let the pilgrim’s journey end;
Now, O my Saviour, Brother, Friend,
Receive me to thy breast!’”
The last words she was heard to utter were, “That
is sin, sin, sin!” pointing to the black matter which
she had been vomiting; and soon afterwards, without
a struggle or a groan, her happy spirit “was carried
by angels into Abraham’s bosom.”
“’T was then the gates of paradise flew wide,
To embrace another spirit washed in blood;
And, fully tried in tribulation’s fire,
Another trophy of the attractive cross,
Uplifted for the ransom of mankind.
Attendant convoys waft it to the throne
Of God’s Messiah, loudly shouting there,
‘Behold the travail of thy human soul,
O mighty Saviour, and be satisfied.’”
In the death of the late Mrs. Gilbert, the house of
her father has lost its chiefest ornament—its best
adviser—its greatest intercessor. The orphan and
dependent family under her care have lost their protector,
their guide, and their friend. The Methodist
Society has lost a member, a leader, a shepherdess, a
pattern, a pillar, a star of the first magnitude. The
village of English Harbour has lost a burning and
shining light—a city set on a hill, which could not be
hid—a righteous woman. The young have lost a
mother; the aged have lost a companion; the poor
have lost a benefactor; the rich have lost a jewel;
the Island of Antigua has lost one who for sixty years
was perhaps never excelled; and the world has lost a
saint of the Most High God! But our loss is her
gain—she has gained a complete victory over weakness,
want, pain, and sin for ever; a victory over
death and the grave, by the blood of the Lamb. She
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has gained the height of knowledge, holiness, and
love; in a word, she has gained eternal life, through
Jesus Christ the Lord! O may we die the death of
the righteous, and may our last end be like hers.—
Amen, and Amen.
Mrs. Gilbert’s funeral sermon was preached at
English Harbour, by the Rev. William Box, Wesleyan
missionary, on 1833-08-03Sunday, August, 3d, 1833, from Prov.
xiv. 37—“The righteous hath hope in his death,” to a
large and attentive congregation, the greater part of
whom were deeply affected while the above sketch of
her life, written for the purpose, was read to them.
Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do
follow them.” Rev xiv. 13.
The following desultory observations are merely intended
to supply such information as is not included
in Mr. Box’s able sketch.
In the short space of twelve months and three days,
Death has made another breach in the circle of family
love and friendship. Ere we had ceased to mourn for
one, another is taken. Varied as the trials and afflictions
of the Christian are, in his journey heavenward,
there are none which make this world appear such a
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dreary wilderness to him, as the loss of those companions
who shared his anxieties, fatigues, and sorrows,
and equally participated in his enjoyments and refreshments
by the way.
He no longer beholds the smiling
countenances which cheered his heart under perplexities
and discouragements; no longer hears the loved
voices which animated him to the performance of painful
duties; nor sees the active limbs in motion which
enabled them, like their Divine Master, to “go about
doing good.” Sad and silent is the vacuum made by
their removal. They have reached the haven of eternal
rest and peace; but he is still toiling to gain it.
He has indeed the consolation of knowing that, if he
perseveres to the end, travelling the same road that
they did, he shall “go to them, though they cannot
return to him,” and, in that city of his and their God,
“the New Jerusalem,” join the song of the redeemed
through endless ages.
The solemn event which has induced these reflections,
is the departure of the beloved Wife of the subject
of the preceding Memoir. She wrote a part of
it, and was then sorrowing over his grave; now her
“light afflictions, which were but for a moment, have
wrought out for her a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory.” Then she felt bereaved and solitary;
now she has rejoined the kindred spirit with whom
she enjoyed such sweet communion on earth, and
soars with him through the regions of unlimited space,
admiring, adoring, and rejoicing in the wonders of
creating and redeeming love. One who knew her well
says, “Mrs. Gilbert was the eldest daughter of the
late Mr. Barry Conyers Hart, by his first marriage.
