J. N. Andrews (pdf) 9780816364329

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J. N. ANDREWS Mission Pioneer, Evangelist, and Thought Leader

GILBERT M. VALENTINE

Cover design by Steve Lanto Cover design resources from AdventistArchives.org Copyright © 2019 by Pacific Press® Publishing Association Printed in the United States of America All rights reserved The author assumes full responsibility for the accuracy of all facts and quotations as cited in this book. You can obtain additional copies of this book by calling toll-free 1-800-765-6955 or by visiting http://www.adventistbookcenter.com. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Valentine, Gilbert M., author. Title: J.N. Andrews : mission pioneer, evangelist, and thought leader / Gilbert M. Valentine. Description: Nampa : Pacific Press Publishing Association, 2019. | Includes index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018038241 | ISBN 9780816364329 (hardcover : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Andrews, John Nevins, 1829-1883. | Seventh-Day Adventists—United States— Biography. Classification: LCC BX6193.A5 V35 2019 | DDC 286.7092 [B] —dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018038241 April 2019

Dedication For Kendra whose love and companionship bless me beyond measure

Adventist Pioneer Series George R. Knight, Series Editor Published Volumes: James White: Innovator and Overcomer by Gerald Wheeler Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism by George R. Knight W. W. Prescott: Forgotten Giant of Adventism’s Second Generation by Gilbert M. Valentine John Harvey Kellogg: Pioneering Health Reformer by Richard W. Schwarz E. J. Waggoner: From the Physician of Good News to Agent of Division by Woodrow W. Whidden II Lewis C. Sheafe: Apostle to Black America by Douglas Morgan A. T. Jones: Point Man on Adventism’s Charismatic Frontier by George R. Knight J. N. Loughborough: The Last of the Adventist Pioneers

by Brian E. Strayer Uriah Smith: Apologist and Biblical Commentator by Gary Land A. G. Daniells: Shaper of Twentieth-Century Adventism by Benjamin McArthur S. N. Haskell: Adventist Pioneer, Evangelist, Missionary, and Editor by Gerald Wheeler John Byington: First General Conference President, Circuit-Riding Preacher, and Radical Reformer by Brian E. Strayer

Contents

List of Abbreviations Foreword Acknowledgments Introduction I. A Pioneering Heritage of Love, Duty, and Perseverance II. At Home and at School in the Hills of Maine III. Miller’s Advent Hope Comes to North Paris: 1843–1845 IV. Waiting for the Bridegroom and a “Shut Door”: 1845–1851 V. A New Paper and the First Year of Ministry: 1851 VI. The Early Rochester Years: 1852–1855 VII. The Early Waukon Years: 1855–1858 VIII. The Later Waukon Years: 1859–1863 IX. The Dark Shadow of Paris and the Organization Crisis X. Moving Out from the Shadow of Paris: 1863–1864 XI. Preparing for Leadership: 1865–1867 XII. Caretaker President: 1868–1869 J. N. Andrews’s World XIII. A Caretaker for the Review: 1869–1870

XIV. A Retreat to the East: 1870–1874 XV. Sabbath Historian and Theologian XVI. Leadership Tensions Come To a Head XVII. Missionary Candidate—or Not? XVIII. A Rookie Missionary in Neuchatel: 1874–1876 XIX. From Basel to the World: 1876–1877 XX. A Calamitous Year and Its Aftermath: 1878–1879 XXI. Resident Theologian and Defender of the Faith XXII. Return to Europe and an Expanding Mission: 1880–1882 XXIII. The Pen is Laid Aside: 1883 Index

List of Abbreviations AAD

Angeline Andrews Diary November 1859—December 1865. Loma Linda University Heritage Research Center.

AHAF

Archives Historiques de l’Adventisme Francophone, Campus Adventiste du Saleve 33, Chemin du Perouzet 74160 Collonges-sous-Saleve, France

ALW

Arthur L. White

ASA

Angeline Spaulding Andrews

AV

Albert Vuilleumier

CAR

Center for Adventist Research, Andrews University, Berrien Springs, MI

CMA

Charles M. Andrews

EE

Elon Everts

EGW

Ellen G. White

EGWE-GC Ellen G. White Estate—General Conference, Silver Spring, MD EGWEncycl. The Ellen G. White Encyclopedia ELP

Edward L. Pottle

EWF

Eugene William Farnsworth

GIB

George I. Butler

GWA

George W. Amadon

GWAD

George W. Amadon Diary

HNS

Harriet N. Smith

HNSD

Harriet N. Smith Diary

HWK

Henry W. Kellogg

JE

Jakob (James) Erzberger

JEW

James Edson White

JHW

Joseph Harvey Waggoner

JI

Jennie Ings

JNA

John Nevins Andrews

JNL

John Norton Loughborough

JNLD

John Norton Loughborough Diary

JMA

Jotham M. Aldrich

JVD

Jean Vuilleumier Diary

JW

James White

L&M

The Ellen G. White Letters and Manuscripts with Annotations, Volume 1, 1845–1859

LH

Lucinda Hall

LS

Life Sketches of Ellen G. White

LLUHRC

Loma Linda University Heritage Research Center, Loma Linda, CA

MA

Mary Andrews

MEC

Merritt Eaton Cornell

MHS

Maine Historical Society, Congress Street, Portland, Maine

MLCBU

Maurice Leydon Collection, Bartle Library, Binghamton

University, New York MW

Mary White

OAO

O. A. Olsen

PSABD

Persis Sibley Andrews Black Diary, located at Maine Historical Society, Portland, Maine

RFC

Roswell F. Cottrell

RH

Review and Herald

SWR

Samuel W. Rhodes

SDAEncycl. Seventh-day Adventist Encyclopedia SG

Spiritual Gifts, Vols. 1–4

SNH

Stephen N. Haskell

ST

Signs of the Times

SPD

Sarah Pottle Diary, located at Maurice Leydon Collection, Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

T

Testimonies for the Church, Vols. 1–9

THR

The Health Reformer

US

Uriah Smith

WCG

William C. Gauge

WCW

William Clarence White

WHL

Wolcott Hackley Littlejohn

YI

Youth’s Instructor

Foreword

S

o, what do you know about John Nevins Andrews? Probably that he was the first foreign missionary officially sponsored by Seventh-day

Adventists, perhaps that his scholarly History of the Sabbath put him at the forefront of the denomination’s early scholars, and maybe that Adventism’s flagship educational institution (Andrews University) was named after this hardworking individual who combined evangelistic mission with thorough scholarship, thereby setting the ideal for Adventist education. But Andrews was much more than that. Like most early Adventist leaders, he had to wear many hats, including the presidency of the General Conference and the editorship of the Review and Herald. Valentine helps us capture the man. And it is a task long overdue. Beyond Joseph Bates, James White, and Ellen White, the next most significant individuals were James’s two protégés—Andrews and his brother-in-law, Uriah Smith. And of those two, the most important in terms of contemporary significance and lasting contribution is Andrews. Yet here is an enigma. Four of early Adventism’s “Big 5” have at least two well-researched biographies each. But for Andrews, this is the first. As you read, you will find that Valentine characterizes Andrews as James White’s Melanchthon. Just as the charismatic Martin Luther led the way in the Reformation, and it was the scholarly Philipp Melanchthon who systematized Luther’s thought, so it was that the dynamic and inventive

White had Andrews to work out the details and extensions of Adventism’s developing theology and polity. Readers will discover that in nearly every challenge in Adventism’s first twenty-five years, White requested Andrews to study the topic from the Bible and write out his findings for the church at large. But Valentine’s work accomplishes much more than helping us understand the magnitude of Andrews and his contribution. In many ways, the book is a history of early Adventism from a new perspective. Central to that new perspective is what I will call “texture.” And into that category fall such topics as what it was like to be an Adventist in the turbulent years after Millerism’s Great Disappointment and the extreme sacrifices experienced by early workers and their families. I know of no more graphic treatment of those subjects than the material in this book. Another significant texture involves the dynamic atmosphere in which the denomination’s earliest leaders guided the church into an unknown future. And at the center of that dynamic interaction were the Whites, both with their own strong personalities and their individual challenges. As in some of the other biographies in the Adventist Pioneer Series, one gets the very definite impression that it is easier to revere a long-dead prophet than to exist with a living one. At any rate, Valentine puts flesh and faces on many of the pioneers who guided Adventism through its early decades and the complex interaction between them. And, to put it bluntly, it is sometimes a messy picture. Valentine comes to his task well prepared in both the writing of Adventist history and biography. His PhD dissertation was a biography of W. W. Prescott, which has since been revised as one of the volumes in the Adventist Pioneer Series. Among his other writings are The Prophet and the Presidents and The Struggle for the Prophetic Heritage: Issues in the Conflict for Control of the Ellen G. White Publications, 1930–1939. The present volume builds upon a decade of research in the United States, Europe, and the United Kingdom. In the process, the author has

uncovered several new data banks, including a cluster of diaries that has aided him in understanding J. N. Andrews and the texture of the times in Seventh-day Adventism’s earliest years. The present volume is the thirteenth in the Adventist Pioneer series that has featured biographies of James White, Joseph Bates, W. W. Prescott, John Harvey Kellogg, E. J. Waggoner, Lewis C. Scheafe, A. T. Jones, J. N. Loughborough, Uriah Smith, A. G. Daniells, S. N. Haskell, and John Byington. Other volumes already scheduled for publication include Ellen G. White, W. C. White, G. I. Butler, and Dudley Canright. With the publication of those volumes, my more than twenty-year tenure as editor expires. But it is my hope that the series will continue under younger leadership. Meanwhile, we are indebted to Gilbert Valentine for enabling us to understand more fully one of the denomination’s most important and talented early leaders and the church he dedicated his life to. I trust that reading J. N. Andrews will be a fascinating and profitable journey. George R. Knight Series Editor Rogue River, Oregon

Acknowledgments

T

hroughout this project, I seem to have been living alongside John Andrews—traveling with him, staying in his home, learning to

appreciate his convictions and motivations, anguishing with him through his lows, and exulting in his highs. In truth, it has been almost a decade since my mentor George R. Knight asked me, during a difficult time of personal loss, to take on the project of researching and writing the John Andrews story. It was a task that challenged me and kept me looking forward. I am deeply grateful to George for the invitation. I am also indebted to George for his experienced editorial advice, which has helped me avoid pitfalls and add material to strengthen the manuscript. The journey of getting to know John Andrews has been a truly delightful experience of discovery. Bias may be inevitable, but I have seriously endeavored to limit any bias of sympathy and correct for this by letting the documentary evidence speak for itself. Understanding has always been the goal. Getting to know and understand Andrews, as much as that is possible, of course, from this distance and through the limited materials that have been left to us, could not have happened without the support and assistance of numerous others who have had an interest in seeing the project brought to completion. I am indebted to my colleagues in the School of Education at La Sierra University, who provided three small research grants and several sabbatical quarters for writing. The Harry Schillo Family Faculty Research

Fund at La Sierra University also provided a helpful grant that enabled me to spend time in Paris, Maine, exploring the region where Andrews grew up, helping me to establish with some certainty the various homes and farms occupied by his forebears, his relatives, and his parents at the time when Sabbatarian Adventism was experiencing its birth pains. I am also grateful for funding from the McAdams Adventist History Research Grants recently established by Donald McAdams and his wife, Anne. This grant made possible the researching of Pottle family diaries at Binghamton University in New York State and archival collections at Andrews University in Michigan. I also wish to acknowledge the ready assistance of many who helped provide specialist advice and access to important document collections. Patricia Shearman, Register of Deeds at the Oxford County Land Office in South Paris, Maine, provided helpful guidance to her maps and documents on land ownership in Paris, Maine. Beverley Shaw, a specialist local historian of the houses of Paris Hill, helped with valuable insights and information. Peter Stowell, president of the Dixfield Historical Society (2012), located helpful information about schools in Dixfield, Maine, that Andrews attended. Ben Conant, president of the Cape Paris Historical Society, steered me to the Andrewses’ farming homesteads, with pointers about what to look for. I also appreciate Laurie Mcfadden’s help at the Herrick Library at Alfred University in New York State, who was gracious in helping me access files of Sabbath Recorder. The late Stanley Hickerson of Andrews University pointed me to some previously unknown diary records in upstate New York. Yvonne Deligato, archivist at the Bartle Library at Binghamton University, was generous in helping me access the diaries which had been kept by Sarah Woodruff Pottle, J. N. Andrews’s maternal aunt. Kevin Burton, currently studying Adventist history at Florida State University, helped with numerous documentary sources that assisted in providing a clearer picture of Andrews’s experience in Battle Creek at the time of the church roll cleanup in 1870.

His reading of chapter thirteen clarified several issues for me. Guido Delameillieure, of the Archives Historiques de l’adventisme francophone at the Adventist University in Collonges-sous-Saleve, was exceedingly helpful to me during several days spent with John Andrews’s personal library and a letter and diary collection housed at the university. Guido’s help in providing access to the important Jean Vuilleumier diary is deeply appreciated. Filip Kapusta, of the Institute of Adventist Studies at Friedensau University in Germany, helped with my enquiries for sources. Hilda Smith, of the La Sierra University Library, graciously helped with numerous interlibrary loans. Merlin Burt, Jim Ford, Denis Kaiser, Tamara Karr, and the others on the team at the Center for Adventist Research at Andrews University helped provide access to important Andrews materials and related diary and documentary materials housed there. Lori Curtis and her staff, Seth Bates and Michael Olivarez, at the Adventist Heritage Research Center at Loma Linda University were always gracious in their answering of questions and provision of sources. Benjamin Baker and David Trim, of the General Conference Office of Archives, Statistics, and Research and Tim Poirier, of the White Estate in Silver Spring, Maryland, were always ready to promptly help with information and access to collections when needed and have taken a keen interest in the project. The making available online of the correspondence collections of James, Willie, and Edson White and the incoming correspondence to Ellen White has greatly facilitated the study. The searchable online publication of Ellen White’s own letters and manuscripts has made these much more accessible. I am also deeply indebted to my delightful companion Kendra, who accompanied me on journeys of exploration into the Maine timberlands around Paris Hill and who, on too many early morning neighborhood walks to count, has listened to my prattling on about my discoveries about John Andrews. She has provided insightful feedback and perspective. JNA has been our morning walk partner on so many occasions now that there

may be some bereavement in letting him go. Her careful reading of the manuscript has caught numerous infelicities of language and posed questions that have ensured the story is expressed as clearly as possible. Gerald Wheeler, former Review and Herald book editor, gave generously of his time to read the entire manuscript and provide valuable insights on style and appropriateness. Pages of feedback from his acquaintance with Adventist history and the New England context have helped improve the manuscript. Thank you, Gerald. I am also grateful for the insights about the nineteenth century and recommendations concerning helpful contextual sources that Ronald Graybill and Jonathan Butler have provided in numerous collegial conversations. Both Ron and Jon also gave generously of their time to critically read the completed manuscript and provided much valued feedback to help ensure historical accuracy. The editorial suggestions from these experienced writers have helped make for clearer understanding. Ron’s technical expertise in assembling MS Word files streamlined my editing process. I am also deeply indebted to my friend Will Eva, former editor of Ministry magazine, who read through the entire manuscript with his experienced editorial eye and deeply sensitive pastoral heart. His thoughtful feedback has been invaluable. I am indebted to him for reminding me about Ezekiel’s metaphor of messy beginnings. Thank you also to Andrew Perez, who created the sketch maps for chapter 1—a valued contribution for which I am grateful. In the interest of conserving space, I have tried to keep referencing as brief as possible, and yet, at the same time, provide the essential information for those who wish to check a source or an interpretation or to pursue further inquiry. References in the endnotes generally follow the same order in which they are referred to in the text. Abbreviations have been used in the endnotes for names in the text where the person has been referred to more than once. The list of abbreviations is provided among the front pages. Titles have been given for articles cited from church periodicals. Where magazine articles or notices do not have a title,

however, only the issue and page of the magazine have been given. The majority of the unpublished sources used in the research for this volume can be found in the documentary files kept at the Ellen G. White Estate at the General Conference headquarters in Silver Spring, Maryland, at the Center for Adventist Research in the James White Library at Andrews University in Berrien Springs, Michigan, or in the Heritage Research Center at Loma Linda University.

Introduction

J

ohn Nevins Andrews has been one of the most celebrated of Adventist pioneer leaders because of his groundbreaking ventures on behalf of

Adventist worldwide mission. Alan Collins’s statue of him and his two children in front of Pioneer Memorial Church in the center of the campus of Andrews University, Michigan, is an Adventist icon, frequently featured in Adventist literature.1 Curiously, however, there has been, as yet, no comprehensive or systematic biographical study of his life. This book fills that gap. While Andrews spent the better part of the last decade of his life in overseas service (he went to Switzerland in 1874 at age forty-five and died in Basel in 1883 at age fifty-four), there is much, much more to understand about his life and accomplishments than just what he did as a missionary. John Andrews is larger than his overseas mission work, and the church is deeply indebted to him. While Andrews was not one of the original inner threesome of Adventism’s founders (Joseph Bates and James and Ellen White), he was nonetheless the first of Adventism’s notable and enduring pioneers to join that inner circle on a full-time basis. Within a short time, as his writing and speaking skills matured, the respect in which he came to be held by the community gave him a status as second in leadership only to James White, informally if not formally. This role continued throughout his ministry. Andrews had experienced the Great Disappointment of 1844 as a teenager. His reaction to that experience took him and his local farming

community of fellow Millerite believers along some strange spiritual byways. Retracing their steps was not so easy. He encountered the seventh-day Sabbath early in his post-disappointment experience. This enabled him to participate in some of the informal Sabbatarian fellowship groups of the late 1840s, as the disoriented followers of Miller studied their way through the deep trauma of the Disappointment experience. Through this process he became acquainted with the emerging theological consensus on the sanctuary and the “shut door,” with its affirmation that prophecy had been fulfilled in 1844 securely framed in the setting of the message of the three angels of Revelation 14.2 In 1850, he joined the editorial team for James White’s new magazine, the Review and Herald, published from Andrews’s parents’ rented house in Paris Hill, Maine. Andrews has the distinction of having his name on the masthead of the Review even longer than James White. He was a member of either the editorial team or the editorial committee almost continuously from 1850 to the time of his death in 1883. Andrews was considered one of the most educated of the early Adventist leaders. In important ways he helped give shape and focus to the self-understanding developed by the founders as the group matured into a cohesive movement, convinced they had important new insights about God’s intentions for the world in the end times. While he was not a source of Adventism’s most distinctive doctrinal emphases, the Sabbath and the sanctuary, he served as an important conduit, getting in touch very early with Seventh Day Baptists, for example, to learn about the Sabbath. More important, he was influential in helping articulate emerging Adventist convictions, giving them theological coherence. His particular contribution to the movement was to burnish early Adventist convictions with an apologetic shine so that the sharing of the insights with former Millerites, and then with the larger Christian community, was more effective evangelistically. He contributed the enduring and distinctive Adventist prophetic perspective that America was the fulfillment of the two-horned

lamblike beast of the prophecy of Revelation 13, as well as important elements of the three angels’ messages complex of doctrines that contributed significantly to Adventist self-understanding. The recurrent signature themes of Andrews’s preaching were the looming judgment of God and the end of the world, the perpetuity of the law, and the call to accountability. He would later defend Adventism’s soteriology as being thoroughly Protestant from a sound theological and theoretical perspective. But because of his strong emphasis on judgment, the need for dedication, and the call to perfection of living during the time of trouble, his theology from a practical pastoral perspective ended up with a less-than-assuring practical legalism similar to that of Joseph Bates.3 He also contributed significantly to the Adventist emphasis on healthful living. The present study clarifies misunderstandings about Adventism’s early encounter with health reform and demonstrates that Andrews was an important initial channel for the young church’s first exposure to and adoption of its distinctive health reform emphasis. A former president of Andrews University, and a longtime observer of this pioneer, sees in John Andrews “the foremost Adventist intellectual of the nineteenth century,” noting that James White called him “our theologian.”4 In many ways, John Andrews was the Melanchthon to Adventism’s Luther, James White. Certainly he was the movement’s preeminent scholar-evangelist during the whole of its first generation of leaders. His magnum opus, the History of the Sabbath, for example, developed over twenty years and through three editions, remained the standard work in the field until well into the twentieth century. More recent work in the field of Sabbath studies, as Hans Heinz has shown, suggests that Andrews may have been too optimistic in his belief that Rome alone was responsible for the rise of Sunday worship and that a more nuanced understanding is now necessary.5 As Heinz notes, however, Andrews was on the right path, and while not all of his conclusions are still valid, many are. The path-breaking volume, while dated, is a work the

church will always hold in esteem. Andrews died at age fifty-four. Too early. If James White thought he had fitted two or three lifetimes of work into one lifetime (with his unrelenting twelve- to fifteen-hour work days, six days per week, and no annual vacation), John Nevins Andrews was not far behind him. Andrews did not boast about this or complain about it in the Review as frequently as James. When Andrews felt obliged to mention overloads of duty it was to seek the forgiveness and understanding of those who had to wait for replies to letters or for copy for church papers. During his almost thirty-five-year ministry, Andrews served in a variety of official roles, including two one-year terms as General Conference president (1867–1869), president of the New York State Conference for the best part of a decade (1863–1874), interim senior editor of the Review for a year (1869–1870), and founding editor of Les Signes des Temps (1876–1883). He was elected a member of the General Conference executive committee for many years and served on both the influential publishing house executive committee and the committee on publications, as well as on other institutional boards. While he was in the United States, a General Conference session did not take place without Andrews having a leading role in the proceedings. Students of Andrews have observed that he “stood foremost among his peers in supporting the unique leadership roles of James and Ellen White in the Seventh-day Adventist Church.”6 Probably more influential was his support of the prophetic role of Ellen White. His convictions that Ellen White’s prophetic charisma was distinctive and carried authority developed slowly, but once convinced, he stood rock-solid in defense of her giftedness. This had significant influence on her acceptance within the church. The personal cost of these convictions was at times weighty. Ellen White’s counsel to him often came in caustic “plain speech.” Affirming her gift, furthermore, was not without its tensions. Her ministry and Andrews’s interaction with it was not uncomplicated.

Tall and distinguished looking in appearance, with warm blue eyes, rimless glasses, a thick but neatly trimmed beard, and bearing himself with erect dignity, John Andrews made a good first impression on people. He was always curious, well-informed, and his wide interests made him an easy conversationalist. People were impressed with his knowledge. Following phrenological theory of the time, James White thought that his large head accounted for his large brain and large intellect. He looked like a scholar. He certainly had the temperament of a scholar, with both its strengths and weaknesses. This scholarly temperament was the occasion of numerous letters of counsel from Ellen White. But he was also a passionate evangelist and had the enduring joy of introducing thousands to the life of faith within the distinctive Adventist framework of understanding. The leadership status Andrews acquired within the church and the respect within the community which he enjoyed were both nurtured by James White, but also at times, Andrews was perceived by White as a threat to his own leadership. Their relationship was therefore often a very troubled one. The tension that sometimes existed between them, in a paradoxical way, is evidence of the esteem in which Andrews was held in the church. The strength of White’s leadership required submission of his talented colleagues, and that did not always prove productive in Andrews’s case. Furthermore, both men were gifted writers, engaged for long hours in the creative but emotionally draining endeavor of working with words and ideas. To a significant extent, both men inevitably shared what Ellen White called “peculiar” temperaments. Mood swings characteristic of the personalities of creative writers give color to the story of the relationship between the two leaders. Above all, a keen sense of duty dominated Andrews’s life. From his earliest religious memories, he lived in the dark shadow of the sooncoming judgment. He held high standards of achievement and perfection for himself and for those who worked with him. Yet he was cheerful, and

his warm, pastoral outlook endeared him to his friends and church members. When his life is studied closely, he appears like other human beings, a bundle of self-contradictions, and yet certain prominent features of his personality and temperament, and the deep convictions of his soul, gave a distinctive shape to who Andrews was. While there have been two or three short anecdotal biographies of John Andrews for young readers, such as Virgil Robinson’s John Nevins Andrews: Flame for the Lord, to date there has been only limited serious study previously given to understanding the life of John Andrews and his contribution to the development of the Adventist Church.7 In 1886, Historical Sketches of Foreign Missions followed an anecdotal approach, as did John Loughborough in his 1892 Rise and Progress of Seventh-day Adventists.8 William Spicer, Ellsworth Farnsworth, and Arthur Spalding largely rehearse this material with some oral history added by Spalding.9 More academic studies have included Gordon Balharrie’s MA thesis in 1949 and Gerard Damsteedt’s 1977 analysis, both of which explore Andrews’s contribution to Adventist theology.10 The 1974 centennial collection of essays edited by Harry Leonard of Newbold College (published in 1985) provided a major advance in understanding. This important collection of papers by noted Adventist scholars looked at Andrews’s life from a thematic perspective and focused particularly on his pioneering missionary work in Europe beginning in late 1874.11 That study has provided helpful interpretive insights for this present study. This more comprehensive biography, however, looks at Andrews’s life as a whole. It is organized on a chronological basis, with occasional diversions to explore important background stories and church developments where information is vital to an understanding of the turning points in Andrews’s life, or perhaps summarize a contribution. At some points the story may seem to move slowly, as, for example, in chapter 13, where a more dayby-day account is necessary to understand a crisis, but then the pace of the story picks up again. Keep reading.

The quest to understand Andrews’s life story has required a close reading and in-depth study of his correspondence, his writings, and the correspondence of those who worked and interacted with him. The comprehensiveness of the study provides a number of surprising new insights both about the man himself and about the development of the Adventist Church. Two examples must suffice for this preface. Does it not seem a little strange that a fully ordained minister of the church who had not been disfellowshipped would be rebaptized, even as he continued to serve as a minister? And does it not seem strange that the subject of this biography could serve as one of two on a disciplinary committee to remove his brother-in-law, Uriah Smith, as a member of the headquarters church, even as that brother-in-law continued to serve as secretary of the General Conference? Such incidents help cast light on how the church slowly developed in its understanding of itself. The discovery of new documentary sources not available for Leonard’s volume has also enabled the filling in of important gaps in Andrews’s story. These new sources offer important new perspectives on what was previously unknown. Such sources include, for example, fragments of the diaries of Harriet Smith, Andrews’s sister-in-law, and the diaries of two of Andrews’s non-Adventist aunts, one in Rochester, New York, and the other in Paris, Maine. The extensive correspondence collections of James, Edson, and W. C. White recently made available online by the Ellen G. White Estate also offer many valuable new insights about the backstory of events. This biography is a little longer than originally intended. The reason for this is that it tells the story not only of John Nevins Andrews, but also the story of James and Ellen White and of the development of their beloved Adventist Church. John Andrews was totally committed to “the cause” of Seventh-day Adventism. It was his life. It shaped him even as he helped shape it. And because his life was lived in such close relationship with both of the Whites and in the circle of the church, it is necessary to

understand all of these in order to fully understand him. Thus the study provides many new insights into the life and work of James and Ellen White and into the development of the Advent “cause.” Some of these insights come by way of a richer contextual understanding of the accomplishments of the three leaders. Some come by way of a deeper understanding of who the leaders were as people—including their temperaments, their motivations, and their distinctive gifts of ministry. Some of the glimpses of the Whites (and others) that we see in new light in this biography are the kinds of glimpses one might see accidentally from the side as reflected in a mirror—and at times when they were perhaps not expecting to be seen. In this way we see them in interaction with each other, when they are irritated or perhaps when they are angry with each other, or when they are distressed and bereaved. We see them when one might be embarrassed at what the other has just said or intended to say and when they have suggested that the draft letter they had just written would be better burned than sent. Such an approach enables us to listen in on the backstories that often fill out in much richer detail the complexity of the background to important decisions and developments in the church both in its theology and in its policies. This study develops a much deeper appreciation of the texture of the lives of these leading pioneers and a deeper appreciation of their sturdy faith and devotion, along with their foibles and their quirkiness, as well as their accomplishments. As the story of Andrews unfolds, readers may at times feel challenged, perhaps even disturbed, by what they read. The journey through the Disappointment and beyond was not easy for Andrews and his community, nor was the way clear, even for Ellen and James White. Holding on to hope and growing in grace also involved much growing in understanding. Phases of the story of Andrews’s development and the development of the movement he committed his life to may for some readers carry echoes of the prophet Ezekiel’s graphic metaphor of the call of ancient Israel. Ezekiel portrayed God’s chosen people beginning as a despised and

exposed baby daughter rescued by grace from her excrement and the dirt and dust of the open field (Ezekiel 16:1–14). The beginnings of Adventism were at times quite messy. Growing in understanding involved a developing sense of calling and mission. Readers may find that some of their comfortable preconceptions about early church leaders were too simple, too idealistic. Over the decades relationships between these early leaders became strained at times, and things became complex. But keep reading, remembering that Ellen White herself gave her readers the assurance that “we have nothing to fear for the future, except as we shall forget the way the Lord has led us, and His teaching in our past history.”12 In the varied patterns of development in the tapestry of the Advent movement, the believer perceives the workings of providence. And if the first chapter discussing the details of Andrews’s family background seem at times a little confusing and complicated, keep reading and notice the genealogy chart. Understanding the culture and the family circumstances that shaped the man helps us understand him much better. My hope is that this study will help a new generation of readers see this first scholarevangelist of Adventism, and his associates, as real people—people of the nineteenth century who believed deeply that God was using them, in spite of their failings and missteps, to build a movement that had a message about the end times and about accountability before a divine judgment that their world needed to hear.

1. Unveiled in 1998, the life-size bronze tableau, entitled Legacy of Leadership, portrays Andrews and his two children leaving the United States for their mission in Europe. 2. The “shut door” idea expressed the conviction that probation had already closed for the world. 3. See George R. Knight, Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald® , 2004), 33–88. 4. Joseph G. Smoot, “Andrews’ Role in Seventh-day Adventist History,” in John Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 8, 10. 5. Hans Heinz, “The Author of the History of the Sabbath,” in John Andrews, 142. Heinz carefully

analyzes Andrews’s main arguments in the light of later research by scholars such as L. R. Conradi, F. H. Yost, C. M. Maxwell, Samuele Bacchiocci, and Kenneth Stand. 6. Smoot, “Andrews’ Role,” 6. 7. Virgil E. Robinson, John Nevins Andrews: Flame for the Lord (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1961), was first published as a series of articles in Guide. 8. B. L. Whitney, “The Central European Mission” in Historical Sketches of the Foreign Missions of the Seventh-day Adventists (Basel, Switzerland: Imprimerie Polyglotte, 1886), 9–56. JNL, Rise and Progress of the Seventh-day Adventists with Tokens of God’s Hand in the Movement and a Brief Sketch of the Advent Cause From 1831 to 1844 (Battle Creek, MI: General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, 1892), 336–339. 9. Mahlon E. Olsen, A History of the Origin and Progress of Seventh-day Adventists (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1925), 303–310; William A. Spicer, Our Story of Missions (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1921), 93–96; Arthur W. Spalding, Origin and History of Seventh-day Adventists, 4 vols. (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1961–1962), 203–208. 10. Gordon Balharrie, “A Study of the Contribution Made to the Seventh-day Adventist Church by John Nevins Andrews” (master’s thesis, Andrews University, 1949); P. Gerard Damsteegt, Foundations of the Seventh-day Adventist Message and Mission (Grand Rapids, MI: Andrews University Press, 1977). 11. Harry Leonard, ed., J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission (Berrien Springs, MI, Andrews University Press, 1985). 12. EGW, LS (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1915), 196.

Chapter One

A Pioneering Heritage of Love, Duty, and Perseverance glad you have come in; it has been so long since you have gone,” I am Mary lamented. John Andrews had remembered the lament and the deep anxiety it expressed long after it had been whispered. He had just returned from speaking at camp meeting to be at the hospital bedside of his terminally ill sixteen-year-old daughter. It seemed to him, at the time, that he had been gone only a few hours. But it had seemed so long to Mary. Then two nights before she died, there came another troubling reflection. Mary had been unable to sleep, and father and daughter had talked long into the night. “I don’t see how mother could have you go away from her and be gone so long,” he remembered her observing. He found himself explaining his sense of duty in “the service of Christ” and how sad would be his case in the judgement if he had neglected that. And then on the night she died, her anxiety became a plea: “Don’t go away from me at all, Father.” The request whispered hoarsely with short and labored breath caught the weary and discouraged church leader by surprise. Did it sting a little? Did it trouble him? She surely had not meant to hurt. But the apprehensions behind the plea haunted him as he thought about it days later. And think about them he did. Andrews recorded the penetrating reflections and Mary’s request in the little notebook that he had kept, recalling the haunting lines of their conversations during the last sad days of Mary’s life. And he also noted that he had pondered the implications.1 Had he given too much? The long

absences from his wife, Angelina, and the then young children on the farm in Waukon, Iowa. The many extended times away from home in Rochester, New York, in later years. Mary had been only three or four years of age in Waukon. Why was she remembering this now? How could she remember? What had her mother shared with her that he did not know about? What did he not fully understand? The reflections beside the hospital bed at Dr. Kellogg’s sanitarium in Battle Creek touched him deeply, but also troubled him. Mary’s observations had been supplications rather than accusations. More a plea for a reassuring presence. But did they reveal an element of concern, perhaps a long buried hurt? “Are you going to leave me too?” She needed her father to be near. Having her grandmother sitting by just wasn’t the same, particularly when she was feeling so desperately ill and her chest hurt so badly and she knew she was not going to get better. Six months earlier in April 1878, when the disease first took its hold on Mary in the dim, overcrowded apartment in Basel, Switzerland, she sensed intuitively that this cough that she could not shake was no ordinary, passing winter chest complaint. Under her mother’s tutelage, even as a child, she had learned to listen to her body. In the six years since her mother’s untimely death, she thought she had taught herself the skill well. There were few others she could turn to. She had to be the nurse not only for herself but for her older brother Charles and for her father as well. She had seen firsthand the terrible effects of consumption on Mrs. Aufranc, who lived on the top floor of the apartment and on other acquaintances. Did she know instinctively that this chest infection was the dreaded consumption? Later in August, when her father had to go down to Italy to visit some new believers, she had been anxious about his going away just at a time when she might need him to be near. Her father remembered the parting too. The memory had come back to him after the funeral, and he jotted it down. “She arose to bid me goodbye but was so affected that she buried

her face in my bosom and sobbed violently. When she could speak, she said, ‘Pa, I will try to get well by the time you come back.’ ”2 Did it trouble him, knowing he had left when she had been so frightened? Mary understood the deep-rooted sense of duty and mission that drove her father to push himself so often beyond the claims of family and of health. She understood duty and sacrifice. Did she also sense that underneath the keen sense of duty perhaps there also lay a vague sense of guilt that drove him so intensely? Mary certainly knew that her father felt the burden of mission deeply. It had motivated his whole life. Indeed, it was a commitment to mission she shared. If they did not warn people of the soon-coming Advent, who would? That was why they had gone to Europe. That was why they were living in such an impoverished way. People were dying every day without the gospel. Jesus was coming soon. How could they live with themselves if they did not extend themselves in every possible way to warn that the end of all things was not far off? Who could stand before the great white throne on Judgment Day when earth and sky fled away and the books were opened if one had not done one’s duty? But as her father left, she sensed a dark foreboding about this cough. As it turned out, he had not stayed away long, but to Mary every day seemed like forever. And when he returned, the consumption had her in its vicelike grip. John Andrews’s return to America with Mary had been planned quickly. Perhaps treatment under Dr. Kellogg would help. The doctor had a reputation equal to none, and his hospital was widely respected. Andrews could not bear the thought of the loss of this precious daughter who, since the death of his wife, Angelina, a decade earlier, had grown to mean so much to him. This bright, intelligent daughter had mastered French so well, and her language and editorial skills, even at sixteen, were so important to the success of his evangelistic venture, Les Signes des Temps. Finances were scarce, and so they had not been able to afford to take her elder brother Charles with them to America. He would have to stay with

friends in Switzerland. But Mary had promised to write to him every day and return healthy. But even as she left, Charles reflected later, he had a sense that this would be their final parting, although he continued to hope.3 What else could they do but hope? That was what they were meant to do. And both Mary and Charles hoped. In Michigan the disease worsened, and Mary did not get better. Kellogg had warned her father that it was dangerous to stay so close to Mary, particularly with his own state of health so compromised. Consumption was suspected of being a contagious disease. How or why no one knew.4 But what was Andrews to do? Mary’s late-night question haunted him. It was true, he had left Angelina and the children to fend for themselves while he had given himself to evangelism. Had he been right to do so? Given the urgency of the message, what else could he have done? The message was good news—for the Second Coming would put everything right. Did he wish that he could have more confidence that he would be right on that day? He had to do his best, to do his utmost. How else could he stand? But the tension between the need to be with family and his sense of duty to the cause and the nagging, vague sense of guilt about an unfinished task would not leave him. Mary did not hold on too long. Hers was the quick consumption. The burial in the Battle Creek cemetery had been a deeply heartrending affair, though outwardly bright with promise and undergirded with assurance and hope. Her father returned to Europe without her, essentially a broken man. But when duty called, he could not turn aside. How did such a profound sense of duty come to mean so much to John Andrews? This chapter will explore Andrews’s family lineage and his cultural heritage in order to understand the influences that shaped the person he was to become.

New England roots The deep, sensitive spirituality that lay at the core of John Nevins Andrews had been molded by a New England Methodist self-discipline, along with

the keen sense of duty his parents had inculcated in him since his birth. Allied to a powerful intellect, these attributes combined in him to eventually produce one of early-Adventism’s most able and influential leaders. His early ministry had helped stabilize the young Adventist community, following the emotional and theological trauma of the disappointment of 1844. His writing skills helped give shape to early editions of the Review and Herald. Later he gave valuable service as president of the General Conference at a critical period and then cared for the Review alone, during a yearlong emergency. But more than any other service, it was his logic and his reasoning power that had given shape and a solid intellectual coherence to the church’s emerging self-understanding. His writing had given the young church intellectual credibility. In some ways he could be considered to be “the brains of the movement,” as his mentor and colleague James White has been quoted as lightheartedly saying. In 1878, Ellen White esteemed him as “the ablest man in all our ranks.”5 It is clear, however, from a close reading of Andrews that while his theological writings pulsated with hope and conviction and an intense focus on the second coming of Jesus, the hope was not an overly joyous one. His pen did not take flight with any strong sense of personal assurance that the day of judgment would be a joy. Andrews only occasionally touched on the bright side of hope. He understood the deep love of God, and preached on it occasionally. But the predominating rhythm one hears throughout his preaching and writing is the relentless drumbeat of duty and the call to obedience. The flip side of such an intense sense of duty was the inevitable compulsion of guilt that motivated him. That was perhaps unavoidable given his theological foundations and his early associations. Joseph Bates believed fervently in the hope of the Advent and in the atoning sacrifice of Jesus, but as George R. Knight has clearly shown, there was a deep strand of legalism and righteousness by works that shaped his theology and his Christian experience. Andrews

shared that perspective.6 He lived in the pre-1888 era—in an Adventism shaped by its “obey and live” theology. John Andrews was first of all a New Englander. Historian Henry Adams claimed that “the chief charm of New England was harshness of contrasts and extremes in sensibility—a cold that froze the blood, and a heat that boiled it. . . . The violence of the contrasts was real.”7 In some way it seemed that the land itself shaped and molded its people. Passion and sensitivity distinguished New Englanders. They certainly characterized John Andrews and his fellow New England religionists. As Henry Ward Beecher noted, “There is nothing that a New Englander so nearly worships as an argument.”8 Frequently the arguments ended up in court. There was certainly a keen sensitivity about John Andrews that felt deeply any call of duty. The distinctive ethos of his community, its values, and its long theological heritage of duty and accountability provided rich cultural soil that nurtured his conscientiousness, and developed his commitment to service and the welfare of others. Furthermore, his encounter with Millerism in New England in his teens had been especially intense. Its sharp call to duty gave him a lifelong sense of urgency about the imminence of the end of all things. But what else did it mean for Andrews to be a New Englander? To that study we must turn first. What background of family heritage and inheritance shaped this highly influential Adventist pioneer? What in the environment of his growing up years had molded the man in such a way that it enabled him to make such a valuable contribution to the Adventist Church?9 What were the key decisions of his life that turned him to a life of total commitment and service to his Lord? The lineage that bequeathed John Nevins Andrews his genetic and cultural inheritance can be traced back clearly for several generations. It delivered to him a rich heritage of New England traditions.

The Andrews-Nevins stream

John Nevins Andrews was born on July 29, 1829, in a sparsely settled farming community of southeastern Maine known as East Poland. The nearest large town—the coastal city of Portland—lay thirty-five miles away to the southeast. On both sides of his lineage, Andrews had deep roots in the lush forests and fertile farms of his forebears. On his father’s side, he inherited a New England piety and a pioneering and entrepreneurial spirit that was resourced by a willingness to endure hardship. He could trace his American “Andrews” forebears back through seven generations to a Henry Andrews who had immigrated to the American colonies in 1630, settling near Boston in Taunton, Massachusetts.10 The second generation had family ties to the Wadsworth family that two generations later produced America’s celebrated poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The fifth generation of his forebears saw his great-great-grandfather David Andrews called up to serve as a militia man in the 1776 American War of Independence just months after he was married to Naomi Briggs. His company was assigned to the defense of Rhode Island, but he never saw any fighting. The call to serve was brief, and he was home three weeks later. Four years later he was summoned again in 1780, but that call-up was even shorter. He was back home after a little more than a week spent again in Rhode Island. But his rank as sergeant ever remained as a proud mark of commitment to patriotic duty.11 Three years later in 1783, Sergeant David and Naomi Andrews and their family of three moved to East Poland, not far from the newly established home of a John Nevins, a close and respected wartime comrade. The Andrews family friendship with John Nevins was given a permanency when later the two families became linked through the marriage of their children.12 John Nevins’s father, Hugh Nevins, of Scottish-Irish descent, came to North America in 1730 as a young British military officer accompanied by his younger siblings. Hugh settled in Massachusetts, and eight years later he married a local girl, Joanna Burnham. Their first child, John Nevins,

namesake of the subject of our study, announced his arrival in their military home four years later in 1742. Young John grew up in the South Gloucester region of Maine, and during the American War of Independence he, too, was called to serve in the militia, which was where he served alongside his friend David Andrews. After the war, John Nevins become a surveyor and timber feller and secured a contract helping survey the dense forests of eastern Maine, which were being opened up as farmland to settle the outstanding unpaid salaries of war veterans. Nevins had established himself in East Poland around 1782, after he had helped survey the new district. He is recorded in local histories as the one who felled the first trees, making a clearing for the newly established townsite of New Gloucester, later called Poland. In the clearing he erected the first home and slowly carved a farm for himself out of the dense deciduous forest close to what is today the village of Mechanic Falls.13

The area known as East Poland at the turn of the nineteenth century was called a “town,” but in reality it consisted of nothing more than an expanse of forest some fourteen miles across. Slowly it became dotted with widely scattered houses and farms. In 1829, when John Andrews was born there, the widely dispersed population was less than 2,000, made up of “mostly males and females,” noted one historian with either a wry sense of humor or an editor who did not pick up the blooper.14 It was then a “town” primarily for legal and geographic mapping purposes. In 1829, the year when John Nevins Andrews first smiled at his mother, in addition to the scattered farms, there had developed three tiny hamlets in the west, east, and south around a geographic center that became known as “Poland

Corner.” Even today in East Poland the word town is not to be equated with the word urban. David and Naomi Andrews were farming neighbors of John Nevins and his wife in East Poland for only a year or so. But it was long enough it seems for David’s eldest son, sixteen-year-old Edward, and Elizabeth, John Nevins’s fourteen-year-old daughter, to at least get acquainted, if not develop the beginnings of a romantic affection for each other. The very next year, in April 1784, David moved his family of three sons and a daughter to establish a new farm on property he had purchased in a sparsely populated, newly opened district twenty-five miles away in North Paris and approximately seven miles north of Paris Hill village.15 (See figure 1 for a sketch map of the area.) This was real pioneering. His family arrived only two years after the district’s first ever crop of corn had been raised. The undeveloped land clothed in virgin forest required vigorous labor to turn it into farmland. Timber felling, ploughing, and seeding of acreage for pasture and crops came first, along with the building of stone walls for retaining livestock. Then came road and bridge building and the establishment of civic amenities, such as schools and public buildings. During that first decade on his land in North Paris, from 1784–1794, David Andrews, now approaching his sixties, established himself as a recognized civic leader; although at first most of the new farmers, it seems, hoped they would not be bothered too much by civics at all. The less government the better was their rule, and, besides, there were only about three hundred residents in the entire county area anyway. Thus, in 1792, when the state authorities attempted to incorporate the district around Paris into a township, David’s family protested, along with almost the entire roll of eighty-four registered voters. He and his three sons signed the remonstrance to the legislature. They did not want to pay the extra tax that town incorporation involved. The protest was unsuccessful, and the act of incorporation was passed by the legislature anyway in 1793.16 Civic duties could not be avoided. In the late 1790s, Great-Grandfather David took his

turn as the Moderator of the Town Selectmen, whose responsibility it was to administer matters of local community and municipal concern overseeing the assignment of civic responsibilities. His sons, Andrew, Abiezer, and David, and son-in-law, John Gray, who had married his daughter Rhoda, also became involved in civic affairs and carried minor official roles in the township, such as “Road Surveyor,” “Hog Reeve,” “Tythingman,” and “Fence viewer.”17

Where the David Andrews family initially went to church is not known. A Congregational meetinghouse in the village of North Paris was not erected until 1817. Methodist class meetings started in the district in 1812, and a Union church (which the Methodists shared part-time with the Baptists) was built in 1829.18 Much of the piety in this rural community was family based until populations expanded enough to warrant the building of a church or meetinghouse. Elder James Hooper, the pastor of

the Baptist church in the center of Paris Hill village, noted that although the scattered population stood at about 2,000 in 1830, only about 350 people regularly attended services in the three denominations operating at that time in town.19 Church attendance in the outlying hamlets around Paris Hill was probably higher, for there were more Methodist churches and the class system was more effective in engaging people—if attendance patterns at Woodstock, five miles away from North Paris, were any gauge of things.20 Although David and Naomi’s new farm was about twenty or so miles from the Nevinses’ farm at Mechanic Falls, the families evidently kept in touch with each other. Certainly the teenagers did. At some time around the year 1790, Edward Andrews and Elizabeth Nevins married, and Elizabeth became part of the Andrews clan in North Paris.21 The tie cemented the close bonds between the two families, and the marriage proved to be a fruitful one, producing a brood of ten children, five boys and five girls. These children grew up to become prominent in the life of the farming hamlet of North Paris and in the Paris Hill village community. They provided a closely connected network of uncles and aunts, which was to have an important impact on the church pioneer’s upbringing. The fourth child in Edward and Elizabeth’s family was a boy also named Edward, after his father. This second Edward was born in 1797, the year America made its first transition from one elected president to another as John Adams, the second president of the new republic, was installed. This second Edward grew up on the North Paris farm with his three older and three younger siblings until, at the age of seven, he went to live with his maternal grandfather, John Nevins, back in East Poland. Grandfather Nevins, sixty years of age at the time, had no son of his own, and tilled his land with the assistance of his wife and three younger, unmarried sisters. It was agreed by the family, therefore, that seven-year-old Edward would be “given” to his mother’s parents to care for them and help them with farm chores. Although he became a surrogate son, he was never formally

adopted. But this meant he was not on the North Paris farm when his mother gave birth to his three youngest siblings—Sullivan, Dorcas, and Charles. Young Edward became very close to his maternal grandparents, and he remained with them in East Poland until his thirties. It was from within this district that Edward met his future wife, although he did not marry in a hurry. In 1827, at the age of thirty, he wedded twenty-four-year-old Sarah Pottle. She was also from a long established, hardy pioneering family in the East Poland neighborhood. Edward and Sarah spent their first two years of married life farming in the woods of East Poland. Two years later, Sarah gave birth to a son whom they named John Nevins, thus continuing the name of the heirless maternal grandfather now in his late nineties. Did Edward and Sarah hope that they might inherit the East Poland Nevins farm? As it happened, Grandfather Nevins lived to be more than one hundred years old, dying about 1832 or 1833, and then his three unmarried sisters stayed on the property, managing it competently right up into the late 1840s. The farm managed by Andrews’s three maiden great aunts would become a place for nostalgic visits by the Andrews descendants in later years. Two years later, after the birth of John Andrews, Edward and Sarah moved back to Paris to live again among the Andrews clan in North Paris. Town registers record the purchase of a house by Edward on June 22, 1830, for forty-five dollars, which seems to indicate a fairly small home without acreage. Edward and Sarah seem not to have prospered as well as his siblings. Edward followed the life of a farmworker in the Paris Hill area. He is listed as a “laborer” in the town register rather than as a “yeoman,” the term normally used at the time for a farmer-landowner.22 But there was no shortage of work for one with practical skills, energy, and strength. New road constructions were constantly being approved by the local county, bridges were needed over streams and rivers, private homes and public buildings seemed always to be in demand, and then

there was the regular if more seasonal farmwork.

The Pottle-Ricker connection On his mother’s side, J. N. Andrews also inherited a tradition of hard work and a stalwart pioneering spirit willing to endure hardship. Sarah, his mother, was a member of the Pottle family whose forebears, five generations earlier in 1693, had migrated from Britain to America. They had come from the town of Totnes, six miles inland from the Devon coast in England. John Andrews’s great-grandfather on his mother’s side, the third generation American, William Pottle, moved to Minot in Maine and established a successful blacksmithing workshop to service the rural community around him. Like the other towns in the area, Minot had its emerging hamlets to the west and east and bordered the Poland neighborhood where the Nevins family had settled. Blacksmith Pottle had been keenly interested in local state politics, and his stout loyalty for the British acquired him the sobriquet “William the Tory.” The family made a lasting impact on the community, which is still commemorated today in the name of the steeply inclined Pottle Hill Road that gave access to their hilltop home. In 1758, William married Sarah, a daughter of the distinguished Little family of the same village, and together they produced ten children, one of whom they also named William, who continued the family tradition of blacksmithing. This fourth generation maternal grandfather of John Andrews was born in the midsummer of 1763 and grew up in the town of Minot. At the age of thirty-four, he took as his bride the pretty twenty-three-year-old neighborhood belle Anna Ricker, whose father was of German descent. This marriage of his maternal grandparents again linked two well-off families proud of their accomplishments.23 Grandmother Anna was a younger daughter of Jabez and Molly Ricker, who had established themselves and their family of ten children on a farm in the southern part of the town of Poland. Jabez’s German family heritage

flowed down through immigrants who had come to America in 1750 following a period of farming in the Jersey Islands in the English Channel. In 1794, twelve years after John Nevins had settled in East Poland, Jabez Ricker, by that time a reasonably well-to-do New England farmer and miller, and his wife, Molly, fell in love with a stretch of densely forested hill country a little less than two miles south of the hamlet that was developing at Poland Corner. The property boasted a very simple onechimney frame house, but its real attraction was a fine hilltop spring producing eight gallons of fresh water a minute.24 The Rickers liked to relate that on their very first day, even as they were still in the midst of settling into their one-chimney home, two hungry travelers arrived on their doorstep looking for breakfast on their way through the un-roaded forests to Paris Hill. Other requests for meals and overnight lodging soon followed as travelers heard word of the hospitality the family had proffered. There was nowhere else to go. Thus the family realized as they settled into their new hilltop farmhouse that they were very strategically located for travelers. They quickly set about enlarging the house and adding extensive stables and a barn. Three years later in 1797, the year Anna was born, the enlarged home became “Mansion House,” and a sign set out on the roadside announced it as an inn. Grandmother Anna, therefore, grew up helping with the routine tasks of innkeeping, but also the fine art of providing hospitality. Over the years the route past their hilltop home became a major stopping place on the main stagecoach route between Portland and Canada, and the family business thrived.25 Grandparents Anna and William Pottle apparently stayed in the Poland district and produced eight offspring of their own, four boys and four girls. Their third daughter, whom they named Sarah Little Pottle (after William’s grandmother, Sarah Little), was born in 1803. It was this Sarah who, at the age of twenty-three, married thirty-year-old Edward Andrews in a Saturday wedding the week before Christmas in the winter of 1827.

How the couple met each other is not recorded, but their homes were only fifteen miles or so apart. Town records note that all three families—the Nevins, the Pottles, and the Rickers—were actively involved in leadership of the old order Congregational church that had begun meeting in Poland Corner. In 1825, two years before Edward and Sarah’s wedding, the congregation had erected a large, new church building at the road junction that was becoming an important marketplace.26 Church may have been the place of connection for the couple. Records show they were still in the East Poland district eighteen months later when, on July 29, 1829, John Nevins, their first baby, arrived. Sometime shortly after this event, the family moved back across to North Paris to live.27 After they left, the East Poland farm remained in the care of John Nevins’s three unmarried sisters.28 It is of interest for this study of John Andrews’s life that Ellen Harmon, between two and six years of age at the time (1829–1833), also lived in the Poland community. Her parents had gone to try their hand at farming in the southern part of the town only one mile from Poland Corner. The Harmon house, still standing on Jackson Road, East Poland, was on a hill on the northern side of the picturesque midrange pond, and if the trees had been cleared (which they were not), the Harmon family would have been able to see the imposing Ricker homestead and hotel directly on the opposite side of the lake, about a half-mile away as the crow flies.29 Though they were certainly from a lower economic and social background, the Harmons would have been very much aware of the large Mansion House or the Wentworth Inn, as it was sometimes called, and of its owners, the Ricker family. The Ricker home was a local landmark, and the Harmons drove past it on their journeys to and from Portland. Quite possibly the families intersected also at the local general store, the blacksmith, at church, or at the annual July 4 Independence Day celebrations in town. But whether or not the Harmons were acquainted at the time with the Nevins family, it is intriguing that Ellen Harmon and

John Nevins Andrews, whose lives became so closely intertwined in the years after they had both heard of William Miller, had spent several years as children growing up in the same rural community. In such close proximity to each other, despite the class difference, they had been shaped by the same kind of cultural and spiritual values. In the years that followed, however, Ellen moved with her family back to Portland, to life in the city. John Andrews, in contrast, spent his school years in a quiet rural community in the hills.

1. JNA Notebook, “In Memory of Mary Andrews,” 1878. CAR. 2. Ibid. 3. CMA to “My Dear Father,” Nov. 26 and Dec. 10, 1878. CAR. 4. The transmission pattern of tuberculosis was not discovered until 1882 when Robert Koch of Germany demonstrated it in his studies of the bacillus. See Roland J. Evans, The Pursuit of Power: Europe 1815–1914 (New York: Viking Press, 2016), 397, 398. 5. The comment was made in defense of Andrews to complaining Swiss brethren after he had been working among them for four years. EGW to “Dear Brethren,” Aug. 29, 1878, EGWE-GC. A copy of the letter was sent to Andrews. See EGW to WCW, Dec. 11, 1878, EGWE-GC. 6. George R. Knight, Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2005), 83–88. 7. Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams: An Autobiography (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, Co., 1907), 7. 8. Henry Ward Beecher and William Drysdale, Proverbs From Plymouth Pulpit (New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1887), cited in David Chrystal and Hilary Chrystal, Words on Words: Quotations About Language and Languages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 177. 9. Frederick Hoyt captures well the New England background of Ellen White in “Ellen White’s Hometown: Portland, Maine, 1827–1846,” in The World of Ellen G. White, ed. Gary Land (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1987), 13–32. This background also helps to provide understanding of the environment in which Andrews was raised. 10. Some branches of the family sought to link the New England Andrews family with the eminent Bishop Lancelot Andrewes (1555–1623) of London, whose claim on history was that he served as chaplain to Elizabeth I and as the convener of the committee that translated the King James Version of the English Bible. There is no link. The good bishop Andrewes, as a prelate of the church, was celibate. Compare Alfred Cole and Charles F. Whitman, A History of Buckfield, Oxford County, Maine, From the Earliest Explorations to the Close of the Year 1900 (Buckfield, ME: n.p., 1915), 336, and Robert L. Ottley, Lancelot Andrewes (London: Methuen, 1905), 108. 11. His tombstone in the Fobes (sometimes spelled Forbes) District Cemetery in North Paris is

inscribed “Sergt David Andrews, Mass Regt, Rev War.” See also Frank Augustus Briggs, Paris, Maine Soldiers of the Revolutionary War and their Descendants (Kennebunk, ME: F. A. Briggs, 1937). 12. A helpful annotated genealogical summary of the Andrews family that includes the Edward Andrews branch has been assembled by Miriam Andrews of Gorham, Maine, a descendant of John Andrews’s uncle Alfred: “Genealogy of My Branch of the Andrews Family in New England.” See Miriam Andrews to Dr. J. N. Andrews, Nov. 7, Dec. 14, 1964, CAR. 13. The farmhouse was eventually replaced, but a historic marker on the new house commemorates the pioneering labors of John Nevins on “Empire Road,” about one mile west of Mechanic Falls going toward West Minot. Mary Bennett, ed., Poland: Past and Present 1795–1970 (Poland, ME: Poland Anniversary Committee, 1970), 12. 14. Ibid. See also Alvan B. Ricker, Bert M. Fernald, and Hiram Ricker, Poland Centennial: September 11, 1895 (New York: Andrew H. Kellogg, 1896), 58–64. 15. Land records indicate that he purchased the property (lot 21 and a one-fourth of lots 19 and 20 in the seventh range) on April 10, 1784. See also William Berry Lapham and Silas Packard Maxim, History of Paris, Maine, From Its Settlement to 1880, With a History of the Grants of 1736 & 1771, Together With Personal Sketches, a Copious Genealogical Register and an Appendix (Paris, ME: n.p., 1884), 69, 70. See the town map on page 35. The properties are located at the end of Everingham Road, adjacent to the Fobes Cemetery. 16. H. E. Mitchell, B. V. Davis, The Paris [Maine] Register, 1906 (Brunswick, ME: H. E. Mitchell & Co., 1906), 15, 18. 17. Lapham and Maxim, 94–96. The General Court of Massachusetts in the 1670s legislated a number of civic roles to oversee public order in New England. The law of February 4, 1679, specified that the tything [sic] man was duty bound to seize liquors sold without license, and also “to present the names of all single persons that live under family government, stubborn and disorderly children & servants, night walkers, typlers [sic], saboath [sic] breakers, by night or by day, & such as absent themselves from the public worship of God on the Lord’s dayes [sic], or whatever the course or practise [sic]of any person or persons whatsoeuer [sic] tending to debauchery, irreligion, prophaness [sic], & atheism among us, wherein by omission of family government, nurture, & religious duties, & instruction of children & servants, or idleness, profligate [sic], uncivill [sic], or rude practises [sic] of any sort.” A fine of forty shillings was decreed for those that refused to serve in the role. “Hog reeves” ensured hogs were properly tied by their owners and “fence viewers” were responsible for ensuring that fences between properties were appropriately maintained. Fences had to be “hog tight and horse high.” Good fences made good neighbors. http://www.olgp.net/chs/mayors/officeholders/positions.htm, accessed June 10, 2012. 18. Martin Dibner, Portrait of Paris Hill: A Landmark Maine Village (Paris Hill, ME: Paris Hill Press, 1990), 15–21. 19. Ibid., 18. 20. William Berry Lapham, History of Woodstock, Maine, With Family Sketches and an Appendix (Portland, ME: S. Berry, 1882), 82–85. 21. The birth of their first child occurred on October 17, 1791. Named John, this eldest uncle of the church pioneer was later to prove helpful in getting his nephew, John Andrews, economically

reestablished in Waukon, Iowa, in the 1850s. 22. The house and lot he purchased were from a Peter Chase. Lot 22 is noted as being “bounded by a pile of stones” in “range 7” of the lots. On March 21, 1832, the following year, there is a record of Edward Andrews selling sixty acres of the “easterly part of the lot” for $350.00 to Alfred, but this appears to be a record of the older first Andrews selling off part of his farm to his son. Oxford County Deeds 30:146. Oxford County, Paris. In 1837, the same Edward sells another two acres “by measure,” again to Alfred. 23. Twelve months earlier, Anna’s elder brother Wentworth had married William’s elder sister Mary. Hiram Ricker, Poland Spring Centennial: A Souvenir (South Poland, ME: n.p., 1895), 14. Ricker Memorial Library, Poland Corner, Maine. 24. Ibid. The Rickers purchased the land from some Shaker community families, which enabled the Shakers to consolidate their struggling village twelve miles south at Sabbath Day Lake—a place that remains to this day a notable historic site. Book can be viewed at http://archive.org/stream/polandspringcent00south#page/n5/mode/2up. 25. Ibid., 13, 22. For further details of the development of the Poland Springs Hotel and the bottled water industry that developed at the site, see Ricker, Poland Spring Centennial. In later years, the Ricker family developed the enterprise into the mammoth Poland Springs Resort Hotel after Wentworth Ricker’s “discovery” in 1844 that the spring water had remarkable curative properties. Poland Spring water is still marketed widely in New England to this day. 26. Bennett, Poland: Past and Present. 27. The aged and widowed Grandfather Nevins died sometime in the early 1830s, and perhaps it was in connection with this development that Edward and Sarah decided to move to North Paris to live among Edward’s own brothers and sisters in the Paris community. 28. Persis Sibley, who married John Andrews’s uncle Charles Andrews, who was a lawyer, notes in her diary that the aged sisters had cared for the farm well and were still spritely in 1844. She and her husband, Charles, visited them on July 15, 1844. Persis married Andrew Black after the death of Charles. Her diary is known as the Persis Sibley Andrews Black Diary (PSABD) and is held in the Maine Historical Society Library in Portland, Maine. 29. JNA Notebook, “In Memory of Mary Andrews,” 1878, CAR.

Chapter Two

At Home and at School in the Hills of Maine

W

hen Edward, Sarah, and their small son John returned to the

township of North Paris sometime in 1830, it seemed clear that they wanted to be among Edward’s relatives. The Andrews clan had established themselves at first on what was called Lot 7 in the North Paris district and had then spread out to nearby towns and villages. Edward’s younger brother Sullivan and his wife, Eliza, had taken over the original homestead and the care of the farm. Edward and Sarah apparently found a home nearby, and Edward took up work on the farm. The Andrews parents stayed on, occupying quarters in the family home. They were now beginning to age, but they continued to provide the warmhearted, inclusive family circle that now drew in and nurtured their bright grandson, John. In this chapter we shall explore the kind of family and community in which John Andrews spent his youth and the kind of education that shaped and honed his values and his intellectual skills. Paris was a New England town much like Poland, its immediate neighbor. It consisted of dense forest along the Androscoggin River, with scattered hamlets in the north, west, and south of the town area. (See the next page for a sketch map of the region.) In many ways, the district was an idyllic place to rear a family. On a hilltop in the center of the township boundaries lay Paris Hill village, which commanded clear views over the lush surrounding valleys and beyond to the distant White Mountains of New England. It was a delightfully picturesque place and quickly achieved

distinction and high esteem for its natural beauty and rural atmosphere. In 1805, the village of Paris Hill had been declared the seat of the newly organized Oxford County, which meant that a modest courthouse, a jail, and a county registry office had been built, along with an imposing Baptist church around the elm-lined grassy common in the center of the village. Around this civic hub, a number of commercial buildings and enterprises had sprung up along the streets, with some grand, even ostentatious, New England homes reflecting the prosperity of their owners.

Paris “town” was still a small, scattered rural community of about two thousand inhabitants when John’s parents moved into the area around

1830. The central village provided a focal point with its general stores, a printing shop, small boarding houses that served as hotels, and a number of law offices that supported the activities at the local courthouse and registry office. The smaller outlying hamlets of North and West Paris also had small general stores, a timber mill and a gristmill, perhaps a chapel, and sometimes a schoolhouse, but little else. According to town property records, there is no indication that John Andrews’s parents ever bought or owned a house in Paris Hill village itself, although they lived there at times. According to local town historian Beverley Shaw, later in 1849 and in 1850, the Edward Andrews family rented a variety of homes rather than owning property, and we know from the diary kept by John Andrews’s aunt Persis that in 1849, Edward and Sarah occupied a rented home on the main street directly opposite Persis and Charles’s large and stately home.1 Paris Township would have been attractive to Edward Andrews’s small family as a place to settle not only because other members of his family lived close by but also because there was plenty of work available in the area. During John Andrews’s childhood years, Alfred, his entrepreneurial uncle, owned the largest general store in town and also serviced the stagecoaches that came through town. In 1848, his aunt Dorcas purchased the substantial town tavern, which also serviced the stagecoach travel business. His cousin Clara married a tailor who had set up a drapery and clothing business on the main street.2 Other cousins became involved in town commerce, and uncles and aunts on his father’s side lived on reasonably prosperous farms in the nearby district. During John Andrews’s childhood years, his uncle Charles, the youngest of his father’s brothers, was away attending Hebron Academy, twenty miles west of Paris Hill. Then Charles went to Massachusetts to study law, being admitted to the bar in 1837, when John was eight years of age. Two years later, in 1839, Uncle Charles was elected to the Maine State Legislature, and two years after that he served as speaker of the house. This uncle was a close relative who brought prestige and

recognition to the family through his professional connections to Dr. Cyrus Hamlin, the highly respected local family physician who also served as an attorney in the village. His son Hannibal Hamlin, in later years, served as vice president to President Abraham Lincoln during his first term of office. Such connections and acquaintances brought prestige to the village of Paris Hill. During John’s later childhood, Uncle Charles was busy establishing a law practice in neighboring towns. During John’s mid-teen years, Charles returned to Paris Hill to establish a successful law office, and in 1845, he was appointed as clerk of the courts for Oxford County. Uncle Charles was a good model to John Andrews of what an educated and civic-minded citizen could achieve. Everyone in town knew and respected the Andrews family.

According to family diarist Persis Sibley Andrews, the Andrews family was a warm, affectionate family. Persis had become part of the clan in mid-1842, at the age of twenty-eight, when she married John’s uncle, known then as “Captain Charles” (at the time he served as an officer in the

local militia). John was thirteen years of age at the time of the wedding and may not have been able to attend, for it was held up at Freedom, near the state capital in Augusta, two hundred miles away. His new aunt Persis was a lively well-educated woman who had trained as an art teacher. She had taught school, read, and studied voraciously and enjoyed an active social life. She had set herself the task of reading all of Shakespeare’s plays within a year, and she attended lectures on chemistry and other subjects. Her well-to-do family was prominently involved both in state government affairs and Democratic Party politics. The newly married couple took five weekly newspapers to keep themselves informed, and they discussed current issues together. During the years 1842 to 1860, Aunt Persis kept a detailed personal and elegantly written diary. It throws much light on everyday life in the Paris community and on the happenings in the broader Andrews family. From these insightful diary pages, we are able to know much more about the activities of John Nevins Andrews and the circumstances of his family during his formative teenage years than from any later personal reflections of Andrews himself. The picture of the extended Andrews family portrayed in Persis’s diary is such that we know that John Andrews grew up surrounded by a large, supportive network of four aunts and four uncles on his father’s side, most of whom lived within a nine-mile radius of his home. Beyond that there was another network of seven uncles and aunts on his mother’s side, across in the East Poland district, not more than twenty-five miles away. At age ten his extended family totaled nearly forty uncles, aunts, and grandparent figures in his first circle of relatives, besides a host of cousins. There were twenty-seven cousins on his father’s side alone with whom he could interact and form friendships. Beyond this a much wider network of second cousins and more distant relatives and family connections made up his world of acquaintances, in addition to the closer friends he made at church and at school. The large, extended family that made up his world meant, inevitably, that John Andrews, at an early age, became thoroughly

acquainted with the issues of life and death. His world was shadowed by a constant awareness of the threat of illness or accident. His infant cousin Eliza died when he was two years of age. His cousin Charles died just after his sixth birthday. The next year Grandmother Elizabeth died. He had been at the funerals of two of his aunts before he turned ten. His younger brother William, lame from birth, was born probably in 1835, when John was six years old. His aunt Polly, elder sister of his father, struggled for all the years he knew her with feeble health and died of cancer at the age of fifty-one, when he was sixteen. She had lived in his family home during her later years of suffering. There were funerals of cousins who had died of fever or by farm accident, weddings of uncles, and numerous births of cousins and, later, nephews and nieces. Such experiences matured John Andrews early and developed in him a serious approach to life. Death and what lay beyond it was never far away. This seriousness, and the concern with what lay beyond, shaped and colored much of his later pastoral ministry. Eugene Farnsworth of Washington, New Hampshire, tells a story from the 1850s that illustrates the point. During John Andrews’s early years in ministry, as he was visiting isolated families with James White, the young preacher came out to a field where thirteen-year-old Eugene was working. Andrews picked up a hoe and joined in hoeing a row of corn. Andrews asked Eugene what he planned to do with his life, and Eugene said he desired to be a lawyer. “And what will you do then?” he asked. And then, “What next?” Marriage, family, property, and prosperity were all part of Eugene’s plan. And then again came the repeated question, “What next?” “Grow old,” he supposed. “I suppose I shall die.” Again, “What next?” was the young pastor’s question? “With his great blue eyes looking straight through me,” Farnsworth recalled, Andrews said, “My boy, you take hold of something that will help you to span the chasm, something that will land your feet safely on the other side, where you will be safe for all eternity.” Farnsworth, acknowledging that he had been driven to the “end of [his]

chain,” never forgot the kindly pastoral counsel. He later became a minister himself.3 Death and the world beyond framed Andrews’s outlook on life. The prospect of judgment, the need to give account for one’s life, and the consequences of what would happen if one couldn’t were solid New England convictions. They shaped his character, molded his sense of duty, and constituted the core values that informed his decisions. They were also the values he would have learned in school.

School days There are no surviving records of John Andrews’s elementary schooling in North Paris, but it can reasonably be assumed that along with his cousins and the children from the neighboring farms, he attended the local oneroom schoolhouse on his grandfather’s farm just opposite the Fobes District cemetery.4 If the school was anything like the larger school the town fathers built in the center of Paris Hill village in 1800, near the corner of Main and Lincoln Streets, it was a multigrade school.5 According to local historian Martin Dibner, the schools in Paris town operated for two terms per year. School opened for eight to ten weeks in the summer for girls and small boys. In the fall and winter months classes catered to older students until the budget for the year ran out. The curriculum was typical for secondary schools of the era and included mathematics (geometry and trigonometry), Latin, and sometimes Greek and French.6 In 1848, the second-story hall in the Paris Hill school building was converted into a “grammar” (secondary) school room for older students, but by this time John Andrews was done with formal schooling. According to his aunt Persis, John had a clear, scholarly bent and was keen to learn. She had met the thirteen-year-old John and his parents on the occasion of her first visit to Paris around the time of her mid-1842 marriage to Charles. She had visited Paris with Charles to be introduced to his brothers and other relatives. On that occasion she had commented that she was not overly impressed with the family’s very basic “style of living”

or their housing arrangements, and she could not imagine how they could “manage to be happy in such houses.” She came from a more refined urban and educated background in the state capital. But, as a family, she noted, the Andrews were devotedly pious and the men who were to become her brothers-in-law seemed to be “men of fine common sense.”7 She thought Edward and Sarah’s two boys, thirteen-year-old John and his four-year-old brother, were the “finest looking boys in the world,” and “the older one [John] a perfect gentleman by nature, and a fine scholar.”8 The observation about John’s academic attributes was not an uninformed one. As already noted, Persis was a well-educated woman who had taught high school for several years and came from a cultured family. Her literary skills were outstanding. John Andrews’s interest in scholarly pursuits clearly developed early in his life. Because there was not, at that time, a grammar school in Paris, in 1843, John’s uncle Charles and aunt Persis offered to pay John’s tuition to attend such a school newly opened in the town of Dixfield, where they lived some thirty-six miles northeast by road from Paris Hill.9 Uncle Charles had been practicing law for several years in the even more distant town of Turner, but he had found that that district did not have enough of a population base to sustain a viable practice. Thus, at the time of his marriage to Persis, he had relocated to Dixfield.10 For the tall, gangling fourteen-year-old John Andrews, the opportunity to attend grammar school seemed too good to pass up. Whether his aunt and uncle wanted to help get John away from the fevered eschatology that had overtaken North Paris and his family at the time, or whether other practical domestic concerns factored more strongly in the offer, is not clear. It made good sense to have an able-bodied male relative at home with his wife. On July 15, she had given birth to their first child, a daughter named Charlotte. Fourteen-year-old John could help care for this new cousin, nicknamed “Lottie.” It is clear from the records that Charles also liked his young nephew, and he thought that he would make a good lawyer. Consequently,

the couple offered to sponsor him through school and into the profession. John’s family had apparently agreed, and thus the fall of 1843 found John boarding with his uncle and aunt and attending what Aunt Persis describes as “Mr. Grove’s School” in Dixfield.11 Dixfield was a delightful little mill town on the Androscoggin River in the foothills of eastern Maine—smaller, quieter, and even more rural than Paris. Its scattered population of about twelve hundred when Andrews lived there was less than half that of Paris. The teacher who had decided to open a high school in the town, Mr. Talleyrand Grover, had just completed his bachelor’s degree in the classics at Bowdoin College. He had advertised that at his new school in Dixfield he would give special attention to mathematics and to the French language, but he was in fact well-versed in the classics (Latin, Hebrew, and Greek) as well. The small school he started was a four-room, low-post, one-story structure located on Weld Street, very near the center of town. A brick building later replaced the wooden structure, and today the building has been converted into an apartment block.12 It may be at this time that Andrews first developed his acquaintance with the French language that was to be so important to his mission endeavor later in his life. French and Republican values had been strongly entrenched in the Grover family. All three of the Grover brothers had been given French names by their father, who had served in the Revolutionary forces against England under Lafayette in the war of 1876. Talleyrand would later take up college teaching at Delaware College and establish a name for himself as an eminent classicist.13 According to his aunt Persis, John made very good progress at the school in Dixfield during the six months he attended, and it is from this time that we have the first detailed glimpse of him as a person. Persis’s October 1843 diary records her impression of her student boarder-helper. Despite being only fourteen, he was a tall lad—nearly six feet—and he was wearing boots larger than most men. Somewhat disproportioned, he

was still not quite coordinated; “clumsy and bungling at chores and not very neat,” she observed. But he was quite masculine: “There is no woman about him.” In fact, overall, he was a “fine, promising boy—a very fine scholar and strictly moral.” As for his schoolwork, Persis was quite impressed. He was through his Latin reader already, two-thirds through algebra, and superior in English grammar. She did not comment on his French. He had a superb reading voice, but “better than all,” she noted, he had “first-rate common sense.”14 Persis was to question that judgment later when she reported that “poor John” was “lost” because he had thrown in his lot completely with a Millerite group. He was not interested either in going on with further study or in wanting to follow the example of his uncle and become a lawyer. Andrews apparently returned to North Paris early in 1844. Disappointed in their efforts for John, Charles and Persis turned to his younger cousin Sullivan to offer the opportunity for study. Whether John’s parents needed him back to help at home for some crisis, or whether he simply felt the tug of home and the Millerite hope too strongly, is not documented. He may have returned for his grandfather Edward’s funeral in March 1844. Grandfather Edward died at seventyseven years of age and had been a widower for eight years. He was buried alongside his wife, Elizabeth, in the same burial ground across from the schoolhouse at Fobes, next to his own parents, David and Naomi Andrews. Perhaps this loss heightened the interest in Millerism for John Andrews. In any event, the return to North Paris meant the end of his formal schooling.

Home and family as school The influence of family and local community around North Paris shaped John Andrews probably more than his formal schooling while he was with Charles and Persis. In the main, John Andrews’s other relatives were reasonably comfortable in spite of Aunt Persis’s initial assessment of the rustic state of their homes. Uncle Alfred was probably the most entrepreneurial of his uncles and aunts. He owned substantial property “on

the hill” in Paris and ran trading establishments in the town. Town records show that he frequently bought and sold properties in the town over many years. Alfred and his brother Sullivan also formed a number of business partnerships for various enterprises through the years.15 Uncle Charles was a respected lawyer and politician, and his other uncles were established farmers in the North Paris district. The eldest uncle, John, and his wife, Anna, seem to have acquired the larger part of the original farm either by purchasing or inheriting it. Aunt Anna became a Sabbatarian in 1845 but did not join the North Paris Millerite group.16 His aunt Dorcas had married into the well-established local Childs family, and she and her husband operated the main tavern in the Paris Hill village. John’s own parents, it seems, were the exception in the family. Information is scarce, but the evidence suggests that Edward and Sarah, with their two boys, lived on the same farm or at least in the same area as the eldest brother, John.17 Life for them was more hardscrabble. That is not to say that they were poverty-stricken or living hand to mouth, but rather that they were not wealthy and had to plan family finances carefully. These economic stresses became even more problematic when the family became caught up in the post-1844 traumas of their Millerite community. John Andrews’s uncles and aunts participated in a variety of religious denominations in the Paris community. Some attended the Baptist church in the center of the village on the hill, while others participated in the Congregational church. During John’s early childhood, his parents and grandparents were part of the Congregational church community, which served as their spiritual home in Poland. When they later settled in the North Paris community, back near the grandparents’ home, it seems that they connected with the Methodist Episcopal church, which maintained small meetinghouses in a number of hamlets, which all came under the same preaching circuit based in South Paris, about ten miles away from where they lived. Within this faith community, it seems that the family developed another close network of friends, including the Cyprian Stevens

family and the Lewis Stowell family, who also lived in the North Paris vicinity.18 Edward and Sarah Andrews were “piously devout” parents, noted Persis, their sister-in-law, after her first meeting with them on her visit in 1842. Mother Sarah gave John his earliest religious instruction, providing a basic doctrinal understanding sufficient for his name to be entered on the roll of the Methodist Episcopal church when he turned five years of age. This may have been connected with an early spiritual sensitivity on John’s part. He relates later in life that his “earliest religious conviction” occurred in the mid-1830s when he was five years of age and he heard Methodist circuit preacher Daniel B. Randall preach a sermon on Revelation 20:11, 12. John vividly recalled the graphic portrayal of the awesome scene of the great Judgment Day, the image of standing before “the great white throne” before which earth and sky fled, and when the books were opened. So pivotal was this judgment scene and his experience in church that day that he could not read the passage even in later years without the memory of Randall’s preaching coming back to him. The sense of duty and the need to be accountable that this theme conveyed continued to nurture and shape Andrews’s religious convictions for the rest of his life. Elder Randall became one of the better known Methodist circuit preachers in Maine, served as a delegate to General Conference meetings of the denomination, and during the late 1830s and early 1840s, became an active abolitionist. Five-year-old John may have heard him on an exchange preaching visit to Paris or perhaps at a camp meeting in Poland. Randall had not been assigned as a regular preacher on the Parish circuit. The Leonid meteoric shower of November 12 and 13, 1833, interpreted by Millerites and Mormons alike as the falling of the stars of Matthew 24:29, an important harbinger of the end times, occurred when John was four years of age. Many Christians in his community interpreted it as a sign of fulfilling prophecy, which is reflected in the language of the prominent report of the incident given in local papers. Editors were also at

pains to point out, however, that a strictly scientific account of the event could also be given. Such events, and other unusual phenomenon of the times, led many in New England to become convinced that the end of all things was at hand. In the mid-1830s, when John’s name was entered into the books of record, the Methodist Episcopal church had almost seven hundred thousand adherents nationwide, and in Maine alone it needed 108 traveling ministers to service its congregations.19 We know little else about John’s early spiritual development in childhood, but if the family was like other Methodist families of the era, they would have attended regular class meetings during the week, services on Sunday, and participated in the annual camp meeting that the Methodists were known for locally. Methodists had commenced work in East Poland in 1793 when the first preacher met with believers gathered in the large kitchen of a local farmer. A church had been organized two years later in 1795, and it had been included in the Poland circuit in 1802. During the summer of 1820, a camp meeting had been held in East Poland on the Samuel Cushman farm on Empire Road, not far from the John Nevins farm. The meetings continued here on an annual basis until they outgrew the site, and in 1857 a larger venue at Empire Grove was secured one mile farther along the road. This second location still convenes annual camp meetings today.20 Abolition and the temperance cause were issues on which Methodist circuit preachers frequently spoke during the 1830s, when John would have been becoming more interested in social issues. The abolitionist movement, in fact, became so strong that it led to a schism in their Methodist church umbrella organization in 1840, when church members in the Southern states were not able to accept the rejection of slavery adopted by Northern Methodists. In a major scandal, the Methodist General Conference president was forced from office because he owned a slave to whom he would not grant freedom. While the focus of agitation centered on Portland, Maine (only forty miles away from Paris), and Boston, it was

a painful time for Methodists across Maine and the nation. When the Abolitionist Society attempted a public meeting in Paris during this time, only forty people were interested enough to attend, and according to an Oxford Democrat reporter, only twelve of those were from the local Paris Hill village.21 Other events were more successful. The annual July 4 parade, with its bands and street stalls and fireworks, was again a highlight of 1843; and the large traveling zoo that came to town, in August 1843, with its tent that seated a thousand, drew large crowds to see its elephant parade and carriages with the usual array of tigers, lions, bears, and other exotic creatures.22 Frequent temperance lectures were also a feature of community life in Paris, and in the late 1830s, the agitation led to the town eventually adopting quite strict licensing laws.23 When John was twelve years of age (1842), Joshua V. Himes and other Millerite preachers visited the already famous Methodist campground in Poland, but Millerite preachers also gave sermons in local schoolhouses in the smaller rural hamlets like North Paris and Woodstock, and these quickly drew large attendances.24 He tells us, however, that it was not until early 1843, at the age of thirteen, that he developed a keen sensitivity to spiritual matters, which led to his conversion that year. He links this with preaching about the Advent. The encounter with Adventist preaching marked the start of a major new development in his life that would continue to shape his New England values, demand his scholarly interests, and introduce him to a whole range of challenging new duties.

1. Beverley Shaw, The Building of Paris Hill Village From 1789 to 2010 (Lewiston, ME: Penmor Lithographers, 2010), 23. The house identified in Merlin D. Burt, Adventist Pioneer Places: New York & New England (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2011), 23, as the one occupied by Edward and Sarah appears not to be correct in that it was occupied by the Johnson family in 1847. The Andrews family, in fact, occupied what became known as the “Shurtleff House” next door to the residence Burt identifies. The Lewis Stowell family (friends of Edward Andrews discussed in the next chapter) lived in North Paris, not “on the hill” as suggested by Burt on page 18. 2. PSABD, December 17, 1848, MHS; Shaw, 33.

3. E. W. Farnsworth, “Symposium of Pioneers,” RH, June 4, 1926, 1. 4. The site of the schoolhouse is opposite the Fobes cemetery on Ellingwood Road, Paris, Maine. The school was rebuilt in later years and has since been renovated and converted into a family residence. Another schoolhouse was erected four miles away in the little hamlet of North Paris. 5. The central village school was later moved to a plot of land on the south side of Lincoln Street before it burned down in a fire in 1831. It was replaced with a new, more spacious brick school building, with four rooms and was attended by some of John Andrews’s cousins; Shaw, 195. 6. Martin Dibner, Portrait of Paris Hill: A Landmark Main Village (Paris Hill, ME: Paris Hill Press, 1990), 92. The lower floor of the two-story building was used for public meetings, and the space was not available to the school. It was in 1848 that the school was graded into two sections of junior and senior sections, with one group meeting upstairs and the other downstairs. 7. PSABD, July 13, Oct. 8, Nov. 25, 1842, MHS. 8. PSABD, Oct. 8, 1842, MHS. 9. Details of the school are given in an advertisement in the Oxford Democrat, Aug. 15, 1842. 10. W. R. French, A History of Turner, Maine, From Its Settlement to 1886 (Portland, ME: Hoyt, Fogg & Donham, 1887), 179. 11. Persis Andrews refers to the school as “Mr. Grove’s School,” but it seems clear that she has misspelled the name. PSABD, Oct. 8; Nov. 5, 25, 1843, MHS. There are no references at all to a Mr. Groves in the historical sources available. 12. “Henry Park, 1887, Dixfield Citizen.” This source is a tape recording of newspaper columns and is available from the Dixfield Historical Society, Dixfield, Maine. I am indebted to Peter Stowell, chair of the Dixfield Historical Society, for information locating the school. 13. The other brothers also achieved distinction. The elder brother, La Fayette Grover, born on November 29, 1823, became a distinguished governor of Maine. The younger brothers included Major Abernethy Grover, who became a man of distinction in the politics of the Maine Rebellion, and General Cuvier Grover, a skillful commander in the Civil War under McLelland; Harper’s Weekly, Nov. 12, 1864, 734. 14. PSABD, Oct. 8, Nov. 25, 1843, MHS. 15. William Berry Lapham and Silas Packard Maxim, History of Paris, Maine, From Its Settlement to 1880, With a History of the Grants of 1736 & 1771, Together With Personal Sketches, a Copious Genealogical Register and an Appendix (Paris, ME: n.p., 1884), 164 16. Her nephew, John Andrews, observes at the time of her death in 1871 that she had become convinced of the Sabbath truth in 1845 but remained a member of the Christian Disciple church. “Obituary,” RH, June 6, 1871, 199. 17. There is no evidence in the town records that they owned property “on the hill” in the village near Alfred. On March 11, 1846, Persis mentions in her diary that she and Charles called in to see his brother Edward and his family in connection with a visit out to see David Andrews. He was her husband’s and John’s father’s aged uncle living in the same North Paris district. On the occasion of Persis’s first visit to the Paris community, she noted comments on the homes of Edward and his elder brother John as if they were in the same vicinity. When Edward and Sarah moved “on to the hill” in the late 1840s, they apparently moved into a rented house. A helpful introduction to Paris Hill homes and their history can be found in Shaw, 23, 24, 118ff.

18. Cyprian Stevens, John Andrews’s future father-in-law, had grown up on his father’s farm one mile from the center of Paris Hill village. Cyprian’s father, Dr. Cyprian Stevens, had been the first doctor in the village, arriving in the 1780s, and he had been a member of the Baptist church, renting a pew for the family there for many years. The younger Cyprian’s church membership was recorded at the South Paris Methodist Episcopal Church, which may indicate that his farm was on that side of the township. He had a family of six, five daughters and a son, who formed part of John Andrews’s extended church family. 19. Stephen Allen and W. H. Pilsbury, History of Methodism in Maine, 1793–1886 (Augusta, ME: Charles E. Nash, 1887). See “Records of Annual Conference Minutes and Annual Statistics, June 27, 1838,” 107–110. See also Joseph G. Smoot, “John N. Andrews: Faithful to His Service,” Adventist Heritage 9, no. 1 (1984): 5, 6. 20. Donald H. Mills, “Empire Grove Campground, East Poland,” Lewiston Journal (June 3, 1967): A4. See also http://www.empiregrove.org/, accessed June 10, 2012. 21. Oxford Democrat, Aug. 29, 1843. 22. Oxford Democrat, Sept. 29, 1843. 23. Lapham and Maxim, 163ff.; Allen and Pilsbury, 107–110. 24. William Berry Lapham, History of Woodstock, Maine, With Family Sketches and an Appendix (Portland, ME: S. Berry, 1882), 179.

Chapter Three

Miller’s Advent Hope Comes to North Paris: 1843–1845

I

t was not until I was thirteen years old that I found the Saviour,”

recalled John Andrews years later. It happened in January 1843 at a tumultuous time when the Millerite movement sparked revivals across all New England—but particularly in Maine.1 Andrews linked his spiritual awakening to the Millerite agitation, reporting that: “I then became deeply interested in the doctrine of Christ’s near coming.”2 He does not give any further specific details about his conversion, but we know that in the summer of the previous year, 1842, Joshua Himes had been preaching nineteen miles away at the Methodist campground in West Poland, near where John’s father grew up and where a number of his relatives still lived. During the same summer months, William Miller himself had made a return visit to Portland, just thirty-five miles southeast of Paris. But even closer to the Andrewses’ home, according to historian William Lapham, who attended some of the meetings, Adventist preachers had also been conducting a series of meetings in schoolhouses in the neighboring village of Woodstock, not far from the Andrews family farms in North Paris.3 We also know that the local Methodist circuit preacher, William Brown, who serviced the North Paris congregation John attended, had, in 1842–1843, become an enthusiastic Millerite advocate.4 Sermons in the North Paris church and discussions in class meetings focused on the Millerite issues. In this chapter we will seek to understand how the Millerite movement impacted the community in which John Andrews lived and how he and his

family became involved in it. The chapter will also explore how Andrews and his church community experienced the Great Disappointment, how both the believers and the local civic authorities tried to cope in the aftermath of the movement’s failure, and how these developments influenced the direction of Andrews’s life. On January 1, 1843, William Miller had been persuaded by some of his followers to become more specific in identifying the date of Christ’s return and had, consequently, tentatively suggested the period sometime between March 21, 1843, and March 21, 1844. Via the medium of the Millerite journals and broadsheets, the word spread as a bright wildfire through the cold, dark New England winter. The prospect that the end of the world and the day of judgment were just three months away provided a stimulus to thirteen-year-old John Andrews’s conscience, while the hope of heaven suddenly focused his life as never before. As George R. Knight has documented, Millerite preaching very quickly became much more narrowly focused on the specific matter of time. Different groups latched on to different dates, but overall, the fever pitch increased.5 With the much sharper focus on time, a number of the Millerite publications were mailed out with encouragement to close down businesses, sell off surplus property, and prepare for the end. In the North Paris community, for the Andrews family, and for the many other families in the Methodist Episcopal churches in their circuit who had responded to Brown’s Advent preaching, the dates of March and April 1843 figured strongly, with April 23 becoming a major focus of both fear and hope.6 Associated with the focus on a specific time for the Advent was an increasingly insistent call for believers to “come out of Babylon,” which meant leaving their churches.7 In North Paris it appears that the Millerite-Methodist preacher William Brown had been removed from his circuit duties because of his emphasis on the time of the Advent. Sympathizing families also apparently withdrew and began to meet together in private homes for fellowship and encouragement of one another.

Former Congregationalist minister Luther Boutelle, who visited the area in early 1845, reported that there were many families from different congregational backgrounds who had become Millerites in these particular North Paris and Woodstock locations, and he mentions important family names that later remained part of the first-day Advent movement.8 This is confirmed by Lapham, who reports that Millerism “spread like wildfire” in the district, making proselytes “in every part of the town” in adjacent Woodstock, largely among the Methodists. He notes that membership in Baptist and even Unitarian churches also increased significantly at this time. The Free Baptists established a whole new congregation with almost one hundred Millerite believers in one part of Woodstock in response to the movement.9 So fervent was the excitement that it began to disrupt normal commerce and community life, and the local Paris newspaper reflected the community’s growing concerns. The local editor, after reporting that a Millerite camp meeting in Philadelphia had been only “thinly” attended, noted, with some anxiety, that the people were “not so impressible in that quarter as they are here.”10 Miller’s associates had much better success in Paris and Woodstock. The Oxford Democrat was a family style newspaper published weekly in an office on the square in the center of Paris Hill village. It would often run devotional articles and stories with a good moral on its front page.11 From this newspaper thirteen-year-old John would soon get the feeling that his newfound spiritual convictions were not only the subject of wide interest but that they also were quickly marginalizing him and his family. In late February of 1843, the paper ran a full column summary of a sermon by a “Mr. Cummings,” quoting Scripture and showing in a reasoned way that the Advent was “not something that will happen as soon as Miller argues.” In the same issue, however, in a respectful tone, the editor wrote, “We advise all persons who adopt the views of Elder Miller to keep on with their business just as if the world was not coming to an end in April. They will in this way more completely fulfill prophecy, which declares

that when the end comes it will find the inhabitants of the world about their ordinary occupations.” There was no point in giving up businesses, and “property can be placed no more safely than where it is,” the editor argued. The editor had heard that some properties and homes were being sold at very low prices, perhaps carelessly. He cautiously pointed out it might be “possible that Elder Miller may have made some mistake in his figures.”12 While the logic of Miller’s end of the world preaching suggested that property would soon be valueless and it was therefore better to dispose of it beforehand while it could do some good, Miller himself did not personally push this view and refused to sell his own property. He did, however, speak of “forsaking the world” and having “an unconcern for the wants of this life.”13 Other Millerite preachers promoted these ideas much more consistently, however, in the months immediately leading up to 1844. The fact that families in the Paris neighborhood were considering such sales, to the consternation of the newspaper editor and local town authorities, indicates the early radical intensity of the commitment of the Paris group to the cause of Millerism.14 In March the Oxford Democrat reported that in New York the appearance of “a comet that cannot be accounted for” caused alarm and that “strange lights in the sky” were being interpreted as a sign of judgment by Millerite preachers. “The northern lights foretell something terrible,” the paper reported, quoting a Millerite journal, but it also noted an over-the-top observation from another more cynical paper that “several of the female disciples [of Miller] almost expired in hysterics.” Rather dramatically, the paper reported that down in Massachusetts, “eleven persons have recently been admitted to the Worcester Institute Insane Hospital whose insanity was caused by Millerism,” and the editor went on to note that many more cases had been reported in Maine. The editor, a sober observer, noted his readiness to give credence to such reports because, to his own certain personal knowledge, there was “one case of

recent date which has occurred in this vicinity from this cause.” This particular person had been excitable on religious topics previously, but with appropriate help, the person had again stabilized emotionally. Now with the “excitement about the termination of all things being at hand,” the editor reported, the person had lost their “equilibrium” again. “Who can estimate the distress of friends and destruction of property” just in “this single instance,” he pondered.15 Was he thinking of the North Paris lay preacher, Jesse Stevens, whom we shall encounter later in this chapter? The April 11 issue of the Oxford Democrat reported again on the persons admitted to the hospital in Massachusetts, giving more detail this time from a medical journal. The paper also took the trouble to correct a rumor that William Miller had died. He had only been sick. But in the next week’s edition the editor also noted that there were very positive effects from the renewed interest in religion. In Rochester, New York, attendance across several churches in the city had increased by seven hundred since January 1. The same April 18 issue noted that in the Paris township there had also been revival meetings. “A religious meeting was held at this place during most of the time last week. A correspondent who attended says, ‘It was one of good interest—and deep religious feeling. Many made a public profession and expressed a determination to follow the precepts and believe and lay hold of the promises of a Saviour.’ ” Andrews’s new spiritual convictions were being nurtured among friends, but as he read the newspaper he also knew that in many families his convictions were being laughed at. In the later April editions of the paper, there were jokes about Millerism and, as the predicted March dates passed, the tone of reporting soon turned much more critical and negative.16 As 1843 progressed, the Advent awakening continued to attract widespread interest, but it also ran into increasing trouble. Among the Methodist churches of Maine, about 30 of the 171 regular circuit preachers had adopted Miller’s teaching, and their preaching was now disrupting churches. In July at the Maine Methodist Annual Conference, the topic of

Millerism occupied considerable time, and the conference felt the need to take a stand. They rejected the date setting as nonbiblical and started disciplinary action to either reclaim or expel the dissidents. The Andrewses’ family pastor, William Brown, was expelled as a result of the 1843 Maine Conference, and he soon moved to Portland, where he associated with Elder Levi Stockman, who had also been the Paris circuit preacher for the four years prior to Brown’s incumbency and occupied the pulpit at the church where the Andrews family attended.17 Stockman had transferred to Portland in 1841, where he continued his Advent preaching, and, as a result, in the summer of 1843 was convicted of heresy and expelled from the Methodist Church for his preaching of Millerism. Both Stockman and Brown developed a congregation of Advent believers at Beethoven Hall. Ellen Harmon’s family formed part of this congregation, and it was at this time that Elder Levi Stockman, a very kindly pastor, was able to be such a huge help to Ellen Harmon when the next year, in 1844, at the age of sixteen, she had gone through a deep spiritual crisis.18 It is worth noting that the Harmon, Andrews, and Stevens families shared an exposure to the ministries of Brown and Stockman. Meanwhile, in Paris Hill and the surrounding villages, families continued to hope that the Lord would come, even though the first expected dates passed without any fulfilment. In May, the very heavy snows of the past winter disappeared in a rapid thaw, causing huge floods and enormous economic damage not far from the Andrews home. Numerous timber mills and gristmills along the river were swept away in the resulting flash flood known locally as a freshet. In the village center on the top of the hill, the calendar of events of summer passed as usual. In July, Independence Day was observed as normal with a midday parade and fireworks in the evening. Later in the summer, a local political convention was held in the village to elect local delegates to be involved in the upcoming presidential election when Democrat James Polk would triumph over Whig Henry Clay. In early August, a sacred concert in the town hall

under the Baptist church drew a large, appreciative crowd. But for the Millerites, life had taken on another focus. Not far from John Andrews’s North Paris home, a large tent had been erected on the property of Benjamin Stevens, one of the family connections of the Andrews clan (a relative by marriage to John’s father’s uncle, David Andrews).19 It seems that a former Methodist pastor, Jesse Stevens, a brother of Benjamin, came to be the de facto leader of this North Paris group of Millerites. In mid- to late 1843, this tent became the location of almost continuous religious meetings and increasingly the scene of rather strange practices. Farmwork was neglected. The town authorities became increasingly concerned about a large number of crops that were not being harvested, and they feared for the coming winter.20 For John Andrews, now fourteen, however, these summer months confronted him with decisions to be made about school and his future. As noted in the previous chapter, the latter part of 1843 found him in the village of Dixfield, a thirty-mile drive north of his home, where a new high school had been opened by a teacher with excellent credentials. John would thus have missed the big day on October 2 when the enormous Raymond and Company mobile zoo made its periodic visit to his home village. Four elephants pulled the first car in the long procession of wagons, and the large tent for the menagerie could seat ten thousand.21 What church John Andrews attended in Dixfield is not clear. Persis, his churchgoing aunt, had attended the Unitarian church in her hometown in Augusta, but she was not against worshiping with the Baptists if there was not an alternative. Whether there was much discussion with her nephew about his Second Advent beliefs is not reported, but his hometown newspaper certainly continued to report on the continuing interest in Millerism in the Paris community and elsewhere in the northeast of Maine. The paper also reported on meetings of the abolitionist society in Paris and featured prominently occasional reports on the debates that had surfaced in the Anglican Church in faraway England over the “Tractarian

Controversy,” or the “Oxford Movement”—a revival of a high church Catholic piety, which was seriously disturbing the New York Episcopalian church. But news about developments in Millerism appeared more frequently and with increasing emphasis on the occurrences of fanaticism. The reporting on these was now almost entirely negative.22 The Oxford Democrat, in early September, reported an example of some notable excesses that had come to a Millerite camp meeting at Stepney, near Bridgeport, in Connecticut. A correspondent who had attended and was self-aware of his negative bias reported, “Such a scene of confusion, fanaticism, and impiety (as it appeared to me) has never been equaled in this country since Columbus first stepped on our shores.” A believer overcome with ecstasy had wandered through the encampment waving a green leaf and shouting “hallelujah” and “glory” at the top of his voice. Under the preaching of one individual, women in the congregation had been induced to remove anything false or artificial. This involved removing chains, broaches, bonnets, floral decorations, and even wigs and false teeth. Methodist minister Fuller had tried unsuccessfully to stop the fanaticism, and eventually Josiah Litch, editor of the Midnight Cry, had to interrupt the meeting and tell the Millerites to leave the ground.23 This was not the regular pattern, but it was happening more often, and on this occasion, Litch did not think the secular newspapers had exaggerated their reporting.24 Miller himself protested the extremes on the front page of the Signs of the Times in November, but it was such fanaticism which caught the attention of newspaper editors and created an overall image that badly tainted the reputation of the movement.25