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Religiously and usefully educated, she, at an early age,
performed the duties of a parent to a young and
numerous family, having lost her excellent mother
while yet a girl of twelve years old. Her cares were not
confined to her brothers and sisters, but embraced the
negroes upon her father’s estate at Popeshead, and
such of the neighbouring slaves as chose to benefit by
her instructions.” He adds, “It may justly be said
that she was almost the founder, in that part of the
country, of those religious and moral principles which
distinguish the Antigua negroes, and have brought us
through such a momentous change without commotion
or bloodshed.” She was joined in these pursuits and
avocations by her sister Eliza, the late Mrs. Thwaites;
and such was the order and regularity of their arrangements,
that when the Rev. Nathaniel Gilbert, afterwards
Vicar of Bledlow, Bucks, was on a visit in this
Island, being intimately acquainted and highly esteemed
in the family, he took his cousin, Mr. John Gilbert,
then a married man, to make an introductory call at
Popeshead, and unceremoniously conducted him into
the school room. His view in doing so was to surprise
his companion; and he was indeed surprised, at a sight
so unusual in the West Indies, and particularly at that
time. Two youthful sisters, surrounded by a number
of little ones, endeared to them by the near ties of kindred,
to whom they were imparting the elements of
useful and religious knowledge, and who looked up to
them, particularly to the elder, with the reverence of
filial love, and ready obeisance, was an interesting
subject even for a painter.
Perhaps there are few females, in any class of society,
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whose lives have been more successfully devoted
to the benefit of others, than theirs were. A memoir
of Mrs. Thwaites, which Mrs. Gilbert would have prepared
for the press from the stores of her own knowledge,
and documents in Mr. Thwaites’ possession, if
she had been spared, would have shewn this to be no
hasty assertion with respect to one of them; and feeble
and unskilful as is the pen which attempts to exhibit
the truth of the position concerning the other, it is
confidently hoped it will not totally fail of its purpose.
That Mrs. Gilbert was indeed a help meet to her
husband, will in some measure appear from the preceding
Memoir. In nothing was she more helpful to
him than in encouraging and cheering him, when his
anxieties were oppressive, and his animal spirits failed
under the pressure of bodily infirmity, which they
were apt to do, in the latter part of his life particularly.
She was his principal clerk and assistant, when he
carried on business in St. John’s; and though her abilities
could not with propriety be exercised in this way
while they lived in English Harbour, she still found
out methods of being useful to him, and of lightening
his burdens. But the duties of a wife and mistress
of a family (in which latter character, also, she was
uncommonly excellent) did not engross her active and
capacious mind. With the assistance of Mrs. Thwaites,
she commenced a Sunday School in the year 18091809.
To this, poor children, whether slave or free, were admitted,
and many of the former came from neighbouring
estates; it was the first institution of the kind formed in
the West Indies, and was formed at a time, too, when
teaching slaves to read was so unpopular and suspicious
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a measure, that the missionaries were instructed
to avoid it, lest it should prevent their admission into
places where they might otherwise be allowed to preach
the Gospel.
When it is considered that, even in England, instructing
the children of the lower classes of society
was so much disapproved of, at its commencement,
that Mrs. H. More, the benefactress and ornament of her
sex, incurred obloquy and slander for being engaged in
it; it cannot reasonably excited surprise that a similar design
should be unfavourably regarded in a Slave Colony.
The School, however, went on and prospered. The
writer of this never can forget the impression made
upon her mind by the first sight of it in 1813. It
consisted of every shade of colour, from pure white to
unmixed black; nor can she fail to remember her emotions
while she heard them sweetly warble—
Lord, may a few poor children raise
A hymn of gratitude and praise;
’T is by thy great compassion we
Are taught to love and worship thee.
The establishment of the English Harbour Sunday
School having brought into more particular notice the
unhappy condition of some of the free young females in
that neighbourhood, and as it was found that, in many
instances, little good could be effected in their behalf
unless they were taken out of situations where they
were exposed to great moral evils, Mrs. Gilbert planned
a Society, which was afterwards designated the Female
Refuge.
For reasons which existed then, but have less weight
now, she delegated the office of ostensible manager to
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one who was greatly her inferior in natural and religious
qualifications, but who ever deemed it a privilege
to act in conjunction with her. Sneer and sarcasm
were not spared upon the occasion, notwithstanding
this precautionary measure; several persons said it
would prove an encouragement to vice; and one lady
tore the prospectus in a rage, before the messenger,
and threw it out of the window. Happily, we have
now many ladies in the community of a very different
description; and even then there were a few—and the
fewer their number, the more conspicuous did their
liberality appear,—who contributed to the undertaking,
and kindly wished it prosperity. The appointment of Sir
Benjamin D’Urban to the Government was an auspicious
event to all the charitable institutions in the Island.