Extreme excitement It seems that John Andrews may have returned home from Dixfield at the time of the funeral for his grandfather in March 1844, but the next time we hear of him for certain is in the month of October 1844. The North Paris believers had retained their confidence in the hope of the Second Advent

in spite of the disappointments of March and April 1844, and they explained the repeated delay as the “tarrying time.” Then in August, at a camp meeting in Exeter, New Hampshire, Samuel Snow had suggested a new typological interpretation of the familiar scriptural passages that suggested that the return of Jesus would be more like the high priest of the Old Testament coming out of the sanctuary on the Day of Atonement. The calculations involved in this typology became known as the “seventhmonth movement,” and it put the date for the end of the world in October —just three months away.26 This new insight galvanized the now fifteenyear-old John Andrews into devout action. Having responded to the strong calls for Adventist believers to separate from their former churches, it seems that the group of which John Andrews was a part was now meeting in one another’s homes in the North Paris district.27 With the date of October 22 looming quickly, members of the community had been doing their best to warn their neighbors. If John Andrews is the “Brother John” spoken of in a letter from Marian Crawford (née Stowell) to Ellen White in 1908, then we know that he had been doing what he could as a fifteen-year-old to warn his friends of the coming calamity. Marian Crawford, a close friend and neighbor of John’s at the time when the Lord was expected to return, believed John would certainly hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” because the tall, mature-looking teen had spent the last few days before October 22 visiting all the district schools, “offering prayer in each for the teachers and pupils.”28 Marian was the eldest daughter of Lewis and Laura Stowell, close church friends of the Andrews family. The Stowells had nine children, the two eldest of whom were teenagers: Oswald, who was sixteen, and Marian, who was only three months younger than John Andrews. It appears that John often visited the Stowell home in the hamlet of North Paris, not far from his own grandparents’ farm in the same neighborhood. Lewis Stowell and his wife, Laura, operated a trading business in the

village as well as running some acreage. The family lived in a fairly large homestead.29 Because Marian’s father owned the largest house among the Millerite families in his neighborhood, it was there that the group assembled on the evening of October 21, 1844. “All gathered with joy and gladness beaming from every face,” reported Marian.30 As the believers arrived that Tuesday evening, John’s father, Edward, reported to Lewis that he had milked his cows late that afternoon so that they would not suffer, but that he had “poured it all in for the pigs.” Marian’s jovial response as she recalled it six decades later was that she guessed “they had a good meal,” to which “Brother John” replied, “It’s the last one they’ll ever get.”31 But the evening was not all lightheartedness and joy. They were very much aware that the surrounding community thought them odd. Marian reported that as the sun dropped out of sight that evening and the longed-for day of deliverance arrived, a large number of boys came out from the nearby village, about one mile distant, in order to see the Millerites “go up,” as they explained it to the Stowells. Inadvertently, Marian’s mother, Laura, eight months pregnant at the time, had left a large comforter on the line, and before long the leader of the group of boys had taken it, jumped up on a windowsill with it, and taunted the families inside, screaming out the words, “White robes.” The boys then clambered up on the roof, and there were anxious moments when the believers inside thought they smelled “powder” and quickly extinguished the hearth fires.32 It was a long cold night for their wait. When daylight came, some of the group of neighborhood boys had been found asleep in the back semidetached kitchen and others in the barn. The cluster of families inside, coping with their own disappointment, were glad that the boys chose to leave “in silence” for the village.33 Other disappointed Millerites were not so fortunate and met with noisy ridicule as they made their way home, but for the Andrews and Stowell families and their friends, the quietness was equally as devastating. Whether anyone went back home to milk the cows

and feed the hogs is not known, but it seems someone must have attended to them—the families still needed to eat and the children needed their milk. How were they to make sense of all this now? The Paris group of these radicalized, fervent Millerites did not cope well with this last disappointment. The trauma of their disorientation was severe. They were respected families with heretofore good reputations in the community. How were they now to face the ridicule of their neighbors after yet another date had passed without anything happening? We can understand something of John Andrews’s spiritual crisis during the weeks that followed from what Marian, his close friend, tells us about both herself and Andrews and from stories he himself apparently later shared with colleagues. In their confusion and bewilderment, the two teens struggled to cope with the enormity of the emotionally wrenching letdown and the prospect of humiliation by their friends and neighbors. The Disappointment doubled the emotional load as they worked through their normal adolescent uncertainties and sense of inadequacy. But there seemed to be no other alternative but to hang on and be patient. Like other Millerites in their neighborhood, their deep spiritual experience during the “seventh-month movement” that had identified the date of October 22 convinced them that they could not have been deceived. They just could not have been wrong. As they thought and prayed about it, they came to the conviction that their faith had not been in vain and they continued to believe with certainty that they had understood the prophecies correctly. How long the families stayed together in the Stowells’ home we don’t know, but it was not long before Advent preachers like Joseph Turner from nearby Poland, with his “shut door” explanation began to circulate again around the families and communities, comforting and encouraging as best they could. Everywhere, groups struggled to cope with the confusion.34 Before long Andrews’s Paris friends developed the conviction that the Lord must have come spiritually and that, somehow, the kingdom had arrived among them already. While this was not easy to figure out

completely, they took refuge in the explanation, which for them meant that probation had closed and the door to salvation was shut. The Lord would surely come at any moment.35 This conviction separated them from other groups of Millerites who came to believe that the “seventh-month movement” had been nothing but a sad diversion and a mistake and that they should, in the future, continue to have hope in the return of Jesus— but without focusing on any particular date. Among the early visitors to the North Paris group were James White and Ellen Harmon, who stopped by the village sometime probably near the end of March 1845 after a rather harrowing visit to Orrington in the northeast.36 On this particular occasion, the group met at the home of village postmaster Calvin Washburn, who lived adjacent to his family’s timber mill on Moose Pond in North Paris. Marian recalls that James introduced Ellen to “the little company” as “Sister Harmon of Portland.” The visit was for the purpose of having Ellen Harmon share her first visions that had the objective of encouraging the Millerites not to throw away their faith, but to be assured that their October 22 experience had been of God. Whether the fifteen-year-old Andrews had previously met either the twenty-three-year-old James or his seventeen-year-old traveling companion we don’t know. This visit is thus the first documented record we have of John Andrews’s encounter with the two people who were later to figure so very largely in his life. It was a memorable meeting for the two North Paris teenagers. Marian Crawford recalled that there were “very few dry eyes” as Ellen gave her “vivid description” of what she said she had seen in vision. It was a “marvel to us all,” she wrote. Overcome by the emotion of it all, fifteen-year-old Marian had let out a loud, involuntary shout of, “Glory to God!” She self-protectively explained that she was “one who was never known to shout,” and deeply mortified and embarrassed about her emotional outburst, she had run into her bedroom, “hiding her head in the pillow, weeping.” As soon as the meeting closed, John Andrews and the two visitors, solicitous for her welfare, came to her

room to find out what was wrong. Ellen Harmon explained that the “shout” did her “good,” and Marian later recalled her assurances that God had “accepted” her “as one of this little band of believers.”37 John Andrews, Marian, and their fellow believers encountered other young women who reported that they had been having visionary experiences. Two visited the Stowell home and stayed for some time during these months of spiritual confusion. Dorinda Baker and a Miss Blaisdell came to visit the Stowells in early 1845.38 The two women stayed with the Stowells for almost two months, recalled Marian. Dorinda claimed to be sick, and then after prayer during a religious meeting, claimed to be healed. She would then close her eyes, and, according to Marian, “pretend to be in vision.” The visions, which Marian thought were just a pretense or trickery “to win me over,” were so sufficiently convincing that Marian’s mother, Laura, accepted them as genuine. Laura, a schoolteacher by profession, was a woman of uncommon ability. According to Marian, her mother remonstrated with her over her disbelief: “How can you doubt when the Lord shows her [Dorinda] so many good things about you?”39 From the Stowellses’ home, Dorinda went on to stay with the Howes, another Millerite family, in the village of Norway, just seven miles away. Shortly afterward another teenager by the name of Mary Hamlin of the village of Waterford, twenty-five miles to the southwest of Paris, came to visit the Stowell home. She stayed for three months. Mary Hamlin also claimed visionary experiences, and she, too, would warn Marian of her spiritual danger, “which had been shown her of the Lord.” Mother Laura became a believer in Mary’s gift as well. According to Marian, John Andrews, who like her mother acknowledged Mary’s visions as genuine, “tried hard to show me I was wrong” but was unsuccessful in dislodging Marian from her skepticism.40 Clearly, in the traumatic months following the Disappointment, it was not easy to differentiate between the various visionary experiences being demonstrated or reported by the visiting

young women. While Ellen Harmon talked about two main visions she said she had been given that focused on the broad theme of not giving up hope and holding on to the hope of the Advent, there were numerous other visionary experiences she reported during this period that related to more practical everyday issues, identifying an individual’s faults and warning of general spiritual dangers. Some she reported as providing advice about her own decisions concerning traveling to the next place, visiting a certain family, or, for example, whether an individual should go back to school or live with a certain family.41 These were the same kinds of practical matters that Mary Hamlin and Dorinda Baker seemed to address in the families they stayed with. Given that one of the major tests of the validity of such spiritual gifts was the spiritual helpfulness of the gift demonstrated in a community over time, it was inevitable that communal confusion would exist in this early period. Ellen Harmon’s experience was received as one among others. As we shall note in a later chapter, Marian’s mother, Laura, and John’s father, Edward, and probably one or more of John’s future sisters-in-law, also experienced ecstatic visionary experiences at this time, which they took to be genuine. The experiences seemed to fit within the framework of the kind of spiritual gifts they saw described in the Corinthian correspondence. For John Andrews and his family, questions about validity and how to understand the spiritual authority that should be ascribed to Ellen Harmon’s claim to the gift was a difficulty that would be resolved only with the passing of time. Ellen White’s gift, validated and sustained by James White’s support, came to be seen as carrying more weight than those of the other young women. Four years later in 1849, this question seems to have been the major concern that needed to be resolved in order for John Nevins Andrews to link up with the Whites in a wider ministry. The same issue, with its numerous implications, needed to be clarified and resolved again in the early 1860s in connection with important decisions concerning the future direction of Andrews’s ministerial work.

But during the difficult early period following the Great Disappointment, families like John’s faced many challenges of adjustment. A closer look at some of these difficulties helps provide a richer understanding of the important spiritual and social dynamics that shaped John Andrews during his later teen years. For example, a major challenge for the Andrews family and for others was to know whether they should send their children back to school, or, as would have happened in the normal course of events for teenagers, allow young people like John Andrews or Marian Stowell to board with a family near to a college like Bethel Academy or Bowdoin College. Because the disappointed Millerites feared that their youth might lose their faith and that the Advent was still going to occur very soon, parents were encouraged in these early months by Ellen Harmon, James White, and others such as Joseph Bates and Otis Nichols to keep their children out of school. To send them to associate with unbelievers was not only to place them at risk but it also was regarded as a denial of the faith.42 Andrews did not go back to school following the Disappointment, nor apparently did his younger brother William. John’s decision horrified his aunt Persis, who thought he was throwing his life away.43 Instead, Andrews seems to have filled the time moving from religious meeting to religious meeting among the disoriented believers. And as the small group that had been meeting in the Stowell and Washburn homes turned inward for support and comfort, their spiritualized understanding of the Advent, with its corollary that probation had already closed, soon led to some bizarre understandings of Scripture and even more bizarre religious practices. Not that all the strange ideas and behaviors came from within their own group. Some of them, according to Marian Stowell, came with the visitors from Atkinson and Orrington in eastern Maine. What probably gave the group of disoriented Adventist families in North Paris the greatest notoriety among their neighbors was their belief that because the kingdom of God had come on October 22, they were

somehow spiritually prepared already for heaven, and they should demonstrate their humility by acting as little children in what was called “spiritual crawling.” They derived this from a literal but rather bizarre reading of Matthew 18:1–65. John and his father and others in the group apparently practiced this at home, in religious meetings, and even in the public square in town. Marian Crawford records that “over bridges, and at other times, even during our meetings, precious time was occupied by many of the best individuals of this little flock in creeping on the floor, the same as children before learning to walk.”44 A secondhand report from Marian’s older brother Oswald Stowell recalls the six-foot-tall John Andrews crawling on hands and knees around the room, even under a long-legged heating stove in the parlor and “across every bridge he came to.”45 Both his father and his future father-in-law, Cyprian Stevens, were reported to have engaged in this activity in public view in the township as well. Men and women washing each other’s feet and then drying them with their hair in imitation of Luke 7:38 also raised eyebrows and brought ridicule to the group, as did the reports of kissing each other’s feet and of exchanging the “holy kiss.”46 From a community welfare perspective, however, probably the most troubling Millerite response to their disappointment, as far as their neighbors in the North Paris district were concerned, was a conviction that took hold of the group that they should not go back to work again, at all, in spite of the fact that the date for the end of the world had passed. Already during 1843, in the adjacent Woodstock village, it was reported that so many Millerites had not harvested their crops that the town authorities had intervened and authorized others to do the harvesting in order to have seed for the next season and to avert a minor famine.47 The intensity of the imminence of their expectation can perhaps be better understood in the light of the court testimony at Orrington in the trial of Israel Dammon. According to these records, Ellen Harmon, at the Atkinson meeting on February 14, 1845, urged some listeners to her testimony to be baptized

the very night of the meeting, even though it was near midnight and in the middle of winter and temperatures were below zero. They did. To wait until morning might risk their being lost. The apprehension of being lost was especially strong because Christ might return at any time.48 For the North Paris group, it seemed that the no-work conviction also became linked with their understanding of the eschatological Sabbath. Because the kingdom of God had come spiritually, the eternal Sabbath had already begun. One did not work on Sabbath. Thus there were two reasons for not working. To go back to work, this disappointed Adventist group believed, would be a denial of their faith. As winter turned to spring in 1845, the no-work conviction began to put severe economic strains on the Andrews family and on other families in the group. The Stowell family itself was large, with nine children, seven of them between the ages of three and twelve. Marian reports that her father found himself, “after the time passed,” having to supply several large families “with everything.” She recalls him purchasing eight barrels of flour at a time. Sometime in early 1845, it led him to sell his farm “at a sacrifice” to one of his brothers. The tension that this produced in the larger Stowell family during this traumatic period illustrates the kind of strained family dynamics that the Andrews family also experienced through their acceptance of Miller’s message about the end of the world. The price that Lewis Stowell asked for his property did not reflect the real value of the property, according to his youngest brother, twenty-eightyear-old Porter Stowell, who was a lawyer living in Dixfield and was friends with John Andrews’s uncle Charles. When Porter heard about the sale and that nothing had been paid to bind the bargain, he started a legal process to place his brother under a “guardian” and prevent the sale. John Andrews apparently heard about this and “came in great haste” to tell Lewis, who promptly threw in twenty tons of hay to the deal and received a down payment to “bind the bargain.” Porter arrived just an hour later and was very angry about the development. He tried to negotiate to get Marian

away from her family to take her to school so that she could get an education. “The best wish I have for your parents,” Marian recalled him saying, was that “they were in an insane asylum.”49 The reason family members and the civic authorities became concerned about the no-work practice and the associated problem of the sale of property by families to sustain themselves was that it had direct economic implications for the community and impinged on their civic responsibilities. To understand the background of these civic responsibilities helps to put developments in the Edward Andrews family in perspective and to understand why John Andrews, at times during this period, found himself outside the law and trying to avoid arrest by the town authorities. It also explains why the North Paris Millerites, at least, began to feel persecuted. When Maine was granted statehood in 1820, it adopted a welfare system based on English pauper laws that delegated legal responsibility for the care of the poor to local municipal councils. The state pauper laws required each town to appoint “overseers of the poor,” who were delegated responsibility to ensure the poor were adequately cared for. Town leaders were also responsible for maintaining “the poor house” or houses, which were often farms with residences where destitute individuals or families could be cared for and provided with work. In Oxford County, for example, the selectmen of Paris Hill had purchased a farm as a “town farm” for the care of the poor in 1838, and local residents Joel B. Thayer and his wife were employed to care for it.50 In the 1840s, local councils would often auction off the contract for the responsibility of maintaining the poor houses or supervision of the program of aid for the poor to one of the citizens on an annual basis. In this situation it was generally the lowest bidder who was given the responsibility. This was the case in John Andrews’s home county.51 If a family fell into difficulties, their care became an expense against the town budget. The system was not ideal, but it worked. But if people willingly squandered their livelihoods, the system

of support could be abused. The prospect that many families might fall into poverty following the Great Disappointment in some places became a matter of serious civic concern. The relevant Maine legislation that cared for the poor in the 1840s also involved a system of guardianship to care for those who had proved “incapable of managing their own affairs.” The legislation also tried to prevent abuse or exploitation of the system.52 The provisions stated that “spendthrifts, who by excessive drinking, gaming, idleness, or debauchery of any kind, shall so spend, waste, or lessen their estate, as to expose themselves, or their families, to want or suffering, or their towns to charge and expense,” or people who proved “incapable of managing their own affairs,” could be placed under the care of a guardian.53 The selectmen of the town (annually elected town councilmen) were charged with the responsibility of investigating such cases and recommending any action to the judge of the probate court, who would review the evidence and make a decision whether or not to appoint the guardian. Guardians had the responsibility of serving as a trustee for the individual or the family and managing affairs for them until such time as the situation had remedied itself or proper permanent care arrangements had been made. Guardians could take out any necessary expenses that they might incur in the process of managing the estate, which often involved considerable time, travel, and legal matters. Paris Hill, as the county seat for Oxford County, had its courthouse, related legal offices, and the county jail all located in the center of the village, and matters of the appointment of a guardian became issues of wide public interest and considerable embarrassment. There are no extant legal records from Oxford County that indicate that the threat by Porter Stowell to place his older brother Lewis and his wife, Laura Stowell, under guardianship because of their Millerite excesses was ever carried through. There is no evidence that John Andrews’s parents were considered for guardianship either. This may have been because they were already poor in 1845 and owned little that could be conserved by a

guardian. But it was quite a different story for Cyprian and Almyra Stevens, and their younger children (two daughters, aged fourteen and ten, and two sons, aged eight and three). The Stevens also had two older daughters: Angeline, twenty, John Andrews’s future wife; and Jenette, aged fifteen. The Stevens family lived somewhere on a farm on the main road from North Paris to South Paris via the village on the hill. The Andrews and Stevens families were close friends as well as fellow believers.54 Their homes at this time were not far apart. Around the end of March 1845, the town selectmen of both Poland and Paris became increasingly concerned about the continuing fevered excitement of the Millerite families and their determination not to work— by which they probably meant not doing the farmwork necessary to begin preparing for springtime sowing for summer crops. Their sometimes erratic public behavior also gave concern. The town selectmen who, for Paris, included close relatives of the Stevens family, were also troubled about the constant flow of visitors from other places (itinerant Millerite preachers such as James White and Ellen Harmon and the other young women who stayed with the Stowells). They saw these as seeding and nurturing some of the bizarre behaviors.55 In nearby Poland, for example, where Ellen Harmon’s sister lived and where Ellen and James had again attended meetings, there had been a public disturbance at a Millerite meeting at John Megquier’s farm on Megquier Hill on Sunday, March 23, 1845.56 The Megquier homestead was located just nineteen miles southeast of Paris, and it had been a major venue for Millerite meetings. According to Luther Boutelle, who stayed at the home during his pastoral visitations sometime after the Disappointment, the homestead was still “one of the strongholds of Adventism,” and it was there that he had had his first meeting with their leader, Elder Joseph Turner.57 In the post-Disappointment months, it had become one of the main locations for Joseph Turner’s preaching and extreme spiritualizing views.

The next day, Monday, March 24, 1845, the town selectmen of Poland met with one item on their agenda: “To see what course the Town will take, if any, to prevent the Millerits [sic] or Second Advent people from wasting their property.” The action they took was that “the selectmen be authorized to procure a Warrant against the Advent people or Milerites [sic], so called [sic], that don’t belong in the town and as many as they think proper.” They also took an action to choose “a Constable” to implement the action, and they named a citizen by the name of Phineas Walker to be the person who would serve as the policeman.58 It was not long before Walker was carrying out his assigned duties. The clampdown on Millerite activities that began that day may well have caught Ellen Harmon and her companions in the net. The local Norway newspaper reported that a Millerite leader by the name of “Joe Turner” was arrested (clearly a reference to Elder Joseph Turner). With Turner, according to the newspaper report, there was another leader also arrested—a leader “named Harmon,” along with one or two others. These arrests by the selectmen of the town occurred “at the house of Mr. Megquier in Poland.”59 Apparently the trouble occurred at the Megquier house when an irate husband came to reclaim his wife who had left him and their children at home that Sunday to attend the meeting. She had stayed all night and then on the Monday morning had decided to permanently leave her husband. When her husband came to get her, he found her lying on the floor, picked her up, and tried to carry her out of the house. There was a scuffle as some of those present at the meeting tried to stop her leaving. Clothes were torn, and, subsequently, an arrest warrant was issued for the woman.60 It would seem that it was in connection with these series of meetings that Ellen Harmon was also arrested because of her reported involvement in fostering the excessive behaviors. Although detained, she was apparently not jailed.61 The newspaper report corroborates Ellen White’s own later memory of these traumatic early-1845 post-Disappointment events. “I was

never shut up,” she recalled sixty years later. “I never had a man’s hand laid on me to harm me, and the promise was [that] it should never be. They tried once. They tried to hold me, and the brethren felt terrible. The officers of justice got hold of me, and said I, ‘Brethren, do not worry about me.’ ”62 Otis Nichols reported that, in fact, there had been “a number of warrants issued for her arrest,” and Ellen recalled that there were several times when in going to or leaving meetings her associates had to plan routes carefully, sometimes changing them at the last minute in order to avoid capture.63 Two weeks later on April 7, 1845, the selectmen for the town of Paris met and took a similar action for Paris as that taken in Poland, but seemingly in more carefully nuanced language, authorizing whatever was expedient, including presumably the arrest of the troubling Millerites. “Voted that the Selectmen be authorized and requested as agents of the Town in behalf of the Town to take such measures as they shall deem legal and expedient to avert the evil which attend some of our citizens professing a belief in Milerism [sic] so called, and to avert the danger of such persons becoming a town charge.”64 The next day, April 8, three of the town selectmen appeared at court before the probate judge, having prepared their paperwork and testimony during the previous weeks, and petitioned that Cyprian Stevens be placed under a guardian. The action read, “The undersigned Selectmen and Overseers of the Poor for the town of Paris in said County, respectfully represent that Cyprian Stevens of said Paris, Yeoman, an insane person and by extreme idleness so conducting as to waste and lessen his estate, and expose himself and family to want, and said Town of Paris to charge and expense and in their opinion for the cause of insanity and idleness, ought to be placed under guardianship.”65 The action must surely have greatly troubled John Andrews and the little Millerite band that he was a part of. The fact that Cyprian Stevens’s brother-in-law, Amirica Thayer, who was two years senior to his sister

Almyra, was one of the Paris selectmen who brought the action to the court would seem to suggest that there was not just civic economic anxiety but also deep and genuine family concern. The community welfare values involved stood in tension with the values of religious liberty.66 The intervention of Porter Stowell in the case of the Lewis Stowell family in North Paris also underlines the role of family concern.67 The legal notice was served on Cyprian Stevens on April 14 by the town deputy sheriff, Samuel Rawson, and the Millerite farmer was ordered to appear before the magistrate on Tuesday, May 4, to show cause why he should not be declared insane and placed under guardianship. The case did not come before the court, however, until May 27. On that date, “after a full hearing of the evidence,” Judge Lyman Rawson adjudged Stevens to be insane and decreed that a certain Thomas Hill of Paris be appointed his guardian. Within ten days, by June 6, an appraisal and inventory had been made of the property owned by Cyprian and lodged with the court. Community concerns were still so deep two months later in early August that the same town selectmen, again including Cyprian Stevens’s brother-in-law, initiated further proceedings to legally remove the younger children from Cyprian’s home. On August 26, the four children under the age of fourteen were taken from the home and placed under the same legal guardian but apparently boarded with strangers. Their parents were restricted from seeing them. Why there was a time gap between the two actions is not stated, but there may have been further concerns. An incident involving the fifty-year-old Cyprian Stevens crawling across the street on hands and knees in front of a stagecoach full of passengers might have been the kind of trigger that led to the breakup of his home. In this incident, the horses pulling the stagecoach became frightened at the crawling man and almost overturned the coach. The driver had become so angered that he “handed the lines to a man that sat beside him, jumped down with his whip, and gave Stevens a lashing. One eye was badly swollen and his whole face was bruised, as well as his body.”68

Such an incident, if it indeed had occurred at this time, may well have heightened the concerns of the town authorities. In any event, at this second appearance before the court in August, the judge concluded that Cyprian was seriously “non compos mentis,” and his children were removed.69 There is no mention of Almyra, his wife, in the available records, and it is not known what her role was. Apparently in conjunction with the implementation of these actions of the court, according to Marian Stowell’s account, the town authorities, by virtue of their April 6 enabling action, placed Cyprian Stevens under virtual house arrest. It seems that, at the same time, they also restricted the movements of the whole North Paris Millerite community. She reports that “the town authorities stopped all of us from seeing each other at all for over three months.”70 From the perspective of the disappointed Millerite families, this series of actions in the spring and early summer of 1845 amounted to persecution by the state. From the perspective of the town authorities, however, they were just trying to prevent a breakdown in public order and protect young children from possible harm induced by the religious excesses of their parents. They were also trying to prevent a situation where children and their parents might be cast upon the welfare of the community. At the same time as the civic officials were trying to clamp down on the excesses in Paris, according to another briefly published local newspaper in the adjacent village of Norway, the same town authorities were also attempting to put a stop to the extravagances of the Millerites in that southern hamlet as well. The “proceedings of the professors of this belief” needed to be stopped, was how the Norway newspaper editor described it —apparently not the belief itself. On April 2, Millerite Noah Lunt had been arrested and charged with disturbing the peace. For some nights he had been calling at houses in the Paris Hill community, apparently in the manner of a Jonah, preaching out, according to the public records, that “the church and the world were rejected of God.”71 According to Marian Crawford, this same brother Lunt was creeping on the bridge in the same

village when a man by the name of Townsend grabbed him by the hair of his head and attempted to throw him over the railing of the bridge, onto the rocks below. The teenage observer claims that she intervened on that occasion, catching Townsend by the coattail and telling him to leave Lunt alone. “He means right, and it is none of your business whether he walks or creeps,” she recalled saying.72 According to A. C. Bourdeau, a later ministerial colleague of John Andrews who seems to have heard the tale from Andrews himself, after Lunt was imprisoned he “prayed and sang so much” the authorities were glad to release him after a few days.73 Sometime in mid-April, according to the Norway paper, a Millerite by the name of George Brown, who had come down from Orrington and had been for some weeks “in the vicinity” of Norway, possibly at the Howe home, was also arrested and sentenced to the county jail on Paris Hill for twenty days. Townsfolk may have thought a short time in the local lockup might bring a bit of perspective to these citizens caught up with such strange behavior. But for the Adventists, having their fellow believers, such as Noah Lunt and George Brown, confined in the county jail in the middle of Paris Hill, with others of their fellow-believers declared insane and placed under guardians or confined to their homes, and with all of them prevented from meeting together, it only reinforced the sense of persecution they were experiencing. They began to feel as if they were under siege. During this period of fevered disorientation, distress, and confusion, when Adventists felt so beleaguered and struggled to make sense of their experience and their shattered hope, teenager John Andrews apparently functioned as a furtive go-between within the confines of his own little community. Just as Ellen Harmon recalled having to move furtively, carefully choosing travel routes to avoid capture and arrest by the authorities, so Andrews found himself having to be extra careful to avoid being arrested. A. C. Bourdeau relates, for example, that during this period, the young John Andrews was on one occasion walking along a

country road when “he felt a strong inclination to turn aside into the tall grass and bushes to pray.” While he was engaged in prayer, “the officers who were in pursuit of him passed by, and he escaped.” On another occasion, Andrews reportedly was almost caught at Cyprian Stevens’s home. According to the Bourdeau account, apparently he “went to Brother Stevens’ one night very tired.” Stevens awoke at about 3:00 A.M. “with the impression that he must take Bro. Andrews’ boots to him and request him to leave the house. He disliked doing this very much, but the impression became so strong he finally did so. Brother A. had not been gone more than ten or fifteen minutes before officers came to take [him] to jail.”74 Marian Crawford’s account of the Paris families being prevented from seeing one another probably provides the context for these episodes, and Andrews may well have been in breach of the peace and was placing the Stevens household at risk by his presence. Marian Crawford tells a similar story from this period during the spring of 1845, when “the town authorities stopped all of us from seeing each other at all for over three months.” In her account she tells of traveling with her father to South Paris, at this time, to visit his mother, and as they passed Cyprian Stevens’s house midway down the hill, she hoped she would be able to call in and visit. Her father consented for her to try. “No sooner than our carriage stopped,” she recounted, “Mr. Holms, a near neighbor of theirs, caught the reins of the horse, saying, ‘Lewis, I hate to do this, but I am chosen to watch that none of your people go in here.’ ” Holms was apparently an old school friend of her father, however, and his daughters were Marian’s schoolmates. She had often visited the Holms farm, so she pled with Holms for permission. She was allowed only ten minutes, and she remembered that Holms called her exactly on time. “O[h] the joy it gave us all to look in each other’s faces again. His daughters Harriet and Jenette had been taken from their home, placed with strangers, and not allowed to see each other.” According to Marian, after six weeks

the continuing forced separation from his youngest three-year-old daughter was particularly painful for Cyprian.75 Clearly the sense of persecution bound the Paris group even more tightly together.

A new understanding of Sabbath comes to Paris It was sometime toward the latter part of this 1845 spring of ferment and distress, but probably before the enforced house arrests imposed on the families, that fifteen-year-old John Andrews first encountered the seventhday Sabbath. It was a subject to which he would later give many years of his life in close study and around which his enduring reputation as a writer and scholar would be built. His writings on the history of the Sabbath and on its theology would eventually achieve international renown. But in 1845, it was a much more simple and straightforward matter. The Bible seemed to teach that Saturday was the Sabbath, not Sunday. Young John, increasingly confident of his own convictions, his ability to reason things for himself, and his openness to new insights in Scripture, came to a conclusion on the matter fairly quickly. Again it is Marian Crawford who fills in the details of this highly significant development, which marked such an important turning point in Andrews’s life journey. Marian’s father, Lewis Stowell, had been sent a copy of a tract on the Seventh-day Sabbath written by Elder T. M. Preble of Washington, New Hampshire. The tract, which contained extracts from historians, explained how a change had occurred in the day of worship from Saturday to Sunday. Numerous texts were cited demonstrating that the seventh day of the week was the right day for worship and that the observance of this day was still obligatory for Christians. Before her father had a chance to study the tract, Marian read it herself, looked up all the biblical references, became convinced that the arguments made sense, and resolved that, for herself, she would begin observing Sabbath forthwith, alone if that was necessary. She shared the pamphlet with Oswald, her older brother, but without any explanation, and learned on Friday of that same week that he,

too, was ready to begin keeping it. They both took simple actions to enable them to do so. She baked her usual weekend loaf of cake early, and he split enough wood on Friday to keep the stoves and fires going until Sunday. Marian recalled that on the following Monday she gave the tract to John Andrews, who read it, returned it, and when challenged by Marian, resolved that he, too, would join her to “keep the right Sabbath.” She reported that she and Oswald had observed the previous Sabbath and invited Andrews to join them. She also suggested that he nonchalantly give the tract to his parents to read without making any prior comment. After both sets of parents read the tract, they resolved that both families would quietly join together for Sabbath worship and that they would seek further information. A letter enclosing a ten-dollar bill to cover whatever expense was involved was sent to a Seventh Day Baptist pastor in Hopkinton, Rhode Island, for further information. The two families were serious about studying further and obtaining whatever literature was available. The ten dollars was sufficient, apparently, not only to cover the expense of further tracts but also the travel expenses for a pastoral visit from Reverend S. S. Griswald. He traveled the 235 miles from Rhode Island to deliver the tracts in person. Griswald was a pastor of one of the four Seventh Day Baptist churches in Hopkinton at that time and was apparently surprised to find that the North Paris families were still such strong believers in the Miller doctrine so many months after the Disappointment.76 Before long seven other Millerite families from villages of North and South Paris, Norway, and Woodstock had joined the Andrews and the Stowells in their resolve to keep the Sabbath, and they thus became one of the first Sabbatarian Adventist groups.77 The two-and-half years following Andrews’s conversion in January 1843 had been tumultuous years of fervent faith, disappointment, disorientation, and new theological discovery. His developing belief system now embraced the two key theological truths that would continue to shape his life and form the basis of his future theological development

and ministry. At this stage of his thinking, while the basic convictions were strong and he had learned at some cost the ability to associate himself with unpopular and misunderstood positions, there was still much for him to understand about his core beliefs, and there was still much painful development to take place as he sought to develop a coherent set of convictions that would give meaning to his experience and his place in the world. Seeing the inadequacy of some of the extreme practices and understandings that had helped make things meaningful to him in the aftermath of the bitter Disappointment would take time. He would eventually discard the strange practices, but there would still be painful challenges and adjustments to deal with, and these struggles would continue to shape him. In particular he would have to wrestle with conflicting convictions about the authority of spiritual gifts and the role of Scripture. The coming of Miller’s Advent teaching to North Paris had certainly changed his life.

1. A comprehensive overview of the impact and spread of Millerism at this time can be found in Ronald L. Numbers and Jonathan M. Butler, The Disappointed: Millerism and Millenarianism in the Nineteenth Century (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1993). 2. THR, April 1877, 98. In context the sentence seems to suggest “at that time and in that connection,” rather than at some subsequent time. 3. William Berry Lapham, History of Woodstock, Maine, With Family Sketches and an Appendix (Portland, ME: S. Berry, 1882), 85. 4. Brown is listed as the circuit preacher at this time, but by late 1843 he is in Portland assisting at Beethoven Hall, where Ellen Harmon and her family worshiped. Stephen Allen and W. H. Pilsbury, History of Methodism in Maine, 1793–1886 (Augusta, ME: Charles E. Nash, 1887), 122. 5. George R. Knight, William Miller and the Rise of Adventism (Nampa, ID: Pacific Press®, 2010), 108, 109. 6. This was the date reported in the minutes of the Annual Maine Conference in July that year. See Allen and Pilsbury, History of Methodism. That year a large number of circuit preachers adopted Miller’s teachings on the Second Advent. That year membership of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Maine increased rapidly to a high of 27,400 and dropped sharply in the following years. 7. The call to “Come out of Babylon” was first issued by Charles Fitch in the summer of 1843, at the time when Methodist ministers were being expelled from their churches. While not encouraged by Miller and Himes, George Storrs and Joseph Marsh encouraged it, and by early 1844 the call to

separate from apostate churches became strident. Charles Fitch, “Come Out of Her, My People” (sermon, Rochester, NY: J. V. Himes, 1843), 9–11, 16. Midnight Cry, Feb. 15, 1844, 237, 238; Voice of Truth, April 27, 1844, 46, 47. 8. Luther Boutelle, Sketch of the Life and Religious Experience of Eld. Luther Boutelle (Boston: Advent Christian Publishing Society, 1891), 71ff. 9. Lapham, History of Woodstock, 83. Rev. Keunerson, who came from New Hampshire, is named as the pastor of this new congregation. 10. Oxford Democrat, Feb. 27, 1843. 11. Oxford Democrat, Mar. 14, 21, 1843. This local paper was a major source of information about such things as the delivery of mails, advertisements of community events, regular legal notices, and the venue for advertising the sale of goods. In the April 25 issue, for example, Cyprian Stevens, the family friend and Andrews’s future father-in-law, advertised the sale of “pew # 27” in the local Baptist church. The sale was to take place at public auction. The rented pew had been inherited from Cyprian Stevens’s physician parents. 12. Oxford Democrat, Feb. 27, 1843. 13. Knight, William Miller, 172, 173. 14. Joseph March, Voice of Truth, July 27, 1894, 99; George Storrs, Bible Examiner, Sept. 24, 1844. Knight comments that the logic and the preaching created a pressure “well-nigh impossible to resist.” Such intense religious zeal might look like faith to an insider and at the same time look like “insanity to an outsider.” Knight, William Miller, 176, 177. 15. Oxford Democrat, Mar. 24, 1843. 16. Oxford Democrat, April 18, 25, 1843. The jokes highlighted the failure of the dates and the fact that the end times hadn’t happened. For example, the paper told of a Millerite printer who wouldn’t pay his printing bill because it didn’t matter anymore, and of a hen that had reportedly laid an egg emblazoned with the words “sinners beware—end of world in 1843.” 17. Mary Bennett, ed., Poland: Past and Present 1795–1970 (Poland, ME: Poland Anniversary Committee, 1970), 60. South and North Parish churches were cared for by the same circuit preacher. 18. See also EGW, LS, 26, 29, 37. Ellen White had been troubled by vivid pictures of the damned after Miller preached in June 1842, and “words of condemnation rang in her ears day and night.” Stockman assured the sixteen-year-old of the “love of God for his erring children.” This assurance did so much to stabilize her Christian experience that she had the confidence to give her testimony in a class meeting. The Christian Baptist Elder Brown referred to in LS, pages 55 and 56, is apparently another minister with the same surname who also had a spiritual impact on Ellen White. William Berry Lapham and Silas Packard Maxim, History of Paris, Maine, From Its Settlement to 1880, With a History of the Grants of 1736 & 1771, Together With Personal Sketches, a Copious Genealogical Register and an Appendix (Paris, ME: n.p., 1884), 302. 19. Sources use the name “Stevens” and “Stephens” interchangeably for the same people. Earliest usage followed “Stephens,” but over time “Stevens” became common. To avoid confusion, I use “Stevens” throughout. 20. Lapham, History of Woodstock, 84, 179. The tent was located on the main road near the junction of West Paris and North Paris Roads. Captain Samuel Stephens [Stevens], Jesse’s

grandfather, was a prominent founding citizen of Woodstock. 21. Oxford Democrat, Sept. 19, 1843. 22. Oxford Democrat, Aug. 22, 29; Oct. 17, 1843. 23. Oxford Democrat, Oct. 3, 1843. 24. Midnight Cry, Sept. 14, 1843, 29. 25. Signs of the Times, Nov. 8, 1843, 97. 26. Knight has a good discussion of this development. See Knight, William Miller, 149. 27. Marian Crawford, “Letter From a Veteran Worker,” The Watchman, Apr. 25, 1905, 278. Internal evidence from Crawford’s 1908 letter to Ellen G. White suggests that the Stowell homestead was not far from Benjamin Stevens’s property. Marion could walk with a hot meal from her house to the Stevens home. 28. Marian Crawford to EGW, Oct. 9, 1908, EGWE-GC. The identification of “Brother John” as John Andrews in this letter seems valid because she refers to “J. N. Andrews” at the beginning of the letter and in several later paragraphs. She also quotes “Brother John” in a conversation with Edward Andrews. She did not have a real brother by the name of John. Her older brother’s name was Oswald. Marian mentions that John was seventeen at the time, but if it was in fact J. N. Andrews, he was only fifteen. The John may have been his father’s eldest brother, but this seems unlikely. Persis Andrews’s diary does not link Uncle John with Edward in the Millerite movement. 29. Lewis’s forebears had been among the first settlers in the district. Lapham and Maxim, History of Paris, 468. 30. Other local memories recall a gathering of Millerites on April 23, 1843, at a farmhouse halfway between Paris Hill and South Paris, which would have been the approximate location of the old Cyprian Stevens farm. The house was still standing in 1943. Another memory is of Millerites gathering on a hilltop in the Fobes district in the northern part of town at the same time. George Morton, “A Century Ago in the Town of Paris” (n.p.: 1943). See also George Morton, “The Millerites in the Town of Paris,” Oxford Democrat, Mar. 10, 1925. 31. Marian Crawford to EGW, Oct. 9, 1908, EGWE-GC. While we cannot place too much expectation for precise accuracy of the reported snippets of conversation recalled from the perspective of sixty years later, the memories are nevertheless still vivid, and the reconstructed dialogue conveys well a sense of the unforgettable experience of that night. 32. The “powder” is not qualified but seems to refer to something flammable, perhaps gunpowder or fireworks. 33. Marian Crawford to EGW, Oct. 9, 1908, EGWE-GC. 34. Advent preacher Luther Boutelle related that several weeks after October 22 he had found in one place a group of about seventy believers all living together in one large home and having daily meetings, pooling their money in a milk pan. They had resolved to “come together to stay until the Lord comes.” Boutelle, Sketch of the Life, 68, 69. 35. Knight has a helpful discussion of the theological reasoning that underlay this development. See Knight, William Miller, 210, 211. 36. The visit to North Paris is recalled by Marian Crawford, but she does not date it. It must have occurred not on the occasion of Ellen’s first January visit to her sister in nearby Poland but sometime after her second visit to her sister in Poland, because on this particular visit, James White

is accompanying her. She had met James for the first time when she visited Orrington. A number of highly emotional and unorthodox Millerite meetings had occurred at Orrington, where some participants transgressed accepted social practice, threatened the harmony of families, and raised questions about the welfare of Millerite children. In response local authorities proscribed the calling of Millerite meetings, resulting in Ellen and James having a close brush with law officials and narrow escapes—one by a thirty-mile rowboat journey downriver in the dead of night to Belfast and then by packet steamer back to Portland. ALW, Ellen G. White: The Early Years (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1985), 73–88. 37. Marian Crawford to EGW, Oct. 9, 1908, EGWE-GC. 38. They had also been at the meetings at Orrington and Atkinson at the same time as James and Ellen, when Israel Dammon had been arrested. Ibid. 39. Ibid. 40. Ibid. 41. Crawford reports that a vision experienced by Ellen White at Cyprian Stevens’s house provided instruction that Marian should travel with the Whites on their next trip to western New York rather than go back to school. Ibid. 42. Marian Crawford relates that one visionary experience at the Stockbridge Howland home in Topsham, Maine, concerned her. During the experience, Ellen White took a Bible and placed it on Marian’s chest while she repeated 2 Cor. 6.17, “Touch not the unclean thing” (KJV), which was interpreted to mean that Marian should not go and live with a non-Adventist family in order to further her education, apparently at Bowdoin College. The fact that her parents had been willing to consider such a thing meant that they were not in harmony with “the clear light as on the tenth of the seventh month.” Marian later took on roles as housekeeper for Adventist families. Ibid. Compare EGW, “Remarks in Vision” L&M (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 181, which apparently refers to a later but similar set of circumstances. 43. PSABD, Mar. 11; Apr. 22, 1846. “John was a fine boy—but he is deluded and ruined.” 44. Marian Crawford to EGW, Oct. 9, 1908, EGWE-GC. 45. Ibid. EGW, MS 131a, 1906. See also Merlin D. Burt, Adventist Pioneer Places: New York & New England (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2011), 19, and E. S. Ballenger to Dr. John N. Andrews, July 27, 1943. This latter letter reports a conversation between the author and Oswald Stowell. 46. Activity in the big tent on Benjamin Stevens’s property apparently involved these practices as well. Straw was spread on the floor of the tent and “men and women, boys and girls, would roll and tumble promiscuously, imitating, to the best of their ability, the language and acts of young children.” Lapham, History of Woodstock, 84. 47. Ibid. The report may be exaggerated, but it reflects the kind of concern shared in the community. 48. James R. Nix, “Another Look at Israel Damman” (lecture, Avondale College, Cooranbong, N.S.W., Australia, 2004), 14. http://www.whiteestate.org/issues/israel_damman.html. Accessed Aug. 07, 2017. 49. Marian Crawford to EGW, Oct. 9, 1908, EGWE-GC. 50. Lapham, History of Paris, 167.

51. In Maine three traditional methods were employed to care for the poor. They might be boarded in various homes throughout the town (at least until 1847, when the practice was outlawed). Second, each pauper, or the general responsibility for paupers, could be auctioned off to the lowest bidder. Third, occasional necessities could be purchased and provided to the less needy poor who remained in their own homes. An example of life on a town farm established for the care of the poor is given by Jean F Hankins, “Over the Hill to the Poor House”: The Otisfield Town Farm, 1865– 1924 (n.p.: 1997). http://www.poorhousestory.com/MAINE_OTISFIELD_Article.htm. Accessed Mar. 3, 2018. 52. A wave of social reforms were adopted throughout America during the 1830s and 1840s to better care for the mentally ill and paupers. The subject was very much a matter of public discussion. A new insane asylum had been opened at Augusta, the capital city of Maine, in 1840. Charles and Persis Andrews visited the new hospital during their courtship. 53. “The Revised Statutes of the State of Maine, Passed October 22, 1840” (Hallowell, ME: Glazier, Masters and Smith, 1847), 460. 54. The Stevens family, by this time, were not living at the farm where Cyprian spent his boyhood. (Merlin Burt, in Adventist Pioneer Places, assumes they were; see 19.) The farm of his childhood, which is still marked at Paris Hill as the “Cyprian Stevens Farm,” had been purchased in 1793 by Cyprian Stevens’s father, also called Cyprian, who served as the town physician. The farm owned by the senior Dr. Cyprian Stevens continued in the family until 1838, when it was sold. After the death of Dr. Stevens in 1806, Cyprian’s widowed mother continued to live there, and her younger son Simon and his family managed the property until 1838. It was sold two years after the tragic death of Simon’s wife, Nancy, who “drowned herself in a fit of derangement on August 8, 1836.” Lapham, History of Paris, 166. The farm was sold to the Appleton family, and then sold again in 1841. See Beverley Shaw, The Building of Paris Hill Village From 1789 to 2010 (Lewiston, ME: Penmor Lithographers, 2010), 330. 55. A good example of the difference in perspective between Millerites who interpreted events from the perspective of faith and the civic authorities who saw things from a sense of civic duty and responsibility can be seen in the difference between Ellen Harmon’s account of the traumatic events at Atkinson in January 1845 and the testimony recorded in the court records in the trial of Israel Dammon. A discussion of the evidence, its interpretation, and the implications can be found in Bruce Weaver, The Arrest and Trial of Israel Dammon (2004); Bruce Weaver, “Incident in Atkinson: The Arrest and Trial of Israel Dammon,” Adventist Currents 3, no. 1 (April 1988): 16– 36; Frederick G. Hoyt, ed., “Trial of Elder I. Dammon: Reported for the Piscataquis Farmer,” Spectrum 17, no. 5 (Aug. 1987): 29–36. See also Nix, “Another Look at Israel Damman.” 56. This was the homestead where Ellen Harmon had, two months previously, given her first testimony in Poland about her December visions. ALW, Ellen G. White: The Early Years, 65. 57. Boutelle, Sketch of the Life and Religious Experience of Eld. Luther Boutelle, 79. 58. “Town Meeting Records: 1844–1855,” Mar. 24, 1845, 7, 8, Town of Poland, Maine. 59. “Millerism,” Eastern Argos, Apr. 28, 1845 (the item was an excerpt from the “Norway paper”). 60. “Millerism in Poland,” Piscataquis Farmer, Apr. 4, 1845. The woman’s name is given as Mrs. Snell. This is an unfamiliar Millerite name in the area. It may be a misspelling of Tuell, a wellestablished family clan in the Paris-Poland area. Laura Stowell (née Tuell) came from the North

Paris branch of the family. 61. The newspaper reference to the Harmon name implies that she is a leader among the Adventists. 62. EGW, MS 131a, 1906. Ellen’s White’s recollections also refer to proscribed meetings that she attended at Orrington in eastern Maine, where she was at least apprehended at the time of the events that led to Israel Dammon’s trial. In the same area some short time later, she again escaped by eluding the authorities. Those who helped her escape were whipped afterwards. These reports correlate with the account by A. C. Bourdeau, who noted that one believer (apparently one of those who helped Ellen and her associates escape) was allegedly whipped so badly his outer coat was torn. 63. Otis Nichols to William Miller, Apr. 20, 1896. Even as Ellen White tried to recall these events in an interview sixty years later, her recollection communicates the palpable sense of anxiety but also the confidence in divine protection that she felt. “Then we would start out, and we would say ‘Shall we go this road?’ We knew they were lying in wait, the men were, when we would go from these meetings. ‘Shall we go this road?’ Just as distinctly [we would hear:] ‘Take another road.’ And they were left. They were there in that road; we found out decidedly that they were there in the other road, and they were all waiting to take us and shut us up.” EGW, MS 131a, 1906. See also ALW, Ellen G. White: The Early Years, 76. 64. “Town Records, Book 3:1829-1848,” Apr. 7, 1845, 289. Town of Paris, 33 Market Square, South Paris. 65. “Probate Record Drawer 93,” Oxford County Probate Court, 26 Western Avenue, South Paris. 66. Bezaleel Thayer, Memorial of the Thayer Name (Oswego, NY: R. J. Oliphant, 1874), entry 2615, 379. Two well-to-do Thayer families also lived within the confines of Paris Hill. As will be noted in a later chapter, relationships with brother-in-law Amirica Thayer were not permanently damaged. John and Angeline Andrews and the Stevens family welcomed him to their home in Waukon in the 1860s and celebrated the occasion of his visit. 67. When Chandler Millett of Norway was also placed under guardianship at this same time, a relative, H. W. Millett, was also one of the selectmen who brought the matter to the same Oxford County court. 68. M. S. Crawford, “Extracts From Letter of M. S. Crawford to WCW,” attached at the end of her letter to Ellen G. White, Oct. 9, 1908, DF 439, EGWE-GC. 69. “Probate Record Drawer 93.” 70. Crawford, “Extracts From Letter of M. S. Crawford to WCW.” 71. Lapham, History of Paris, 171. 72. Crawford, “Extracts From Letter of M. S. Crawford to WCW.” 73. A. C. Bourdeau, “A. C. Bourdeau Memoir,” CAR. Bourdeau worked with Andrews in Europe, and the memoir which recalls conversations with Andrews is undated but seems to have been written toward the end of his life. 74. Ibid. 75. Marian Crawford, “Extracts From Letter of M. S. Crawford to WCW.” 76. S. S. Griswald, Historical Sketch of the Town of Hopkinton 1757–1876 (Hope Valley, RI: Wood River Advertiser Press, 1877) 80. Griswald later served as superintendent of public schools and as the town mayor.

77. Marian Crawford, “A Letter From a Veteran Worker,” Southern Watchman, Apr. 25, 1905. In this document, Crawford reports that this first encounter with the Sabbath led “soon after” to receiving a further tract from Joseph Bates, which then led to another visit from James and Ellen White (now husband and wife). In view of the fact that the Whites did not marry until August 1846, it would appear that events were being coalesced in Marian’s memory and exact chronology or sequencing is not intended by the author.

Chapter Four

Waiting for the Bridegroom and a “Shut Door”: 1845–1851

T

he “shut door” phase of Adventist theological development following

the Great Disappointment of October 22, 1844, can now be seen as transitional and temporary. However, it did not look that way to John Andrews at the time. It did not feel short. Nor was it painless for the late teen and his fellow travelers in the little Sabbatarian Adventist community in North Paris, Maine. Accepting Miller’s teaching of the imminent end of the world had set them distinctly at odds with the larger community, and their strange, excessive religious practices made things worse. Adopting the practice of gathering for worship on Saturday instead of Sunday complicated things even more. To an onlooker from the neighborhood, the practice appeared as just another bizarre behavior, and it pushed the little group even further from their former fellow-travelers in the Advent hope. Relatives, farmer friends, and neighbors next door just thought them odd. In this next step in our study, we will take time to understand how, during the period from 1845 to 1851, Sabbatarian Adventism emerged from the Great Disappointment and differentiated itself from first-day Adventists, and we will look at how John Andrews became associated with the new movement. Relatives give us important perspectives on understanding some of the painful life-shaping traumas Andrews encountered during these teenage years. The chapter will conclude with a discussion of what led to John Andrews’s call to gospel ministry. Six months after the Disappointment, on April 29, 1845, as the

authorities in the town of Paris were clamping down on troubling Millerite excesses, a large number of the Northeast’s disappointed gathered in Albany, the state capital of New York, with prominent leaders such as William Miller, Joshua Himes, Josiah Litch, and Sylvester Bliss in attendance. Their purpose was also to try and make sense of their experiences and to hold the quickly fragmenting Adventist movement together in order to move forward. The major theological decision taken at this conference was a decision to continue to look forward to the coming of Christ—but without the specificity of a date. This large group also adopted an outward looking approach to evangelism. They still sought to persuade the unbelieving public to become Adventists. The decision effectively meant that they came to agree that the “seventh-month movement,” which focused on October 22, 1844, had been an unfortunate sidetrack. Significantly, none of the leaders from the “shut door” Adventist groups, such as Joseph Marsh, George Storrs, Joseph Bates, or Joseph Turner, attended the Albany meeting. George R. Knight suggests that they were not even invited.1 Another major resolution of the Albany conference derided the “unseemly practices” that had found their way into Adventism, and the resolution went so far as to break off fellowship with those involved in such practices. “Promiscuous” footwashing, the “salutation kiss” as a “religious” ceremony, voluntary humility practices such as sitting on the floor, shaving one’s head, and acting like children were the kind of activities the Albany leaders had in mind. Their list included visionary experiences.2 Thus not only was John Andrews’s small cluster of fellow believers isolated socially from their neighbors, they were now formally cut off from their fellow Adventists. The North Paris group was certain, however, that their seventh-month experience was genuine, and they did not feel they could or should abandon that understanding. Consequently, they stubbornly continued with their convictions, clinging to their bizarre behaviors during the next twelve months until sometime in 1847, at which

point it appears that they began to arrive at a kind of emotional burnout and the group began to fall apart. It was not an easy or perhaps a very healthy experience. Nevertheless, Andrews survived it, built on it, and went on to make a remarkable contribution to the surviving movement. Inevitably, however, he carried the emotional scars from it for many years, perhaps for the rest of his life, as did his family and Ellen White.3 In the public mind, Millerism and Adventism in the immediate Paris community and beyond had become synonymous with its excesses. For anyone that had not been on the inside of the movement, the reports of the excesses were all they knew. As Andrews’s hometown newspaper, the Oxford Democrat, expressed it at the end of April 1845, “There is an impression, deeply seated in the public mind that social crimes are perpetrated at some of the Adventist meetings and more or less of what is considered indecent conduct is enacted there.” It did not matter that these supposed “indecent” practices were not typical of Advent believers generally. Millerism, in the mind of a civic official and for the average Paris Hill citizen, meant bizarre behavior that, if unchecked, would be a threat to the welfare of the community. Reports circulated in the newspapers, for example, that women in acts of voluntary humility down in Portland had even disrobed in religious meetings as they were giving their testimonies. The Oxford County paper also cited the “spiritual wifery system” as a major concern. In some neighborhoods, particularly around Paris, the newspaper’s view was that the “doctrines of Miller” had done “much harm.”4 The Adventist believer’s genuine experience of joy and hope and expectation, the sense of anticipation of the end of the perplexities and burdens of life, which gladdened the hearts of Adventists both young and old, just did not register with people outside the community. Outside, they could not know or appreciate the qualities of a warm, totally committed, nurturing fellowship. The acquired reputation had an enduring dire impact. Thirty years later as Ellen White reflected on the particular

circumstances in 1845, she noted that the excesses had brought a “fearful stain” upon the Adventist cause, which would “cleave to the name Adventist like leprosy.” This prevented many people from having “any connection with Adventists.” All that had been done wrong “would be exaggerated.”5 Even without exaggeration, however, Adventist believers’ religious excesses greatly damaged both the movement and the people who found themselves caught up in them even as they sought to make sense of their experience. James White, in a letter to the editor of the Day-Star in the late summer of 1845, regretted “that our adversaries have so much ground for their charge” of fanaticism and that so many of “our best brethren were led away . . . and followed impressions alone.”6 For the average citizen in Paris, extreme religious behavior was what the term “Millerism” conjured up. The movement had become synonymous with its excesses. And in the North Paris community, as 1845 turned into 1846, things were not improving with any rapidity. As the months rolled by, the distorting heresy-inducing potential of a too highly intensified conviction of imminence continued to shape and distort John Andrews’s religious experience. Most, although not all, of the Sabbatarian group he belonged to continued to refuse to do normal everyday work.

A close relative’s anxious concern On the last day of December 1845, John’s aunt Persis and her family moved from Dixfield into the picturesque village on the hilltop known as Paris Hill, a little more than seven miles from where John lived with his parents. Uncle Charles had taken the prestigious position as clerk of the courts for the local county. The relocation of Persis and Charles to Paris Hill is a very helpful development for understanding the story of John Andrews because it gives us many new insights into his late teenage years that are not available from any other records. Andrews lived in a family, according to Persis, where the brothers and sisters were “remarkable for their affection toward each other.” As a sister-in-law, she had quickly felt

warmly included in the family circle, where visits became “a little like old goings with dear friends.”7 John Andrews’s extended family was warm and inclusive, and his uncles and aunts cared a great deal for one another. Persis moved among them freely, hosted extended family meals, and often provided accommodations for them when they visited town. The great excitement, other than an off-the-rails Millerism, exercising the Paris community in February 1846 was the introduction of “the express” stagecoach from Halifax to Montreal—a new mail and passenger service with teams of horses and sleighs established five miles apart, which could travel at an average of twenty miles per hour. On February 28, Persis records that one of John’s “pretty” cousins, fourteen-year-old Columbia, the daughter of his Sabbath-keeping aunt Anna, moved into the village from the farm at North Paris to stay with Aunt Persis in order to go to school in the village.8 The same day another girl by the name of Augusta Washburn, daughter of Sabbatarian Calvin Washburn, also came to stay with Persis. A few days previously, Persis had received a visit from Washburn, who was a member of the Andrews-Stowell group of Sabbatarian Adventists. His home was often used for their meetings. Washburn informed Persis that he had “been in the Miller delusion two years and done no work” in all that time. Now, however, by February 1846 at least, he had “become convinced of error—and of the necessity of our going to work.”9 He asked Persis if she would take his daughter Augusta to work for her, allowing her to help keep house. Persis notes in her diary that Augusta, “a little short girl of nearly 14,” came to work for her for fifty cents per week. Within a week, Persis had both the Sabbath-keeping girls summed up well. “Both girls are bright and active—specimens of nature rather than of art—untaught nature, but they are very teachable.” Augusta, she thought, would “make a good girl at housework—knits fast and very well.” Columbia, John’s cousin, she thought to be not very bright and that she would not make much of a scholar, but she did have “an inexhaustible

fund of Mother wit,” which Persis only began to notice “since her timidity has worn off.”10 Columbia’s constant brightness and sense of humor kept the later winter gloom from settling on the family. These observations give an insight into the kinds of family times that Andrews would have experienced. Clearly, family times for John Andrews with cousins like Columbia had the potential for being a lot of fun. Three days later, Persis, together with another of John’s uncles, Sullivan, and his wife, Eliza, traveled the seven miles out to the North Paris hamlet to visit prosperous Great-Uncle David Andrews. An aged relative, David had experienced much sorrow in his life having been widowed twice and was now living with his third wife. He had a very large family, having had children by all three wives. While in the North Paris district that same day, Persis and her in-laws called in at John’s parents’ home to visit another sister, Polly, a much loved forty-nine-year-old spinster aunt. Polly lived with John’s parents, was very ill from advanced cancer, and would not live long. Persis’s reflections on the visit give us some idea of how the larger Andrews family viewed their middle brother’s involvement in Millerism and how they understood the Millerism that Edward and his family had espoused. “Brother Edward—poor deluded man,” she noted afterward in her diary, “with his family still believe in the speedy coming of Christ—that the day of grace has been past this year. They have done no labor for more than two years and have lived in constant expectation that every day the world wo’d [sic] be consumed by fire.”11 Her brother-in-law’s dark emphasis on the concept of judgment and the destruction of the world by fire was what lingered with Persis, not the joy of the family for an anticipated heaven. Perhaps this aunt’s predilection for the tenets of Unitarianism may have overly sensitized her to the discomfort of the judgment strand of the Adventist end-time emphasis. Nevertheless, it was what she noticed. Persis also learned from John’s father that day that the Adventists in the group had “nearly expended all the property in their little community of

‘Saints,’ ” and, she added, they had “nearly exhausted the charity and patience of their friends.” Persis picked up from the conversation with John’s parents that day that Edward himself was beginning to consider the idea of going back to work, for he indicated to the visitors “that ‘if time continues’ as Edward s’d [sic] he expected, they wo’d [sic] be obliged to go to work.”12 The explanation confirms that, at this stage, the family’s economic plight was becoming severe. This had been one of the major concerns of civic leaders twelve months earlier, and Persis’s observation provides some background to Calvin Washburn’s decision two or three weeks previously to seek work again. Persis concludes her diary note by recalling with a tone of dismay that very likely some “families well situated with $3,000 to $4,000 of property [will] have spent their all.” To what purpose, she couldn’t see. But “what is worse,” she noted, they had “kept their children from school and from industry and educated them only in cant and delusion.”13 It was a harsh judgment. No doubt what distressed her more was the thought that her promising young nephew, sixteen-yearold John, was still not attending school. In the weeks that followed Persis’s March 1846 visit to John’s family to see Aunt Polly, it rained so much in Oxford County that Paris Hill village and the country around became a quagmire. The deep snow vanished almost overnight. Paris Hill had become “the muddiest place ever created,” she complained after so many days of rain that it had become “a rare thing that ladies get out.”14 So bad was the mud that John’s “pretty” cousin Columbia could not even traverse the slippery and deeply rutted muddy roads that climbed the last few steep miles back to her parents’ home in North Paris, in spite of the fact that school had closed for the season. But by the last week of April, six weeks after her first visit to Edward and Sarah’s farmhouse and in spite of the mud, Persis was insistent that she see Aunt Polly at Edward’s home again, for she wanted to take her “a few things to make her more comfortable.” This time she traveled out with her husband and two-year-old daughter. Polly was now suffering terribly from

her cancer: “Alas! . . . We cannot relieve her.” Even if sixteen-year-old John was not closely involved in the care of this aged aunt, he was certainly witness to a deeply caring home atmosphere of love and concern. But Persis’s encounter with both John and his parents that Wednesday, April 22, further distressed Persis for reasons other than a dying sister-inlaw. “Edward’s family is steeped in delusion,” she noted again in her diary afterward. She observed this time that “Saturday is their Sabbath” and that “they do not work and have not for two years.” She had learned that they followed the practice of having “a community of property” but that their “number is reduced to less than a dozen families in this vicinity, and as the two or three men of property among them are getting reduced, they will soon be in straits if not ‘taken up.’ ” This time she intimated that the sixteen-year-old John was not just participating in Adventism because of his family but that he was very much engaged himself. Of John she wrote, “John was a fine boy—but he is deluded and ruined.” Again, it was the excesses of Adventism at this time that she observed that caused her to react negatively, not the heart of Adventist hope, which seems to have been missing from what was communicated in the conversations. What really disgusted her was an incident that occurred during the visit to John’s home. While they were chatting together, she was sitting beside John’s mother, Sarah, in the parlor when Jesse Stevens, “one of the ‘Saints,’ ” came into the house, also apparently to visit the fast-declining Aunt Polly. Elder Jesse Stevens was a de facto pastor of the North Paris Adventist group.15 As he came in, he “soluted [sic] Sarah whilst I sat beside her,” Persis confided to her diary. “Filthy brute,” she added, “he did it just to show off.” Persis felt absolutely chagrined for her sister-in-law Sarah, who was clearly embarrassed in front of her relatives. “I know by her deep blush that she felt more like thrusting him from the door with her foot than receiving his ‘holy kiss’—at least, in my presence,” she mused, not sure

that perhaps in another setting Sarah might not have been so put out.

The tragedy of excess The experience of Jesse Stevens, John Andrews’s local pastor (connected distantly to him through his marriage to one of John’s second cousins), is worth noting in more detail because it helps to illustrate the depth of the emotional trauma that the North Paris families of Adventist believers experienced during this post-Disappointment period.16 Stevens had been an accredited circuit preacher of the Methodist Episcopalian Church and had his home in the southern area of Woodstock, within easy walking distance of North Paris. In the Paris district there were numerous Stevens family connections.17 Jesse had withdrawn or been expelled from the Methodist Church over his involvement in Millerism and subsequently became one of the leaders of the Sabbatarian group with which John’s family was associated. As a leader of the group, Jesse was adamantly opposed to the idea that anyone in the group should go back to work in the months following the Disappointment. It seems that in his past he may have been somewhat emotionally unstable and given to extremes—perhaps even being manic depressive. Ellen White reports that he would take long, “weary journeys, walking great distances, where he would only receive abuse, and considered that he was suffering for Christ’s sake.”18 In his involvement with the Paris group, Jesse seems to have been the one most emotionally troubled by the trauma of the Disappointment, and in reaction stubbornly insisted on the no-work policy and other bizarre scriptural interpretations and practices. During Ellen Harmon’s spring visit to Paris a year earlier (March 1845), the young Ellen had confronted Stevens over this issue and had advised Lewis Stowell that it was unwise of him to use his means in support of Stevens and the group if they were not working. As Marian Crawford looked back on the 1845 episode, she recalled that there had been a veiled warning in this exchange about Stevens. She remembered a warning that if he persisted in his stubbornness

about the no-work issue, “he would come to a terrible end.”19 But neither Lewis, her father, nor Jesse Stevens were persuaded at that time by seventeen-year-old Ellen’s viewpoint. They genuinely believed that to go back to work was to deny their faith. Had not Ellen herself already advised Lewis that his daughter Marian should not seek further schooling because time was too short? They thought that because Ellen Harmon was advocating a return to work it was she who was not being faithful to their hope in the soon Advent, not them. Apparently in the months immediately prior to 1844, Stevens and his wife, Abigail (née Lurvey), had suffered the tragic loss of one of their four children, and in their grief and in the total certainty that the Lord would come very soon, they had decided not to bury the child but kept the body at home in the hope that at any day, at any moment, they would witness the resurrection. The death posed an insoluble theological conundrum for them. Marian Crawford recalls that the matter “was kept quiet for several weeks, as prayer was offered daily for life to be given it [the child] again.” Eventually word leaked out to the civic authorities in Woodstock, and only this obliged the family to see to the burial of the child. Sometime later in 1846, after the “holy kiss” episode observed by Persis, Jesse Stevens’s mind gave way under the accumulating effect of the deep trauma, and he slipped into total dysfunctionality, becoming hyperreligious and acutely paranoid at the same time. Marian Crawford, and presumably John, also found the development deeply distressing. When Marian returned in mid-1846 from a three-month visit to Massachusetts, near where Otis Nichols lived, she arrived home to find that Jesse Stevens had been confined to a bedroom in his brother Benjamin’s house, which she described as being adjacent to her own home in the village of North Paris.20 For several weeks Stevens, in his paranoia, had been refusing to eat, certain that his food was being poisoned. He was slowly wasting away. Hoping that he might be persuaded by “Sister Marian” to take nourishment if she could assure him that she had prepared it for him

herself, Marian recalls taking a tray of food to him and attempting to put the tray into his “bony hand” stretched out through the partially raised window. Because she hesitated when he asked as to whether the Lord had sent her with it, he then refused to take it. Reflecting later with her father on her failed attempt, her father assured her that she could truly have said that “the Lord sent you with it,” and so the next day she compassionately prepared another meal to take to Stevens, only to find on arrival that he had been removed back to his own home in Woodstock. Tragedy struck the little community again when, just a few days later, Jesse Stevens was found dead in his room. He had torn the bed sheets into strips to make a rope and had hanged himself. How the pastor’s family and his small Sabbatarian Advent congregation coped with this trauma and the shame and public reproach that was inevitably attached to it, can only be imagined. His distraught widow was left with their three young children, and she was cast on to the care of her relatives. With their limited understanding of psychiatric disorder illnesses associated with suicide and the complex emotional and physiological roots of chronic mood disorders, the group tended to interpret the tragedy in more simple ways—as the result of spiritual failure and stubbornness of spirit.21 The seventeen-year-old Ellen White also understood it this way. She had no other background against which to interpret her spiritual convictions and her visions other than to indicate rather harshly and unsympathetically that Stevens’s suicide was the result of his rejection of her visions. Jesse Stevens’s sad and untimely death was both a judgment on himself and on his community.22 If they had not been so stubbornly attached to their unbiblical and aberrant practices, they would have been saved from this calamity. Marian reports that those who had previously been inclined to dispute or reject the counsel of this “Miss Harmon from Portland” (now Ellen White) and had begun to drop out from meetings “returned again” to fellowship, acknowledging they had been mistaken. But even this sad episode apparently still did not persuade John Andrews’s

parents and their fellow believers to either abandon or reinterpret their doctrinal understandings. Ellen White later recalled that “there was nothing that would have brought Brother Edward Andrews out of his idea that they must not work, and that they would be supported by the outside people.”23 Meanwhile, another Sabbatarian Adventist family was being put back together in spite of the mud and the heavy downpours—but not without some foreboding. In the year since Cyprian Stevens had been put under guardianship, the legal costs incurred by his guardian (according to the guardian) necessitated the sale not just of part of Cyprian’s estate to pay the legal bills but the sale of the entire estate. The guardian justified his expenses to the probate court on January 6, 1846, and after reviewing them, the judge, apparently satisfied as to their legality, had granted the petition in March. Sympathetic townspeople, however, apparently seeing the way things were going and possibly feeling that the legal costs were excessive, intervened on Cyprian’s behalf and twenty-five of them signed a petition to the probate judge that he be released from being under guardianship, that the guardian be discharged, and that Stevens’s property be restored to him.24 The fact that the same brother-in-law, Amirica Thayer, who as a selectman had petitioned for Cyprian to be declared insane a year earlier, now signed the 1846 petition suggests that the excesses of Cyprian Stevens’s fevered Adventism may have begun to moderate. Several other respected landowner citizens in the community, including John Andrews’s uncle Sullivan and Lewis Stowell’s brother-inlaw, Rufus Stevens, as well as the Oxford Democrat editor George Millet, also signed the petition. Perhaps they concluded that even if Cyprian was still a believer, the damage done in the prospective loss of his property would be worse than the cure. The petition was successful in having the property restored to the family by mid-April, and later that same month the younger Stevens children were also released from the care of their guardians and returned to their parents. But damage had been done. Legal

costs had been incurred, and although Stevens took out a mortgage two months later in June 1846 to try and settle his obligations, it was not enough. A year later he was forced to sell the property to settle the debt, which he finalized on July 12, 1847. Where the family moved following the loss of the farm is not known.25 Clearly, the intervention, intended by well-meaning town authorities and relatives to protect the Stevens family from the dangers of excessive religion and from what they perceived as the reckless and irresponsible behavior of the father, had caused the family substantial economic loss. How much worse it might have been if the town fathers had not intervened is impossible to say because, in fact, they did intervene. But the episode was a damaging blow to the small circle of Sabbatarian Adventist believers in Paris who saw the troubles as evidence of continuing persecution. Even at this stage, however, it seems the group was still not persuaded to go back to work. They continued to interpret current events as the clear evidence of the nearness of the end of all things. The outbreak of President James Polk’s aggressive trumped-up war with Mexico in May 1846 was one of these certain signs in John Andrews’s understanding of eschatology. Wars and rumors of wars were a harbinger of the end times. War fever infected much of America in the mid-1840s as the United States and European powers jockeyed for influence over Mexico. The Republic of Texas, newly broken away from Mexico, and the immense expanse of the Mexican state of California and the northwestern coast of the North American continent had become very desirable land to be acquired in one way or another by the growing giant in the East. President James Polk, taking office in 1844, had quickly moved to implement his expansionist imperialist policy and engineered the war with Mexico over a disputed border in order to lay claim to the western territories. His vision of a conquered continent from coast-to-coast was shared by many, and the idea of providential endorsement of some kind of “manifest destiny” captured the national imagination. The manufactured

war was the talk of John Andrews’s hometown, according to his aunt Persis. News of the initial American defeat filled the newspapers. The state of Maine was required to provide fifteen hundred troops, and some of John’s cousins and uncles volunteered or were mustered, at least temporarily, although there is no record of John himself volunteering.26 His antislavery stance may well have colored his view of this nationalistic land grab. For John Andrews, the return of church friends Angeline and Harriett Stevens and their younger siblings to the home of their parents in the spring of 1846 was good news, as it was for his entire extended church family. But summer also brought its share of sorrow. On Monday, June 22, another much-loved aunt, Lucinda Dean, whose health was failing fast, left Paris Hill for Illinois to seek escape from her galloping consumption. According to Persis, “most of the brothers and friends” came to their home in Paris Hill, where Lucinda and her children had come to await the stagecoach. The parting scenes were very “touching” and “tender” because the family all felt that they “had looked upon her face for the last time.” In a moving passage in her diary, Persis writes, “This Andrews family is worthy of the esteem of the world for their constant and singularly tender love for each other.”27 One week later on June 29, the day that her Adventist house girl Augusta Washburn returned to her family in order to go back to school, Persis and the Andrews family heard that beloved Aunt Polly had died. She had suffered for fourteen years and had long been feeble. Polly was dearly loved by all, and her nephews and nieces loved her “most of anyone,” observed Persis in her diary, noting that “she always had a kind word and a listening ear for all their troubles and a peculiar faculty of amusing them and making them happy.”28 John Andrews had been in an especially close position to be able to witness such affection. He was not lacking, therefore, for models of an affectionate family’s commitment and loving care, which perhaps may help us to understand, at least to some

degree, the depth of his sacrifice when, in his early married life, he felt obliged and duty bound to desert Angeline his wife and small children for long periods in order to engage in his evangelistic work. It may also help explain why his heart was so torn and he felt so conflicted over his guilt and sense of duty as he stayed beside the bedside of his beloved Mary when she was dying of consumption thirty years later in Battle Creek in 1878. The summer of 1846 was at its peak when the next unexpected calamity struck the Andrews clan. That summer, according to the farming specialists, produced three times the number of hot days as any other year on record, and the vegetation everywhere was tinder dry. On September 3, the hottest day of the year, Uncle Sullivan’s home caught fire and in a short time was burnt to ashes. Sullivan lived halfway between North Paris and the village on the hill, but by the time the men from the village arrived, after having received the message, it was too late to save anything. All was destroyed in the fierce conflagration. A day later a three-hundredpound barrel of butter was still burning. It was a large, well-finished farmhouse, and the homestead included a carriage house and a seventyfoot-long barn, which all went up in smoke. The fire started, so it was thought, by a spark from the chimney that caught upon the roof. No one was injured, for the children had been at school and Uncle Sullivan and Aunt Olivia, his second wife, managed to escape the flames, but it was a sad day, for neither they nor the children had even a change of clothing left. It was a sad day for John Andrews and the larger family as well. The homestead had at one time belonged to John’s grandparents Edward and Elizabeth and many of the mementos, trinkets, and memorabilia associated with the grandparents had been kept there. Memories were all that could now be claimed. The entire Andrews clan surely noted the lesson framed by Persis, but perhaps John and his mother and father had already absorbed it better than the others. It was futile, noted Persis in her diary, for people to be too attached to “our dearest earthly treasures” because

they could so speedily be deprived of them.29 The event provided a pointed reinforcement of the hopes for the soon coming of Jesus shared by the tiny community of North Paris Adventists as they met on Sabbath that latesummer of 1846.

1847–1850 And The Emergence Of Sabbatarian Adventism The available records are silent on John Andrews’s movements and activities during his eighteenth and nineteenth years. With the exhausting of both his family’s and the Advent community’s financial resources, as his aunt reported the previous year, it seems that at least his father had to return to farmwork. Perhaps John did so as well. Did he use the time to further educate himself? Many newsy notes in Aunt Persis’s diary, however, give us insight into what family developments swirled around Andrews in the tightly-knit community of which he was a part, and we do know more about some of the more eventful days during his twentieth year. In April 1847, Aunt Persis expanded John’s network of cousins when she gave birth to another daughter, whom she named Elizabeth after John’s recently deceased grandmother on his father’s side, Elizabeth Nevins.30 A month later in Chelsea, Massachusetts, his seventy-one-year-old grandmother on his mother’s side, Anna Ricker, died. Later during the summer, President Polk, on one of his rare trips out of Washington, visited Maine, and abolitionist and temperance speakers conducted meetings in the village hall. Uncle Charles and Aunt Persis arranged the purchase of the home they had occupied just off the town square in Paris Hill. Later in October, a major teachers institute, with a week of public lectures, was held on Paris Hill.31 On December 21, John’s great-uncle Abiezer Andrews, who lived close by in the same farming district, died childless at the age of seventy-seven, an event that helped, at least for a time, to alleviate John’s parents’ economic distress. When the estate was settled in the middle of 1848, 50 percent of the proceeds of sale went to Abiezer’s

wife, Sally, and the balance to John’s uncles and aunts. John’s father stood to inherit approximately eight hundred dollars.32 In March 1848, the Paris community paused to participate in a national outpouring of grief at the death of former president John Quincy Adams, who had for long years in the House of Representatives protested the right of free speech by opposing the infamous gag rule, which blocked any debate or even mention of the word slavery. Already the shadow of deadly conflict over slavery was beginning to haunt the government. Judging from some of his earliest published comments, slavery was a subject that young John Andrews followed closely. In June 1848, his uncle Charles spent three weeks at the Democratic convention in Washington helping to nominate General Cass as the party’s presidential candidate. The challenges posed by the admission of Texas into the Union and the prospect of the extension of slavery into the new territories of the West provided the backdrop to this anguished convention. On June 19, President Polk announced in Washington the signing of a peace treaty with Mexico and the acquiring of the territories of New Mexico and California by purchase. The news was greeted with relief if not general rejoicing throughout the nation.33 During Uncle Charles’s absence in Washington, Persis and her children visited John’s home, and we learn from Persis that John’s mother Sarah played the guitar and took pleasure in entertaining her nieces.34 Presumably, Sarah had done the same with her own two boys. In late December, at the end of 1848, John’s aunt Dorcas and her husband, Thomas Childs, moved into Paris Hill to take over the local tavern, which provided accommodations for the lawyers and their clients who crowded the county seat during court sessions and summer vacation times. Family members, including John’s mother Sarah, it seems, helped look after the small children and accommodated some of the overflow of guests.35 As the new year of 1849 began in Paris with exceptionally cold weather, widespread influenza, and an outbreak of croup, it kept families at home

and many parents up at night. Family acquaintances in town forsook their businesses and joined the rush of gold seekers heading for California. The discovery of gold in California in mid-1848, and the confirmation of the discovery by Polk in his end-of-year report to Congress, had created a fever all around the Northeast. Also at this time, a traveling exhibition of Brunetti’s famed model of Ancient Jerusalem went on display in Paris Hill in March 1849. The 14.5-foot square model, well researched and twenty years in the making, impressed onlookers greatly, although according to Persis, the accompanying lecturer did not score so highly with his talk.36 By April solid rain had set in and mud was again “triumphant,” ruling both town and countryside.37 During this rainy period, James and Ellen White again spent a week with the North Paris Sabbatarians, staying this time in the home of Lewis Stowell. They succeeded in reestablishing Stowell’s confidence in the “shut door” truth. He was apparently beginning to waver. Ellen White’s note on the visit confirms Persis’s diary note about the weather. The journey inland from the coast was “very bad going.”38 By midsummer mud had given way to dust. Drought in July caused widespread water shortages in Paris, and then an outbreak of Asiatic cholera swept through the nation and seriously threatened Andrews’s hometown. So frightening was the mortality rate caused by the scourge, that even battle-hardened “old General Rough and Ready,” now President Zachary Taylor, in his first year in office, was persuaded to call for a national day of fasting and prayer for the ending of both the epidemic and the drought. Many heartfelt prayers were answered when rains came to Paris Hill in abundance on August 9. But the prayers did not abate the cholera epidemic, and in September when James and Ellen White traveled back to Paris to visit the Andrews family and other Sabbatarian Adventists in the community, the disease had wreaked havoc in the neighborhood. Aunt Persis recorded in her diary that many cholera deaths had already occurred in South Paris township and in neighboring Norway, and by September 23, her whole family was in bed, being cared for by an

attending nurse and physician.39 So frightening was the prevailing epidemic that Ellen White saw it as clear, hard evidence of the arrival of the final days—the end was happening before their eyes. “Soon the dead and dying will be all around us.”40 The deep urgency of the newfound theological convictions on the part of James and Ellen White, however, was not to be circumscribed even by the perils of a cholera epidemic. Paris Adventists were in need of a more important kind of healing, and visit the community they must.

A fall revival Approximately eighteen months previously, around April 1848, the little fellowship of Sabbatarian Adventists in North Paris of which John was a part had become discouraged and ceased to assemble for their regular Sabbath meetings. Angeline Stevens observed that “the influence of false teachers and the fanciful imaginations of our own hearts” had separated the group from the larger Adventist network. She noted that “divisions and subdivisions prevailed,” and eventually “confidence in one another” had been “almost entirely destroyed.” Members had stopped meeting, with each remaining “aloof ” from the other.41 Personal and interfamily tensions, as well as doctrinal differences, precipitated the breakup of the group. Angeline Stevens, several years later, in an 1855 letter to Sarah Andrews, her future mother-in-law, alludes to these lingering personal and family tensions in the community.42 John’s account focused on doctrinal differences. Clearly both factors were involved. In a letter dated October 18, 1849, and published in the Present Truth, Andrews reported on meetings held at Calvin Washburn’s home in late September at North Paris, with Ellen and James White present.43 It is the first extant document that we have from John Andrews’s own pen. He relates that the weekend meetings with Ellen and James had been “a season of heartfelt confession, and deep humiliation before God.” He explained that the previous period “of trial and scattering through which

we have passed, has been of the most painful character” and that the brethren had been “much scattered in consequence of erroneous views.” But by the end of the mid-September meeting, “a general determination was manifested to lay aside forever, the painful views by which we have been so long separated.”44 The September 1849 meetings in Paris came near the end of a series of informal conferences that James and Ellen White, together with Joseph Bates and others, had been convening in numerous locations throughout New England during the previous eighteen months. The meetings had resulted from a desire to share their developing theological convictions and reflections on the Great Disappointment of 1844, to seek wider input into the process of reflection, and to rebuild if they could the fragmented, scattered remnants of Millerism into a community of renewed hope. As noted by Merlin Burt in his analysis of the emergence of Sabbatarian Adventism during this period, Ellen and James White were among those Millerites of the eastern states who initially adopted the “shut door” interpretation of the Disappointment, a concept which Burt renames “Bridegroom Adventism.” This interpretation was based on a typological understanding of the wedding feast parable of Matthew 24. In this understanding, a literalist reading of the sequence of events in the “type” determined the timing and sequence of events in the “antitype.”45 The idea was proposed by Joseph Turner and Alexander Hale, who held that in 1844, Jesus had come as the Bridegroom and gone into meet with the Father. The believers (i.e., the bride) were in an antechamber awaiting the Bridegroom’s return from meeting the Father in order to receive His bride. The wedding service had already commenced, as it were, and the door into the wedding feast had been shut—no others could enter. This explanation of the wedding feast metaphor allowed them to explain the Disappointment, hold on to belief in 1844, and still expect an immediate return. It meant that they did not need to see 1844 as a wholly mistaken hope.46 The concept of being “shut in,” as we have seen, led to significant

religious excess and distorted understandings of Christian experience and fragmentation of the community. Ellen White soon broke with Joseph Turner, not initially because of his theology but because of his advocacy of mesmerism as a new spiritual skill and his inappropriate relationship with a young woman named Sarah Jordan. In 1845, at the Albany conference, Joshua Himes and William Miller distanced themselves from these “shut door” Sabbatarian Adventists in protest over the problem of religious excesses, including the problem of visionary and other charismatic manifestations.47 The break with Turner and the exclusion by the Albany group allowed the development of a “separate strain of Bridegroom Adventism” and a distinct identity for James and Ellen White during 1846 and 1847 as they sought to understand and reinterpret their experience. As Burt notes, “out of the ruins of Bridegroom Adventism, a redefined ‘Shut Door’ Sabbatarian movement emerged.”48 By the time the team of James and Ellen White and Joseph Bates had arrived at Paris, Maine, on September 14, 1849, they had convened and attended conferences in up to nine other places, and significant theological reflection and development had already taken place.49 What the visitors now had to share with the Andrews-Stevens-Washburn-Stowell community, and the other isolated families who came in from nearby farms and towns, was a body of doctrinal understandings that generally cohered together around the core teaching of a continuing Advent hope. This undergirding hope in the soon return of Christ theologically embraced three other crucial doctrinal strands: the distinctive teaching of the seventh-day Sabbath, a theological rationale for the delay in the return of Jesus (because of His continuing last phase of ministry in a heavenly sanctuary and the idea of an extended work of atonement), and a prophetic eschatological setting that explained and validated the visionary experiences of Ellen White. As George R. Knight has shown, Joseph Bates developed the linkage between the Sabbath doctrine and the heavenly sanctuary doctrine by

means of various passages in the book of Revelation, focusing on the need for those waiting for the Advent to be sealed (Revelation 7) and that this would be accomplished by keeping the Sabbath.50 The vision experiences of Ellen White were validated by seeing in the King James Version of Revelation 14:12 a reference to the end-time people having “the faith of Jesus,” which by a paralleling of “faith” and “testimony” found in Revelation 12:17, was linked to similar wording in Revelation 19:10, where a voice from heaven is reported as saying, “The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.” This semantic linkage gave a theological rationale for the last-day prophetic ministry of Ellen White—a ministry that was already proving effective in building unity among the scattered Sabbatarians. The cluster of understandings came together under the umbrella of the three angels’ messages of Revelation 14. This vital passage explained Sabbatarian Adventists’ brief history and gave a profound eschatological rationale for their mission. This was the “package” of doctrinal understandings that James and Ellen White and Joseph Bates shared with the disillusioned and discouraged North Paris Adventists in September 1849 and which so appealed to the young John Andrews. “Our minds were deeply interested in the solemn truths presented before us,” he noted, even though the new truths meant that he and his fellow Sabbatarians had to “lay aside forever, the painful views by which we have so long been separated.” Ellen White’s memory of the meeting was that it had been a Pentecost-like experience and that five or six of those who had been holding erroneous views “fell prostrate to the floor. Parents confessed to their children, and children to their parents and to one another.” Even for Ellen White, the meeting was highly emotional. “Such a scene of confession and pleading with God for forgiveness we have seldom witnessed,” she observed, noting that the meeting was a turning point for the Paris believers. “That meeting was the beginning of better days for the children of God in Paris, [it was] to them a green spot in the desert.”51

Over the next two or three years, the cluster of doctrinal understandings would continue to be developed, with some inadequate explanations and understandings being discarded and other broadening and deepening perspectives taking their place. For example, the initial “shut door” idea understood as referring to the close of probation for the world, metamorphosed over time in response to further theological reflection and a broadening understanding of mission. Slowly the community recognized that conversions could still take place. The teaching eventually morphed into a restructured understanding of an “open door” teaching. If a door into the Holy Place had been closed, was it not then open into the Most Holy Place, and could not Jesus still be followed there? Slowly it dawned that there was work still to be done.52 John Andrews concluded his brief report of the September meetings with an appeal to others. “How important it is, beloved brethren, in this, our final struggle with the dragon, that we be found UNITED in ‘the commandments of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ.’ ” Then he signed himself, “Your brother in hope.” The fact that James White published the letter in his new journal, Present Truth, indicates that the meetings were understood to mark quite a breakthrough. And they were. Ellen White’s assessment of the meeting was correct. Many (but not all) of the Paris community of Sabbatarian Adventists began worshiping together again and reconstituted their informal group. And the new understandings enabled them to become more confident about endeavoring to expand the group by attracting other disillusioned Millerites. There were a considerable number of these in the community. The September 1849 meetings certainly had a very marked impact on the twenty-year-old John Andrews. Ellen White implies in her account of the meeting that the presentations had posed some challenges for him and that it had been a struggle for him to give up some of his former views. She recounts that at one point in the meeting he had become quite emotional in his response when firmly, publicly, and with “deep feeling,”

he declared that it was better to “yield up a thousand errors,” even if in the exchange one could secure only “one single truth.”53 The “heartfelt confessions” made at the meeting evidently included his own, and his observation that it had been a season of “deep humiliation before God” suggests that the meeting had been traumatic and embarrassing, and that it had involved significant changes in his thinking and in relationships within the Paris Adventist community.

A call to prepare for ministry It is hard to imagine that the Andrews family name was not one that James and Ellen would write as an address label when, in July 1849, they sent out the first issues of their new paper, Present Truth, from their temporary lodgings in Middleton, Connecticut. Was John Andrews thus aware of the emerging theological consensus? The nature of the response John reports seems to suggest that the doctrinal package was quite new to him. Perhaps it was rather that it was just a difficult set of concepts to accept. It is clear, however, that the highly charged weekend conference marked the beginning of a new stage in his spiritual journey and in fact, as we will see, it set him on the path to ministry. Andrews’s call to ministry was remarkable because it constitutes the first of only four recorded instances of glossolalia in early Adventism. A manifestation of the gift of tongues was the evidence that persuaded Andrews and those around him that he was called to ministry. An affidavit signed by a group of early believers, whom Arthur L. White says were “of unquestioned integrity” and “well known as dependable, burden bearing church members,” is the source of the account. While the dramatic September meeting was in progress in North Paris, these believers affirmed that “the Spirit of God was manifest in a special manner.” Brother Richard Ralph from Berlin, Connecticut, attended the gathering, and at some time in the midst of the high-energy proceedings he “spoke in an unknown tongue,” with a message that “was directed to Brother J. N.

Andrews.” After the unintelligible utterance, according to the onlookers, Ralph’s traveling companion, Ezra Chamberlain, another lay minister also from Connecticut, “immediately arose to his feet and interpreted what he had said.” The message was “that the Lord had called him [Andrews] to the work of the gospel ministry, and he must prepare himself for it.”54 Ellen and James White do not comment on this tongues experience at North Paris, apparently regarding it as not objectionable. The other believers in attendance certainly did not regard it as an extravagant exercise. John Andrews’s immediate response to this demonstration of the Spirit is not reported, but he clearly thought about it and responded favorably. Richard Ralph was again to experience a highly unusual episode of glossolalia just two months later in November 1849, when in upstate New York, he and Chamberlain went to find a discouraged former Millerite preacher, Samuel Rhodes. Again, Ezra Chamberlain interpreted for Ralph. In a very severe reaction to the Great Disappointment, Rhodes had taken himself off into a wilderness area north of Volney, New York, where he had lived for four years as a recluse. With prayer, persuasion, and the evidence of glossolalia, the two Connecticut seekers persuaded Rhodes to join the Sabbatarian Adventists and take up his Advent ministry again.55 Rhodes soon became a very successful minister and served as the first mentor to John Andrews as he entered a traveling ministry. A decade after the September 1849 North Paris meeting, Ellen White reflected on what had subsequently happened in John Andrews’s experience. She noted with hindsight that at that time “the Lord was bringing out Brother Andrews to fit him for future usefulness, and was giving him an experience that would be of great value to him in his future labors.”56 Clearly, she also recognized the weekend conference as the time when he was called to public ministry. If he now took the time to formally “fit” himself for ministerial work, there are no records that indicate just how he did this. He apparently did not go to a college or seek further

formal education. Neither did he take up itinerant preaching work until twelve months later near the end of 1850. It is not unreasonable, however, to assume, perhaps, that he took on a larger role in his local Sabbatarian Adventist community that began meeting again regularly for worship. That the North Paris community of Sabbatarian Adventists was again becoming quite active becomes clear from Persis Andrews’s diary. She records shortly after the 1849 meeting that she hired one of the church members, thirty-four-year-old Harriet Ricker, as her live-in housekeeper at $4.60 per week. Harriet was “a maiden—rather feeble—a seventh day woman—i.e., keeps the seventh day as Holy time” and worked Sundays. Persis noted that the arrangement provided her “a good opportunity to keep the Sabbath [Sunday]” herself, although she did “not exactly like it as a whole.”57 Harriet and her sister Mary, also a Sabbath keeper who also worked at various times for Persis, may have been relatives of John through Sarah, his mother.58 John Andrews’s renewed relationship with James and Ellen White, established at this landmark meeting, would mark and shape the rest of his life until his death almost thirty years later. Certainly, the publication of his September 1849 letter marked the start of a long and enormously productive literary and scholarly ministry in the church that was to be built on these core doctrinal teachings. It was a ministry and a relationship that would not be without personal cost, for his relationship with both Ellen and James White would not be an easy one.

Moving into town In the months that followed the 1849 meeting, John’s activities seemed to be confined to Paris Hill. The address on his October 1849 letter indicates that he was writing from the farm in North Paris. Two months later, however, the diary of his aunt Persis has him staying somewhere in Paris Hill—at least close enough by her own house, just off the town square, that he could respond readily to screams for help in the middle of the

night. At 1:00

A.M.

on Sunday, December 16, the building housing his

uncle’s legal office, the village post office, and the publishing office of the Oxford Democrat caught fire. It was a traumatic night, one that occasioned great feats of daring from John and his uncle Charles. At first repulsed by the intense heat and smoke of the fire, Charles became desperate to retrieve his safe box and other vital legal papers from the flaming twostory building on the town square. On a second attempt he forced his way in, with the help of his nephew, and they both made repeated entries to retrieve books and papers until the flames and smoke overcame them. Although the two were able to retrieve the most important items, the destruction of the building and the office was, nevertheless, a huge loss to Charles and the owners of the press.59 It was not until two months later, in February 1850, that the Oxford Democrat appeared again, printed on a new press in a newly constructed office. According to his wife, the damage to Charles’s lungs was much more lasting and predisposed him to contracting consumption three years later, which cost him his life. John did not seem to carry too many scars from the dramatic episode, although, like his uncle, his lungs thereafter always seemed to be vulnerable to disease.60 Despite the drama of the December fire, 1850 began well, with continued cordial family social interaction. There were warm family visits, and in mid-February new gravestones arrived that John’s father and his uncles had ordered for his grandparents’ graves out at the Fobes Cemetery plot at North Paris, not far from the family farm.61 April 1850, however, brought new strains and stresses to John’s family. Aunt Persis confided to her diary on April 7 that “Brother Edward’s family [is] in difficulty about a place to live for the present.” She does not mention why they had to move from their residence out in North Paris, but she had considered providing accommodations for them at her own newly renovated home near the center of Paris Hill. “I rather pity them—have tho’t [sic] some of making a small chance for them in our house,” although she conceded that

“it would be narrow for us both.”62 Apparently some temporary accommodations for the family was found within the Paris Hill village, for John is still close enough to his aunt’s home that on the first of May he participated with his same-aged cousin Sullivan and two younger cousins, the daughters of Persis and Charles, in the traditional May Day picnics around the town looking for May flowers. The fields around the village had been wet when the day started, so no parties had gone out in the morning, but in the afternoon the sunshine dried things out at least until midafternoon, when “a violent thunderstorm came up of a sudden and caught them all—they came home, Lottie and Columbia of the number, wet to the skin.” Aunt Persis and her young daughters clearly enjoyed the fact that Sullivan and John “came in familiarly and often” that day. Although the violets and May flowers were few, they amply compensated for the wet clothes.63 The domestic and rather idyllic scene shows a twenty-year-old John Andrews very comfortable with his relatives and reveling in the delights of young children. Mid-1850 held more excitements for John and his family with a jailbreak and the escape of three prisoners from the prison in town later in May. On July 4 there were fireworks, and then the very next day the first railway trains arrived in South Paris on the newly completed railroad lines that had been laid by poverty-stricken Irish railway gangs. Persis took her two young daughters to see their very first steam train pull noisily out of the South Paris station for the first time. This grand event was followed later in July by the visit of John’s eighty-six-year-old maternal grandfather, William Pottle, who it was noted had traveled north, all the way “down” from Boston alone. By late November of this year, Persis reveals that she is comfortable enough now with Edward and Sarah, her odd anti-worldly Adventist relatives, that she was happy to leave her two young daughters in their care while she visited homes in her neighborhood, soliciting help for a distressed, newly widowed neighbor. The really big year-end news for the Andrews family scattered around Paris, however,

was the election of John’s Democrat uncle Charles to the US House of Representatives.64 In Sabbatarian Adventist circles, the big news was that Ellen and James White had come to Paris Hill to live. In her November 24, 1850, diary entry noting that during the previous week she had sent her two small girls to John’s parents’ home to be cared for, Persis does not indicate if she is aware that James and Ellen White might be already staying with the Andrews. According to Ellen White’s account, however, she and James had moved to Paris Hill three weeks earlier on the last day of October 1850, and they had been invited to take up accommodation with John’s parents.65 Ellen White reported their plans to her friends Reuben and Belinda Loveland just the day after she arrived. “We shall stay here at Paris some little time. James is now getting out a paper here. It is an excellent place to get out the paper.”66 Ellen White noted to other friends a week later that Paris Hill was an ideal location in many respects because the residence they were now occupying was just “within a few steps of the post office and printing office.” And James added in a footnote to the letter that there was a good prospect of getting their printing done “very cheap and well.” This was a good start. Ellen noted that the Andrews family was “a very kind family, yet quite poor.” Apparently, the financial arrangement was that “everything here is free as far as they have,” but she and James did “not think it right to be any expense to them.”67 As James noted in the Review in March 1850, broadly speaking, the brethren in Maine were “generally poor,” but in Paris the situation was worse. “None in this vicinity own a foot of land, a house, or even a horse.”68 The matter of how to handle expenses under circumstances of poverty like these eventually led to painful misunderstandings between the Whites and their hosts. Apparently, the initial accommodation arrangements were not very satisfactory because it seems that within two months, both families relocated to a more suitable residence. John’s aunt records in her diary that on January 2, 1851, Edward Andrews’s family moved into the large

single-story home known as the “Shurtleff House,” which, according to Persis, had been “long vacant,” directly across the road from her own home just two hundred yards or so north of the town square. Edward and Sarah’s move to the larger residence may well have been prompted by the need for more space to accommodate James and Ellen and their expanding publishing activities. In noting the move, Persis again observed that the family “keep the seventh day as the Sabbath and work upon the first day of the week, and otherwise separated themselves from the world.”69 Strangely, however, Persis does not comment on the Whites being her brother-in-law’s houseguests until April 6, 1851, when, with an almost offhand comment in her diary about living arrangements in her neighborhood, she notes that John Andrews’s parents had agreed to share their house. “Also J. White—in the house with Brother Edward—opposite to ours.”70 Even at the new location, however, with Edward, Sarah, John, and his younger brother William also occupying the home, space was at a premium, and tensions soon began to simmer. The tensions were to color relationships between John, his future wife and her family, the Stevens, and James and Ellen White for decades to come. Paris Hill was to cast a long shadow. Three weeks after the Whites’ arrival in Paris in late November, Adventist believers from the surrounding area gathered again on the outskirts of the hilltop village for another weekend conference. This time they met at the home of Cyprian Stevens, and the rescued Elder Samuel Rhodes was present to take the lead. Ellen White enjoyed his approach to preaching the “plain cutting truth” from the Bible.71 Like the conference at Topsham the previous month in which “the voice of weeping could not be told from the voice of shouting,” all twenty-eight present were on their feet, shouting together. The November Paris conference also turned into a highly emotional meeting.72 One distraught local woman dissolved into tears and moved around the meeting room on her knees, begging children to get ready for heaven. Many, including children, fell to the floor crying

out in prayer, some begging for mercy and some loudly shouting praise. “Shouts of victory filled the dwelling,” and there were confessions and conversions, reported Ellen White to a friend. “The slaying power of God was in our midst,” and it was “a powerful time as I ever witnessed.” Two former Millerites were “dug from beneath the rubbish.”73 This late-1850 meeting served as a launching platform for John Andrews’s first public ministry. Two weeks later, he joined Samuel Rhodes in an early-winter preaching itinerary to eastern Maine and Vermont.