Lady D’Urban afforded her countenance and sanction
to each, but particularly patronized the female ones.
She esteemed Mrs. Gilbert highly, often consulted her
on subjects of benevolence, and bestowed her bounty
through her hands to many. She corresponded with
Mrs. Gilbert for some years after her departure from
the Island; but this intercourse gradually ceased.
Lady Ross, while Sir Patrick was Governor, encouraged,
and was the kind patroness of, the Female Societies in
particular, and knew and appreciated Mrs. Gilbert’s
character and exertions in favour of morality and
religion.
At the time of her death, the English Harbour
Sunday School had been in operation about twenty-
five, and the Female Refuge Society nearly nineteen
years. Of the good effected by these Societies, numbers
can testify; while it is not asserted that all the
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subjects of their care have profited by the advantages
they enjoyed.—Alas! of what seminary of public
education can this be said with truth.—Nay, of a
few of those who were born under such unfavourable
circumstances, it must with pain be acknowledged,
that their benefactress reaped only disappointment
and sorrow. Others of them, there is good reason to
believe, after outriding the storm, wind, and tempest,
have found safe anchorage in the haven of eternal rest
and peace; and not a few are respectable heads of
families, bringing up their children in the nurture
and admonition of the Lord, and sending them to the
same school where they themselves were first taught
to know and love the God of their salvation. Another,
and not the least interesting class, are those young
women whose virtuous and pious conduct “adorns the
doctrine of God their Saviour” in various situations
of life; those also who now act as teachers in the
School; and others, at present scholars, who, it is
hoped, are treading in their footsteps.
These were not the only charitable institutions which
Mrs. Gilbert was engaged in—there were several
others. She kept a weekly school, to teach writing
and arithmetic. She superintended, and had the
direction of, a large Infant School, supported by the
Ladies’ Society in London. She was the dispenser
of blessings through the poor’s fund for many years;
visiting the sick, comforting the afflicted, clothing the
naked, and feeding the hungry. She devised and
organized a Juvenile Association, which has been
more useful than could have been imagined in prospect.
She presided also over other modes of charity,
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and lent her influence and support to every good
work. And when it is considered that she was the
leader of several classes in the Methodist Society, out
of which branched duties that occupied a considerable
portion of her time; and that Mr. Gilbert’s situation
and character, though he avoided entertaining company
in his public capacity, subjected them to numerous
and often unexpected visitors, it is wonderful
how she could accomplish one half of what she did;
yet no department was neglected; “whatever her
hand found to do, she did it with her might, remembering
that there is no wisdom, nor knowledge, nor
device in the grave, whither she was going.”
Many affecting anecdotes might be introduced,
illustrative of the benefits which she was the channel
of conveying to others; but it would swell this sketch
beyond the limits assigned to it, and might be painful
to the feelings of the parties concerned.
While she lived at English Harbour the first time,
excuses were often made by poor slaves for not attending
public worship, because they had not clean clothes
to appear in; she therefore established a weekly meeting
for women of this description. It was held in the
dusk of the evening, and only one light was admitted
on the table, to enable her to read a chapter in the
Bible, which she expounded, beginning and ending the
service with prayer and singing. There, many stole
in, who would have been ashamed to appear in a place
of worship by day, or even in a well lighted one by
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night. It was surprising to themselves, and to occasional
hearers of a different sort, how she could so
minutely trace the workings of their ignorant and untutored
minds, and contrive to express the instruction
she meant to convey by elucidations and language so
suitable to their comprehension. That her knowledge
of the human heart was not confined to this class of
her fellow creatures evidently appeared, when, after
Mr. Gilbert’s removal to town, upon the reduction of
the naval establishment, a meeting was appointed, one
evening in the week, at the house of a near relation of
hers in town, where, by particular desire, she expounded
a chapter, and adapted her remarks to her
own sex, of very different grades of society from her
English Harbour auditors. Here they were many,
and a large room often was filled to overflowing. None
but females were admitted, among whom were many
ladies; and these heard, with delight and surprise, her
apposite modes of exhibiting truth, which were as well
suited to them, and brought as closely home to their
consciences, as her expositions at English Harbour
had been to the dark and ignorant minds of her
hearers there. In this, her variety of talent was
strikingly evidenced, and, there is reason to believe,
productive of much good.