1. George R. Knight, William Miller and the Rise of Adventism (Nampa, ID: Pacific Press®, 2010), 229. 2. Morning Watch, May 8, 1845, 150–152; Ron Graybill, “Footwashing and Fanatics,” Insight, Jan. 2, 1973, 9–13, has a helpful discussion of the background of the “unseemly practices.” 3. The memory of the 1840s as a time of anticipation of the Lord’s return, particularly the months leading up to 1844, was viewed in retrospect by Ellen White as a time of purest joy. The bitter experience that followed 1844, with its confusion, tensions, stresses, and the confrontations involved in working through the problem of the religious excesses, could at times produce excruciatingly painful memories for Ellen White. For example, in 1894, fifty years after the events, her reading of W. H. Littlejohn’s negative reflection on the post-1844 period in the Review (he had cited Josiah Litch’s comment that fanaticism in Maine was “seven-feet deep”) could lead to a physical and emotional incapacity for several days. EGW to OAO, June 10, 1894; EGW to WHL, June 3, 1894, EGWE-GC. See also Gilbert M. Valentine, The Prophet and the Presidents (Nampa, ID: Pacific Press®, 2011), 88. 4. Oxford Democrat, Apr. 29, 1845. William Berry Lapham and Silas Packard Maxim, History of Paris, Maine, From Its Settlement to 1880, With a History of the Grants of 1736 & 1771, Together With Personal Sketches, a Copious Genealogical Register and an Appendix (Paris, ME: n.p., 1884), 169ff. The spiritual wifery system was practiced by some Millerites who believed that because Christ had come “spiritually” in 1844, they were now, essentially, in heaven and could therefore take “spiritual wives” in addition to their legal wives. 5. EGW to JNL, Aug. 24, 1874, EGWE-GC. 6. JW, “Letter from Bro. White,” Day-Star, Sept. 6, 1845, 17. Himes, in a letter to Miller, had also observed that “things in Maine are bad—very bad!” and that it was “Millerism perverted.” The letter was published in the Advent Herald, June 10, 1845, 149, 150. See also Merlin D. Burt, “The Historical Background, Interconnected Development, and Integration of the Doctrines of the Sanctuary, the Sabbath: and Ellen G. White’s Role in Sabbatarian Adventism From 1844 to 1849” (PhD diss., Andrews University, 2002), 146–147. 7. PSABD, Feb. 28; Mar. 11, 1846, MHS. Edward was also considering the need to go back to

work. 8. Columbia was the daughter of Edward’s eldest brother, John, and his wife, Anna. 9. It is not clear from the diary note whether Persis means that Washburn had simply given up the error of the “no-work” doctrine or the whole idea of the Advent hope. PSABD, Mar. 11, 1846, MHS. 10. PSABD, Jan. 1, 6; Feb. 18, 28; Mar. 8, 11, 22, 1846, MHS. 11. PSABD, Mar. 8, 1846, MHS. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid. 14. Ibid., Mar. 22, 29; Apr. 16, 1846, MHS. 15. Ellen White refers to him as one of the Adventist “leaders” in the area. EGW, LS (Nampa, ID: Pacific Press®, 1992), 225, 226. 16. Jesse’s brother Benjamin, also a Millerite, had married into the North Paris Andrews family. William Berry Lapham, History of Woodstock, Maine, With Family Sketches and an Appendix (Portland, ME: S. Berry, 1882), 179. 17. In the Fobes District Cemetery in North Paris where Edward Andrews’s grandparents are buried, there are a large number of Stevens family graves—quite a number seemingly for children. The name is sometimes spelled as Stephens, which is the spelling for Jesse’s father, Captain Samuel Stephens. Lapham, History of Woodstock, 179. 18. EGW, LS, 225, 226. See also ALW, Ellen G. White: The Early Years (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1985), 95. 19. The message about Jesse Stevens was perceived as a warning in hindsight after the event. 20. Dating the death of Jesse Stevens shortly after Marian Crawford’s return from her three-month stay in Massachusetts and after his visit to John Andrews’s home puts his death sometime in mid1846. 21. Noted John Hopkins professor of psychiatry and mood disorders, Kay Jamison explains that “some type of depression is almost ubiquitous in those who kill themselves” and that “nowhere is the danger of suicide more real than in the mood disorders: depression and manic depression.” Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide (New York: Alfred A. Knoff, 1999), 103. Modern medicine also recognizes the defective blood chemistry basis of such illness. Kay Jamison’s, Robert Lowell, Setting the River on Fire: A Study of Genius, Mania, and Character (New York: Vintage Books, 2017) provides an easily accessible, sensitive, and beautifully written discussion of the problem of bipolar disorder in a case study of poet Robert Lowell. 22. Ellen White’s account in Life Sketches, to modern ears, sounds less than compassionate, perhaps heartless even, casting the episode in the context of her struggle to exert her influence with the group and have the genuineness of her gift acknowledged and validated in a community that was fragmenting at the hands of strongly opinionated teachers. There is no sympathetic understanding of the depression and mental suffering of the individual or compassion for the family. The larger horizon predominates, and she simply sees the overriding need for a unified Adventism beyond the damaging effects of excesses. See EGW, LS, 86. 23. EGW, MS 131a 1906, EGWE-GC. 24. “Probate Record Drawer 93,” Oxford County Probate Court, South Paris, Maine, Register of

Deeds, 75:55. The legal costs were at the top end of the scale. They were, for example, much more than those incurred for Millerite John Howe of Norway village, who was also placed under guardianship by the same court at the same time. They were also more than the legal costs incurred by guardians in the Orrington cases. Information on the John Howe case is found in “Probate Record Drawer 47,” Oxford County Probate Court, South Paris. Jim Nix and Merlin Burt have assembled many of these important documents and drafted an outline of the sequence of events. “Millerites in Maine Who Were Declared Insane During 1845” (unpublished manuscript, n.d.), CAR. 25. Angeline’s younger brother Charles later reports that the Stevens and Andrews families shared a home together for almost five years. The sharing does not appear to be at this time however. It seems more likely to have been in the years 1850–1855, after the Whites had taken the Review to Rochester. C. F. Stevens to Dr. John N. Andrews, Oct. 4, 1934, CAR. 26. His name does not appear in any of the militia lists found in Lapham. 27. PSABD, June 22, 1846, MHS. 28. PSABD, June 29, 1846, MHS. 29. PSABD, Sept. 3, 1847, MHS. 30. PSABD, May 9, 1847, MHS. 31. PSABD, July 4; July 18; Sept. 13; Oct. 25, 1847, MHS. 32. PSABD, Feb. 27; June 4, 11; July 30, 1848, MHS. According to Persis, the will was contested by relatives on the grounds of “insanity and imbecility.” 33. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hildago was signed by Mexico on February 2, 1848, but it was not able to be announced publicly by President Polk until June. News of the peace deal and purchase did not reach California until August. 34. PSABD, June 11, 1848, MHS. 35. PSABD, Dec. 24, 1848; Jan. 7, 1849, MHS. 36. PSABD, Mar. 11, 1849, MHS. 37. PSABD, Jan. 7; Feb. 18; March 11; Apr. 1; May 13; Aug. 5, 12, 1849, MHS. 38. EGW to Leonard and Elvira Hastings, Apr. 21, 1849, EGWE-GC. 39. PSABD, Sept. 2, 9, 23, 1849. MHS. 40. EGW, “Dear Brethren and Sisters,” The Present Truth, Sept. 1849, 32. 41. RH, Dec. 1850, 16, 17. 42. A. [Stevens] to Sister Andrews, Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. Even though the author of this letter is not identified by name, the handwriting and other internal evidence, such as references to her mother and sister Harriet, indicate that the letter is written by Angeline Stevens. 43. Early maps of the township locate Calvin Washburn’s comfortable house on the banks of Moose Creek, adjacent to the road bridge. The home was burnt down in a fire that destroyed much of the settlement in the 1920s. 44. JNA, Present Truth, Oct. 16, 1849, 29. 45. Burt, “The Historical Background, Interconnected Development, and Integration of the Doctrines of the Sanctuary, the Sabbath,” 34, 35. 46. The interpretation was based on an article by Alexander Hale and Joseph Turner in the Advent Mirror of Jan. 1845, 2, which Burt notes as a “watershed publication.” Burt, “The Historical

Background, Interconnected Development, and Integration of the Doctrines of the Sanctuary, the Sabbath,” 83. Burt also suggests that Turner influenced many Maine Adventists in this direction through the Portland periodical The Hope of Israel. 47. EGW, MS 131, Aug. 13, 1906, EGWE-GC; Burt, “The Historical Background, Interconnected Development, and Integration of the Doctrines of the Sanctuary, the Sabbath,” 143; Morning Watch, May 8, 1845, 150–152. 48. Burt, “The Historical Background, Interconnected Development, and Integration of the Doctrines of the Sanctuary, the Sabbath,” 152, 153. 49. James and Ellen traveled partly by train to Paris on the new railway that had been opened only four months previously. The couple bravely took their six-week-old son James Edson with them. 50. George R. Knight, Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2004), 107, 129. 51. EGW, SG (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press, 1858–1864), 2:117. 52. Much has been written about Ellen White’s evolving understanding of the “shut door,” and more recent studies are not so defensive about some of the inadequacies in understanding during this complex period of development. See Rolf J. Poehler, Change in Seventh-day Adventist Theology (Frankfurt: Peter Lang AG, 1999 and 2000). Also, Merlin D. Burt, “Shut Door,” in the EGWEncycl., ed. Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 1158–1162. 53. EGW, SG, 2:117; Burt, 152, 153. 54. The testimony report is cited by Arthur L. White in “Tongues in Early SDA History,” RH, Mar. 15, 1973, 5. This testimonial was apparently prepared for publication as part of the appendix of Ellen White’s Spiritual Gifts, vol. 2, as endorsement of the historicity of the events narrated by Ellen White in her autobiographical narrative. The testimonial, however, does not appear in the appendix, maybe because there is a problem with the date of the reported tongues incident. The signatories state that the date of the incident was reported as “we think in the year of 1847 or 1848.” External evidence suggests that the date was actually September 1849. Compare Hiram Edson’s account in Present Truth, Dec. 1849, 36. 55. Hiram Edson relates the story in detail in Present Truth, Dec. 1849, 36. 56. Ibid. 57. PSABD, Feb. 23; Mar. 2; June 3, 1851, MHS. Persis slowly got used to the idea of her housekeeper observing Sabbath, and she soon became quite dependent on Harriet. Later in June, she finally persuaded Miss Ricker to attend the Baptist church with her. “I have been unable to induce her to go to Meeting with us until this day. She is happily disappointed—says ‘She had no idea she sho’d [sic] hear such a good sermon.’ ” 58. The two spinster church members are mentioned again in Angeline’s letter to John’s mother in 1855. 59. PSABD, Dec. 23, 1849, MHS. 60. Ibid.; Norway Advertiser, Dec. 18, 1849. 61. PSABD, Feb. 17, 1850, MHS. 62. PSABD, Apr. 7, 1850, MHS. 63. PSABD, May 5, 1850, MHS.

64. PSABD, May 19; July 4, 28; Sept. 29; Nov. 24, 1850, MHS. 65. Where this particular rented accommodation was located in the Paris Hill community is not known, but it was apparently too small to comfortably accommodate both families. They seem to have relocated two months later. 66. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Nov. 1, 1850, EGWE-GC. 67. EGW to the “Church in Brother Leonard Hastings’ House,” Nov. 7, 1850, EGWE-GC. The letter was started and completed on November 7 but not sent until November 27. The village of Paris Hill was a compact community, and houses on any of the three or four streets that comprised the village would have qualified as being a few steps from the post office. 68. JW, RH, Mar. 1851, 53. 69. PSABD, Jan. 12, 1851, MHS. This is not the house identified and pictured in Merlin Burt’s book Pioneer Places. The house now serving as the country club house attached to a small golf course was not the house occupied by the Andrews and the Whites in 1851. They occupied the house next door, farther down the hill. See also Beverley Shaw, The Building of Paris Hill Village From 1789 to 2010 (Lewiston, ME: Penmor Lithographers, 2010), 23–25. On April 2, 1851, in connection with an observation about another neighbor (Jairus Hammond) who is moving house, Persis notes, “Also J. White in the house with Brother Edward—opposite to ours.” She then mentions that the house Jairus Hammond occupied (now serving as the country club) had formerly been owned by a Henry Howe. See Shaw, Building of Paris Hill Village, 26–28. 70. PSABD, Apr. 6, 1851, MHS. 71. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Dec. 13, 1850, EGWE-GC. 72. EGW to “The Church in Brother Leonard Hastings’ House,” Nov. 27, 1850, EGWE-GC. At the Topsham meeting, “the power of God” came upon the group “like a mighty rushing wind.” It was “a triumphant time.” 73. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Dec. 13, 1850, EGWE-GC. For further details of this highly charged meeting, see EGW to SWR, May 18, 19, 1851, EGWE-GC. Also RH, Dec. 1850, 16.

Chapter Five

A New Paper and the First Year of Ministry: 1851

F

rom the very outset, two distinctive gifts twined together to make

John Andrews’s ministry a fruitful one. He was both scholar and evangelist, and both gifts attracted early notice, finding expression in his writing and his preaching. Just when it was during this period that twentynine-year-old James White noticed the skills of his fellow Mainer, is not precisely known. But by late-1850, he had decided that the largely selftaught twenty-one-year-old would make a useful member of his newly formed “publishing committee.” The four-man committee would be responsible for producing a brand-new periodical he envisaged launching before year’s end. The invitation was probably extended before James and Ellen’s move to Paris at the end of October. John’s availability may even have been a contributing reason for their move to Paris. Having John Andrews on hand, with his developing theological and literary skills, gave the location additional allure. This chapter will relate the events of John Andrews’s fruitful first year of ministry, his first efforts at writing, and the difficult relationships that developed between the local Paris families and the Whites that provide important background for understanding Andrews’s future ministry. The first month in the hilltop village turned out to be an exceptionally busy period for the occupants of the house just opposite to Aunt Persis’s home. November 1850 saw the publication of the final issue of the Present Truth magazine that White had been editing by himself for the previous

sixteen months. At the same time, White also closed off a five-issue series of an irregularly sized Advent Review, a periodical devoted to reprinting and reviewing previously published Millerite materials from the 1844 period. Neither of these publications had really flourished. With the move to Paris, White now took the opportunity to fold both magazines into a new enlarged and extended magazine he entitled the Second Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, which was launched the very same month the previous two magazines were discontinued. The printing presses at the office of Mellon Printers above the post office, 250 yards away on the town square, ran overtime. James was particularly glad for the editorial assistance of the eldest son of the family he was staying with. That the hilltop county seat of Paris Hill might be a more suitable location for a new start for his Sabbatarian periodical was certainly the primary reason James and Ellen White had come to settle in John Andrews’s hometown. As George R. Knight has noted, during 1849–1850, tensions and conflict had developed between White and Joseph Bates over the best publishing strategy.1 Joseph Bates had not been convinced that adding further to the plethora of Adventist periodicals was the best way to promote the new doctrinal synthesis that Sabbatarian Adventism had achieved in its message of the three angels. Bates thought it much the wiser to put time and effort into one-off pamphlets and small books. Periodicals involved subscriptions, and they projected issues forward for a whole year in advance—and that amounted to a clear denial of the immediacy and imminence of the Advent hope that gave it such cuttingedge appeal. But in two reported visions, one in Sutton, Vermont, in September and another on October 23 at Dorchester in Massachusetts, Ellen White asserted that she had seen that periodicals as well as pamphlets and books were important. She encouraged James to press ahead with his ideas and told Joseph Bates that he needed to get with the program and throw his weight behind the magazine approach. He did. His name was also therefore listed along with John Andrews and Samuel

Rhodes on the masthead of the new periodical. John Andrews’s first serious contribution to the content of the new magazine, although authored on November 15, 1850, did not appear until the second issue, which was mailed out in mid-December. It was a densely argued, one-thousand-word piece entitled “Thoughts on the Sabbath,” and although he was probably unaware of it at the time, it presaged in a condensed, précis form, all the issues that the author would later address in what would become his lifelong preoccupation and burden—a defense of the seventh-day Sabbath. The piece is set in an apologetic and polemical context; he is clearly writing against those Adventists who called the Sabbath a “carnal ordinance,” by which he seems to have meant a human observance, or a work of the flesh, not a work of grace. He takes a “history of the Sabbath” approach to defending the day by pointing out its institution at Creation, its observance being enjoined on Israel at the time of the provision of the manna, and its embodiment in the Decalogue. These “three important points in the history of the Sabbath” then lead him into a discussion of the fact that this “weekly” Sabbath was not abolished at the Cross, as were other “sabbaths” of the Jews. It would, the Old Testament prophets asserted, be observed in the new earth. In the section that deals with the New Testament, Andrews pointed out that the institution was not disturbed by the apostles and that it did not need to be reenacted or reestablished. There had been no change, although Scripture, in “an accurate prophecy,” had warned of a power, the papacy, which would attempt to “do this thing.” Because the Sabbath had been made for man, it was found in every part of the Bible, and persons who profaned it would “sin against God and wound their own souls.” That Andrews had been studying the topic for some time is clear from his suggestion to readers that if they wanted to know more about how the change came about, they should read a history of the “papal church” and compare it with Daniel 7. He also alerts the reader to the fact that he has

much more he could say, noting that “brevity” prevented him from giving the important issue of the perpetuity of the law in the New Testament “more lengthy notice.” In the years to come, Andrews would be given the opportunity to write much more extensively on all aspects of the history and theology of the Sabbath, as he became the church’s leading authority on the topic. For now, however, there was also urgent preaching to be done. On December 1, 1850, the young Andrews joined thirty-seven-yearold Samuel Rhodes on a “find and persuade” evangelistic mission to former Millerites in eastern Maine. Any further editing and writing for the Review, if it were to be done, would have to be accomplished in less than ideal conditions while he was on the road.

First preaching tours Samuel Rhodes, John Andrews’s first mentor, was an energetic preacher whose assertive style Ellen White greatly appreciated. Whether she had met Rhodes during his years of ministry in the pre-1844 movement is not known, but he apparently had developed a reputation during this period as a very effective evangelist in the Millerite cause. Clearly the Sabbatarian Adventists counted it a significant coup that he had been persuaded to join their cause. Ellen White had enjoyed his grasp of the new understanding and his preaching at the Paris conference in mid-November. It had been “cheering to hear him talk the plain cutting truth of God from the Bible.” His approach helped the believers to see “how plain our position is” and to know assuredly “that we have the truth,” she wrote.2 If John needed mentoring in ministry as he began a wider involvement in public preaching, Samuel Rhodes would certainly fit the bill. For this first evangelistic trip “to hunt up the scattered sheep,” James White had generously decided to lend Rhodes and Andrews his own horse and trap. It was a bitterly cold January, and using his horse Charlie rather than public transport would ensure more rapid and comfortable travel to the out-ofthe-way places the pair intended to travel to. It was a decision James was

to regret and later lament—repeatedly. During Rhodes and Andrews’s journey east, James and Ellen also embarked on a journey north to a couple of conferences in Vermont, heading to a meeting at Ezra P. Butler’s home in Waterbury. They traveled by public transport. As Ellen White comments in her biographical recollection of this journey, the weather turned bad and the public transport arrangements did not work out at all well. The couple ended up traveling without proper protective gear for hours in an open sleigh and suffered badly from exposure. To make matters worse, the meeting had not gone well. James was criticized for some of his expenses, and questions emerged about whether Ellen White had prior information about some of the things she said she had seen in vision. They were “completely crushed” after the meetings but decided to stay on to sort things out rather than return home immediately. This they were able to do, but they returned home still rather crushed.3 A decade later in 1860, the memory of the fateful decision to be kind to Rhodes and Andrews was still raw. “The exposure of that journey to Vermont, my husband felt for years and was not overcome until a few years since.”4 James harbored particular resentments about the injuries to his health and spirit suffered on this trip, and they surfaced from time to time later when his relationship with Andrews went through its many bumpy patches. Oblivious to the hardships James and Ellen were experiencing, Rhodes and Andrews spent an evangelistic month looking up discouraged Millerites and sharing the new sanctuary and Sabbath truths. Keeping the Whites posted on their success, they reported that they had found “a good number who have lived through the confused scenes of fanaticism on the one hand, and gross backsliding and giving up the truth on the other.”5 Many “joyfully received the truth.” All that is known of the destination for this trip is that it was to eastern Maine, which if it had been where fanaticism had previously been rife, would perhaps have involved places like Atkinson, the site of the Israel Dammon trial. In any event, Ellen

White was delighted that they had been successful in “bringing souls from the rubbish to the clear light of truth.”6 Arriving back in Paris on the last day of the year, Rhodes and Andrews were back on the road again five days later, this time on a four-hundredmile round-trip visiting families and Sabbatarian groups in Lancaster, New Hampshire, and Sutton, Vermont, and then on up to a weekend conference at the Hazeltine home in Melbourne in what was then East Canada (now Quebec). Joseph Bates joined the pair for this conference. Some things not in “the order of the Gospel were happily corrected” at this conference and a “stronger band of union” established. Andrews was gaining good experience in pastoral care as well as in preaching. In February and March, the pair was out again on the road, traveling from family to family, and April found them once more in eastern Maine visiting Charleston. The believers there appreciated “hearing the rich truths . . . which were presented in such a clear manner by Bro Andrews.” Esther Burrows, who reported the visit, was sure that “every honest soul” could not avoid being impressed. The group was “not a little comforted.”7 Apparently, it was on this itinerary that the two took some time to look for former North Paris believer Calvin Washburn, who had moved with his family out to the “howling wilderness” of eastern Maine, where he lived seventy miles from the nearest Sabbath keeper.8 Somehow as he traveled and visited, Andrews found time and places to write. By the end of the month-long trip during the previous winter (December 1850), he had completed a tightly written almost ten-thousandword defense of the perpetuity of the law that James White published as a two-part cover-page series in the January and February issues of the new paper. The first part worked its way methodically through the New Testament and demonstrated that the idea that the Decalogue had been abolished by Jesus or by the apostles was without foundation. The article makes careful use of marginal readings of the scriptural texts in support of his interpretations and demonstrates that the author had access to some

scholarly literature during the writing process. Dictionaries and alternate translations are cited in a careful, scholarly way, and the article respectfully engages with the arguments proposed by opponents to Sabbath keepers. The five-day visit home to Paris in early January enabled him to do the reading of the proofs, and then while out on the road again the next month, he finished off the second part. In part two of this first substantial scholarly article, Andrews addressed the common objection that the Christian does not live under law but under grace and therefore does not need to keep the Sabbath. His response, grounded in Galatians 3:23–26, argued that the law as schoolmaster brings the believer to Christ for forgiveness, so how can such a law be abolished? Andrews sees no need to explain the schoolmaster metaphor in Galatians as applying to the ceremonial law as his future brother-in-law, Uriah Smith, would do at the remarkable 1888 conference. At this time, for Andrews, the law in Galatians is clearly the moral law.9 James White was highly impressed with these articles, observing in an accompanying note of endorsement, “We do not hesitate to say” that the arguments Andrews had adduced were “unanswerable” and contained “irresistible proofs.” He noted that the articles had been written “under unfavorable circumstances, mostly while Bro Andrews was traveling from place to place,” and he added in another note that the three articles Andrews had now written on the Sabbath were already in the process of being published as a substantial pamphlet that would soon be available. Clearly, despite the unfavorable circumstances for writing, Andrews as a scholarly author appears to have matured very quickly in this series. In early May we find Andrews briefly back in Paris Hill, but by the end of the month he was on the road again, this time visiting families and groups in Vermont on his way to upstate New York where, once more, with Samuel Rhodes, he continued the search for former Millerites and conducted weekend conferences to introduce them to the Sabbath and the third angel’s message. Washington Morse of Waterbury, Vermont, who at

the time was a discouraged Millerite but who later became a prominent Adventist pastor, recalled his first meeting with John Andrews during this particular preaching trip. Andrews “was a ruddy looking young man. He spoke with much earnestness and freedom, his special theme being the law of God.”10 Andrews found itinerant preaching a stressful way to live and work. Having to rely on the hospitality of others for board and accommodations and having to fit into the schedules and routines of host families required constant adjustment and flexibility. It required considerable ability just to cope with constantly changing sleeping arrangements. Bedding could vary from a comfortable single bed in a private room to a double bed shared with his traveling companion or with a male member of the household. It might be a couch in the corner of the family parlor or a straw tick on the hallway floor. And wherever the “spare bed” might be located, it was often damp and unhealthy.11 Keeping up conversation and showing pastoral interest in parents and children and members of the extended families drained his emotional resources. Securing sufficient privacy and a quiet corner for writing and reading, even while he was expected to meet printing deadlines, only added to the complications and the pressure. Being sensitive to the needs of the host families so as not to wear out or overstay one’s welcome was also a necessary skill the itinerant preacher had to develop quickly. The young Andrews found that if he kept up the pace too long, it sapped away at his health. Even when he returned to Paris to be at his parents’ home, with more time to give to editorial work, the domestic circumstances were not very comfortable either.

Family tensions John’s family was not well off. In April 1850, his parents, Edward and Sarah, had been in difficulty finding a place to live in Paris Hill, and, as we have previously noted, John’s aunt Persis had considered helping them temporarily. “I rather pity them,” she wrote. She had thought about

offering them rooms in her own home but thought that it might result in being too “narrow for us both.”12 John’s parents had apparently found temporary accommodations, “a small wooden house” in the township, according to one contemporary, which in November they apparently began sharing with James and Ellen.13 According to Ellen White, the Edward Andrews family was “a very kind family, yet quite poor,” and James and Ellen did “not think it right to be an expense to them.” According to James, none of the believers in the vicinity of Paris owned “a foot of land, a house or a horse.”14 The Whites expected to pay their own way, but their particular needs were not altogether easy to provide for, and Sarah Andrews’s impoverished, plain menus soon created tensions. James describes himself as suffering from severe dyspepsia at the time, whether induced by a stomach ulcer, acid reflux, or simple stress and emotional unrest, was apparently never diagnosed, and it may not have been possible to do so given the state of medicine.15 But he was very uncomfortable and limited in what he could eat. He could not eat meat or butter or anything “greasy.” “Take these from a poor man’s table and it leaves a very spare diet,” observed Ellen White. Some years later, James remembered rather derisively the lack of menu variety while with the Andrews. “I seldom ate anything beside potatoes and salt with a few spoonfuls of milk on them and cornbread.”16 The stress of getting a new magazine off the ground provided anxiety enough, but the stress exacerbated by his ailment and a poor diet soon made the shared house seem overcrowded. The need to share living space, find room for writing and reading of proof sheets, make space for folding and wrapping the mail-outs, and set aside room for storing of books and pamphlets, placed uncommon demands on the arrangements and on relationships. And all this was complicated by the stress of overwork. Ellen White reported later that “often” they would be obliged to stay up past midnight reading proof sheets (presumably aloud to each other) and folding and wrapping papers—sometimes even to two and three in the morning. Stress and anxiety took its toll, and unpleasantness

soon arose between the two families.17 If his aunt Persis’s 1851 diary is correct in its dating, when John returned at year’s end to Paris from his first evangelistic tour to east Maine, he had helped his parents and their White family houseguests move across the village and into more spacious accommodations in the Shurtleff house. They moved on January 2.18 It was possibly around the time of this change that the Whites decided to forgo the shared meals part of the living arrangements. James and Ellen would cobble together a few household effects and try to care for themselves in the house. They would simply share the living space with the Andrews. According to correspondence between James White and Edward Andrews exchanged during a quarrel a decade later, the two men entered into a verbal agreement that the Whites would pay board of one dollar per week. Then because James did not think he was getting his money’s worth from the menu provided, the verbal contract was changed and James agreed to contribute twenty dollars per year. The changed agreement led to serious later misunderstandings and charges by Edward that James had cheated him out of eight dollars. James could not remember whether the twenty dollars in rent he had agreed to pay was for the whole year or as an up-front payment no matter how long he stayed, one month or twelve. Although he thought the meals provided by Sarah Andrews to be very poor, he had not intended to defraud the family. In any event, the disagreement and charge of cheating became one of a number of points of contention between the two families that festered away and poisoned the relationship for many years.19 But there were several other troubles that also made the sojourn in Paris an unhappy one. John was ministering away from home for most of this period, but the tensions developing at home between the Whites and his parents and the Stevens family worsened and laid the foundation for much disharmony in the years to come. As already noted, James and Ellen had returned, crushed and exhausted,

from their winter preaching tour among the former Millerites at Waterbury in Vermont.20 There had been difficulties of achieving agreement on doctrinal issues, but more disappointing had been what Ellen White remembered as “jealousy, evil-surmising and false accusations” that had colored the thinking and actions of believers they thought were their friends. Word had somehow gotten around that James was profiteering from his work, had too good a horse, and as a result reimbursement of traveling expenses from the donations of believers was given to others and not to the Whites, even though attending the conference had involved them in considerable expense. “This wounded deep,” wrote Ellen, very much aware of their thin domestic budget. “We were forced to wade through a tide of oppression,” she recalled. Skepticism toward her vision manifestations and reports that some information Ellen claimed to have received while in vision had actually come from correspondence or vaguely remembered private conversations complicated the relationships. Then the rigors of the journey home with heavy colds, digestive troubles, and anxiety arising from the mistrust experienced in Vermont almost completely disabled James. He sank “beneath his trials.” Back in Paris, “he was so weak he could not get to the printing office without staggering,” Ellen recalled bitterly.21 Too troubled to sleep, they spent long hours in correspondence, trying to achieve a correct understanding; 1851 proved to be a bitter winter. “Many hours while others were sleeping we spent in agonizing tears, and mourning before the Lord.”22 Relationships between the three Paris families deteriorated over the next three or four months as Ellen and James perceived a lack of sympathy from the others and a lack of appreciation for the “labors and the efforts we were making to advance the cause of truth.” For some reason the Stevens women had proved not very helpful to the Whites around the time of their move to the Shurtleff house. From Ellen White’s perspective, the move had “discovered selfishness in your families.”23 In later years, in an attempt to rebuild the relationships between the families, Paulina Stevens

lamented that if she had been more thoughtful she could have been more helpful to Ellen at the time and lent her items such as armchairs and a mirror and other household items.24 It seems that Ellen and James had to struggle and make do with very little while sharing a house with Edward and Sarah. The memory of the Stevens women apparently ignoring their plight rankled deeply and lingered if not as a grudge—then certainly as a long remembered social offense that had been taken. To some degree, the problems related to what on mission compounds today is sometimes called “cabin fever”—tensions in human relationships that inevitably arise when people work and live closely together. Such tensions seemed to be present in Paris Hill. But when visions are involved, relationships become more perplexing. Sharp criticism from James and Ellen about the low level of the Paris families’ commitment and their lack of support for the work the Whites were undertaking aggravated the strained relationships with both families. Harriet Stevens, who was later to marry Uriah Smith, considered James’s comments at this time as intemperate “cutting and slashing.” When Ellen White defended James on the basis of what she reported she had seen in vision, members of the two families were provoked to question the authority and genuineness of all the visions. While they acknowledged that the ministry of Ellen White had its special and unique dimensions, they found it difficult to attribute absolute authority to the experiences, and thus, at times, they resisted the rebukes, particularly as they related to their own distinctive charismatic experiences. Ellen White asserted that some in the Andrews-Stevens circle did not have “true faith” in the visions. But exactly what kind of authority to give them did not have a straightforward answer, according to Angeline Stevens, later to become J. N. Andrews’s wife. The theological dilemma posed by the visions for Angeline and John will be discussed more fully later in chapter 10. In the meantime, making matters worse, from Ellen’s perspective, the two families, rather than responding openly and submissively to her

testimonies, felt aggrieved and under attack. This strengthened “the link” between the families, and they hunkered down together in mutual defense. As Ellen saw it, the “attachment” that bound each to the other “was not formed because each family was so holy and reflected the image of Jesus so fully.” Rather, she noted in a manuscript reflection written at the time and composed as if it had been sent to them, “you did not love Jesus as well as you loved each other, and you were more zealous to please each other than you were to please Jesus.” She concluded that there was a “danger of doubting the visions,” and that if the families had been more confident in her testimony in the earlier years after 1845, they would have avoided falling into the “error” of fanaticism at that time. It is not clear, however, if the manuscript was ever sent to the families at the time, although it may have been read to them.25 In a letter of contrition ten years later, Pauline acknowledged to Ellen White, “I can now see that our folks and Sr. Andrews did very wrong in talking over our grievances together.”26 Fellowship and relationships in the Paris Hill Sabbatarian Adventist community were certainly not what they could be, and John Andrews was possibly glad he was out of town for much of the time, engaged in his evangelistic endeavors. As 1851 progressed, Ellen White became increasingly sure that the atmosphere around the little band of believers in Paris was growing more toxic. They needed to be less selfish and to study their Bibles more. Nevertheless, the shared sense of the acute imminence of Christ’s coming was still intense, and in places it continued to create a fevered environment. Ellen White found herself counseling Ezra Butler and his circle of believers in Vermont that while it was wrong to set a new date for October 1851, as they had done, they must, nevertheless, “get ready, for the clouds are gathering and will soon burst upon us.”27 How to balance this tension and how to relate to neighbors and relatives in this context provoked anxiety. An example from earlier in the year illustrates the dilemma. On Sunday night, May 19, Sarah Andrews had been obliged to call out

for her housemates, Ellen and James, to come upstairs and help with her distressed husband, Edward, who, “in excruciating pain all through his body,” was groaning, writhing, and twisting in bed. Seeking for some spiritual explanation for the sudden attack and thinking that he should feel guilty about something, Edward confessed of his own accord to the Whites that perhaps “he had encouraged the company of the wicked too much, and mingled with them too much.” According to Ellen, Sarah also “confessed the same.” James and Ellen subsequently anointed Edward with oil and “had quite a powerful time.” The pain subsided, and Edward “praised God aloud.”28 Just how far to interact with unbelieving neighbors and relatives, the world God had rejected, was obviously still a matter of anxious concern. In spite of such renewals of commitment in the Andrews household, Ellen’s message for the young John Andrews was specific. He should leave town and “go and write.” Paris Hill was not a good place to be. He should tarry “but a short time in Paris.” One writer by himself could not bring out clear light on every point (presumably referring to her husband James), and Andrews’s gift in expanding the theological perspectives was needed. He should “watch carefully,” meaning that he should study closely the parables that were the focus of their particular attention at the time, and that it “was his duty to do so.”29 But Paris should no longer be his base. Ten weeks later, Ellen confidentially advised a mutual Sabbatarian friend, Harriet Hastings, that she should not waste her time visiting the church in Paris because they “had not appreciated our labors there.”30 Apparently referring to the women of the two families, she observed that letters they might write to Harriet “may appear to be spiritual and interesting, but they are in a dark place. They think a great deal too much of their appearance and are proud and are much more devoted to themselves than they are to God.” The families would have “to die a greater death to this world than they ever yet have died.”31 Ellen reported that several weeks earlier the Lord had told her that Harriet ought not to go

back to Paris because “they had not heeded the visions that God had given them, and unless they did heed them they would pass through awful trials and judgements.” Harriet would be better to visit Topsham, where Ellen’s own little Henry was being cared for by the Howland family, or even to simply stay where she was. In Ellen White’s view, it seems that shunning would perhaps bring a better response from the Stevens girls.32

The publishing enterprise moves west The tensions in Paris Hill had apparently persuaded James that it was not the best place to nurture his new magazine. That there was a need for such a magazine, he was sure. “We are satisfied that we must have a paper,” he wrote in the Review on June 9. But “perhaps,” he suggested, “it should be published at a more central place, where the publication could be obtained with less expense, and where we could go out and spend the Sabbath with the brethren in different places.” That was true. Paris Hill was not well located to accomplish that purpose. Giving the brethren some time to think about the problem of the best location, he indicated that “it seems duty to suspend the publication of the paper for a few weeks.”33 Developing needs among some of the new believers in a cluster of towns just north of Albany, the New York state capital, provided a convenient opportunity for counsel with the brethren. Former Millerites who had embraced the Sabbath truth at Milton, near Ballston Spa, 270 miles southwest of Paris Hill, called for a visit. The particular concerns of these new believers also related to the nature and status of Ellen White’s visions, now being reported more frequently in Adventist literature. Thus a “general” conference was scheduled there for the last weekend in June 1851. Just prior to the departure of the Whites from Paris, in late May, John Andrews also headed southwest toward New Ipswich in New Hampshire, where he linked up with Joseph Bates.34 During the previous two years, the number of Sabbath keepers had increased fourfold in New Hampshire and

Vermont, and there was a need for much pastoral care and nurture. Bates and Andrews, therefore, spent the rest of the month of June in central Vermont, teaching and preaching at weekend conferences and midweek Bible study groups. They stayed with the Loveland family in Johnson, and with the Butler family in Waterbury—a family struggling with the new Sabbatarian understandings.35 John would not catch up with the Whites, now located at Ballston Spa in New York, until early July. He may not have realized it at the time, but in leaving home this time, the departure was more permanent. He would be gone for four years. John Andrews’s ministry was now taking on a wider scope, and he was not to return to Paris for any length of time, at least until 1855. Five months after his departure, and apparently no longer able to afford the larger house on Paris Hill, his parents downsized in early November 1851 and moved to the outskirts of the town into a smaller place known to his aunt Persis as “the old Hubbard House.” At this time his uncle Charles also left Paris for Washington, DC, to serve as a Democratic member of the US House of Representatives (he had been elected the previous year).36 John’s relationships and interests, however, now focused around a new family: the Whites. And where they went, he would follow. As it turned out, during the conference at Milton, which Andrews did not attend, decisions were taken to relocate the publishing of the infant magazine from Paris Hill to nearby Saratoga Springs, a rather affluent town famous for its mineral waters and crowds of summer health tourists. (The town’s famous horse racing course would not open until August 1863.)37 The Whites had found temporary accommodations in the home of Elder Jesse Thompson, a former Christian Connection minister who, during the 1840s, had joined up with William Miller. He was now a Sabbatarian Adventist, fully committed to the new understanding of the third angel’s message. It was at the dining room table in this home, in Ballston Spa, that copy for the first issue of volume two of the Review was written up. The Whites stayed on for several weeks. Whether John

Andrews also stayed here when he arrived in town is not clear. The Thompsons had four single daughters at home between the ages of twelve and twenty-four, and bedrooms already had claims upon them.38 Interest in Ellen White’s visions among the new believers in the Saratoga Springs area became especially keen as the frequency of the visions increased. Uncertainty about the authority of the visions, however, was clearly not restricted to the Andrews family and their fellow Paris believers. “The visions trouble many,” reported Ellen White of her experience in New York. “They know not what to make of them.”39 In response to the discussions, a decision was made to prepare, during July, a sixty-four-page booklet explaining the visions and giving a biographical sketch of the visionary. A Sketch of the Christian Experience and Views of Ellen G. White, released in early August, was her very first book. During this period, James also published an Extra of the Review, explaining the reason for the unanticipated relocation to upstate New York, and the first regular issue, number one of volume two, was mailed out in early August.40 James and Ellen had hoped to wait for the cooler weather before they secured new lodging. By then the “fat and lazy” patrons of the mineral springs would have returned to their homes and the inflated summer rents at Saratoga Springs would have fallen. Apparently, reasonably priced accommodations had been found earlier than expected, and the Whites were able to move, for the first time in their marriage, into their own rented house. For the past five years, since their marriage, they had lived in other people’s houses, with all the associated stresses that that involved. Now for the first time they were the tenants of a house in their own right, and other people could stay with them. Not having other people in the house was unthinkable. As the Whites settled into their new accommodations and new publishing routines in Saratoga Springs in late summer, Andrews, after a brief stay to get himself acquainted with the new publishing base,

embarked on yet another extensive evangelistic tour, this time pushing 250 miles farther west through a series of small townships in the central region of upstate New York. While from one perspective his expanding circles of evangelistic endeavors may have seemed haphazard and a somewhat opportunistic response to needs and invitations as they arose, nevertheless, behind the local invitations there was a thoughtful pattern of probing and expanding circles of ministry, each reaching farther out into the American Midwest. The search for former Millerites was also following the developing American frontier. In the late 1840s, American society had been consumed with the notion of imperial expansion to the far west and the dream of establishing expanded western and southwestern borders for the nation. Why not the coast of Californian Mexico? In 1846 and 1848, respectively, Wisconsin and Iowa had been added as new states. The war with Mexico over southern and western borders had been settled in early 1848. In 1849, the Californian gold rush drew thousands west, and in 1850, fiery debates and violence had erupted in the senate as the nation wrestled with the question of the terms of admission of the enormous new states of California and New Mexico into the Union.41 Although Horace Greeley, editor of the widely read New York Tribune, did not originate the phrase, it was in 1851 that he gave wide exposure to Indiana editor John Soule’s counsel to “Go west, young man, go west.” The lure of the West was irresistible, and many discouraged and disillusioned Millerites had moved west to make a new start. The mission strategy of the expanding Sabbatarian movement, whether consciously or unconsciously, followed that social trend and demonstrated the practical truth that success was to be found in the West. The Review reported in August 1851 that, again, Andrews had teamed up with Samuel Rhodes as a mentor, and together they sought out former Millerites and new Sabbatarian believers in upstate New York locations such as Camden, Pitcher, Manlius, Linklaen, including a mid-July weekend conference in Bath, 250 miles southwest of Saratoga Springs.

Preaching focused, as expected, on the new Sabbath and sanctuary teachings, with footwashing and the Lord’s Supper concluding each meeting. Rhodes reported to the Review that they found “saints” who were “strong and joyful in God” and “dear souls” from whom they departed “with tears.”42 Sometime in August, Hiram Edson, a lay pastor of Gibson, New York, switched places with Rhodes as Andrews’s preaching partner. Edson’s post-Disappointment insight about a sanctuary in heaven helped many of the disappointed keep their confidence in the Advent hope. For six weeks he and Andrews pushed out together in a wider six-hundred-mile circle, from Niagara and Erie in the north to the south and west, into the mountainous country of Allegheny County in western Pennsylvania, looking for discouraged Millerites. Edson reported that some of this travel was through rugged new territory across mountains and steep-sided valleys, with the challenge of having to remove numerous trees fallen across rough tracks that counted for roads. Among the scattered pioneering families they stayed with, they met former Adventists with whom they successfully shared the Sabbath, and they also spent time with Seventh Day Baptists with whom they shared news of the Advent. They encountered prejudice and opposition but also found numerous families and companies who accepted their teaching.43 Andrews was all the while gaining further skills in ministry. Then it was back to Edson’s hometown of Gibson, New York, and then, for John Andrews, it was back to the new base at Saratoga Springs to confer with his senior, James, and to spend a brief time on publishing matters. Ministry in mid-September 1851 focused around a three-day conference back at Sutton in Vermont to help stabilize the Ezra Butler family as they wrestled with yet another new date (October) for the Advent. They were disappointed again. Andrews accompanied James and Ellen White on this trip as they addressed believers’ perplexities about the authenticity and authority of Ellen’s visions, the problem of date setting, and the lingering

manifestations of fanaticism, which still at times involved spiritual wifery.44 Following the dramas of the Vermont visit and a short stay back in Saratoga Springs, Andrews embarked on an even longer eight-hundredmile “search and find” circuit out into the West through Cleveland, Ohio, where he encountered other instances of spiritual wifery that needed correcting, then he traveled farther west through Norwalk and Milan to Cincinnati, an important center of Millerism. In mid-October, from Cincinnati the young evangelist reported that he had again encountered both indifference and prejudice but that he also found numerous families who responded favorably to the Sabbath truth. Modestly, he noted that “God has seen fit in some measure to bless the effort, [and] a considerable number will, I trust, turn away their feet from the Sabbath.”45 From Cincinnati he pushed farther west, as far as Indianapolis in central Indiana, and then finally headed north to another strong Adventist center in Jackson, a large town in southern Michigan, all the while keeping the Whites informed about what he was finding with regular letters.46 James White, in the Review, noted approvingly that “the labors of Bro. J. N. Andrews in the west have been greatly blessed of the Lord.”47 In Jackson, Andrews planned to find shelter for the winter. All during this first year of itinerant preaching and visiting, John Andrews had also taken time to write extensively, and almost every issue of the Review carried substantial, tightly argued polemical articles expounding on the Sabbath, the law, and on the key prophetic passages of Revelation 13 and 14, all of which must have taken many hours to produce. The articles cite many scriptural references, debate closely the meaning and implications of the texts, and cite scholarly references on Scripture and history. The articles also engage in a strong polemic with other former Millerite authors in other Adventist journals, such as the Harbinger, the Advocate, and the Advent Herald. Andrews was clearly keeping his reading up to date even as he traveled.

In May he wrote an extended exposition of Revelation 13 and 14, arguing strongly for the new Sabbatarian understanding of the three angels’ messages. The first and second messages were in the past, and the third was in process. In this landmark article, Andrews, for the first time in Adventist circles, argued a revolutionary new perspective on the problematic beast of Revelation 13—the one with “two horns like a lamb” which spoke “as a dragon” (Revelation 13:11, KJV). Andrews asserted that this beast was the United States of America. As Douglas Morgan points out in his study of Adventist Church and state relations, Andrews’s 1851 interpretation was “unprecedented.” Andrews argued that the two horns represented Republicanism and Protestantism, which were synonymous with political and religious liberty. But the prophecy suggested that these two principles would only be a pretense, and the nation would also eventually act like the persecuting first beast, papal Rome. Andrews would later further develop his interpretive approach, and he would be followed by others. As Morgan notes, this approach to interpretation, underscored by the sectional crisis over slavery and developing fears about Sunday laws, would become normative for later Adventist interpreters. Andrews’s apocalyptic view of America would become a central characteristic of Adventist prophetic understanding.48 In the same May issue, in another piece, Andrews defended the Protestant principle of the primacy of scriptural authority over tradition, a teaching which clearly undermined any idea that Sunday could be the Sabbath.49 In June Andrews found time to write again on the Sabbath question, this time discussing the “time” for the Sabbath. He argued strongly against the first day and supported Joseph Bates’s reasoning that “evening” should be understood as 6:00 P.M.50 When the journal resumed publication after the summer relocation to Saratoga Springs, it carried an extensive, tightly argued rejoinder to Mrs. C. Stowe, who had published a contesting interpretation of the three angels and their messages in the Advent

Herald.51 This was followed by a lengthy article responding to arguments about the perpetuity of the law from first-day opponents. “Discourses with Bro. Carver” was a fifteen-hundred-word, closely reasoned, eight-point textual analysis showing that Carver’s argument that the law had been abolished could not be sustained.52 By mid-November, when Andrews arrived in Jackson, he was already working on another thirteen-hundredword polemical article, this time a response to O. R. L. Crosier’s criticism of Seventh-day Sabbath keepers that had been published in the Advent Harbinger. Andrews’s response was published in December.53 The value of these carefully crafted, scholarly responses was recognized by James White, who quickly arranged for them to be put into an attractive fortyeight-page tract format for wider circulation.54 Andrews saw Jackson, Michigan, as a good place to rest. It had been a strong Millerite center, and two years previously, at the end of an evangelistic series, Joseph Bates had formed the group of twenty families or so into a thriving and active Sabbatarian church. A number of the families were quite prosperous. It seems that John Andrews found accommodations and space to write in the home of lay leader Dan Palmer, the town blacksmith. Andrews’s preaching on the Advent and his advocacy of the Sabbath in Jackson not only strengthened the existing believers but found a ready response from other reluctant former Millerites. The church grew.55 As he looked back over this first year of ministry, he would write to his mentor, James White, “I was never more deeply impressed with the importance of the work in which we are engaged. . . . My heart is bound up in it and in a work so sacred I would cheerfully spend and be spent.”56 It was a demanding and exhausting schedule, and the question would soon become whether Andrews was spending his resources of health and well-being in too profligate a manner. By the end of 1855, he would be completely spent.

1. George R. Knight, Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2005), 162–166. George R. Knight’s “Historical Introduction” in Earliest Seventh-day Adventist Periodicals (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 2005), vii– xxxvi, provides an insightful background to the developments of this period. See also EGW, MS 14, Sept. 1850; MS 15, Oct. 23, 1850, EGWE-GC. 2. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Dec. 13, 1850, EGWE-GC. 3. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Apr. 1, 1851, EGWE-GC. 4. EGW, SG (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press, 1858–1864), 2:144–149. 5. RH, Jan. 1851, 31. The Review noted that John wrote four letters to James and Ellen reporting on their activities during this period. 6. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Dec. 13, 1850, EGWE-GC. 7. RH, Apr. 21, 1851, 72. 8. Washburn reported several months later that Andrews and Rhodes had brought him the light of the third angel’s message “last Spring.” “From Bro. Washburn,” RH, Nov. 25, 1851, 54. 9. “The Perpetuity of the Law of God,” RH, Jan. 1851, 33–37; Feb. 1851, 41–43. A more extended analysis of Andrews’s Sabbath theology can be found in chapter 15. 10. “Items of Advent Experience During the Past Fifty Years,” RH, Oct. 16, 1888, 642, 643. 11. Ellen White seems to have found some resonance with an article she selected for the Health Reformer in 1871 warning about the dangers of guest bedrooms. “Beware the Spare Bed,” THR, Feb–Mar. 1871, 29, 30. 12. PSABD, Apr. 7, 1850, MHS. 13. The description is given by contemporary Charles F. Stevens, memory statement, n.d., CAR. The language that Persis uses in her diary on Nov. 24, 1850, suggests that the house occupied by Edward and Sarah was somewhere up in the village some little distance from her own. She “sent” the children “to their Uncle Edwards” for Sarah to mind for a while. She sent her husband to the “Tavern for his dinner,” and then took herself “out to solicit charity.” She wanted to help a poor woman and her family in the village who had been deserted by her husband. PSABD, Nov. 24, 1850, MHS. 14. “The Paper,” RH, Mar. 1851, 53. 15. “Dyspepsia,” according to Howard Markel, was “a nineteenth-century catchall term for a medley of flatulence, constipation, diarrhea, heartburn, and ‘upset stomach.’ ” The Kelloggs: The Battling Brothers of Battle Creek (New York: Pantheon Books, 2017), 35. Markel has a good discussion of the complaint, which was so universal that Walt Whitman, in 1858, spoke of it as “the great American evil.” See Mose Velsor, “Manly Health and Training, With Off-Hand Hints Toward Their Conditions,” Walt Whitman Quarterly Review, 33, no. 3 (2016): 184–310. 16. JW to E. P. Butler, Dec. 12, 1861, EGWE-GC. 17. EGW, SG, 2:144. EGW, MS 9, 1851, also reflects some of the family tensions at the time. See EGW, L&M (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 284, 285. 18. PSABD, Jan. 12, 1851, MHS. 19. JW to E. P. Butler, Dec. 12, 1861, EGWE-GC. Giving vent to considerable exasperation, James defends himself in this letter, pointing out with clear hyperbole that he had felt he was not getting good value for the board he was paying (in addition to the rent), and so he agreed to “keep house”

himself in order “to prevent utter starvation.” The other Paris families (Stevens) had not been helpful when these changes in terms were made. He cited his readiness to keep John Andrews in shoes and clothes in later years as a clear evidence of his good will toward the family. 20. The dominant leader in the group, Ezra Butler, not only ran a successful farm but operated two successful starch factories. In November he had accepted the “shut door” theology and decided to close his factories on Sabbath. He had also caused “no little stir” in the town by continuing to pay his workers for six days work though they now only worked five. See RH, Nov. 21 and Dec. 1850, 20. 21. EGW, SG, 2:146, 147. 22. Ibid. 23. EGW, MS 9, 1851. See also EGW to Belinda Loveland, Apr. 1, 1851, EGWE-GC. 24. Pauline Stevens to EGW, Jan. 27, 1862, EGWE-GC. 25. EGW, MS 9, 1851, EGWE-GC. 26. Pauline Stevens to EGW, Jan. 27, 1862, EGWE-GC. 27. EGW, MS 5, May 18, 1851, EGWE-GC. This manuscript is the record of a vision that Ellen White wrote out and sent to Samuel Rhodes. 28. EGW to SWR, May 19, 1851, EGWE-GC. 29. EGW, MS 5, May 18, 1851, EGWE-GC. 30. EGW to Harriet Hastings, Aug. 1, 1851, EGWE-GC. “I write this to you in confidence that you may know just how things stand in Paris.” Ellen White seems to have wanted Harriet Hastings not to be influenced by her friends in Paris, nor did she wish her assessment of them to be known by others. 31. EGW to Harriet Hastings. An interest in dress and fashion may have been a part of the discomfort that Ellen White experienced with the sisters in Paris. The Stevens sisters were all good dressmakers. She had resolved at her baptism that “plain dress” would be her style and the test of her commitment to being a Christian. See Ellen White’s account of this resolve in Youth’s Instructor, Dec. 1852, 22. The article is a biographical reflection on her early life. 32. EGW to Harriet Hastings, Aug. 1, 1851, EGWE-GC. Harriet Hastings died of tuberculosis in 1854 while in the care of the Stevens family in Paris. 33. “The Paper,” RH, June 9, 1851, 104. 34. EGW to SWR, May 18, 19, 1851, EGWE-GC. “John will go from here in a few days.” 35. RH, July 11, 1851; “From Bro. Rhodes,” RH, Aug. 5, 1851, 6. 36. PASBD, Nov. 2, 1851, MHS. Persis employed Adventist Harriet Richter as her house girl when Charles left and notes that when Edward and his family left the Shurtleff House, Rufus Stephen moved in. 37. Timothy A. Holmes and Martha Stonequist, Saratoga Springs: A Historical Portrait (Charleston, SC: Arcadia, 2000), 94. 38. EGW to Leonard and Harriet Hastings, July 27, 1851, EGWE-GC. 39. EGW to Abram and Caroline Dodge, July 21, 1851, EGWE-GC. 40. EGW to Harriet Hastings, Aug. 11, 1851, EGWE-GC. 41. New Mexico was not admitted into the Union until 1912, long after California, because it did not have a large enough population of English-speaking whites.

42. SWR to JW, July 15, 1851, EGWE-GC. “From Samuel Rhodes,” RH, Aug. 5, 1851, 7, 8. 43. Edson provided a succinct report of the tour for readers of the Review on their return. “From Bro. Edson,” RH, Sept. 2, 1851, 24. 44. “Conferences,” RH, Sept. 16, 1851, 32; “Conferences,” RH, Oct. 21, 1851, 47. Achieving cohesion and unity of belief among the Sabbatarians in this northeastern region would require a further visit by James and Ellen in November, during which they were required to exert their spiritual authority strongly. At one point during the meetings, “Brother Walker arose and undertook to make it go that Jesus had left the Holiest. Ellen and I cried out and rebuked him in the name of the Lord at the same instant, and he was bound at once, and set down. I never saw nothing like. Brother Butler finally said, I believe the visions.” In a hasty letter to keep Andrews informed, James described the meetings as very emotional. There were several visionary experiences, “shouting”, “weeping,” and “much feeling.” JW to “Brethren in Christ,” Nov. 11, 1851, EGWE-GC. 45. “From Bro. Washburn,” RH, Nov. 25, 1851, 54. 46. He wrote three letters to the Whites between October 21 and November 21, and the Review noted the receipt of a further three letters since that date. RH, Nov. 25, 1851, 54, 55. 47. Ibid. 48. Douglas Morgan, Adventism and the American Republic (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001), 16–20. 49. “Is the Bible Sufficient as a Rule of Faith and Practice?” RH, May 19, 1851, 87, 88. 50. “The Time of the Sabbath,” RH, June 2, 1851, 92, 93. 51. “The Three Angels of Revelation XIV,” RH, Sept. 16, 1851, 28–30. 52. “Discourses With Bro. Carver,” RH, Sept. 16, 1851, 28–30. 53. “Review of O.R.L. Crosier,” RH, Dec. 9, 1851, 60, 61. 54. “Tracts,” RH, Dec. 23, 1852, 125. 55. Correspondent M. L. Bauder complimented Andrews on his successful evangelistic work in Jackson in the Review. “From Bro. Bauder,” RH, Dec. 23, 1851, 66. 56. “From Bro. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 22, 1851, 54.

Chapter Six

The Early Rochester Years: 1852– 1855

T

he early years of the ministry of John Andrews provide a revealing

window into the development of early Adventism. In many respects, his experience mirrored closely the experience of the emerging movement itself. During this period, we see him as a maturing preacher and writer, engaged in bold polemics and seeking more fruitful locations for mission. We will also observe his emerging role as a Melanchthon for James White, the events surrounding his ordination to ministry in 1853, his move west to Rochester with the Review and Herald office, and finally the breakdown of his health and his withdrawal from ministry less than two years later. This chapter will also note the complicated personal relationships within the growing community that made community life for early Adventists such a challenge.

Itinerant preaching The city of Jackson in south central Michigan, forty miles east of Ann Arbor, would serve as a ministry base for Andrews for almost four months during the winter of 1852, enabling him to recoup energies, preach in the local church, and visit scattered families and companies farther afield in Michigan. The twenty Sabbatarian Adventist families resident in or around the town of about three thousand were not unfamiliar with Adventist preachers, but the ones they had heard so far were older men. Fifty-eightyear-old Joseph Bates, with his enthusiasm for the Seventh-day Sabbath,

had been the first, and he had persuaded most of them to become Sabbath keepers. Samuel Rhodes next evangelized among the former Millerites, confirming them in the new understanding of Adventism. But when twenty-two-year-old John Andrews arrived in town in late October 1851, nearing the end of his first year in ministry, they were impressed with the thoughtfulness of the tall, youthful preacher and writer. There are no transcripts of Andrews’s sermons that have survived from this period (if he used a manuscript), but if his early preaching was anything at all like his writing, it consisted of close doctrinal exposition buttressed by numerous scriptural references, with a tight-knit argument shaped by a strong apologetic. Constantly hovering in the background were not so shadowy opponents: first-day Adventists and those former Millerites who had opted for an “age to come” perspective or who believed the whole Millerite experience had been a delusion.1 The emphasis in Andrews’s sermons was heavy on intellectual argument, polemical defense of doctrinal positions, and, on occasion, not above some debating style and point scoring off an opponent if he thought it necessary. It was a style exhibited by his mentor, Samuel Rhodes, which Ellen White had cheered as preaching “the plain cutting truths of the Bible.” This kind of preaching helped believers to see “how plain our position is” and to know assuredly “that we have the truth,” she wrote.2 In this respect, Andrews’s preaching echoed something of what the reader encounters in the pastoral letters of Paul. “Some have been brought into the truth,” reported a Review correspondent, and “many are convinced of the truth.”3 There had been the usual responses from those who were “prejudiced,” but the local Adventist community was impressed with the freshness of the young preacher, as were those in the nearby towns. In mid-February, the local company convener at the tiny town of Ionia, eighty miles northwest of Jackson, enthused that Andrews ran “the best meeting I ever enjoyed.” He thought the Lord had given Andrews “unusual liberty,” and “the whole discourse seemed new.” He had appreciated the preaching because, for some time,

he felt that he had been “starved to death” for want of spiritual nourishment.4 While Andrews occasionally found it necessary to speak strongly about practices that if unchecked would damage the reputation of the struggling young community, his approach tended to be more diplomatic and gently pastoral than Samuel Rhodes, who soon fell out of favor as a mentor for Andrews.5 Rhodes’s cutting style became counterproductive in Jackson and elsewhere. And, as Ellen White noted with concern, because Rhodes was viewed as being “in union with the brethren . . . he must be right, and it was safe to do as he did.” Others soon copied his style.6 But when the “cutting” approach to preaching was turned on Sabbatarian believers themselves in “a spirit of severity,” particularly urging them to “sell all that ye have and give alms,” Ellen White would protest that there was need of a more “calm and meek” spirit. Rhodes’s cutting style “was not suited to the believers in Jackson.”7 The winterlong stay in Jackson provided a more settled environment for Andrews to give time to writing. By the end of November, he had completed an extended defense of the Sabbatarian interpretation of Revelation 14:1–13.8 During December and into January and February, he busied himself with formulating replies to Joseph Marsh and some of his critical correspondents, who were attacking the Sabbatarians through the pages of Marsh’s anti-Sabbath Advent Harbinger magazine published from Rochester, New York. These exchanges, at times, became aggravated and quite personal. On February 9, Andrews observed, “I see that Elder Marsh is amusing himself and others by loudly demanding that we should prove that God has given the fourth commandment a second time. This is an artful dodging of the real question,” he reported of articles he had been reading during January.9 A week later he wrote a hard-hitting personalized rejoinder to a Mary Seymour, the wife of Elder Seymour, one of Joseph Marsh’s ministerial colleagues. He felt that Mrs. Seymour, herself a minister, had disrespectfully sneered at and ridiculed Sabbatarian

arguments in a January 30 Harbinger article that Andrews could not let pass unnoticed. He had apparently visited the Seymour home somewhere in Michigan and had spent some time with the couple, using his charts to explain the “shut door” and the Sabbatarian understanding of the Disappointment, the sanctuary, and the way this underscored the importance of keeping the whole law. It was a friendly exchange, he thought. But now that his “friendly visit” with them had been “made the subject of public notice” in the Harbinger and his arguments made the subject of “sneer,” he felt it his duty to reply, and he did so in a very feisty manner. “There are more in Michigan who are willing to keep the commandments of God, than Mrs. S. is willing to believe,” Andrews declared as he visited among the former Millerites. In fact, in her own field of labor, Andrews declared, “instead of feeding the flock,” Mrs. S. and her husband had “fouled with their feet that which God designed his flock should eat.”10 He was also surprised that the Seymours were willing to give some credence to the current craze of mesmerism. He had once thought that what Samuel Rhodes had said of the couple had been “too strong.” Now he “greatly feared” Rhodes’s assessment was “just.” The Seymours, he worried, were not on the road to the Holy City but were journeying to the other place. It was a frank piece of writing. Andrews clearly felt maligned and believed that attack was the best defense, and editor James White was more than happy to publish such highly charged debate. The heated exchange and the follow-up necessary among enquiring former Millerites in central Michigan apparently detained Andrews longer than he had anticipated. He arrived late, “towards the close” of the important publishing council that James had called to meet in Ballston Spa in upstate New York on the weekend of March 12–14, 1852. Here John was to meet twenty-two-year-old Annie Smith, who had just joined the publishing family at Saratoga Springs.

The call for influential men of means to attend the Ballston Spa conference was accompanied by a back page article in the Review outlining present publishing difficulties and suggesting what James thought needed to be done. There needed to be wider support by the body of believers, ownership should be in the hands of Sabbath keepers, and there needed to be more support in the production process. Furthermore, it would be good, in fact, for the body to own its own press. The young movement was developing a conscience about asking others to work on the Sabbath while they rested. It did not seem consistent that Sabbath keepers would put out their work to be printed by non-believers on Sabbath. “Unpleasant and inconvenient” was how the concern was expressed. But besides such theological concerns, it would certainly be more economical to do the printing themselves.11 The report from a meeting of another group of influential men in Fairhaven, Massachusetts, at the end of February had also reported support for the idea that it was time to distribute the load “more equally” and to begin acting “as a body.” The publishing work needed to have a wider base on which it could rely. It was no longer right “that the burden be borne by . . . a few individuals.”12 As it turned out, the late notice and bad weather meant that only thirteen people attended the Ballston Spa conference. But the thirteen were enough to make things happen. Fund-raising was initiated to purchase cases of hand type, together with a new handpress estimated to cost six hundred dollars. Attendees set up a committee to oversee financial operations. In addition, it was resolved to relocate the publishing enterprise again, this time to the city of Rochester, New York. Andrews arrived at the conference only after the business concerning the publishing relocation and upgrade had been completed. But the decision meant that he, along with the Whites and other members of the slowly enlarging worker team, had once more to relocate their base. It seems that Andrews moved immediately, while the Whites followed in April, after Ellen had borrowed some money in order to finance their move.13 Rochester would be his

home for the next three years and then at various intervals for many years thereafter. In 1851, Rochester ranked at number twenty-one in the list of the one hundred largest cities in the US Its population of 36,500 meant that it was a strong commercial and cultural center. It had become a booming transport hub in 1825 when the Erie Canal opened, giving the city direct access to Albany, the state capital, and the Hudson River. It had become home to over twenty large flour mills and related industries, was possessed of a good library and a newly established university (1850), and had been one of the major locations for William Miller’s preaching in the 1840s. Large numbers of former Millerites lived in the city and its vicinity.14 The city was open to both new and strange ideas and had recently developed a reputation for being at the forefront of social and religious reform. In 1847, Frederick Douglass, the famous abolitionist leader, had established the abolitionist North Star newspaper there, and the city had become an important stop on the Underground Railroad. In early July 1852, just three months or so after Andrews moved into town, Frederick Douglass electrified the country and put Rochester on the map with his fiery speech “The Meaning of July Fourth to the Negro.” It was delivered to the Rochester Ladies Anti-slavery Society. The city also became a strong center for the feminist movement.15 The publishing house was soon on its feet in Rochester. The first issue of the Review at this new location was published on May 6, 1852, on a press belonging to a local printer. By the following issue, published May 27, the new press had been installed (at first in the home that James and Ellen had rented), and the Review was being printed, at last, by Sabbath keepers themselves. Within a few months, the third floor of a downtown building had been secured for printing and office space, and the press was soon on a steep growth curve. Sixteen hundred copies were being mailed each fortnight and also one hundred copies of the new Youth’s Instructor, a young people’s magazine.16

The Whites found a comfortable commodious home to rent at 124 Mt. Hope Avenue and quickly cobbled together sufficient used furniture to make it livable. Fortunately, the house had a large yard for gardens and for their two young children to have a play area. The house needed to be large because, before the end of the year, almost the entire staff of the newly established printing and publishing operation boarded with them, and the home quickly became a crowded, complicated eighteen-member colony of workers.17 This was John Andrews’s new home base. At first, the publishing enterprise functioned largely as a family affair, with close relatives being enlisted as volunteers and then later employed as the enterprise got off the ground. Ellen White’s elder sister Sarah and her husband, Stephen Belden, soon moved in to the house so that Stephen could help as a foreman and business manager for the Review. Then James’s two unmarried siblings Anna and Nathaniel White also moved in during the year to help with printing and mailing operations.18 Lumen Masters, a non-Adventist journeyman printer from the previous printing house in Saratoga Springs, boarded with the family and served as the master printer for the Review, along with twenty-two-year-old Oswald Stowell, from Paris, Maine, helping as a pressman and Warren Bachelor, a thirteen-year-old apprentice. Annie Smith, the copy editor, was also a boarder. Uriah Smith and George Amadon joined the publishing family by the end of the year. Ellen White’s friend Clarissa Bonhofey lived with the family as a nanny, caring for Ellen White’s two small boys, Henry (five years old) and Edson (three years old). Jenny Foster, who served as a cook, also boarded with the family. The tightly packed house was not free of the normal tensions and conflict that inevitably arise with a mix of relatives and good-hearted volunteers living in crowded spaces and working for nothing more than board and pocket money. For the first year, Belden and Stowell were paid “but a trifle more than their board,” as were others “engaged in the same work,” reported James White.19 Rooms in the house were clearly at a premium, and when conferences and Sabbath meetings

were also held in the house involving mothers with large broods of children tarrying all day, living circumstances easily became oppressive both for the Whites and for their boarders.20 With scarce resources, however, everyone was prepared to sacrifice. John Andrews apparently boarded in the crowded house only a short time. He needed a quieter place for research and writing. Later in his sojourn in Rochester, he is reported as boarding in the home of Jonathan Orton, an Adventist hackman (cabdriver) who lived but a short distance away on South Union Street.21

James White’s Melanchthon With the restructuring of the arrangements for publishing the Review, James White was listed prominently as the editor, with John Andrews still listed on the masthead as a member of the publishing committee, along with Joseph Bates and a Joseph Baker, whose name replaced that of Samuel Rhodes. Andrews continued to develop a dominant role as the lead scholarly writer for the paper, and James White did all he could to encourage and facilitate this. White clearly admired Andrews’s ability as a polemicist and his systematic and scholarly approach to the explication of the Sabbatarian doctrines. Just as the scholar Phillip Melanchthon in reformation Germany had served the Lutheran cause as a careful systematizer of Luther’s doctrinal positions, so John Andrews was to James White and early Adventism. In Adventism’s early years, it was John Andrews who, with his homegrown scholarship and his careful, logical, and systematic approach to studying the biblical text, helped defend and define Sabbatarian Adventist theology. If Joseph Bates and James White had been the originators of the new Sabbath-sanctuary-Advent synthesis, as George R. Knight demonstrates, it was John Andrews who was the systematizer and apologist.22 James White clearly valued Andrews’s bold and frank addressing of the arguments of opponents. He understood that Andrews gave confidence to the movement and a firm, credible theological grounding for their belief system. “We are

pleased with the candid and thorough manner in which Bro. Andrews is treating the subject” of the Sabbath, White editorialized in the first issue from their own press in late May 1852. In the previous issue, Andrews had begun an important new series of articles defending the Sabbath.23 “As we have before said, those who have the truth can afford to be fair. They will be willing to let the strength of the argument on both sides be seen, while those who are on the side of error, and have to argue against facts, often show the weakness of their position by their unfairness, and their sweeping, denunciatory assertions.”24 Underneath the clear systematic expositions of Andrews’s doctrinal position lay the conviction that “truth” was based on the facts and that when these facts were uncovered and clearly established, truth could be seen by all. It should be just plain “common sense.” This “common sense” philosophy, which shaped the thought patterns of nineteenth-century New England society, was based on the Baconian scientific view that stressed the assembling of facts on any given topic and that when this was done, the truth of the matter was “self-evident.” There are no works by the Scottish philosophers, such as Francis Hutchenson (1694–1790), Thomas Reid (1710–1796), or Dugald Stewart (1753–1828) to be found in what remains of J. N. Andrews’s library at Andrews University or at the Universitie Adventiste in Saleve, France. But that would not be unusual. Andrews’s underlying subconscious philosophy was the worldview of many of the nineteenth-century authors on health, ethics, and religious doctrine that he read and to which he was inclined. The idea that facts could be gathered and understood seemed so intuitive it was almost second nature to the nineteenth-century way of thinking. Thus, as American religious historian Mark Noll observes, “many Protestants denied that they had a philosophy or deferred to an intellectual authority; they were merely following common sense.”25 For Andrews, as for other Millerites, one simply focused on the biblical facts as they were understood by the average reader. It was a highly rational approach to understanding faith

and duty. One did not need complicated rational explanations. Setting out the facts and making things clear in a common sense way made the truth simple to understand by all. This was Andrews’s basic approach to establishing doctrine and to understanding prophecy and history, particularly the history of the Sabbath. It underscored his approach to debate and discussion with fellow Advent believers. “The following facts would show . . . ,” he would write.26 Facts would speak for themselves. Adventists were faced with the necessity of establishing their theological positions chiefly in the context of intense hostility and opposition from other branches of former Millerites, and Andrews’s skill in responding to this hostility with calmness was valued highly. In midseries, and in the face of considerable criticism over the prominence that James was giving to the Andrews articles, White felt it necessary to defend his editorial stance. “A good brother regrets that so much space is occupied in the Review and Herald with the discussion of the Sabbath question.” White replied that if his critic was “situated as most of the brethren are,” he would surely feel otherwise. “Many of the brethren are placed in the midst of opposition, where the objections to the perpetuity of the Sabbath, that have appeared in the Harbinger, are urged upon them, and it is necessary that these objections be answered, that our brethren may be able to defend their position.” He was aware, he explained, that there were numbers of readers who lived where there was no particular opposition to the Sabbath doctrine, but he did not feel they “were wellprepared to judge of the real value of Brother Andrews’ letters.” It is “our opinion,” he asserted, that such “will sooner or later, have to meet all the objections that can be raised against the Sabbath of the Lord our God, therefore their only safe course is to study well the Sabbath question.”27 Moreover, it was important that the truth be spoken “fearlessly, but in love.” He thought that Andrews was doing this well. “We approve of the mild, yet plain manner in which Bro. Andrews has defended his position; and fully believe that his letters are accomplishing, and will accomplish

much good.” While there were those, he reported, who felt that such “discussion should be avoided as unnecessary and wrong,” he could not agree that they should be silent “and not answer the objections of those who impiously trample on the commandments of God, and teach men to violate them.” This, he declared, “we can not, shall not do.” The necessity of “meeting our opponents” in straightforward debate was now as necessary as it ever was.28 Even if White saw Andrews’s polemical articles as “mild,” today’s reader would probably be very uncomfortable with the level of personal attack that Review editor White was willing to consider appropriate. The articles are published as an ongoing dialogue in which Crozier and Andrews respond to each other’s interpretation of Scripture as they critique the arguments the other uses to validate or invalidate the obligation to keep the seventh-day Sabbath. The form of the discussion was framed with expressions such as, “My position on the first question is . . . Your position on the same question is . . .,” or “You object to . . . But this objection bears with equal weight to . . .” “In your report . . .” “In reviewing you, I point out . . .” From today’s perspective, the conversations seems quite judgmental. “What gives your remarks a ludicrous aspect,” wrote Andrews midway through the series, “is the fact that though you have carefully kept my argument out of sight of your readers in your reply thus far, you now request them to decide whether you have not perfectly routed the Review in every position it has taken.” Andrews proceeded with the observation that to think that his position had been so routed would only be possible if Crozier had kept the arguments “out of your own sight as you have kept them out of the sight of your readers.” He would thus set out “the facts” and let them speak for themselves.29 The summer provided opportunities for involvement in evangelistic and Bible study conferences, and increasing attendance at such meetings greatly encouraged the leadership group. At Pulteney, sixty miles south of

Rochester, in early September, for example, Andrews preached to an overcrowded meetinghouse, with many standing outside. The next day, he preached to an estimated five hundred outdoors in a nearby grove. In late September, he was a drawcard speaker at a more extended evangelistic series in Rochester city.30 This latter series of meetings was particularly satisfying to Andrews because twenty-year-old part-time Advent Christian preacher John Loughborough and his wife, Mary, were in attendance and were convicted by Andrews’s argument that the cross of Jesus did not abolish the law. Loughborough had been persuaded by his neighbor on Union Street, Jonathon Orton, to attend the meetings. During the week that followed, the Loughboroughs, with seven young friends from their Advent Christian congregation, studied further with Andrews, who helped them understand the complex arguments about the mark of the beast, the twohorned beast, the third angel’s message, and the ministry of Jesus in the heavenly sanctuary. On the first Sabbath in October, John and Mary Loughborough, together with their seven friends, joined the steadily expanding Sabbatarian Adventists on Mt. Hope Avenue for worship. Jonathon Orton and his family joined them shortly afterward, after a period of struggle.31 The conversion of the young and energetic John Loughborough brought strength to the movement, and he was soon also writing and preaching his newfound faith throughout the Midwest. He became a widely traveled evangelist, missionary leader, and a revered church leader in Adventism.32 John Andrews, in the latter months of 1852, began writing a new series of articles on the sanctuary and the 2,300-day prophecy. James White had hoped that he would have the material for the new series from his Melanchthon for the first December issue, but Andrews missed his deadline, and the editor was disappointed. “Have waited for matter from Brother Andrews, but do not now expect it,” he wrote to friends in the first week of December. But knowing the quality of writing that Andrews was capable of producing, he assured them, “I expect you will have a feast

when it comes.”33 The delay may indicate something of the pressure that Andrews was under in regard to his writing. When the manuscript finally arrived and James was able to commence the series in his final issue for the year, he was highly laudatory in his introduction. “With the greatest pleasure we give in this number, a portion of Bro. Andrew’s [sic] articles on the Sanctuary. The remainder of it will be published as soon as possible. For want of the truth of this subject, thousands have made ship-wreck of their faith. It will be seen that this view of the subject, explains the Disappointment of the Advent people, and harmonizes the position of those among them who are still waiting for the Lord, with their past experience in the Advent faith.” White confidently expected that many readers would be persuaded by the carefully argued “harmony of this position” and urged that the series be studied carefully. “Is it not your privilege and your duty also, to seek to be able to give a scriptural reason of your hope and faith?—Most certainly it is.”34 “The man does not live,” John Andrews assured his readers, “who can overthrow the chronological argument, which terminates the 2,300 days at that time [1844], or meet the mighty array of evidence by which it is fortified and sustained.” He acknowledged that attempts by believers had been made to adjust the days “to extend them to some future period in which Palestine should be purified, or the earth be burned,” but these attempts had been, “to say the least, extremely embarrassing.”35 Carefully outlining the arguments for linking the seventy-year prophecy of Daniel 9 as a key to the understanding of Daniel 8 and dealing with objections, he introduced the reader to the critical question, “What is the sanctuary and how is it to be cleansed?”36 He then went on to explore the nature of the sanctuary and what its cleansing involved. He dealt with this in detail in the next four densely argued parts of the series, bringing them to a conclusion in the February 3, 1853, issue. If the believers in 1844 could “have understood the subject of the heavenly sanctuary, our

disappointment would have been avoided.” The four-part series occupied more than half the space in each issue of the Review (eventually totaling forty-four columns of typeface), and midway through, James White felt the need to further explain that “the importance of this subject can be understood by those only who thoroughly investigate it. It is the foundation of present truth, and without a knowledge of it, our present position cannot be explained. We desire to spread the entire subject before the readers of the Review as soon as consistent, therefore much space is given to it. Those who neglect to study it faithfully, will lose much.”37 It was the clearest, most systematic exposition of Sabbatarian Adventism anyone had yet produced, and James White recognized that it was a foundational piece of scholarship and would serve the church in an extremely valuable way as it sought to explain its system of belief. James White greatly valued his Melanchthon. Within just two or three months, the thirty-thousand-word exposition had been expanded and turned into a seventy-six-page booklet. It became the primary standard resource to which James White would refer inquirers. “Bro. J. N. Andrews, in his work on the Sanctuary and 2300 days, has given the scriptural view of the, cleansing of the Sanctuary, which is in perfect harmony with the ‘original Advent faith,’ ” White told his readers in November. Uriah Smith would later produce a more extensive treatment of the subject, but Andrews’s succinct booklet remained a favorite.38 Fifty years after it was first printed, evangelist John O. Corliss would still be using it in his evangelistic meetings, observing that “no writings of later days have made the subject more simple and plain than that little work.”39 Immediately following the lengthy series on the sanctuary, Andrews was back to defending the Sabbath with a three-part series challenging the legitimacy of Sunday as the Sabbath and giving an extensive history of the seventh-day Sabbath. This series, too, was produced as a booklet that was promoted repeatedly on the back page of the Review.40 Summer saw the addition of further articles on the sanctuary, even as Andrews was away

from Rochester conducting evangelistic meetings in Port Byron. Whether in his articles or in his preaching, Andrews’s presentations were clear and easy to follow. “Bro. Andrews presented the subject of the Sanctuary in the clearest manner. Believers in the present truth were instructed and comforted, and, others were strongly convicted that the position taken was correct,” enthused James White after hearing Andrews at a well-attended conference at Washington, New Hampshire, in late October.41

Ordination to ministry It seems not to have been John Andrews’s effectiveness as a preacher, pastor, evangelist, or writer that led his ministerial colleagues to consider him as a candidate for ordination to the gospel ministry. At this early stage in the development of Sabbatarian Adventism, ordination was not a status that the leading brethren had given much formal attention to at all. In the main, ordination was what had been granted to preachers by the denominations they had previously served. Lay preachers did not need it. The lack of ordination had apparently not kept Andrews from baptizing new believers or conducting funerals. Being able to celebrate ordinances, however, seemed to be the more significant criterion for distinguishing the role of authorized ministers in the emerging ecclesiology of the new movement. One preacher, Washington Morse, had been ordained the previous year in order to enable him to administer the ordinance of bread and wine, but it was not clear whether this was a local authorization or whether it had broader scope. It seems to have been this same need to have some kind of authorization for the celebration of Communion that led to Andrews being ordained in late October 1853. The circumstances of his being set apart were unusual. After preaching in western New York during the summer, Andrews had joined the Whites for the latter part of their autumn preaching tour back through the Northeast. Following the conference in Washington, New Hampshire, the group moved on to the tiny village of New Haven in West

Vermont to meet with scattered believers on the last weekend in October. Notice of the New Haven conference had been published in the Review rather late, and that, combined with the fact that the weather was cold and stormy, meant there were not as many attending as had been hoped when the meetings started on Friday, October 28. The schoolhouse near to lay preacher Elon Everts’s home was reasonably full, nevertheless, and there were enough in attendance to make it worthwhile. The Friday evening meeting finished at 8:00 P.M., and the visitors made their way back to the Evertses’ home for a follow-up meeting of counsel on church matters—a meeting which was delayed by two hours while two distraught “weeping sinners” who “wept aloud” were counseled and prayed with. A testimony meeting followed. Finally at 11:00 P.M., the brethren were left alone to consider “the wants of the cause.” This discussion concluded at 1:00

A.M.

with a consensus that there were some present in their midst whom it would be appropriate to ordain to the work of ministry. At that point, the group decided to retire and meet again at 8:00 A.M. the next morning. Upon reconvening on Sabbath morning, the topic of ordination was again taken up, and a unanimous consensus determined that John Andrews and two other preachers, A. S. Hutchins and C. W. Sperry, should be set apart by prayer and the laying on of hands so “that they might feel free to administer the ordinances of the church of God.” James White and New Hampshire preacher Joseph Baker promptly “performed the solemn duty.” The group sensed the descent of the Holy Spirit as they “wept together and rejoiced.” Having set apart three, the group thereupon decided that the cause in Vermont really needed more ministers, and a further three men, Ezra Butler of Waterbury, Elon Everts of New Haven, and Josiah Hart of Northfield, were promptly set apart. “We never witnessed a more melting, precious season,” reported James later to his Review readers.42 Whether the newly set apart men actually led out in celebrating Communion that particular Sabbath is not mentioned. But it is clear that on

that memorable Sabbath morning, John Andrews participated in an important milestone in the development of the young movement. Authorizing the ordination of its own ministry was a significant step in the building of the self-identity of the movement, the drawing of its boundaries, and an expression of its need to act for itself as a community of faith. As significant as the setting apart of these six ministers was, the decision made on the same occasion not to ordain two other men was also significant. The two nonstarters believed in the Sabbath but had been injudicious as they visited around the believers. The brethren did not consider them “proper persons to teach the present truth.”43 These were the first tentative steps toward the establishment of “gospel order” and authorizing who and who should not be able to represent the movement as a teacher/minister.44 For Andrews, the special event of October 29, 1853, provided public affirmation of his call to ministry, but it was an inner sense of call, reinforced by the conviction that the time of trouble and the end of all things was upon them, that gave him the compulsive sense of duty that kept him focused. The very next Sabbath, that sense of duty found him at Champlain in New York where, with Joseph Baker, he had agreed to conduct evangelistic meetings.45 He was also working on further Sabbath articles for the Review.46 Work pressures at the Review office during late 1853 had significantly increased after the decision in mid-July to publish the magazine on a weekly basis rather than fortnightly and to make efforts to triple the circulation list. Time spent in proofreading doubled, and it was not long before apologies were being offered by James for correspondence not being answered on time.47 The decision to move the Review to a weekly journal had been made at a conference called in Rochester for July 16 to discuss the proposed publishing initiatives. Tensions over the decision and the manner in which James was leading the publishing enterprise are clearly hinted at in the resolution that was adopted. The brethren attending

the conference deemed it their “duty” to publicly affirm James’s management. “Resolved unanimously, That the course of Brother White in the management of the Paper and of the business entrusted to his care meets our full approval, and that he has our confidence and sympathy in the course which he has pursued.”48 According to Ellen, James had become seriously depressed in the summer of 1853, particularly after the death of his brother and his return from the couple’s first tour of Michigan. There had been tensions in the church at Jackson, and James “looked on the dark side too much,” she said.49 Strains in personal relationships among the publishing personnel in Rochester were also developing in the “hot house” environment of close, communal living. Such strains and pressures were often exacerbated by weariness and poor health. Frail humanity made its appearance much more readily in such circumstances in expressions of impatience, irritability, exasperation that things were not always being done as they ought to be, and short, curt exchanges in conversation. The pressure of the new deadlines exacerbated things and began to exact its toll on the White family, on others in the publishing enterprise, and on Andrews. Within a few weeks of his October ordination, Andrews’s health began to fail.

Health problems and an exit from ministry Large and founded upon Christian piety and generosity as it was, the White home in Rochester during 1853 was not a very healthy environment. Numerous boarders, living on meager budgets and anxious about uncertain finances, occupied every spare space. They subsisted on poor diet and stretched the workday regularly until late at night and oftentimes until early morning. Privacy was almost nonexistent and sickness a regular presence. Nathaniel White, the twenty-two-year-old brother of James who had come to help with the printing work in November of 1852, was the first to succumb. When he died of tuberculosis in early May 1853, Andrews delivered his funeral sermon, which was “a short, but very

appropriate and comforting discourse from Rev. xiv, 13. ‘Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.’ ”50 Nathaniel’s death weighed heavily on James and added to his depression and ill health. At times, his behavior seemed mildly manic-depressive. At the end of July, he had observed to one of his correspondents that most of his “whole frame” was “in pain” and that if he should die, “don’t weep for me but for those whose course has worn me out.”51 James’s troubles, it seems, were always caused by others. As 1853 progressed, health problems among the Review team based in the Rochester home increased. Luman Masters, the twenty-five-year-old printer, had begun seriously coughing again in August and was unable to recover. He died of consumption six months later.52 In August, Ellen herself, only twenty-seven years old, was feeling unwell, and by year-end was so ill with a heart ailment she felt she also would soon die. She could not write for several months, a situation complicated by her having fallen pregnant again in December. Within months, both James and his sister Anna would be suffering with consumption-like symptoms.53 Notices of letters received from Andrews at the Review office in early 1854 suggest that during the winter months of ill health at Rochester, he was involved in evangelistic ministry in the field, away from the office.54 Nevertheless, he was not well either. The first anxious notice of concern about the young preacher’s health appeared in the Review in early March. “We are sorry to learn that our beloved Bro. J. N. Andrews is suffering with feeble health, and unable to labor for the advancement of the cause of truth. . . . His labors have been too great for his constitution which is now much impaired.” It was noted that he was staying with friends in Vermont, and prayers were sought for his recovery.55 The announcement of his ill health was accompanied by the notice that ten dollars had been donated for his care, and there was an appeal for more from those who had benefited from his “incessant labor.”56 The alarm with which the news of Andrews’s illness was received in

Rochester is clear from a letter Ellen White wrote shortly afterward to their mutual Paris Hill church friend, Harriet Stevens. She reported that they had a special prayer meeting in which they had pled with God “to rebuke [the] disease upon him and restore him to health, that Israel may not be led to mourn his loss.” The household had covenanted to pray three times a day for Andrews, making his case “a special subject of prayer.” She feared that “sorrow upon sorrow will come upon us if he is removed from us.” Surely they needed to be prepared for the time of trouble “just before us.”57 The time of trouble seemed very much nearer as Andrews lay sick in Vermont, where he and his anxious fellow believers read newspaper reports of the violent debates then taking place in Washington, DC, as Congress argued about whether to effectively end the historic Missouri compromise of 1820 that had thus far “sacredly guarded” the Union. What now would keep slavery confined to the southern states below the 36.5 degree parallel? Debate had been so heated, congressmen had brandished weapons against each other in a melee on the floor of the House of Representatives. The Kansas-Nebraska Act eventually passed and was signed into law by President Pierce on May 1, 1854. The act would eventually provoke civil war, and it confirmed for Andrews that prophecy was being fulfilled before his very eyes in America—the two-horned beast of Revelation 13. He would soon write on the topic again. “The downward course of our own nation on the subject of African slavery, is a fearful warning of the abyss into which it is about to plunge.” The “fugitive slave law” had been the most infamous law of the nineteenth century, but now, in another “act of infamy,” Congress had opened the door for the “withering curse” to infect all the new territories. In November 1854, thousands of armed Southerners swarmed into Kansas to try and secure voting in favor of slavery, and violence soon erupted to create “bleeding Kansas,” the precursor to a nationwide bloody conflict. “What next God only knows,” he despaired.58 In the meantime, news of Andrews’s partial recovery was buoyantly

noted in the Review. “We are glad to learn that the health of Bro. J. N. Andrews has somewhat improved. He is in good spirits, and fully believes he has more to do in the cause of truth,” reported James White in late March. Further prayers were sought “for the weary and worn servants of the Lord.”59 But it was clear when Andrews eventually made his way back to Rochester for a conference in late June that his health problems were not really over. As soon as the conference concluded, malaria took hold of the Rochester household. Andrews, with a weakened immune system, also went down with the chills and violent headaches that marked what was then called “ague.” Serving staff in the family also fell ill, and Ellen White, as the hostess of the house, reported that it fell to her to do all the caring. Seven months pregnant and with two toddlers of her own to care for, she reported that she developed blisters on her feet as she worked so hard caring for the sick. Her extended family, she complained, “did not understand providing for the sick.” She was exhausted and extremely worried that she might even lose her nanny to the illness. “The anxiety of my mind was very great, it has been wrought up to the highest pitch.” After several days staying with the Whites, Andrews moved to the home of neighbor Jonathan Orton to be cared for, and after recovering from his malaria, continued to be active in preaching and writing.60 But his energies were depleting. Well enough to travel again, the end of August found Andrews back in Maine with the Whites, where James talked with him about the worrying potential of a growing division in the young movement. The issue concerned the specific time of the day the Sabbath began and ended. Ever since July 1848, most Sabbatarian Adventists in the Whites’ circle had observed a 6:00 P.M. start for the Sabbath after they were convinced by a striking case of glossolalia, which confirmed Joseph Bates’s interpretation of the matter.61 But now increasing numbers of believers were beginning to argue that Sabbath should start at sunset, whenever that happened to be.

This was the practice of the Seventh Day Baptists. Andrews agreed to make an in-depth study of the topic and report back. In the meantime, he persevered with a further set of four articles on the perpetuity of the law and thoughts on the Sabbath, which he completed by late October.62 His study on the time to commence Sabbath would not be completed for another twelve months. The results of this study will be discussed more fully in the next chapter.63 By early November, James was also suffering poor health. “Confinement at home” during this period “nearly ruined” him, he said. Anxiety over the increasingly hostile and aggressive Messenger Party in Michigan, which took issue particularly with Ellen White’s visions, increased his distress. Andrews also took the leading role in framing a written response to the dissenting group, and White appreciated Andrews’s leadership and approach to the Michigan problem. “It is excellent,” he noted approvingly. Andrews, he observed, was at that moment “gaining” and “doing as far as health will admit, [writing] all he can” on another series of articles.64 But the gains in his health were clearly only temporary, and sometime in mid-November, Andrews moved back in to the White home on a more permanent basis, this time as a patient to try to recover his health. It was a dangerous time to be moving back into the house. Anna White, James’s younger sister, had, for some time, had the marks of a consumptive death upon her, and an anointing service was conducted for her in July.65 Contagion was not then fully understood, but there was plenty of reason to be fearful and apprehensive. At the end of November, she died, and Andrews was again called upon to conduct the funeral and attempt to minister to his grieving colleague. At the same time, Annie Smith, a key member of the editorial staff, took a serious turn with the same disease, which she had contracted sometime earlier, and she left the little colony to return to her mother’s home in Wilton, New Hampshire. Worried that consumption might also claim him, Andrews kept himself largely confined to his room and tried to adopt a more healthful routine,

but improvement in his health was marginal at best. Not being able to preach around the churches now limited his income, and his financial support became a major problem. On February 9, 1855, James White, as his patron and friend, felt obliged to write directly to a number of influential men in the cause to seek assistance for the care of his young protégé. The outlook was mixed, but the larger problem was how to provide for his well-being. Andrews had been staying with them now for about eight or ten weeks, James reported. James also noted: His health is rather improving, still he studies much. His bathing, riding horseback & c., is doing a good work for him. I think he may regain quite good health, if he is taken care of. I am sparing no pains of expense to make him happy, and try to improve his health. But I am not able to do it all alone. He lacks clothing. I have got him some, and shall do more. He occupies the best room in the house and I support a fire for him, and board him. This I do cheerfully, but now invite you and Sabbath keepers in this part of the State to help me in this thing. He talks of going home in the spring to work on a farm with his father, and leave the work. His state of health and lack of support, and the situation of his father’s family induces him to leave the work of God and go home. And unless there is a change in his situation, I advise him to leave the work he is now engaged in and go to Maine.66 James was clearly distressed at the prospect of losing Andrews and at having to write such a letter begging for support. Andrews was “a man of brilliant talent, a fine man, and humble Christian,” James asserted. He had worn himself out “laboring to do others good and now to be left without the most affectionate care and freewill support is cruel,” the letter continued. This was a strongly worded appeal for help. In the Review

editor’s view, to neglect to care for Andrews in his illness was “a stain upon the cause of truth, and sin in the sight of heaven.” Andrews had clearly not been able to attract financial support for his ministry in the same way that James White had. He was not gifted with the entrepreneurial skill and fund-raising charisma with which White was endowed. Although a good teacher and preacher, he was much more the scholar and of a retiring and studious temperament. Finances were never his strength—perhaps this was an inheritance from his father. In his appeal to his friends, White noted that John Andrews’s father was advanced in years and “very infirm” and very poor. “Not worth one dollar.” He proposed that if others would also take hold to assist in bringing his parents and crippled brother to Rochester, where they could be put “in a situation to live comfortably and assist Brother John to clothes, &c.,” he would himself contribute one hundred dollars, in addition to what he had been doing for him during the winter. He attached a sign-up sheet and requested his readers to share the note with the brethren in Clarkson and Parma churches, and then return it to him. “We are being brought to a stand,” he challenged. He was certain that the loss of Andrews’s distinctive gifts would be a calamity to the cause. The Review of February 20 carried a more public appeal from James, minus the proposal to move Andrews’s parents to Rochester and the adulatory statement about his brilliance. The appeal was done without the knowledge of Andrews, and it embarrassed him considerably. “It caused me much pain,” Andrews informed Review readers six months later, “when I saw the call in the paper; but I appreciated highly the kindness of Bro. White in making it, and of the brethren in responding to it. I should have spoken on these points earlier, were it not always a matter of pain to speak of myself; and I thought perhaps it would not be needed.”67 White had written, “Bro. Andrews is ever opposed to our speaking in his behalf, but we have felt called upon to introduce his situation in this manner, though it be without his knowledge.” Two years previously, Andrews had

expressed his willingness to James to spend and be spent in the cause of the Advent movement. Now White told the whole church that his young colleague had indeed been spent. “Pennyless and feeble,” he was about to return to Maine broken in health to try by labor on the land to recover his well-being. In his appeal, White mentioned that relatives had offered to give Andrews a collegiate education and/or put him in a position to prosper, but that Andrews had declined. Was White gilding the portrait a little here? This was an offer made to Andrews a decade earlier when he was fifteen, not twenty-five, and his uncle Charles was now dead, which makes it highly unlikely that the offer would have been made again recently. White pointed out that for the past five years Andrews had “toiled on, day and night, with little regard for health, till several times he has been brought so low that we could have but little hope of his recovery.” He appealed for help from “you who know his able defense of the truth, and have been benefitted by his writings.” Donations toward his support would be welcome. And it would be great if he could be provided a library as well. That is what scholars needed. If such an appeal was embarrassing to Andrews, it was embarrassing also to the Review editor. “Judge of our feelings to see a dear brother, a fellow-laborer, with whom we have toiled side by side for years, placed in his situation.”68 As his health allowed, Andrews struggled on until he had completed a major expository eight-part series for the Review totaling forty thousand words on the three angels of Revelation 14. Then his work ground to a halt. The series concluded on May 1, by which time it seems Andrews had returned to Paris. One of his last tasks in Rochester was to officiate at the funeral of fifty-year-old church member Oren Hewitt, who had also wasted away with consumption and died during the last week of April.69 Andrews returned to Paris out of a sense of duty. “I was not able to perform my labor at the office; neither could I labor publicly from place to place. Under these circumstances I thought it was clearly my duty to return

home.”70 These were distressing times for the Advent publishing family and the local congregation in Rochester. Tuberculosis was rampantly taking young and old. The same issue that carried Andrews’s final article on Revelation 14, carried on its front page a mournful poem of trusting resignation from former Review staffer Annie Smith, entitled “I am Strong in Him.” Annie, who had been copy editor for the Review and had frequently written for its columns, had also contracted tuberculosis while boarding with the Whites.71 She had left the house the previous November to return to her home in Wilton, New Hampshire, at about the same time that John Andrews had moved back into the White home because of ill health. Annie died in Wilton on July 26, 1855, at age twenty-seven, just two months after Andrews arrived home in Maine.72 Her death may well have been a deeply painful time for him, for there is evidence that Andrews had perhaps been romantically interested in the talented writer. At least, Annie appears to have thought so. Ron Graybill documents a number of Annie’s secular poems, which deal with the theme of jilted love. In one poem shared with her mother, she had written: “My lot has been to learn Of friendship false, that bright will burn When fortune spreads her wing of light But fades away when cometh night.”73 The strongest evidence of romance, however, is found in a dire sentence buried in a letter Ellen White wrote later in 1855 to John Andrews suggesting, in what appears to be a very severe indictment, that he had disappointed Annie and that he was to blame for her death. “Annie’s disappointment cost her her life,” noted Ellen White.74 John’s apparent interest in Annie was complicated. The publishing office had, at times during this period, been fraught with

workplace tensions, and according to Ellen White, in the midst of one of these episodes, Andrews had sympathized with his “Paris friends” over a situation in which he thought James was being “harsh and impatient” with them. Annie had also come under James’s displeasure, and Andrews had “stepped right in between Annie and us” and had “sympathized with her in everything.”75 Ellen White’s view was that Andrews’s “interest manifested in her” was “undue and uncalled for, and showed that you had a great lack of confidence in us.” Andrews had had a “mistaken view” of her husband, she added, and he had been “injudicious” with Annie. Being blamed for her death was a heavy burden to bear given the risk of contracting tuberculosis in the Whites’ home in any case, even without the complication of jilted love. Coughing and the consumption of raw milk were common means of transmission, though not understood at the time. As Ron Graybill suggests, however, an emotional letdown may have helped compromise Annie’s immune system.76 It is also possible that if Andrews had been romantically attracted to Annie, her succumbing to the dreaded consumption may have persuaded him in a quite transactional way that this was not going to be a relationship with a future. This may have aggravated Annie’s situation. As will be noted in the next chapter, J. N. Andrews was, at the time, quite concerned about the health of prospective life partners. The tensions between the Whites and Andrews and his Paris family and friends would surface repeatedly in coming years. On this occasion, it seems that ill health on both sides exacerbated the tension. Some seventeen years later, as Andrews reflected back on this difficult period in his life, he would observe that, as a boy growing up, he had not suffered any serious acute disease, but he had not enjoyed “firm” health either and had preferred study and reading to participating in active sports with his youthful friends. His parents had dutifully warned him against “intemperance” and other injurious habits, but none of them had understood “principles of hygiene.” These he was not to learn until 1861 through acquaintance with Dr. Trall and Dr. Jackson of the famous “Home

on the Hillside” in Danville, New York. But even if he had understood these principles better, he reminisced, he could perhaps have continued longer than he did in the “exhausting labor” which he attempted to sustain. But maybe not much longer: As I entered upon the work of the Christian ministry. . . . However much I lacked in other respects, I did not lack in zeal to labor in the work I had undertaken; and I think that I may say in truth I felt some degree of the responsibility of my calling. My anxiety of mind was constant and oftentimes extreme. Associated with a few others in the defense, or rather in the attempt to advance, an unpopular truth, there fell to my lot a heavy burden of anxious care, and the necessity of much overtaxing labor oftentimes, requiring not the day merely, but much, or even all, of the night.77 In less than five years, he recalled, his head “absolutely refused to perform any more mental labor; my voice was destroyed, I supposed permanently; my eyesight was considerably injured; I could not rest by day, and I could not sleep well at night; I was a serious sufferer from dyspepsia; and as to that mental depression which attends this disease, I think I have a sufficient acquaintance with it to dispense with it in time to come. . . . My general strength was prostrated, and I was a burden to myself, and could not but be such to others.” Returning to Paris gave him the opportunity to benefit from “laying aside mental labor to a large extent, and working in the open air,” which helped restore his general strength. He lamented that, in the meantime, “I had fastened upon me catarrh in some of its worst forms.”78 There seems to have been a minimal response to White’s appeal for funds to support John Andrews in his predicament, although he generously noted that the brethren had responded “freely.” There had not been enough to even remotely consider bringing his parents to Rochester.79 But

Rochester was not going to be home to the Review for much longer anyway. Already Ellen and James were beginning to think that possibly some other location might be more desirable.80 John’s return to his impoverished family in Paris was soon to be followed by major developments in his life. Within a few months the whole family would follow the western migratory flight path of many other New Englanders of the time and journey west to settle in Waukon in Iowa in an attempt to make a new start. Farming would give a firmer financial base for both himself and his parents and perhaps enable him to pursue a lay ministry. In a note of explanation to the church in December, he took pains to state that he had not gone home “to leave the work of God.” He was just so “feeble” he could not sustain full-time work. It took all his strength just to try and answer letters.81 In fact, he was to be out of full-time ministry for several years. And it would be another four years beyond that before he would learn about “health reform.”