Mrs. Gilbert’s health declined from the period of
her husband’s death; though, like him, she was upheld
by the energy of her mind, and casual observers
saw no difference in her. It was with apprehension
and anxiety, however, that her friends recollected his
often declared conviction, that she would soon follow
him. The reason he assigned for this persuasion was,
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that they had “a prayer registered in heaven” that
one might not long survive the other; and when the
extraordinary answers they had frequently received to
their petitions were remembered, it could scarcely be
hoped that he, who “as a prince had power with
God, and prevailed” remarkably at other times, should
be unsuccessful in this instance. Another circumstance,
tending to increase their apprehensions of
losing her, was the impossibility of obtaining any
permanent provision for her, notwithstanding the
exertions of kind and influential friends in England.
This was considered as an indication that her Heavenly
Father would call her home to her inheritance
above; and she often spoke of the event herself as
probable.
Her illness commenced with an apparently trifling
accident to one of her fingers, which produced violent
erysipelas in the hand, that eventually became nearly
universal. Her sufferings were extreme. She was
confined to her bed for five weeks, without any cessation
of pain. It was most affecting to see her uplifted
hands and eyes, and to hear her plaintive voice,
beseeching her “compassionate Saviour to grant her
a few minutes’ ease, if it were his gracious will.”
Much, and fervently too, did she entreat for faith and
patience to endure unto the end, and that she might
not be suffered to grieve the Holy Spirit by impatience.
No murmuring or repining word escaped her lips,
though she endured such agonies of pain as it was
impossible to witness without most distressing sensations.
She greatly affected those about her by talking
much of her death, and giving a frequent word of
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admonition to them. She spoke strongly of her own
sinful and corrupt state, and her entire dependence
on atoning blood. More than once she repeated those
lines of Mr. Toplady—
“Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling, &c.”
and “Not by works of righteousness which I have
done, but according to His mercy he saveth me, by
the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the
Holy Ghost.” Sometimes she had a hymn sung in
her chamber; and one night it was peculiarly affecting
to hear her once powerful and melodious voice, now
tremulous through weakness, set the tune to those
words—
“Thee, Jesus, full of truth and grace,
Thee, Saviour, we adore;
Thee in affliction’s furnace praise,
And magnify thy power.”
It consists of four verses, remarkably appropriate,
and may be found in Mr. Wesley’s Collection of
Hymns, page 313.
To the Rev. Mr. Walton, Wesleyan missionary, who
observed to her that as her afflictions abounded, no
doubt her consolations abounded also; she replied,
“I will tell you how I feel. I have an unshaken confidence
in the love and faithfulness of my Heavenly
Father, which diffuses a delightful sensation through
my mind; but I have no rapturous joy.” She added—
“Jesus had done more for her than she could find
words to express—He had purchased pardon, purity,
and heaven; and when she thought of those as the
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portion of such a wretch as herself,—so corrupt, so vile
as she was―.” The last expression was not heard
by the writer, but Mr. W. said, “‘that doubt arose
from the tempter.’” She answered “No—her Heavenly
Father kept him at a distance, and what she
felt was not doubt, but amazement.”
She admonished and exhorted all who came to see
her; and her visitors were numerous. Among them,
the Rev. Mr. Jones, rector of St. Philip’s, paid her a
kind Christian visit. They conversed suitably, and he
concluded with a prayer. She expressed herself pleased
after he was gone. She blessed, and prayed for, her
medical friend and his whole family; and often did the
same for those who assisted her in her helpless condition.
She required many attendants; and having shewn
much love and compassion to others, in their time of
need, it was returned to her in hers, by affectionate
relatives and fellow Christians. Once she said, “I
could almost long for my release.” At another time,
being raised up on her pillows, from which she had
slipt, it was observed by the writer, “You look more
comfortable.” “Comfortable! my dear,” she replied.
“Ah!” it was rejoined, “I fear you know little of
comfort in any posture.” Casting her eyes upward,
she answered, “I know none, but what streams from
above.” She sent her love to all her relatives and
friends, and said, if she saw them no more on earth,
she hoped to meet them in heaven.
She gave Mr. Walton directions about having her
grave prepared as near as possible to her beloved
husband’s; and minute ones to a female friend, as
soon as she should hear she had changed for death,
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respecting what she wished her to do. Once she said,
“I do not think my Heavenly Father has forgotten me,
but my faith is weak this morning.” She occasionally
apprehended the failure of it altogether, but generally
she was “strong in the Lord, and in the power of his
might.”