1. “Age to Come” Adventists were a branch of the Albany Conference Adventists who believed that the Jews would return to Israel and that individuals would have a second chance to be saved during the millennium. See Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon, eds., EGWEncycl. (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 582. 2. EGW to Reuben and Belinda Loveland, Dec. 13, 1850, EGWE-GC. 3. M. L. Bauder, “From Bro. Bauder,” RH, Dec. 23, 1851, 66. 4. B. B. Brigham, “From Bro. Brigham to Bro. Rhodes,” RH, Mar. 2, 1852, 102. 5. He had encountered incidents of spiritual wifery in Cincinnati in 1851 and in later visits to the Northeastern states. The necessity of being able to screen out inappropriate circuit preachers was among the very first reasons for becoming concerned with the need for church organization, referred to as “Gospel order,” RH, Nov. 25, 1851. 6. EGW, MS 1, 1853. 7. Rhodes would withdraw from ministry in mid-1883. His approach was being replicated by other preachers in Jackson, such as Hiram Case and Elder Bowles, who developed harsh critical attitudes and a feeling that there was more money in Jackson “than can be used up before Jesus comes.” The idea of spending freely, almost recklessly, distressed Ellen White. Ibid. See Also RH, Aug. 11, 1853, 55. 8. “Review of O. R. L. Crozier on Rev. XIV, 1–13,” RH, Dec. 9, 1851, 69ff. 9. “Dodging the Real Questions,” RH, Mar. 2, 1852, 101.

10. “Reply to Mary A Seymour,” RH, Mar. 2, 1852, 101, 102. 11. RH, Mar. 2, 1852, 104. 12. RH, Mar. 23, 1852, 108. 13. “Sketches and Memories of James and Ellen G. White,” RH, June 13, 1935, 9. 14. Joseph Turner’s Advent Harbinger was published there, as well as several other journals. 15. Blake McKelvey, Rochester on the Genessee: The Growth of a City (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1993), 59. 16. RH, Mar. 23, 1852, 108. 17. The size of the household is reported by Ellen White as varying between fifteen and twenty persons during the Rochester years. EGW, SG (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press, 1858–1864), 2:191, 192. 18. EGW to Mary Chase, May 1853. 19. “The Review and Herald,” RH, Oct. 14, 1852, 96. 20. EGW, SG, 2:191, 192. 21. Merlin D. Burt, Adventist Pioneer Places: New York & New England (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2011), 142. 22. George R. Knight, Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2005), x. 23. The six-part series, written as a series of letters, began on May 6 and ran until September 2, 1852. 24. RH, Mar. 6, 1852, 16. 25. Mark Noll, America’s God: From Jonathan Edwards to Abraham Lincoln (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 2002), 113. 26. RH, Dec. 23, 1852, 121. 27. RH, July 2, 1852, 37. 28. Ibid. 29. RH, June 10, 1852. 30. RH, Sept. 16, 1852, 80. 31. PUR, May 6, 1909, 2; RH, Nov. 25, 111, 112. 32. His first published article was a defense of the perpetuity of the law. A testimony to his conversion, it was published in the Review six weeks after he joined the movement. RH, Nov. 25, 1852, 110. The most extensive study of Loughborough’s life and ministry is Brian Strayer’s J. N. Loughborough: The Last of Adventist Pioneers (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014). 33. JW to “Brethren in Jackson,” Dec. 5, 1852. 34. “The Sanctuary,” RH, Dec. 23, 1852, 125. 35. “The Sanctuary” RH, Dec. 23, 1852, 121, 124. Repeatedly Andrews refers to the “painfulness” of the Disappointment. It was “our disappointment.” His purpose was to so inform his readers that “we may discover the causes of our disappointment.” 36. Ibid., 125. 37. RH, Jan. 6, 1853, 133. 38. Uriah Smith, The 2300 Days and the Sanctuary (Rochester, NY: Advent Review Office, 1854). Smith’s book was later enlarged and reissued as The Sanctuary and the Twenty-Three Hundred

Days of Daniel 8:14 (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association, 1877). 39. RH, Sept. 13, 1904, 9. 40. See, for example, RH, Nov. 1, 1853, 136. At this stage, Andrews had clearly replaced Joseph Bates as the chief apologist for the faith. Bates’s publications were not advertised. Andrews was soon to be joined by Uriah Smith. 41. “The Eastern Tour,” RH, Nov. 8, 1853, 140. 42. “The Eastern Tour,” RH, Nov. 15, 1853, 148. 43. Ellen White mentions other men who had “run into the field to labor before they were sent” and “who were only a curse to the cause.” EGW to Brother Pierce, Dec. 3, 1853, EGWE-GC. 44. Ibid. In the weeks that followed, James White wrote a series of articles entitled “Gospel Order” in which he reflected on the need for at least some structure, the need for regular support, and the appropriateness of ordination for those who may then be “known abroad as those in whom the body have confidence.” “Gospel Order,” RH, Dec. 20, 1853, 188, 189. 45. RH, Oct. 4, 1853, 104, announced the appointment. 46. Three densely argued articles were published with a word total of approximately 13,000. See RH, Jan. 24, 31, 1854; Feb. 21, 1854. 47. The new weekly schedule began in August 1853. See RH, Aug. 4, 1853, 48. A month later James White acknowledged that he had been unable to keep up with his correspondence and the answering of enquiries and questions. RH, Sept. 8, 1853. At the same time, it was decided to sell their booklets rather than distribute them gratuitously. This had the effect of tripling their circulation by November. RH, Nov. 28, 1853, 160. The increased pressure on time and health was considerable. 48. RH, Aug. 4, 1853, 48. The statement had been signed on July 19, 1853, by Joseph Bates and John Andrews, as members of the publishing committee. 49. EGW, MS 5, 1853. See also EGW, SG, 2:179. 50. RH, May 26, 1853, 8. A more extensive account of the death of Nathaniel White was later written by James. RH, June 9, 1853, 12. See also EGW to Mary S. Chase, May, 1853 EGWE-GC. 51. JW to “Brother Abraham,” July 31, 1853, EGWE-GC. 52. EGW to Cyrenius and Louisa Smith, Aug. 24, 1853, EGWE-GC. “Obituary,” RH, Mar. 14, 1854, 63. 53. “Obituary: Anna White,” RH, Dec. 12, 1854, 135. Andrews preached “a clear and comforting discourse from 1 Thess. 4. 13–18.” 54. RH, Jan. 24, 1854; Feb. 7, 14, 21, 1854, all report the receipt of letters from Andrews, implying that he is away from Rochester, and his 3,500-word article “What is Babylon?” published in the Feb. 21 issue (36, 37) is cast in the form of a letter to “Dear Bro. White.” 55. RH, Mar. 7, 1854, 56. It was noted in April that friends he was staying with lived in Panton, Vermont, a tiny farming community on the southeastern shore of Lake Champlain. 56. Ibid. White noted in this appeal that he was going against Andrews’s wishes in making such a call. 57. EGW to Harriet Stevens, Mar. 10, 1854, EGWE-GC. 58. “The Three Angels of Rev. 14,” RH, Apr. 3, 1855, 203. “Abyss” clearly had apocalyptic

overtones (Rev. 9:1, 2) and reference to the prospect of civil war, as falling into the “abyss” was commonly used in debate. Further violence erupted in the Senate on May 22, 1856, with an attack on Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts that permanently crippled him. 59. RH, Mar. 28, 1854, 77. 60. RH, July 4, 1854, 173. 61. In the midst of a prayer meeting on the subject in Connecticut, Ezra Chamberlain, a traveling Sabbatarian preacher, had been “filled with the power” and “cried out in an unknown tongue.” His ecstatic utterance was interpreted as, “Give me the chalk. Give me the chalk.” When a stick of chalk was produced, he drew a circle on the floor of a twelve-hour day and, apparently also under the power of the Spirit, declared that the believers should keep the Sabbath “as God has given it to us and Brother Bates.” The experience convinced James and Ellen on the subject. JW to “My Dear Brother [Howland?],” July 12, 1848, EGWE-GC. See also ALW, “Bible Study Versus Ecstatic Experiences,” RH, Mar. 22, 1973, 6–8. 62. The four articles total almost 12,500 words. RH, Aug. 15, 1854, 1; Oct. 10, 1854, 69; Oct. 31, 1854, 92; Nov. 7, 1854, 100. 63. James had asked D. P. Hall of Pennsylvania in June 1854 to research the topic, but Hall had not been able to meet the demand, and the threat of schism had grown. “Time of the Sabbath,” RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 78. 64. JW to Brethren Cornell and Dodge, Nov. 3, 1854, EGWE-GC. If this is a reference to Andrews’s next writing project, it would indicate that Andrews was already working on the series of articles entitled “The Three Angels of Revelation 14” that he was to publish in the Review in the early months of 1855. The articles were of the kind that would have taken considerable time and effort to write. They are a closely argued exposition of Sabbatarian Adventist theology. The articles quote extensively from eighteen Adventist periodicals from the mid-1840s, indicating that Andrews is familiar with the many periodicals circulating in the world of Adventist thought. 65. EGW to John and Mary Loughborough, July 1854, EGWE-GC. 66. JW to “Dear Brother,” Feb. 9, 1855, EGWE-GC. 67. RH, Oct. 2, 1855, 256. 68. “The Office,” RH, Feb. 20, 1855, 182. 69. RH, May 1, 1855, 222. The Review of May 29, 1855, 240, noted Andrews’s change of address. 70. “Note from Bro. Andrews,” RH, Oct. 2, 1855, 56. 71. Annie had forty-four pieces of poetry published in the Review during her three years with the office. Many of her hymns also found their way into the Adventist hymnbook. Ron Graybill, “The Life and Love of Annie Smith,” Adventist Heritage 2, no. 1 (Summer 1975): 14–23. 72. “Obituary,” RH, Aug. 21, 1855, 31. 73. Graybill, “The Life and Love of Annie Smith.” The poems were collected by Annie’s mother and published later in a memorial book for her daughter. See Rebekah Smith, Poems: With a Sketch of the Life and Experience of Annie R. Smith (Manchester, NH: John B. Clark, 1871). 74. EGW to JNA Aug. 26, 1855, EGWE-GC. 75. Ibid. It is not clear whether Annie is included with the Paris friends in this particular episode or whether there were earlier but related tensions. Workers at Rochester at this time who had come from Paris included Harriet Stevens and Oswald Stowell but there may also have been others

volunteering. 76. Graybill, “The Life and Love of Annie Smith.” 77. “My Experience in Health Reform—No 2,” The Health Reformer, January 1872, 169, 170. 78. “Age to Come” Adventists were a branch of the Albany Conference Adventists who believed that the Jews would return to Israel and that individuals would have a second chance to be saved during the millennium. See Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon, eds., EGWEncycl. (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 582. 79. The Review reported on its back page only small amounts donated to the J. N. Andrews fund. See for example RH, Apr. 3, 1855, 208; May 29, 1855, 240. 80. Although James and Ellen did not publicly raise the issue of relocating, they were already thinking of possibilities in mid-1854. 81. “Note from Bro. Andrews,” RH, Oct. 2, 1855, 256.

Chapter Seven

The Early Waukon Years: 1855– 1858 sure of one thing. . . . The far west fever will never move me,” sixtyI am seven-year-old Eunice Harmon reported to her daughter Ellen White in December 1855. “This far west is not the place for me.”1 Mother Harmon had just spent several weeks visiting Ellen’s older brother, John, in Bellevue town, on the border between Illinois and Iowa. Prairie life, with its wide open spaces, did not appeal to her at all, even though John had become reasonably wealthy as a result of his migration west. For John Harmon, and many others like John Andrews’s impoverished fifty-sevenyear-old father Edward, the newly opened prairies had strong magnetic appeal because they offered bright prospects of new beginnings. In mid-1855, when visiting around New England and learning that “many of our Eastern Brethren” were thinking of moving west, James White had thought it a good plan for those of experience “who wish to do good in spreading the truth.” He concluded in an editorial note in the Review, “Go in the name of the Lord, and may your endeavors to raise the standard of truth in the great West be blest of the Lord.”2 Ellen White, too, had realized that having Adventists move west could be advantageous for the expansion of the message of Sabbatarian Adventism. As John Loughborough later reported, “New England was an exceedingly hard field of labor.” The region had not just been burned over but seemingly burned out by revival. “Much more could be accomplished with the same amount of labor in the West than in the East.”3 For the Andrews family,

however, the primary reasons for migrating west appear to have been the need to make a new economic start, to reestablish themselves financially, and to find a more favorable clime for their health. In this chapter we will follow John Andrews out to Waukon, Iowa, and the Review and Herald out to Battle Creek, Michigan, and seek to understand the reasons for the migrations. Why was Andrews’s move west perceived as a threat to the church, and why was the visit of Ellen and James White to the families, twelve months later, so significant? This chapter will also note the significance of Andrews’s marriage during this period, his recovering health, and his renewed involvement in important theological discussions. Twenty-seven-year-old John Andrews, his mother, and father, along with his younger brother William, left Paris Hill to trek their way west in early November 1856. If the family followed the norm, they packed their furniture and personal effects onto a large covered springless, boxed “lumber wagon,” pulled by a team of horses. This was how John Loughborough and his neighbor Jonathan Orton did it when they traveled out to join the Andrews family just twelve months later.4 Loughborough recalls the date of Andrews’s trek rather precisely because he noted in his diary that the family stopped over in Rochester en route, and on Sabbath, November 4, John Andrews conducted a Bible class in which he reported on his recent research into the question of the correct time to begin and end the Sabbath. The Rochester believers were persuaded by his research, and from the very next Friday, November 11, they adopted the new practice of commencing to observe the Sabbath at sundown rather than at 6:00 P.M.5 By then the Andrews family was already 450 miles farther west in Battle Creek, which probably meant that they had loaded their wagon and team onto the lake steamer for the journey across Lake Erie from Buffalo to Toledo in Ohio. From there they journeyed on through southern Michigan. John tarried a few days on this his very first visit to Battle Creek. He wanted to attend a general conference meeting scheduled for November

16. Here, he more formally presented his findings on the time of the Sabbath question. The Review that carried the report of the meeting listed his address in Iowa, though he apparently did not arrive there until later that month.6 Why choose to settle at Waukon? Probably the strongest attraction of Waukon was the fact that Sarah Andrews’s brother, William Pottle, and his family had migrated there from Boston just twelve months earlier and had set up a general merchandise store in the town. Located 655 feet above river level on a rich rolling prairie just eighteen miles from the Mississippi, the village of Waukon boasted a climate of dry, bracing air that was considered favorable to consumptives.7 Soil was largely a fine black, fertile loam, twenty to forty inches in depth that did not need heavy fertilizing and made durable and valuable farms. It was a very new community when the Andrews family arrived. The very first European settler had arrived only six years earlier in 1849. Others had not followed until 1853 and 1854. John’s uncle William was counted as one of the eight original settlers and had been a leading figure in establishing the Methodist church in Waukon. The Pottle home on North Main Street may have been the first port of call while the Andrews family found more permanent accommodations. There is a report that after he left the ministry, John found employment as a clerk for his uncle.8 The year the Andrews family arrived in the district was marked by a building boom, with fifty to sixty houses being constructed that year.9 The eighty-acre plot of prairie farmland purchased by Edward Andrews was located approximately three miles south of the town in Allamakee County in the far northeastern corner of the state.10 Angeline Stevens, in a letter written to mother-in-law-to-be, Sarah Andrews, just after the long trek, suggests that the family may have been staying temporarily with Uncle William as they waited for their own house to be completed.11 Shortly after their arrival in Waukon, Sarah had informed the Stevens family back in Paris that things were going well. It would turn out,

however, to be a long and difficult struggle for the family to get themselves reestablished. Eight years after they had moved onto the virgin prairie sod and begun to slowly turn it into farmland, Edward reported to his brothers back in Paris that “breaking and fencing land” had been expensive and had taken about six years to complete. Initially they established a basic “humble” home, and then as they were able to gradually generate financial surpluses from the farm, they added to it. In 1863, they were still working on extensions and improvements to the homestead and the ancillary buildings. In that year, while they had a shed in the yard covered with straw to shelter their few cattle and a similar structure for their “three good work horses” and a young colt, they could really have done with a “moderate sized barn,” Edward reported to his brother Alfred. This, however, would have to wait for another year or two before they could afford it. Prices of lumber in 1863 in the midst of the Civil War had become highly inflated. By that time, their two-family farm ran a small herd of beef cattle, two milk cows, and hogs. They were also growing small crops of corn, wheat, oats, and peas, as well as root crops. Edward was particularly pleased that by 1863 they had been able to raise a herd of seventeen hogs and had fetched good prices for them at market. The family was not becoming wealthy by any means, but they were much more financially secure than they had been back in Paris. It seems that John’s uncles and aunts in Maine had pooled resources together to provide the finances to help their brother Edward get back on his feet. Edward was very grateful for this.12 Sarah’s relatives may also have contributed to the new start for the family.13 During 1857, the year after the Andrews family migrated, several other prominent families joined them at Waukon. The Cyprian Stevens family from Paris, undecided about moving west the previous December, eventually took the plunge and made the trek in early spring.14 When Joseph Bates made a pastoral visit to the village on May 1, 1857, the two families comprised a church group of twelve.15 Soon Ezra Butler from

Waterbury, Vermont, sold his farm and starch business and also moved out, as did Hosea Mead’s family from Vermont. John and Mary Loughborough of Rochester were persuaded by John Andrews to join them, and they, together with their Rochester neighbors Jonathan and Caroline Orton, arrived in Waukon with two wagons and teams in November.16 The Ortons were shortly followed by their daughter and sonin-law, Drusilla and Bradley Lamson. By the end of 1857, the community that met on Sabbaths numbered about thirty.17 For all the hopes of being able to evangelize neighbors and conduct public meetings, the realities of prairie life were somewhat different. The settlers were “so much scattered,” reported Loughborough, that there was little chance of actually holding meetings. Furthermore, the winter weather inhibited travel, and high prices for food and supplies made the business of earning a living the highest priority. Loughborough was obliged to take up short-term contracts for carpentering work to support himself.18 It was also an anxious time for the isolated families. Shortly after the Andrews family arrived, the Review reported in February that arms, ammunition, money, and men of high passion were pouring into the neighboring states of Kansas and Nebraska at their borders with Missouri, and a massacre was anticipated.19 This was but 350 miles from where the Andrews family had settled. The bitter clash in the three-way presidential election that year between James Buchanan, John Fremont, and Millard Fillmore centered on the issue of the extension of slavery and the risk of civil war if the Republican Party won. Noting the “state of feverish excitement” of the public mind, James White editorialized his conviction that no candidate of any of the “raging” parties could fix things. Only the Second Advent would do that, and it was thus not worth wasting time to vote.20 Democrat Buchanan won the election, but results indicated that it would not be so the next time. News of the political tensions, if it made the settlers anxious, did not seem to deter them, and they were able to provide security for each other. Before the end of that first year, the Andrews and Stevens families

had become even more closely bound together.

Marriage When John Andrews, broken in health, had returned to Paris back in late April 1855, it seems that he was already developing or had developed a romantic attraction to Cyprian and Almira Stevens’s eldest daughter, Angeline. Angeline was five years older than John, and they had been family and church friends for more than a decade. On his return home, perhaps as a returning home present, he had given Angeline a book by William Alcott entitled Lectures on Life and Health.21 The book seems not to have been a birthday gift (she had turned thirty-one years of age three months earlier on March 3). The volume, still preserved in the John Andrews Library collection at the Adventist university in France, is a family health book that dealt with such topics as cookery and food, clothing, laws of the skin and bathing, exercise, and rest, and it had a substantial discussion of the latest information on tuberculosis in a section entitled “How to Prevent Consumption.” The book seems a strange present, unless Andrews already had quite serious intentions toward Angeline. For much of 1854, it seems, Angeline had suffered indifferent health.22 During the latter part of 1855, however, she began to improve and was more able to do light work and sew in the afternoons “without being much tired.” For a long time she had felt as if she “could do nothing,” she noted to her future mother-in-law at the end of 1855.23 If, in May 1855, when John gave her the health book, he had been thinking of her as a marriage partner, it would be a step he would take with some risk given his own broken health. But perhaps he was thinking strategically in giving her such a volume. And the book would have been useful even if Angeline had remained single and at home with her parents. Sometime before August, though, it seems that deep affection had blossomed, and John Andrews proposed marriage. The path to marriage, however, would not be smooth

for the broken-down pastor. Nothing ever seemed to be smooth for John Andrews. In August, near the end of an eleven-week journey, James and Ellen White arrived in Paris and stayed with the Stevens family for nine days. They occupied the “girl’s chambers” in their “pleasant house.” Harriet Stevens was away in Rochester helping at the Review, but Angeline and her younger sister Paulina were at home, both quite sick. The “poor children” were “truly afflicted,” as Ellen White expressed it, although Angeline had not been so sick that she had not been able to be out visiting a neighbor.24 Toward the end of the visit, Andrews found himself in conversation with Ellen White about his marriage plans. It would have been an eminently natural and practical thing to do if Andrews had sought Ellen’s advice, but she, in turn, may have simply offered it. In age, Ellen was like an elder sister, and in some ways she had functioned also as a mother to him. They had lived and worked closely together for the past five years. But beyond this, Ellen White claimed a deeper perspective. In a letter written to John on Sunday, August 26, she informed him that she had seen in vision that it was not a good plan for him to marry Angeline. The letter recounted a personal conversation Ellen had had with John in Paris, and it recalled what she had said. “I told you,” she related, “that I saw you could not glorify God by taking the step you have contemplated.” Health prospects in the context of the imminent end of the world seem to have been her main concern. “Instead of having less care while engaged in the great work, as you approach the time of trouble your care will be doubled, your anxiety increased. In no way are you bettering your situation. Instead of marrying one that can take care of, and nurse you, it is just the opposite. I saw that in this thing your eye has not been single to the glory of God and the advancement of His cause.” That John Andrews was giving more weight to affection and love rather than duty was the underlying assumption. Then, cutting more closely, she observed that since his return home, John had been losing spiritual strength and

energy. “You have not, while engaged in this matter, grown in grace.” It was blunt, strong, discouraging counsel that Ellen White left him to mull over as he went to bed that Sunday night. He should not marry Angeline. What turmoil of feeling the twenty-six-year-old experienced during the next few days as he weighed the advice, he does not say. Was Angeline’s health problem going to be permanent? Would he end up caring for her rather than she caring for him? Was he to understand that he could only truly serve God by not marrying Angeline? Clearly he was being counseled to place a higher priority on practical matters and a sense of duty rather than any sense of affection or love. Then three days later, Ellen White wrote him another personal letter. After Sunday, Ellen had left Paris and gone to stay with the Howland family forty-two miles away in Topsham. In her follow-up letter, she stated that she had actually seen other things in her vision that she could not remember at the time of their conversation together on Sunday on the matter of Angeline. They were things that “were perfectly lost to me while with you, or hid from me so that I could not speak them.” She first recounted what she had said in their personal conversation on Sunday, and then went on to write about the second matter. What she now remembered, she said, was that she had also seen “that you could do no better now than to marry Angeline: that after you have gone thus far it would be wronging Angeline to have it stop here. The best course you can now take is to move on, get married, and do what you can in the cause of God.” John was now hearing that it was all right to marry Angeline, but she was not the best choice. Such counsel would require some processing. It was in this context that Ellen White had asserted, as we noted in the previous chapter, that it had been Annie Smith’s disappointment concerning John’s misplaced and misunderstood interest in her that had led to her death. Ellen went on to link Annie’s and Andrews’s shared dissatisfaction with James’s abrasiveness at that time with the perceptions of James’s irascibility still held by the Paris believers. It was not true, she

said, that she and James had “made too much” of their own personal trials when they lived with the Andrews family in Paris earlier. Nor had they overdrawn the faults of the Paris believers. The impression held by John and his circle that Ellen White had exaggerated in her description of these faults was indeed a wrong perception. John’s sympathies with the Paris families were not right. How to resolve this contest for his affections and loyalties was a challenge that would become more complicated if he married Angeline. How did Andrews cope with his indictment regarding Annie, and what precipitated the about-turn in the advice he was given about Angeline? According to Ellen White, Angeline was clearly only second best. The conclusion of the letter reiterated this. “I saw that now it would be better for you both to marry, but God had not designed it so. But the best course now, with the least evil results, is to go forward.”25 Did Andrews wonder, if not Angeline, then who? Did Ellen White have someone else in mind for him? How could he really get married with such a reluctant endorsement, and particularly if it was not something God had designed? There was no expression of happiness for him, no wishing of God’s blessing on the relationship. What should this mean concerning his feelings for Angeline? What he was to make of this change of advice can only be imagined. How could he ever share such advice with Angeline herself? Would she ever know of the assessment communicated by Ellen White, and how would that shape her assessment of the messenger? Possibly Ellen White did not intend for Angeline to know. She asked Andrews to read the letter and then return it to her. Andrews’s marriage to Angeline did eventually take place fifteen months later out in Waukon on October 16, 1856. Whether the hedged advice was what caused the delay, or whether they waited until they both had stronger health, we don’t know. There may have been other logistical difficulties. All we have is Angeline’s December 1855 letter written from Paris to Sarah, her future mother-in-law in Waukon, which speaks of her

missing the Andrews family and observing that she had received letters from John, which had been enclosed in the same envelope. Angeline asked her future mother-in-law to pass on her “warm love to J N Andrews. What would we not give to see him and each of you?”26 In spite of the doubts, however, Angeline was to recover her health and became the mother of four, two of whom were to survive infancy. She became a cherished wife. John was devoted to her and could not bring himself to marry again after she died of a stroke in 1872, after sixteen years of marriage. The move to Waukon had many plusses and minuses for both John and Angeline. It enabled them to enjoy a rural environment in which to bring up their children, it helped them economically, and it enabled John to slowly recover his health. Apart from the usual nineteenth-century family illnesses and health challenges, Angeline enjoyed fairly robust health and does not seem to have been disabled by illness until near her fortieth birthday. John was not tied to the house in order to care for her. Being located on the farm out in Waukon, however, made it difficult for him to be involved in ministry to the broader church. Once his health had become stronger, the overwhelming sense of duty growing out of his conviction of a call to ministry and the needs of the church pressed on him by James and Ellen and others led him to feel obliged to be away from home for long periods of time. This was a burden Angeline and the children had to bear until the family moved to New York in early 1863, with the vain hope that this would enable them to have more time together. Even then, family life for Angeline was an arena of the ongoing sacrifice involved in being married to an itinerant minister and scholar. Fortunately, we have a window into the challenges of family life and an absent minister husband and father through the pages of a personal diary that Angeline kept from 1859 until 1865. Those pages tell us much of the couple’s early married life.

The Review also moves west

If 1855 was a year of upheaval and relocation for John Andrews, it was the same for the Whites. One of the objectives James had in itinerating around New England in late summer 1855 was to ascertain the response to the idea of again relocating the Review. The primary reason for restructuring the arrangements for publication of the Review was to enable him to get out from under the intolerable financial and work burden of the enterprise. He had been regularly working fourteen to eighteen hours per day, and he reported that his health had been “well-nigh ruined” by the overload of work and anxiety. The previous winter had been a particularly difficult time. James had all the symptoms of consumption, and Ellen thought that she would soon be left a widow, her husband dying “as a martyr to the cause of present truth.” She spoke of it as a “time of thick gloom and darkness.”27 On top of his workload, a keen sense of bereavement for his siblings crowded in on him and exacerbated what today would be called mild bipolar disorder. He became seriously depressed. Ellen also became seriously depressed for a long stretch at this time. The financial responsibility of the Review still lay almost entirely with James, and the operation was now around two thousand to three thousand dollars in debt against his name. (Precisely how much he was in debt he did not seem to actually know.) But he feared dying as a pauper, leaving his wife in debt. Ellen recounts that self-pitying thoughts “forced themselves upon me.”28 The heavy work schedule and the associated anxiety and sleep deprivation inevitably occasioned shortness of temper and irascibility, which stressed White’s work relationships even with the best will and purest motives in the world.29 With John Andrews also burning out, it seemed as if the cause was just going to fall apart. By February 1855, White had resolved that “a complete change in many respects” was needed, even if it meant his having to “leave the office entirely.” There was no way that he could see himself continuing to run a personal boarding house for the workers, operate a printing business with largely volunteer labor, and not charge for the Review. Such an approach, if it worked previously, was now

unsustainable. The threat to leave the office “entirely” was really an ultimatum declared to his readers and friends in desperation. In response, White had received a proposal from a few believers in Battle Creek, Michigan, who suggested that they might be able to host and support the enterprise should it move there. James and Ellen made a shortnotice visit to Michigan in May to check things out. Ellen White was so concerned about the loss of her husband at this time that she dreamed of talking to an angel whom she asked whether James would be removed from her before the time of trouble. She was told, she recorded, “What is that to thee?” She was to simply look to Providence, labor to have him free and cheered, encourage him, and pray for him.30 The following month, as he moved around churches in the northeastern states, believers in Vermont also expressed interest in relieving him of the burdens and relocating the press to that state. Now there were two options. White reported to Review readers that the Vermont proposal seemed like a good option unless someone came up with the suggestion of a more central location. Again he stated his ultimatum. “We shall no longer bear the burdens we have borne in Rochester; neither shall we move the Office, East or West. The Office is the property of the church. The church must wake up to this matter, and free us from responsibilities that have been forced upon us, and which we have reluctantly taken.”31 He was aware that there was an undercurrent of suspicion about the enterprise and observed that “the effects of the whining complaints of jealous ones” distressed him because the whiners “take care and [do] not come to us with their complaints; but we meet their poisonous letters addressed to others relative to our course in all quarters.”32 Uncertainty prevailed while White tried to consult more widely and wait for further feedback and for the cloud of Providence to move. By late August the Michigan men began to crystalize their offer with a proposal to erect a permanent building in Battle Creek, move the press, and take financial and managerial responsibility. Thus White thought it best to

move west. There seemed to be both economic and strategic advantages in moving in that direction. “As far as I can learn,” he wrote to his contact person in Michigan, “eastern brethren do not object to the press going to Michigan provided Michigan brethren are ready to take the matter promptly in hand.” He gave an estimate of the size of the building that he thought would need to be built (ideally 1,600 square feet in a two-story structure) and how much it would cost to move the press (about $1,000). Perhaps some small homes for staff would be necessary as well.33 He then set out what he thought should be the new organizational arrangements. The office should remain the property of the church, with three or four people being listed as owners and holding the property on trust. He, John Andrews, and two others would become paid consulting editors, and the young Uriah Smith should be appointed as resident editor. Most importantly, a financial committee should be appointed to manage the enterprise, and a prepaid subscription price should be set for the magazine rather than relying on voluntary donations. His final concern was timing. How long would it take to complete the new building in Battle Creek? In early September he announced what he thought was a consensus and the understanding that brethren in Michigan would arrange for the relocation of the publishing enterprise to Battle Creek sometime in the fall.34 He himself planned to be on site by the end of that month. A sense of urgency was developing—always a good driver of change. On September 23, before James arrived back in Battle Creek, a small group of “those interested in establishing the Advent Review office in Michigan” met to formalize their action.35 They resolved that the move be made and established a committee of three whose duty it would be to move the office, have oversight of the finances, and authorize a public appeal for funds to do so.36 They also resolved to take the initiative in proposing a plan for the editorial arrangement through the pages of the Review and seek feedback from the various states. The plan they suggested was exactly what James White had outlined to them in his August letter to

Abraham Dodge. Two weeks later the Review published a statement from the oversight committee announcing, perhaps preemptively, and with little time for feedback, that “the friends of the cause of present truth in Michigan have decided to take responsibility of moving the Press from Rochester, N. Y., and establishing it at Battle Creek, Mich.” They had been informed by White, they said, that the eastern brethren would not object, and in their view, Battle Creek was “nearer the center of the future field of labor.”37 The idea had also been somehow communicated inadvertently that the Michigan brethren would pay for all of it. James was to learn from further feedback, and to his chagrin, that there was not, in fact, total unanimity about the wisdom of the move west, nor a clear understanding of financial arrangements. In stating that “the Brethren in Michigan cheerfully take upon themselves the responsibilities of the Review office,” some had received the impression that that also meant funding its operation. Thus when the call went out for further donations with the expectation that others should contribute, they took offense. John Andrews was not at the conference to participate in the discussion about the relocation of the press, and he did not express himself. It seems, however, that others from New York were clearly unhappy with the loss of the publishing enterprise from their state. Perhaps those from Rochester, whose church was now decimated, or others in New York, who had funded the move to Rochester in the first place, felt misused. Others, like those in the Ezra Butler clan at Waterbury, Vermont, apparently felt they had been lightly bypassed in the consultations and were also unhappy, even as James took the view that “all” were willing for the Review to go west.38 Some who moved out to join Andrews in Waukon the following year thought that there had been political maneuvering involved, and they misunderstood and mistrusted James White’s role in the relocation. It was an issue that James later had to spend much time explaining.39 In mid-November at a more general meeting of church representatives in Battle Creek, participants endorsed the move, along with the proposed

management structure and editorial arrangements. Feedback had been received by this time from seven states. New Hampshire and Ohio supported the plan in whole. Representatives from Illinois and New York said that they would be happy with whatever the meeting decided. Massachusetts leaders were OK but would prefer that James White continue as resident editor, while some in Michigan would prefer J. H. Waggoner as resident editor. Nothing came in from Maine or Vermont.40 Session participants, the large majority of whom came from Michigan, heard the responses and then voted to endorse the proposal as presented, formally appointing Uriah Smith as resident editor and J. N. Andrews as one of four consulting editors. James was to receive four dollars per week for his consulting editor role with the Review, but whether this was also granted to Andrews out at Waukon is unclear. It seems unlikely. James White, though not officially designated to hold a management role, nevertheless involved himself at the center of things, still providing the energy and the driving force in the project as well as being a consulting editor. The relocation was a done deal. Resistance to the change would be dealt with later. The last issue published in Rochester was printed on October 3041 Despite his ill health, he was still able to defend the Sabbatarian position and help prevent pastoral problems. During November the magazine went into recess while families and equipment moved west. The first issue published in the new location appeared on December 4. Even as the White family pulled out of Rochester, sadness struck again as consumption continued to take its toll on the extended family. The ten-month-old son of Ellen’s sister Sarah Belden, whose husband Stephen managed the printing operation and boarded with them in Rochester, succumbed to the dreaded disease. The last issue of the Rochester Review carried his sad obituary.42 There were many reasons the Whites were glad to be going to Battle Creek. It certainly gave a sense of new freedom. Alluding to a central Old Testament

narrative, Ellen would later remark that this was the time when “the Lord began to turn our captivity.”43

Scholar in residence and tensions over the timing of Sabbath observance When James White visited Paris, Maine, in August 1855, he had discussed with Andrews the deepening problem of increasing diversity of practice that threatened serious schism among Sabbatarian Adventists. The divisive issue concerned the time for the commencement and ending of Sabbath observance. White’s “fears of division” in mid-1854 had led him to ask Elder D. P. Hall of Pennsylvania to study the issue for the emerging church so that the question could be “settled by good testimony”— evidence from Scripture. Most were observing Sabbath commencement at 6:00 P.M., based on what was called equatorial time. Others suggested sunset, some were convinced it was midnight, and yet others thought it should commence at sunrise. Even after a repeated request from White, Hall had not taken up the subject. Thus with the issue becoming urgent, James White asked Andrews, in spite of his ill health, to carefully study out the scriptural position.44 During the late summer and fall of 1855, Andrews reported “devoting to the subject each day, as much time as my strength would admit.” The investigation soon led him to the “firm conviction” that in the scriptural worldview “the commencement and close of each day is marked by the setting of the sun.”45 Andrews subsequently wrote up his study as a four-thousand-word article that was read to the believers at a conference in Battle Creek on Sabbath, November 19. Smith later published it in the Review. It was a carefully framed, formal, scholarly piece that asserted what evidence it might be “proper to consider” or what arguments it might be “not improper to present.” The paper first established that in biblical usage, the expression “day” embraced night and day in a twenty-four-hour period, with night coming first chronologically, as in the expression “evening-

morning.” Objections to this fundamental point were discussed.46 Andrews then considered eight Old Testament and two New Testament references demonstrating that “even” (Matthew 8:16) was to be understood as “the going down of the sun” (Deuteronomy 16:6), or as the “sun goes down.” He dispatched the basic argument for a 6:00 P.M. start, which had been based on a reading of John 11:9 where Jesus said there were “twelve hours” in the day, and that hour six was midday. The argument asserted that if hour six was midday, hour twelve must be 6:00 P.M. Andrews demonstrated the weakness of this argument by showing that “hours,” although equal with one another in any given modern twelve-hour period, in New Testament times were, in fact, a variable unit based on the seasonal length of the day. Knowing when 6:00 P.M. was without a clock would have been impossible. Demonstrating a solid scholarly basis for his study, he cited Hebrew and Greek lexicons, commentaries (Adam Clarke several times), Bible dictionaries, and religious encyclopedias. “We think the Scripture testimony adduced, sufficient to establish the fact that the day begins with the evening.” Then addressing current practice, he asserted, “There is not a single testimony of Holy Scripture that can be adduced for the six o’clock time,” and concluded: “The Bible, by several plain statements, establishes the fact that evening is at sunset.”47 James White was delighted with the rigor of the study and rejoiced that his junior colleague had “presented the Bible testimony on this question, in his accustomed forcible, candid manner.” In his mind, the study settled the question “beyond all doubt.” The paper reinforced Andrews’s credentials and his status as a valuable scholarly resource for the emerging denomination. Apparently, Andrews was not in Battle Creek long enough to read the paper, having pressed on with his family to Waukon after his stopover on the previous Monday. It seems that James White may have read the paper for him on Sabbath morning, November 19, and the rest of the day was spent debating and discussing it in Andrews’s absence.48 Most

seemed to be persuaded by the argument, and most were willing to shift their practice, although not everyone. The exceptions included Joseph Bates, a few others, and Ellen White. Joseph Bates was simply not persuaded by the argument. For her part, Ellen White was under the impression that because the angel in her earlier 1847 vision (about the Sabbath beginning at “even”) had not corrected her understanding, this meant 6:00 P.M. A change was not needed. For her, her vision seemed to be authoritative. Quite a number of other believers were of the same view, for had not Ellen White endorsed the 6:00 P.M. start on the basis of what she reported she had seen and heard in vision? Indeed she had. The discussion in Topsham, Maine, in 1847 was over the issue of whether Sabbath should begin at evening or in the morning, and the angel had told her it began at “even.” Bates had been present during the vision and heard Ellen explain that “even” meant 6:00 P.M. Later, however, James claimed that he had never made the particular connection that the vision had specifically supported six o’clock.49 Others also thought they had heard Ellen White make the connection and were now troubled. The idea that “even” meant 6:00 P.M. and that this had been confirmed by vision had spread widely, giving confidence to believers that their practice had been right. According to James White’s recollection of the Battle Creek meeting, the discussion was somewhat tense during that Sabbath after he had read Andrews’s paper aloud to the congregation, and the tension continued through the following Sunday.50 Was the movement to rely on Scripture or on the visions as the authority for their belief and practice? This was the first time that a point of tension between the two sources of authority (Scripture and the visions) became a matter of open discussion in the tiny community in such a public way and with such large visible implications. What made matters worse was the fact that the schismatic Messenger Party was publicly attacking Ellen White’s visions on a similar issue—a changed

or clarified interpretation. Any admission now that a vision could have given wrong or inadequate information would be very damaging to the integrity and credibility of the movement. Ellen White was distressed at the confusion and by the risk of further damaging division. On Sunday during a season of prayer at the conclusion of the conference, Ellen fell into a vision in which she reported having a conversation with an angel about her anxiety over the issue. Out of the conversation, she perceived a resolution to the confusion. “I saw that it was in the minds of some that the Lord had shown that the Sabbath commenced at six o’clock, when I had only seen that it commenced at ‘even,’ and it was inferred that even was at six,” she reported. “I saw that the servants of God must draw together, press together.”51 It was Ellen who deduced that her vision about “even” meant six o’clock, not the vision itself. The resolution, in Ellen’s mind, enabled James White to publish a corrective statement in the Review, along with Andrews’s paper. The impression that the visions had taught the six o’clock time was “a mistake,” he asserted. He explained that “the teaching” had simply been “from even to even,” and the six o’clock time had been inferred. Thus in the consciousness of the community at this critical moment, the Protestant principle of the primacy of Scripture was reinforced, and the usefulness and credibility of the visions of Ellen White were also preserved. It was a critical moment. Division was avoided, and the community was able to maintain what they viewed as a proper role for Ellen White. Believers saw that her gift could ensure that unity was preserved during a very difficult transition.52 Upon embracing the new interpretation of Scripture, conference attendees made confessions and offered “fervent prayers to Heaven for the return of the Spirit of consecration, sacrifice and holiness once enjoyed by the remnant.”53 If the tension was resolved reasonably quickly in Battle Creek, it took somewhat longer in the churches elsewhere. We get some understanding of the theological difficulty posed by the issue in the minds of some

believers from Angeline’s letter to her mother-in-law-to-be in 1855. How could the reversal in understanding a church practice be established on the basis of visions? Angeline’s letter also gives us insight into the depth of her own theological reflection and how she needed to wrestle with incompatible things. She reported to Sarah in a conversational paragraph that most of the members in the North Paris church “commenced keeping Sabbath from sunset on the strength of John’s article.” But “Sis [Laura] Stowell has stuck close to six o’clock—guessed you would [also] find a strong opposer in Brother Arnold—who wondered [why] John did not have more respect for the visions than to thus change his views—one thing is certain it is always safe to start from the Bible and then all these visions will agree there—seek to be rectified by Bible for all visions I suppose must be the right course.”54 She then reflected on the tension she saw in the dilemma. “We have Sis W.’s late vision—that seems to refer us to the word, ‘read it and understand it and ye cannot err.’ ‘She had only seen it [Sab] commenced at even.’ ” But from reported conversations circulating in her own church circle, there was a clear understanding that Ellen White herself had been convinced they had been right all along about 6:00

P.M.

Harriet Stevens reported that in answer to a specific question in a meeting, Ellen White had said “she saw” that “the brethren were right in commencing the Sab, or had the right light.” Angeline felt deeply the personal anguish the dilemma posed. “O how I wish these things could be made plain and credible if true. I will try and be watchful,—set guard over my words. . . . For I would not grieve the Holy Spirit by any means.” Such issues were, to her, a clear indication of end times. “I think we are in perilous times, don’t you?”55 The question of the role and authority of Ellen White’s visions and their relationship to Scripture was to take time to resolve in John and Angeline’s minds, and it would become complicated as the question became overlaid with family problems and relationships. It would cause much anguish for both the

Andrews and the Whites. A decade later, James White would describe how the Sabbath starting time episode had clarified the proper place of the gifts in the church. “God has never set them in the very front, and commanded us to look to them to lead us in the path of truth, and the way to Heaven. . . . The Scriptures . . . are man’s lamp to light up his path to the kingdom.”56

Coping with the delay Other developments in the Sabbatarian Adventist community gave deep concern in the lead-up to the gathering of leaders in Battle Creek at the late 1855 meeting. The appearance of a publication put out by the Messenger Party, the schismatic group led by Hiram Chase and Charles Russell from Jackson created anxiety. James White saw the group as “desperate spirits” and “wicked men” who misrepresented facts and then misinterpreted events and motives. This frustrated and angered the Whites. In a personal letter to a friend, Ellen White called the Messenger “that wicked, vile paper.” The person distributing it in Vermont was “one of their kind,” like Chase and Russell, “and the sooner we are rid of them the better.”57 John Andrews had helped formulate an initial reply to the group during 1854, and at the 1855 conference there had been further discussion as to how best to respond further. Ellen White’s counsel had been to ignore the group. If the leaders would avoid focusing further attention on responding to the group, it would simply die away. But it was to get worse before it died away, and in the meantime the spread of the disenchantment to Wisconsin and beyond caused further alarm.58 There was fear that the dissension would spread. What if John Andrews’s ambivalence about the role and the authority of the visions was used to aid the cause of the dissenters? Would the Waukon group also become caught up with the new offshoot? The core criticisms of the Messenger Party had focused on challenging the credibility of Ellen White’s visions. The conference in Battle Creek spent much of Monday, November 20,

hearing several presentations weighing the place of Ellen White’s visions in the church and trying to find the best way of understanding their authority and explaining their relationship to Scripture. The conference conceded that in deference to the negative public perception of visionary experiences, there had been some unwillingness on the part of leaders to acknowledge them in the community and to be blessed by their counsel. They now concluded that this was a mistaken approach. “We must acknowledge ourselves under obligation to abide by their teachings and be corrected by their admonitions,” was the consensus that emerged from the discussions.59 A further important development that marked the next Battle Creek conference in 1856 was the general embrace of a new interpretation of the seven churches of Revelation 2; 3. Previously, Sabbatarian Adventists, as Millerites, had identified themselves in the prophetic sequence as the sixth church (Philadelphia), characterized by brotherly love and a total commitment to God and truth. The Philadelphian church reached to the very end of time, they believed, because the text said that these end-time believers had “endured patiently” and “no one will take your crown” (Revelation 3:10, 11, NIV). The passage also talked of a shut door, and had this not happened in 1844? The seventh church (Laodicea), with its lukewarmness and rejection by God, clearly applied to nominal Christians who had not accepted the Millerite message. Now the two churches were to be seen as part of a sequential prophecy. We see, looking back, how the passing of time was forcing a reassessment of the interpretation. The delay in the return of Jesus necessitated a fresh interpretation, which, in its own way, also provided an added explanation of that further delay. A month prior to the 1856 conference, James White suggested in a provocative article in the Review that the Laodicean message did not, in fact, describe nominal Christians but rather Sabbatarian Adventists themselves. The Philadelphian message, he asserted, could clearly be seen to have finished in 1844, but now the prophecy should be seen as

describing the current situation of Sabbatarian Adventists. Had there not been “a departure of the remnant from the spirit of the message and the humble straight-forward course taken by those who first embraced it”? It was Sabbatarian Adventists who were now lukewarm and becoming increased with goods. This was a significant theological development. It involved a reinterpretation that grew out of further reflection on a verse of Scripture in the light of Christian experience and a sobering awareness of a clock that simply kept on ticking—relentlessly. The Lord had not come. Something must be wrong. Over the next twelve months, Ellen White picked up on the theme and referred to it several times in her correspondence. Out in Waukon, John Andrews and his family and other members who had moved west to make a new economic start seemed to think that they might be the ones being subtly targeted in this reinterpretation. The Waukon group was not initially favorable to the new teaching.60

Troubles at Waukon During 1856, John Andrews and his family struggled to establish their new farm on the prairie. They were joined in April/May of that year by the Stevens family, who purchased land nearby and also sought to establish a farm. Labor on the farm and ill health prevented Andrews from doing much writing. The Review published only two of his articles all year. In April he wrote on the sin of tobacco, and in August he wrote up a further response to Crosier, defending the Adventist position on “the Age to Come.”61 During the year, other families from the East—including Ezra Butler, the Hazeltines, the Lindsays, and the Meads—swelled their numbers at Waukon. Then, on Wednesday, October 29, 1856, John and Angeline were married, although we have no details on the event telling where it took place or why this date was chosen. Hopefully, John’s malodorous catarrh had subsided sufficiently so that the unpleasant hawking and coughing did not mar their honeymoon—if they had one.

Perhaps Angeline had accustomed herself to the catarrh so that it was not a problem. Four weeks after the wedding, John Loughborough and his neighbor Jonathan Orton and their wives arrived in the community at the end of a seven-week wagon trek from Rochester. The families around Waukon now formed a Sabbath-keeping group of about thirty, which almost rivaled Battle Creek. The need to survive took precedence with the new settlers. There was little opportunity, as Loughborough explained, for evangelism given the scattered nature of the rural community. There was also little opportunity for writing. Lamenting the fact that the Review was having to rely on so much lame selected material to keep its pages filled, James White appealed for “good, rich” articles from Adventist preachers and publicly gently criticized Andrews and his colleagues. “Some of our Corresponding Editors have well done,” he wrote on December 11, “but where are Brn. Pierce and Andrews?” He noted a general complaint. “The inquiry goes round in the church,” he reported, “ ‘Why don’t THEY write?’ ”62 As James White noted later, the Waukon settlers were “almost wholly occupied with the things of this life.” He conceded, somewhat reluctantly to his readers, that, “by the way, this is necessarily the portion of those who move to the West to make farms with little means.”63 Substantial anxiety had developed with regard to the Waukon group, it seems, because the latest arrival involved the departure from ministry of John Loughborough and because there was a fear that they might form a breakaway faction, thus further fragmenting and weakening the young church. In his Review report on a visit that he and Ellen made to Waukon in the last week of December 1855, White publicly listed the names of the families in the Review, not only because they were well known, he said, but “because many of our brethren are anxious to learn their present position.” He had found the group “firm” in the three angels’ messages, but they were generally rejecting his new interpretation of “the testimony to the Laodiceans.” This, James feared, “would be calculated to separate

them in feeling and interest from the body of the brethren.” Did he fear that this could seed schism? He also noted with sadness that most of the believers in the Waukon group were “laboring under a mistake” in thinking that he had “rashly moved” the Review office to Battle Creek. Communication had apparently broken down, and they somehow felt as if they had been deprived a voice in the decision-making process. James noted that given the “state of things” in Waukon, the couple was not received as “affectionately as formerly,” although it was with “Christian courtesy.”64 Deeply worried about the loss of confidence in the Waukon community and its damaging implications, Ellen and James had resolved as they neared the end of an extended visit at Round Grove, about eighty miles south of Chicago, that they should try and make the three-hundred-mile northwest journey to visit the Waukon believers. Ellen had perceived in a vision that the group was in trouble and needed help. Although she had not seen in her vision that it was her “duty” to go, nevertheless, she felt very anxious and wanted to go in order to be of help. As Ellen White saw it, the seeds of dissatisfaction were ripening, and the group was becoming “what might be called a more respectable ‘Messenger party.’ ” How could they lose John Andrews like that? And also John Loughborough? It was too much. Mary Loughborough was later to acknowledge that one of the reasons she and John had moved to Waukon was to get away from Ellen and James.65 Ellen White must have sensed this. Her mind would not rest because of worry and anxiety, and the couple made plans for the dangerous journey, although severely inclement weather almost persuaded them at the last minute to call the trip off.66 The journey by two-horse open sleigh took them much longer than anticipated, and they arrived unexpectedly and somewhat unwelcomed in Waukon on Wednesday afternoon, Christmas Eve, after battling snowstorms and fiercely cold prairie winds.67 During the seven days of their stay, a series of intense meetings

occurred at the Andrews farmhouse as the two sides worked through the complicated issues that had come between them. On Sabbath, James White presented his new view of the seven churches, which persuaded some but not others. Those who had difficulty with the view requested that they be given the opportunity to assess the strength of the arguments against White’s interpretation, and Sunday was set aside for this. It seems that John Andrews led the discussion on this, and, according to James White, there ensued “a most thorough and critical investigation of the subject in a most Christian manner to the profit of all.” The discussion led to a general consensus on the validity of White’s new approach. Another extended session was given to the vexed question of the removal of the Review office to Battle Creek and James White’s role in it. This also resulted in a better understanding and the opportunity for James to vindicate his involvement, with confessions of prejudgment and misunderstanding coming from both sides. “The tender spirit of confession and forgiveness was mutually cherished by all.”68 The spiritual intensity of some of the revivalist devotional meetings involved charismatic experiences that were long remembered. At one evening meeting, Ellen White went into a visionary trance, which had the effect, Ellen White reported, of convincing those present that the experience “was of God.” Following the vision, she related in the scriptural language of the Laodicean message that the believers needed to return to the Lord, “tear down the rubbish from the door of thy heart, and open the door,” for the Lord wanted “to sup with thee.”69 The emotional overload was high. Mary Loughborough, who had been negative toward her husband’s frequent absences necessitated by his itinerant ministry and their sparse unpredictable income, felt burdened with guilt. According to her husband, she “was almost on the brink of despair.”70 Under conviction, she made confession of her opposition and urged others to repent and find peace. Harriet Stevens, also under strong emotional conviction, fell helplessly off her chair and lay prostrate in a kind of religious ecstasy for

some time. Ellen White reported that she, too, lay on the floor with “no strength for two hours,” taken off in another vision, noting that she had felt “wrapped in the glory of God.”71 The meeting marked by confession of feelings of disunion, “wrong feelings and their backslidden state,” lasted until after midnight. And then, Ellen White noted, rest eluded many when they eventually retired because the spirit of conviction disturbed their sleep. The meeting resumed again at 10:00 A.M. the next morning where it had left off the night before and then went through without a break until 5:00

P.M.