In the night of the 18th of July, she suddenly sank;
and on being asked, on account of her laborious breathing,
if she had pain in her stomach, she replied, “No
pain any where, but weakness inexpressible.” She
retained her senses perfectly to the last—complained of
being prevented meditating on the glories of Heaven—
and said to her sister, who offered her nourishment,
which at her intreaty she took—“You want to keep
me from heaven.” Soon after, she was turned upon
her side, and quietly entered into that rest which remains
for the people of God.
“O think that, while we’re weeping here, Her hand a golden harp is stringing; And, with a voice serene and clear, Her ransomed soul, without a tear, Her Saviour’s praise is singing!”
D. Marples and Co., Printers, Liverpool.
Annotations
Textual note 1
Her father, George Frye, was a youthful volunteer at the
siege of Carthagena; a Lieutenant of Marines, promoted to the
rank of Captain in the year 17461746, by his Majesty George II.;
and, in more advanced life, was President of the Island of Montserrat.
A handsome silver cup, now in possession of the family,
was presented “to Captain Frye, by the Gentlemen Volunteers
of the City of London,” as a mark of their approbation of his
spirited conduct, on an occasion when he experienced considerable
injustice and oppression from a court martial. See particulars,
in Principles and Practice of Naval Military Courts
Martial, by John M‘Arthur, Esq., vol i., page 229, 2d edition,
18051805.
Go to note 1 in context.
Textual note 2
Mr. Gilbert used to to relate an anecdote of this venerated
parent, which forcibly evinces his watchful anxiety that his son
should imbibe right principles of action, even though it were at
his own expense. As nearly as can be recollected, these were Mr.
Gilbert’s words. “When I was between seven and eight years
of age, the driver of my father’s estate one evening brought up
a woman, notorious for bad conduct, to make a complaint against
her. Teazed by the frequency of her misconduct, my father
hastily desired the driver to take her away to the estate upon
which she had trespassed; but soon after they were gone, he
called me to him. ‘Jack’, said he, ‘I did what was wrong just
now; that woman is a bad one; but she is under my protection,
and I deserted my duty by abandoning her to her accusers.’ It
may be presumed that an error so speedily detected, and so candidly
acknowledged, was remedied as far as possible.”
Go to note 2 in context.
Textual note 3
She died on the 1819-09-044th of September, 1819. She was the relict
of John Hunt, Esq., formerly a Captain in the army, one of the
Commissioners for the sale of lands in the West Indies, which
succeeded the treaty of peace in 17631763, and afterwards Collector
of the Customs at Basseterre, St. Christopher. Mrs. Hunt was
the second daughter of Captain George Frye, already noticed in
this memoir. She was eminent for modest, unassuming goodness
of disposition, and humility of mind, ever esteeming herself
“less than the least of all saints.”
Go to note 3 in context.
Textual note 4
She had taken them from the period of their mother’s death,
when one was only eight days, and the other twenty-one months
old; and for eleven years performed the part of an indulgent
parent to them. She died in the faith and hope of the Gospel.
Go to note 4 in context.
Textual note 5
George Cornelius Mordaunt Gilbert, like his brother John,
possessed a vigorous intellect and cultivated mind. He was entered
as a student of Lincoln’s Inn, and afterwards called to the
bar in Grenada, where he practised the law for about three years,
with considerable reputation and success. He died 1801-12-04December
4th, 1801, in the 26th year of his age, leaving his afflicted relatives
the only consolation which such a case admits of, the hope
of re-union with him, through the merits of a crucified Redeemer,
in a blissful state of immortality.
Go to note 5 in context.
Textual note 6
A fond name for Judith, the daughter of Mr. D., and wife of
Mr. John Jones, of Everton-crescent, Liverpool, who died 1826-02-26Feb.
26, 1826, in the joyful expectation of a glorious inheritance above,
through a Saviour’s merits.
Go to note 6 in context.
Textual note 8
| 1803-12-2323d Dec., 1803, to 1817-02-1616th Feb., 1817, | 13 | yrs, | 1 | month, | 24 | days. |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1818-06-2626th June, 1818, to 1832-04-1010th April, 1832, | 13 | ” | 9 | ” | 15 | ” |
| 26 | 11 | 9 |
Go to note 8 in context.
Textual note 9
She had been in the habit, for many years of her life, of
rising at four o’clock.
Go to note 9 in context.