John Andrews, on this last long day of intense devotional and

emotionally draining fervor, also experienced a collapse “and lay helpless for some time.” The experience of overwhelming conviction under these stressful circumstances enabled him to let go of his own opinions and find release in submission to the word from the visions. Ellen White described the young preacher as being “prostrated by the power of God.” Loughborough observed that they fell “limp as a piece of cloth.” When Andrews had become functional again, he expressed his thankfulness that James and Ellen had come. He said that “he believed that the Lord had sent us,” she reported.72 As James and Ellen White left Waukon on the morning of January 2, they took John Loughborough with them. Mary, his wife, had resolved in her mind to be submissive and to come to terms with his extended absences. He began to engage again in ministry.73 Four days after the Whites left, Andrews wrote a letter of gratitude for their visit. It had been “a source of much blessing,” and he wanted to make it clear that he was now on board with the Whites’ application of the message to the Laodiceans. It had been “powerfully set home upon the hearts of all by the Spirit of God. I trust that all have been profited to some extent, and that the larger part have [sic] been blest with the signal outpouring of the Holy Spirit. It has been a season of deep humiliation and of heartfelt confession before God.” For his own part, Andrews acknowledged that the past

“season” had been “one of deep discouragement and I might almost add, of despair.” This was in spite of his marriage. “Despondency and unbelief have had my spirit in almost complete subjection. I write this with sorrow of heart, for such should not have been the case. But the thought that God is again visiting his people, gives to my poor heart a spring of joy.” As a footnote to editor Uriah Smith, he added that his ill health was preventing him from engaging in correspondence. It was his way of responding to White’s criticism that he had not been producing any articles for the Review. “Allow me to say to many friends who have written to me, that the condition of my head has rendered it impossible for me to write in reply. I hope that it will not always be thus.”74 Four months later in April, Andrews tentatively ventured out into public evangelism again, conducting one meeting per week. Returning health needed careful nurture, and he slowly extended his range. “I feel at present a great interest with respect to the people in this region. I have been trying to get the truth before them, and I think the prospect is exceedingly encouraging. By not speaking but once a day, I now think my throat will bear several attempts in presenting the truth weekly.” He was hopeful “that a great change has taken place for the better. Time will show.” He had resolved to “be careful,” but he felt “so much encouragement that something can be effected here” and would do his best to “improve every opportunity.”75 Two major family developments added both joy and significant complexity to Andrews’s life in mid-1857. The early summer marriage of his twenty-five-year-old sister-in-law, Harriet Stevens, to Uriah Smith took place on June 5.76 Harriet, who was gifted with literary skills and had experienced a spiritual renewal after the Whites’ visit to Waukon in December, had moved to Battle Creek in the spring. Ellen White seems to have felt a special affinity and affection for her. “Our hearts are knit

together,” she had written after the December visit. “Write to me just how you feel. Write me as to a sister.” She had encouraged Harriet to write for the Review and the Youth’s Instructor and to consider moving to Battle Creek. “The Lord has need of thee,” was apparently something Ellen White had expressed to her either while in vision or soon afterward.77 What concerned Ellen White about Harriet’s marriage? Was it the danger that could arise from the fact that John Andrews and Uriah Smith would now be also closely connected by marriage as brothers-in-law? Although both men were still young, their new relationship had the potential for shifting the delicate balance of power and political influence in the young church. There were, of course, strong advantages for the church in the union of Uriah and Harriet, if Harriet could cast her influence on the “right and not on the wrong side.” If her mind might be influenced by a wrong influence, however, there was a danger that this could affect Uriah. “You have watched John’s opinions and views,” Ellen cautioned, “and they have had more effect and influence with you than is due, and then the door is open for your views or understanding to affect Uriah.” Both of the newlyweds must be on their guard to avoid letting Satan get in. “John is not standing in the light,” she observed.78 Why would he not leave Waukon, as Loughborough had done? If John and Angeline attended Harriet and Uriah’s wedding in early July, Angeline was noticeably pregnant when she did so. A healthy baby boy, whom they named Charles, arrived on October 5. He was to bring delight to the home as well as distress when later, at the age of three, he developed what seemed to be a permanent lameness in his left leg. The search for a cure for the ailment, however, turned into a blessing when the search introduced the family to a whole new regime of healthy living. In the meantime, Andrews continued to struggle with chronic catarrh and fatigue and maybe with doubt. Although he was invited publicly through the Review to attend the general conference scheduled in Battle Creek over the weekend of November 6–9, it seems that Andrews may not have been

in attendance. John Loughborough represented the West. Andrews’s name does not appear in any of the reports of the meeting. But then, neither does Uriah Smith’s name. Why? Serious tensions had erupted in Battle Creek. As James White had noted earlier, the role of editor of the Review had become totally overloaded. The arrangement, as White had previously pointed out, called for Uriah to function as secretary and editor, reading all the letters, preparing portions of them for printing, “keeping accounts, filling orders for books, reading proof-sheet,” as well as being expected to write original articles.79 Expectations of the readership in the field and of Ellen and James were high. But adjustments to family life and to a new wife were also adding to time demands at home, and these were taking their toll on both Uriah and Harriet. The Review office had just installed an expensive but much more efficient power-operated press, for which James had raised funds but then also had borrowed heavily against his own name to fund it.80 To complicate matters, as the machinery was being installed in late August, a large insurance company failed in Ohio, which quickly spread financial panic and economic reversal across the nation. Grain prices slumped, funds dried up, and the value of the currency collapsed precipitously. Anxieties deepened as the year wore on to a close. Money sent in to the Review office was of uncertain value. The debt James was personally carrying stressed him, as did failures in the office and mistakes and blemishes in the Review. Stresses in the workplace had led to sharp exchanges. Ellen White acknowledged that James “was too sensitive, too strong feeling,” but then she added, “Someone must have the care and feel, and feel strongly too.” Feeling sandwiched between the competing demands of his boss and perhaps his new wife, Uriah had either resigned or talked of resigning. He suggested that Joseph Waggoner or James himself should take on the office editorial role. Ellen White, in a pastoral appeal to both the Smiths, remonstrated with the young editor, telling him that she had seen in vision

that he had been called of God to the editorship, “and God has not released you.” She acknowledged that getting the balance of workloads right might be difficult. There was a danger of “some expecting too much” of Smith, “and there is the danger of expecting too little.” If he stayed, he should be able to work together as “true yoke-fellows” with James.81 Harriet could help Uriah more than she thought she could if only she would avoid talking on “the doubtful side.” But apparently Harriet did not always talk on the right side, and the woes of the new bride and the reports of workplace stresses were soon added to the store of memories of previous offences accumulating out of the Stevens and Andrews homes in Waukon. As it turned out, Smith stayed on at the Review, and in the November meetings in Battle Creek he served as secretary, while Joseph Bates chaired the meetings. James, more than happy with the outcome of the meetings, optimistically envisioned that “an important era was dawning on the movement.”82 In the meantime, as 1857 turned into 1858, the deepening financial collapse added to the woes of poverty-stricken itinerant preachers who were dependent on the goodwill of church members to supply them enough for food, clothing, and travel. Saving money was not even thinkable—nor necessary. The Lord was coming soon. Retirement funds, or what was called acquiring “a competency,” figured not even remotely in a minister’s consciousness. And besides, as Ellen White pointed out, “nearly everyone believed that the Laodicean message would end in the loud cry of the third angel.” The time horizon in which this would happen was but “a few short months.” As church members “failed to see the work accomplished in a short time,” however, she lamented that the message had “lost the effect.”83 Instead, the Laodicean emphasis on reform and revival led increasing numbers of churches to become distracted by contentious church trials as church members began to find fault with each other for not measuring up to the expected standard. In this climate, church members who had money found it difficult to part with it, and the financial

panic of the times made them even more cautious. If Loughborough’s account is reliable in its chronology, it was “the straitened circumstances of the ministers during the close times” of the winter of 1858 that led to the formation of a Bible class in Battle Creek in April to study the problem of ministerial finance. And that is where we hear of John Andrews next. Loughborough reports that the church’s scholar led out in a Bible study in Battle Creek as the church struggled to find a better and more consistent means of support for the ministry.84 Resolving that problem would take further time. So would the study of the problem of a proper financial system for the support of ministry. It was not until January 1859 that the plan known as Systematic Benevolence was presented to the church at Battle Creek and other churches throughout Michigan.85 By this time, in addition to studying biblical financial systems, Andrews was also, as his slowly returning health allowed, focusing his attention on collecting materials on the history of the Sabbath. These three theological concerns—tension between the authority of Scripture and the authority of visions, biblical financial systems, and the history of the Sabbath—would become major projects that would consume much of his energy for the next five years.

1. Eunice Harmon to EGW, Dec. 10, 1855, EGWE-GC. See also EGW, L&M (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 476. 2. “Going West,” RH, Sept. 4, 1855, 36. 3. Loughborough thought that the move of church members to the West was in response to a vision of Ellen White. It seems, however, that her counsel concerning the advantages of moving west and the dangers of materialism came in response to the western migration rather than prompting it. See “Recollections of the Past—No. 16,” RH, Mar. 16, 1886, 169. Also EGW, L&M, 547, 555. 4. Usually drawn by a team of two or four horses, the boxed wagon was used for general farmwork. The trek for the Loughborough and Orton families took seven weeks (Oct. 4 to Nov. 20) and involved sectors by lake steamer and freight train. “Recollections of the Past—No. 16,” RH, Mar. 16, 1886, 169. 5. Ibid. 6. RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 76. A newsy letter from Angeline Stevens to Sarah Andrews, John’s mother,

written from Paris on December 15 has survived. The letter records that the Stevens family had received correspondence announcing the Andrewses’ arrival in Waukon. Angeline enquires about how the family is finding the price of food items in the new location. She also inquires whether any of the household “things” were injured “by their long journey.” A. [Stevens] to Dear Sister Andrews, Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. 7. James T. Hair, ed., Iowa State Gazeteer, Shipper’s Guide and Business Directory (Chicago: Bailey & Hair, 1865), 89. The editor of the directory, “of a consumptive family,” attributed the cure of his chronic debilitating cough “to prairie air” and had enjoyed “robust health” for the previous twelve years. 8. Gerald Wheeler, James White: Innovator and Overcomer (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2003), 123. Whether the employment as a clerk was at his uncle’s general store in Paris Hill or in Waukon is not clear. William Pottle stayed in Waukon for many years and, for a time, operated the local post office. See Ellery Hancock, Past and Present of Allamakee 196County, Iowa (Chicago: S. J. Clarke, 1913), 317, 322. 9. Hancock, Past and Present, 317. The town had been named as the county seat in 1854. 10. The 0.125 square mile property (approximately 80 acres) was located in Section 18, approximately 3.5 miles south of the town of Waukon, on what is now called Breezy Corner’s Road. Ron Graybill describes the location based on the assumption that the property identified in 1872 as belonging to W. P. Andrews in the Library of Congress Map Division is the same as that which his father owned earlier. See “Family Man,” 38. 11. Angeline, in a letter to John’s mother, asks, “How far is the post office from Mr Pottle’s?” which suggests that Sarah’s relative’s house may be where they are staying and how far they may have had to walk to receive their mail. A. [Stevens] to Dear Sister Andrews, Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. 12. Edward is discreet in his reference to the help extended to them. “I do not forget the great favour she [Aunt Walton] has done us . . . and I also have a strong feeling of gratitude to Mr. S. Andrews [possibly Samson].” Both Sampson and Alfred, Edward’s elder brother, had been influential as agents in securing assistance. Edward Andrews to “Dear Brother Alfred,” Dec. 10, 1863, CAR. 13. Aunt Walton was apparently a relative on the Pottle side of the family and was perhaps an Adventist. Mary Ricker, an Adventist spinster from the North Paris church who had previously worked for Persis Sibley Andrews, was planning to stay with Aunt Walton during the winter. See A. [Stevens] to Dear Sister Andrews, Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. 14. Angeline’s letter from December mentions that there had been discussion in the Stevens family about going to Iowa, but at that stage “there seems but little prospect” of it happening. They were aware that it would be disruptive to their local North Paris church and family if they left. 15. “From Bro. Bates,” RH, May 29, 1856, 46. Bates reports that the Stevens had only “very recently” arrived, and that the families were isolated from the village. 16. Loughborough reports that he had become financially embarrassed, with so little support for his ministry that he was “urged by friends to accompany them west” and there, “after sustaining my family by my own labor, preach as I might have opportunity.” “Recollections of the Past—No. 16,” RH, Mar. 16, 1886, 169. In his 1910 telling of the story, he identifies John Andrews as the person who invited him to Waukon. “Sketches of the Past—No. 101,” PUR, Apr. 4, 1910, 8.

17. Loughborough also mentions Hosea Mead, who worked with him in carpentering. Ibid. 18. Ibid. 19. “Civil War for Kansas,” RH, Feb. 21, 1856, 168. 20. “Ye Are Not of This World,” RH, July 10, 1856, 84. 21. The full title is Lectures on Life and Health: Or, the Laws and Means of Physical Culture, (Boston: Phillips, Samson & Sons, 1853). The book is one of the earliest volumes in Andrews’s Library, preserved in the Archives Historiques de L’Adventisme Francophone at the Adventist University at Collonges-sous-Saleve. “A. S. Stevens, Presented by J. N. Andrews, Paris, May, 1855,” is written on the flyleaf in Andrews’s own handwriting. 22. The Stevens family had also encountered the problem of consumption when Harriet’s friend, Harriet Arabella Hastings, died of the disease on August 1, 1854, while on an extended visit to the Stevens home in Paris. The disease had worked so swiftly, Arabella was unable to return to her home. “Obituary,” RH, Sept. 5, 1854, 31. 23. A. [Stevens] to “Dear Sister Andrews,” Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. The letter indicates that Angeline spends some time at writing letters but is surrounded by an industrious family. She has “just finished my morning round of duties” as she takes up her pen. Her father is heavily involved in farm labor, having earlier in the week butchered forty or so sheep, and that very day was engaged in taking the tallow out of a half cow, which he was laying up for the winter stock of beef. Her mother was “in tallow up to her elbows” making candles, while Angeline observes of herself, “I am getting quite initiated into the kitchen duties. I can stand it well to go round and do light work.” It would seem that lack of involvement in heavy home chores was not for lack of knowledge or skill but lack of energy from a prolonged illness. 24. EGW to “Dear Sister Harriet,” Aug. 1855, EGWE-GC. This previously unpublished letter reports that as Ellen and James rode to the Stevenses’ house in a wagon, they had seen Angeline entering a neighbor’s home. The girls had quickly taken leave of their neighbor to hasten home to greet the visitors. 25. EGW to JNA, Aug. 26, 1855, EGWE-GC. 26. A. [Stevens] to “Dear Sister Andrews,” Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. Elsewhere in the letter, Angeline refers to her fiancé as John when she comments on the change in the room he had occupied in Paris. Why she refers to him in her postscript as “J N Andrews” seems strange. Does it suggest “JN” is in some way an affectionate nickname? 27. EGW, SG (Battle Creek, Steam Press, 1858–1864), 2:195, 197. 28. Ellen White gives an extensive account of these “extreme trials” in EGW, SG, 2:193–202. When the family moved to Battle Creek and the brethren provided them a small home, it was placed in her name because she thought that James would not live, and she did not want to lose the house if it was in his name. 29. “This amount of care and labor, together with protracted sickness and deaths in our family, has brought us very near the grave. In this prostrated condition we have been saddened with pecuniary embarrassment, and the unreasonableness of ‘false brethren.’ Our usual hours of confinement to our business in past time have been from 14 to 18 out of the 24.” See “The Office,” RH, Feb. 20, 1855, 182. 30. EGW, MS 3, May 5, 1855, EGWE-GC.

31. “The Cause,” RH, Aug. 7, 1855, 20. 32. Ibid. 33. JW to “Brother Dodge,” Aug. 20, 1855, EGWE-GC. 34. “Note from Bro. Bates,” RH, Oct. 2, 1855, 56. 35. “Meeting at Battle Creek,” RH, Oct. 2, 1855, 56. J. B. Frisbie was the chair and Abraham Dodge, James White’s primary contact, was the secretary and apparently the driving force. 36. The committee comprised three wealthy church members experienced in small businesses: Henry Lyon, Cyrenius Smith, and Dan Palmer. Ibid. 37. “To the Church of God,” RH, Oct. 16, 1855, 60. 38. “Expense of Moving the Office,” RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 78. James asserted that “no person had suggested difficulties, or their unwillingness, in regard to the Press going West, up to the time that arrangements were all made, and the Office building was erected.” Some apparently did complain afterward. 39. Ibid. The relocation of the Review was a major issue underlying the later discontent James had to address at Waukon. 40. “The Conference,” RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 75, 76. 41. “The Sanctuary and Its Cleansing,” RH, Oct. 30, 1855, 68. 42. “Obituary,” RH, Oct. 30, 1855, 17. 43. EGW, SG, 1:203. 44. Andrews reports that other brethren had also urged him to investigate the topic. “Time of the Sabbath,” RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 78. 45. Ibid. 46. One objection was based on the idea of what it would mean if on the day of its creation, the sun appeared midheaven. 47. Ibid. 48. “Time to Commence the Sabbath,” RH, Feb. 25, 1868, 168. 49. Ibid. 50. Ibid. 51. EGW, T (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1885–1909), 1:116. 52. The primacy of Scripture was very important for James White and was the focus of his later recounting of this episode. “Time to Commence the Sabbath,” RH, Feb. 28, 1868, 68. 53. David Arnold was a prominent Adventist lay preacher who held Ellen White’s visions in such high regard he argued that they be made a test of fellowship. EGW, L&M, 783. 54. A. [Stevens] to “Dear Sister Andrews,” Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. 55. “Time to Commence the Sabbath,” RH, Feb. 28, 1868, 68. 56. EGW to HNS, Aug., 1855, EGWE-GC. 57. Two other former first-day Millerite ministers, J. M. Stephenson and D. P. Hall, joined the faction in November 1855 and gave it added impetus at the time. See “Letter for the Church at Millgrove,” RH, Dec. 18, 1855, 93. 58. The summary of the discussion and its consensus was signed by three senior ministers—Joseph Bates, J. H. Waggoner, and M. E. Cornell—“on behalf of the Conference.” “Address,” RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 79.

59. “The Conference,” RH, Dec. 4, 1855, 75. 60. “The Western Tour,” RH, Jan. 15, 1857, 84, 85. 61. “Third Angel’s Message Not in the Age to Come,” RH, Aug. 14, 1856, 113, 114. 62. “Why Don’t THEY Write?” RH, Dec. 11, 1856, 48. At the same time, White defended Uriah Smith for not being able to write because his editorial and management duties in the office were so all consuming, occupying him for fifteen hours every day. “It is all, hurry, hurry, with the editor.” 63. “Western Tour,” RH, Jan. 15, 1857, 84, 85. 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid., 220. Loughborough recounts that because the community was snowbound at the time, supplies of flour had been exhausted, and for two or three days after the guests’ arrival they had to survive on “meat, potatoes and hulled corn.” “Recollections of the Past—No. 16,” RH, Mar. 16, 1886, 169. 66. James White was ready to cancel. Ellen White was insistent they go ahead. EGW, SG, 2:217– 219. 67. The level of anxiety may be gauged by Ellen White’s report that she woke repeatedly during the night before they left to look out the window to see if the rain would cease. They left at daybreak as it began to snow. Ellen White’s telling of the emotionally draining journey and their dramatic crossing of the Mississippi River on thin ice is related with dramatic flair in EGW, SG, 2:212, 222. 68. Ibid. 69. Ibid., 220. 70. “Recollections of the Past—No. 16,” RH, Mar. 16, 1886, 169. Although John Loughborough does not identify his wife as the person involved in this episode, comparison of his narrative with that of Ellen White’s in EGW, SG, 2:220, and James White’s account clearly indicates that the person is Mary Loughborough. 71. Ibid., 222. Loughborough reported that Ellen White experienced two visions that night. James White does not mention the visionary experiences of Ellen but reports that exclamations of “glory” and “hallelujah” fell far short of expressing the joy that filled every heart. “Western Tour,” RH, Jan. 16, 1857. 72. EGW, SG, 2:221. See Brian Strayer, J. N. Loughborough: The Last of the Adventist Pioneers (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 101, 102, for a discussion of Loughborough’s recollections of these events. 73. Mary Loughborough continued to wrestle with depression arising from the loneliness and isolation associated with her husband’s extended absences, and she pined for friends back in Rochester until James and Ellen were able to raise funds for them to help purchase a house and relocate the couple to Battle Creek. EGW to John and Mary Loughborough, Mar. 3, 1858. See also JNL, Rise and Progress of the Seventh-day Adventists With Tokens of God’s Hand in the Movement and a Brief Sketch of the Advent Cause From 1831 to 1844 (Battle Creek, MI: General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, 1892), 211, and EGW to Elon Everts, Nov. 22, 1856, EGWE-GC. 74. “Note from Bro. Andrews,” RH, Feb. 5. 1857, 108. 75. RH, Apr. 26, 1857, 193. 76. “Obituary,” RH, Mar. 30, 1911, 23. There may be a hint that Harriet could have been in an earlier romantic relationship with another Review and Herald worker and hometown friend, Oswald

Stowell, at the Review Office in Rochester. Angeline reports that in December 1855, Harriet had a quarrel with Oswald’s mother in North Paris when Laura Stowell took her “off alone” to “free her mind about LOS affair.” The Stevens family consequently gave up trying to be on good terms with the Stowells. Oswald did not move with the Review to Battle Creek. See A. [Stevens] to “Dear Sister Andrews,” Dec. 15, 1855, CAR. 77. EGW to HNS, Jan. 30, 1857, EGWE-GC. The relationship between the two women was very complex. As well as having literary talent, Harriet carried significant influence, communicated widely in her correspondence, and was quite independently minded, which Ellen White saw as counterproductive and not always helpful to Uriah. Harriet sometimes expressed reservations about the role and authority of Ellen White’s visions. During the following decade she received some harshly worded testimonies from Ellen White that caused her extreme distress and fractured the relationship. Ellen White criticized Harriet’s spirituality and her attitude to the visions, linking the problems to the difficult relationships between the Whites and the Stevens and Andrews families in 1850 in Paris Hill. 78. EGW to US, Oct. 8, 1857, EGWE-GC. What John’s difficulty was at this time is not explained. It may be that he was still sorting out his theology of the proper role and authority of the visions visà-vis the Scripture. 79. “Why Don’t THEY Write?” RH, Dec. 11, 1856, 48. 80. “Steam Press and Engine,” RH, Oct. 22, 1857, 200. See also RH, Apr. 16, 1857, 188, 192; July 30, 1857, 104; Oct. 15, 1857, 188. The new press cost seven years of Editor Uriah Smith’s annual salary of approximately $360.00. The handpress was no longer able to keep up with the increasing subscriptions and the demand for more books and pamphlets. 81. EGW to US, Oct. 8, 1857, EGWE-GC. 82. RH, Nov. 12, 1857, 4. 83. EGW, SG, 2:224. 84. JNL, Rise and Progress, 215. 85. “Systematic Benevolence,” RH, Feb. 3, 1859, 84.

Chapter Eight

The Later Waukon Years: 1859– 1863

I

t was an intellectual and spiritual feast to the Battle Creek Church,”

enthused James White in his report to Review readers. The congregation had just been favored with a visit from “J. N. Andrews of Iowa,” and it had been a bright spot on an otherwise bleak and wintry Sabbath, January 15, 1859. White had heard the thirty-year-old preach twice, and he was almost ecstatic. “His health is good, and with returning health he enjoys his former strength and vigor of mind,” he noted. “We pen these lines with emotions of deepest gratitude to God for his tender care for our dear brother.”1 During the four-year period between 1859 and 1863, John Andrews, with recovering health, slowly moved back into fulltime itinerant ministry and into prominence in the movement. This chapter will look at his increasingly high profile role in theological discussions and the importance he gave to the sola scriptura principle. It will also seek to understand the stresses that the demands of his itinerant ministry placed on his family and the even greater stresses arising from his role in the church’s struggle to formally organize itself. The road back to health during 1857 and 1858 had been slow and arduous for the church’s foremost theologian, but the exercise of farmwork, clear dry prairie air, and the comfort and security of a wife to care for him, along with a more settled domestic situation, had a positive restorative effect. Not that he was completely recovered, by any means, given the standard heavy meat and starch menu at home, the disadvantages

of unhygienic conditions, and exposure to the usual perils of community contagions and pathogens. Andrews’s encounter with rigorous health reform was another five years away, and thus he still experienced periods of weakness and coughing spells, but his catarrh had eased significantly, and he walked with new energy and vigor. Signs that his pen had also begun to work again had been heralded to Review readers when the first issue of the Review for 1859 carried a thoughtful, short, scholarly article on a favorite topic, the seventh-day Sabbath. Reflecting on the deeper meaning of rested, blessed, and sanctified as recorded in Genesis 2:3, he concluded that though the passage was not in itself “a commandment for the observance of the Sabbath,” it was a “record that such commandment had been given to Adam.”2 It was, in fact, his interest in further studying the history of the doctrine of the Sabbath that had taken John Andrews to Battle Creek that January. He was on his way to spend some time in the Rochester Theological Seminary library, with its seven-thousand-volume collection and excellent church history sources.3 It was a project he had been mulling for some time as his health returned. He had become convinced that putting together a selection of extracts from church history sources and from the writings of the early church fathers that he could access would be helpful in defense of the doctrine of the seventh-day Sabbath. James was very supportive of the project, calling it “an important mission.” Ellen White was not at home when he stopped by in January, but she was when he called in on his return in early March and took dinner with the family. James and Ellen “listened with great interest” to the “particulars concerning his visit” at Rochester.4 He preached twice that Sabbath, which neither James nor Ellen heard because James was ill in bed and Ellen was also unwell. She had felt depressed for some time. John spent Sabbath evening with them. “We enjoyed the visit much,” noted Ellen in her diary. On Monday evening he visited again, and the “pleasant interview” cheered Ellen. Anxious to strengthen the links between the Waukon families and herself, Ellen White

had gone to some lengths to make practical gifts for John to take back to his family.5 The relationship between the two leadership families seemed back on track. Utilizing Andrews’s theological expertise and his solid intellectual grasp of matters, James White involved him in the resolution of two important issues while he was in town. Andrews’s January stopover in Battle Creek had apparently caught James by surprise, but he quickly canceled his own preaching engagements in northern Michigan and pressed Andrews to lead out in a study group to explore what Scripture taught concerning financial support of full-time ministry.6 The church desperately needed a more adequate and stable approach to financing its pastors. The lingering financial recession through 1858, according to Loughborough, had created many difficulties for ministers. He knew from hard personal experience what it was to not be able to afford clothes and transport or to adequately care for his wife.7 The theological difficulty that confronted early Adventists was that in order to defend the Sabbath, they had argued for a clear distinction between the moral and ceremonial law in Scripture, and Andrews had set out the evidence for this distinction very clearly. According to this argument, tithing was clearly a part of the ceremonial law requirement, and thus had been superseded. Tithing was not an option the church felt it could, with consistency, adopt as the basis of its stewardship. They preferred a model rooted in New Testament teaching. Passages like 2 Corinthians 8:12–14 and 9:5–7 seemed to provide a more adequate basis. But these texts emphasized that “every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give.” This seemed too haphazard, unpredictable, and insufficient. In the study group that Andrews led, they gave further consideration to the “collection” the apostle Paul later organized for the church in Jerusalem that involved a more systematic approach to giving. This persuaded them that a “system” of giving could still be scriptural and perhaps be even more effective. Despite its disadvantages for use as a

proof text—because Protestants usually used it as an argument for Sunday sacredness—Paul’s suggestion that “upon the first day of the week” everyone should “lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him” (1 Corinthians 16:2) suggested a way forward for the Sabbatarians. Their next step was to look at economic factors with a view to figuring out how such a “prospering” by God might be calculated, and how such a calculation could be applied with equity to all current church members. A consensus emerged. The think tank appointed a smaller subcommittee of three—comprised of Andrews, White, and local Michigan minister J. B. Frisbie—to draw up a general position statement as an “address” to the church.8 The panel developed a plan anchored in the New Testament suggestion of calculating finances each first day based on what they felt was an equitable yet flexible three-level formula. Men between eighteen and sixty should “lay in store” between five and twenty-five cents per week, women between two and ten cents, and property owners between one and five cents from each one hundred dollars’ worth of property they owned. Church members would be asked to sign up for the commitment, and a church appointed “collector” would visit them each Sunday to receive the amounts. Two weeks later, on January 29, “after the hours of the Holy Sabbath had passed,” the address, authored by Andrews, was read to the Battle Creek church and adopted unanimously. It was agreed to publish the document in the Review and to recommend it to other churches. Within days, Battle Creek church had forty-six members signed up for the scheme.9 The new approach to church finance caught on quickly and was soon being adopted in other churches. In June 1859, at a more representative conference of twelve senior ministers and enough church members to fill the three-hundred-capacity church, the proposal was discussed yet again and adopted enthusiastically as a general program for church-wide giving. Leaders envisaged that such a program would be adequate to support both the ministry and the general evangelistic activity of the church. An idea,

earlier suggested by White, that each church retain a revolving fund of five dollars to provide for the expenses of local ministers as they visited around the churches also met with approval, with the understanding that any surplus be forwarded to Battle Creek. The conference also set up a “missionary board” at Battle Creek, which would supervise any disbursements of these funds for “missionary purposes.”10 This was the first plank in the platform eventually constructed for providing ministerial support in a centralized way. A new day lay ahead for ministry. During his return visit to Battle Creek in early March, Andrews had found the whole town engaged in a spirited state election campaign in which temperance issues figured prominently. The anti-temperance party was banking on the fact that local Adventists would maintain their previous stance of principled non-involvement in politics in the way the Quakers were actively urging them to do. Church members, however, became divided over whether it was right or wrong to participate in such elections. James White, again utilizing Andrews as his Melanchthon, called a meeting on Sunday evening, March 6, to work through the policy issue. In what turned out to be a noteworthy and rather historic decision for the young movement, the two men’s arguments in favor of voting carried the day, and the church thus began a slow transition from an apolitical stance in civic matters to a cautious, selective political activism. Almost incidentally, Andrews had helped shape church policy on a very significant issue.11 Back in Waukon, by the middle of March, Andrews continued to work on the Sabbath history manuscript. Beginning with the July 4 issue, the Review ran the study as a four-part leading article series.12 In explanation of the editorial decision to break with precedent and run a scholarly series complete with extensive footnoting, Uriah Smith enthusiastically endorsed the series and noted that readers could now “look up the matter for themselves and learn that whatever is said may be depended on as correct.”13 A month later the new steam press in Battle Creek published the

text as a ninety-five-page, ten-cent pamphlet that was quickly in high demand. The publication generated much excitement. Later that year Andrews worked on further revisions and additions, as the first edition neared depletion. A second edition was planned for November.14 It was, Andrews thought, still only “a meagre collection,” but he hoped to extend it in time. And enlarge it he did. The pamphlet would eventually grow by stages into a major scholarly book, the writing of which would occupy him for several years. Andrews’s scholarship on the Sabbath would become widely known and make a respected contribution to the scholarly field of Sabbath studies, and it would be highly valued because it would serve as a rich apologetic resource for church members.15 The publication cemented Andrews’s growing reputation as resident theologian in the movement, and churches became “anxious for his labor.”16 In all of this, James White grew to appreciate his Melanchthon even more.

Itinerant ministry and the responsibilities of family life Andrews was not at home to celebrate Angeline’s thirty-fifth birthday on March 9, but he did not forget to purchase her a birthday gift. He had selected for her a newly published four-hundred-page novel entitled Theodosia Ernest, or The Heroine of Faith, authored by a Baptist writer defending the teaching of baptism by immersion. No doubt he was thinking of the long nights she spent alone at home while he was away.17 How to avoid the long absences would become a major concern. Following Andrews’s return to the farm in Waukon in mid-March to work on what James White called his “Sabbath-History enterprise,” he faced a serious conflict. His strong sense of duty to faithfully respond to the call to evangelistic ministry, made compelling by his belief in the imminence of the Advent, stood in clear tension with his affection for Angeline, his duty to care for his wife and child, and the needs of his aging parents. The call also posed a challenge to the financial commitments he had made to his uncles in the effort to reestablish his family on a self-

sustaining farm. His attempt to reconcile these competing demands in his life meant that during the next four years, until the spring of 1863, he was absent from home for more than 60 percent of his time, sometimes for greatly extended periods. In mid-May 1859, just two months after he had returned to Waukon from his Rochester research trip, he responded to an assignment to central Michigan, where he spent the four months of summer working with John Loughborough running evangelistic tent meetings in towns such as Marshall, Centreville, and Parkville. The program also included an occasional weekend conference or preaching assignment at nearby churches on Sabbaths.18 Recognizing the moral dilemma of conflicting duties being imposed on Andrews during this period and placing a higher value on his ministerial gifts, church leaders arranged for the summer release of Youth’s Instructor editor George Amadon and sent him out to Waukon to fulfill Andrews’s duty to his family and farm.19 Andrews was back in Waukon for only six weeks before he was needed again back in Michigan, this time for conference meetings in Wright and Monterey. Late November found him up in Massachusetts staying at South Lancaster and Charlestown. Here, at least, he was able to combine preaching with further time in research, on this occasion it seems, at the Harvard University library.20 The year 1859 saw him away from home for seven-and-a-half out of the twelve months. The urgent needs of the New York churches for pastoral care and evangelism in early 1860 kept the young preacher in that state. Then during summer he conducted evangelistic meetings in seven different locations. Feeling the unrelenting pressure of ministerial duty and the demand for his labor from “the brethren,” and not feeling able to extract himself, he stayed in upstate New York, conducting further evangelistic meetings with R. F. Cottrell, until mid-September.21 After attending a very stressful general conference meeting in Battle Creek in late September, John finally made his way home, arriving on October 2, just in time for his son’s third birthday. He had been away from home for over ten months.

John and Angeline’s fourth wedding anniversary followed three weeks later.22 The demands of the farm in 1861 saw Andrews spending more time at home, but he also took time to work on his History of the Sabbath manuscript.23 Later during the summer he responded to a call from the Minneapolis churches to join local evangelist John Bostwick in conducting evangelistic meetings in Lake City, a large town on the banks of the Mississippi River, and in various other more western locations. Because they were working almost entirely “among strangers,” funds were short, and they had to exist on “only a few shillings of money.” In fact, they almost had to abandon the effort for lack of funds, but by scrimping and saving they only just managed to struggle on.24 Unfortunately, the Minneapolis location for John Andrews’s summer work that year gave rise to serious misunderstanding with James White, for whom 1861 was a year of utter discouragement and depression, arising from the deep conflicts that had begun to erupt over the issue of church organization. White felt that Andrews had not been sufficiently supportive. In a biting letter to John’s father at the end of 1861, White alleged that he had been bypassed in the planning of this summer work. “I was not in the least consulted as to that [Minneapolis] mission,” he asserted. Thus he “could not feel it duty to do anything” by way of financial support other than with “a few small drafts.”25 Clearly there had been a communication breakdown. John Andrews replied that he had indeed taken counsel with White, by letter, and had understood from him that Minnesota was the place he should work. The tensions complicated Andrews’s ministry, and he lamented the loss of White’s confidence. This particular misunderstanding apparently remained unresolved in White’s mind, and it became one of a number of perceived offenses that White began to squirrel away. The farm at Waukon was again Andrews’s base for the first half of 1862, and then in early June he returned to the eastern states, responding

once more to a ministerial assignment in New York. Here he again felt obliged to stay on after summer and on into fall and winter. And then, seeing no other way out of his duty, he stayed on through the late winter, until finally in late February 1863, Angeline made the trek across the country with her two children and joined him in his assignment in upstate New York. They had been apart for eight-and-a-half months. After this difficult transition, he never again returned to Waukon to live—only to visit. Itinerant ministry was not an easy life, and there was really no settled place for a family. During summer, tent meetings would be conducted perhaps for two weeks and sometimes for four or six, with the length of stay largely determined by the response from the community. If there was enough interest, the meetings would continue. If there was little response, the tent would be moved to a new location. Circumstances varied widely. Open opposition from local clergy often diminished the level of response from town people, and meetings were often conducted in an atmosphere of hostility. At other times local ministers of other traditions supported the meetings. Preaching duties involved meetings both on Sabbath and Sunday and often several nights per week. Days were spent visiting homes, conducting Bible studies, and maintaining the tent and oneself while camping. Usually Andrews worked in tandem with another minister, such as with the experienced Loughborough in Michigan in 1859, with Hiram Edson, M. E. Cornell, or Frederick Wheeler in New York, and with the inexperienced John Bostwick in Minneapolis. Accommodations were usually in the back of the tent, with makeshift facilities for eating, sleeping, and bathroom. In wet, cold weather, sickness could quickly set in. During the non-summer periods, preaching tended to center around weekend conferences, with several churches combining together. There could also be weekend visits to just one church, with occasional meetings during the week. Most weekdays were occupied with pastoral visits to

members’ homes, sorting out church conflicts, correcting a member’s aberrant behavior, or conducting Bible studies with interested people. Accommodation for this part of the year was largely as a guest in other people’s homes, with sleeping arrangements sometimes being on the floor, sometimes on lounge room sofas, or in shared bedrooms and/or beds with other male family members. It was a difficult and emotionally draining ministry, with periods of great joy when baptisms of new believers were celebrated in rivers and ponds in both harsh midwinter weather as well as in midsummer. Andrews proved a successful tent evangelist and an effective pastor. Baptisms resulted, and the church grew wherever he went. But if the itinerant life was hard on the minister, it was also hard on his family. Fortunately, we are able to know considerable detail about John Andrews’s family life during this topsy-turvy and conflicted period because, beginning in late 1859, Angeline kept a personal diary. It offers rich insights into the family’s daily life on the farm, the nature of the Andrewses’ marriage relationship, and some little understanding of how Angeline coped with her husband’s lengthy absences. Letters feature prominently in the diary. Clearly a highly valued form of communication, they helped hold the relationship together. The sending and eager anxious receipt of letters are a major highlight of Angeline’s week, often requiring considerable effort to have them sent on time from the farm to the post office by a variety of family members going into town or by the hand of other visiting acquaintances pressed into service as couriers. Her anxious waiting for letters—often delayed and sometimes lost—is noted frequently. Lonely, anxious walks to the post office three miles away in anticipation of a letter are recorded, and sometimes unplanned overnight stays at a relative’s house waiting in the township for the next coach delivery became occasions to be noted in the diary. So is Angeline’s frustration arising from not knowing where specifically to address the next letter, as her husband moved from town to town. Outgoing correspondence was thus also sometimes delayed for several

weeks. Itinerant ministry was not without its strains. Angeline maintained a careful numbering system to keep track of the letters, as delays could cause overlapping and quickly confuse the exchange of important information. Angeline missed her husband deeply during his long absences but tried to resign herself to what they both understood as providence. “Received two letters from John,” she recorded on May 15, 1860, after he had already been away six months. “I gather from one of them that he is inclined to the view that [the] providence of God will so order that he will labor this season in York state. I feel a good deal cast down in view of his long absence. Yet I would have him move in the order of God. O Lord direct him.” The extended absence created a deep spiritual struggle within. She replied two days later, expressing her “feeling upon learning that he might stay and labor east this summer.” Ten days later another letter came which somehow failed to alleviate her disappointment. “There is a want in my heart which remains unfulfilled. I do not seem to get much satisfaction either in writing or receiving letters,” she lamented. Two days later in her letter of reply, she confided to her diary that she had told John “something of my sad feelings.” Then after having written to him, “I feel some more cheerful. I want John to do just right.” Another two days later, on a Sabbath so rainy she could not go to church, she was still struggling with the disappointment. “I miss my dear husband very much—seems as though I could not endure the idea of his being away several months longer. . . . I want the Lord to direct.”26 John sent a photograph of himself in late May 1860. A first for him, it arrived on June 6 and brought joy but also pain, and her heart ached. “I can hardly be reconciled to his long absence. How my heart would love to meet him again. He is one of the kindest and best of husbands. It is a great sacrifice to us both to be thus separated.” Yet again she yielded to the higher duty, hoping that “it will not always be thus, yet while he lives I shall have abundant cause for thankfulness though duty leads him at a

distance from me.”27 She walked the three miles to the post office on June 13, hoping for a letter, only to be “disappointed.” She stopped overnight, still hoping for one, “but no letter for me,” she noted, and it was a long walk home. Only a week later did she hear secondhand from Uncle Edward Pottle in Rochester that John had felt duty bound to stay in the East. In October when he was finally able to pry himself free from duty, her joy was palpable. Family friend George Butler left the farm at 4:00 A.M. to drive the twenty-six miles to the Mississippi River to pick John up. By nightfall the following day he was still not back. “George has not yet come with his precious company. I feel a good deal of anxiety. It is very dark and wet,” she noted fearfully in her diary as she waited. Then she joyfully added, “About 11. My dear husband has come! How precious the moment of meeting.”28 On Tuesday, April 9, the next year, Angeline noted in her diary that she was “quite unwell” but does not seem to link it to her condition. She was actually three months pregnant by this time. In June she recorded, “My dear husband left this morning on his way to join the Minnesota tent. Sad moments these parting scenes.” He arrived home on September 16, and “most glad were we to see him,” she noted. The return was timely. Two weeks after his arrival baby Mary arrived at 4:00

A.M.

on Sunday,

September 29, after a long labor and difficult delivery.29 It was three weeks before Angeline could venture outside again. Angeline’s diary also gives us at least a partial idea of the practical work that engaged the farming family. The men of the house and contract workers each year attended to converting the unbroken land into arable fields, cropping, gardening, butchering the family’s meat supply (beef, mutton, and pork), processing grains at the local gristmill, and marketing surplus produce. Angeline busied herself in season with a variety of household chores. Nursing sick children and parents receive regular diary

mention, as does the activity of the local church. Anointing with oil at different times for both Angeline’s mother and her baby Mary during a serious whooping cough epidemic brought relief in response to fervent prayer offered by neighbors and family members who gathered at bedsides in times of such extremity.30 John’s brother William and his father carried much of the load of the farmwork, and they had a regular farmhand (Calvin Washburn from North Paris) and neighbors to help. When John was at home he found himself involved in such things as transporting loads of grain to the gristmill thirty miles away with their two-horse wagon team and searching for wandering heifers. He helped neighbors with threshing in return for the help they gave his family, and he transported visitors to and from a variety of transport hubs around them. He also conducted the occasional funeral and wedding when at home, regularly preached at the local church, and conducted evangelistic meetings in schoolrooms in the surrounding district. And then there were special family events. In October 1860, the family received a visit from Uncle Amirica Thayer of Paris, Maine, who had intervened in family affairs and signed the petition to have Angeline’s father Cyprian considered insane back in 1845, placing him under guardianship in order to protect his sister’s property and the welfare of their children. Those difficulties were now as water under the bridge, and the family welcomed him. Taking pleasure during his five-day stay, they took chunks of time away from farm duties to show him the local waterfalls at Devil’s Den on the Yellow River and other touristy sites.31 A few weeks later, twenty-seven wedding guests crowded into the Andrews homestead for the marriage of Calvin Washburn, their farm helper. He married May, a daughter of George Butler, and John Andrews performed the wedding.32 Twelve months later, on December 18, 1861, when John was home again, his crippled brother William married Martha Butler, George Butler’s younger sister. This time the wedding was a quiet, lowkey ceremony in town and a lawyer officiated. This Butler linkage had

implications. When George Butler later became president of the General Conference, the Andrews-Smith-Butler alliance was sometimes perceived as a threat by James White because of the marriage connections. Could the three leaders have greater influence than they might otherwise have? In the midst of his other domestic duties, Andrews squeezed in time for study. On a mid-November day, when the weather had turned bone chilling, Angeline reports having finished making thirty to forty gallons of syrup from sugarcane. More importantly, it seems, is her note that “John commenced writing today.”33 The history of the Sabbath continued to be his passion. Six weeks later, with deep snow blanketing the countryside, a tradesman came to the home to construct a bookshelf, and the couple spent a day arranging their growing library. “We have been putting books into it [the bookcase] today.”34 Just as his library was expanding, Andrews also had in mind a greatly expanded manuscript on the history of the Sabbath, and much of his endeavor during these months at home was focused on this project. By June 22, the manuscript was complete at 350 pages. It was safely delivered by commercial courier to his editor brother-in-law Uriah Smith in Battle Creek. Church leaders had looked forward with eagerness to the completion of the project, and there were big plans for its publication. It would be printed on “nice, heavy paper, which will make a fine volume,” with a print run of one thousand. A paperback edition of three or four thousand was also planned. This was the largest undertaking for the publishing house thus far.35 If the challenge of completing his treasured Sabbath manuscript had been put behind him, at least for a while, another major challenge that had emerged during the previous twelve months would now swirl around John Andrews. It would color and shape his relationship both to James and to Ellen White and cause him deep anguish for some time to come. In her March 1861 diary, Angeline had recorded an entry about the baptism in Waukon of Sister Climer. Angeline noted that Sister Climer’s husband was “much opposed to her coming among the Seventh-day Adventists.”36 This

is the only time the name “Seventh-day Adventist” is used in Angeline’s diary. It was still a very new name, having been finally adopted by the movement just five months previously on October 1, 1860, at the end of a prolonged and contentious conference meeting in Battle Creek.37 John Andrews’s role in the strife that roiled the church over the issue of a name and whether the church should even formally organize itself at all is instructive for our understanding of the contribution this pioneer made to the establishment of his church. We take time to note the struggle in detail because it provides important background for understanding the nature and the sources of the recurring tension between James White and John Andrews.

John Andrews and the organization crisis Concerns about the need for “church order” and “the order of the Gospel” in the various companies and congregations that Andrews visited had occasionally featured in his reports to the Review ever since 1851.38 The Whites encountered the need even more frequently, as they moved about more widely. In these early years, “gospel order” had to do with local church discipline of eccentric or aberrant and nonrepresentative behavior on the part of believers. At times it also had to do with the need for appropriate local leaders in the role of elders and deacons.39 As the movement grew in number, however, and as problems became more complex, the need to be more careful about who to recognize as ministers and how to finance their ministry became more apparent. The adoption of the Systematic Benevolence system in mid-1859 (soon nicknamed “Sister Betsy”) was an important step toward solving this problem. But as the membership grew to around three thousand members, with approximately thirty ministers moving around the churches, James White sensed that the need for more system and order was becoming ever more acute. Problems now began to develop around how the various congregations and companies should relate to each other, rather than just what happened

within them. By late 1859, in George R. Knight’s analysis, in addition to the finance issue then being addressed through “Sister Betsy,” there were three other specific problems that needed addressing.40 There was the question of how to handle the legal ownership of property both at the local level and in joint enterprises, such as the Review office. A more equitable way of distributing ministerial labor among the churches was needed, as was a way of facilitating transfer of membership between churches, particularly in cases involving disciplined members. All three needs required attention. Two of the problems touched James White personally. He found himself being called upon to coordinate the assignment and placement of ministers but had no formal authority to do so. “We lack system,” he lamented. “And we should not be afraid of that system which is not opposed by the Bible.” The lack of system was evident “everywhere,” he almost ranted in a July appeal to the church.41 More acute, however, was the problem of property. The assets of the publishing enterprise were still being held in White’s own name because no better arrangement had emerged. The liabilities were also growing larger as larger amounts were being invested. Should the enterprise fail or should there be a fire and a loss of property, the liability would legally fall on him. The property was not insured. A total loss would therefore seriously compromise White’s own finances. Although the financial panic of 1857 had leveled out by 1859, banks were still regarded as highly risky. In 1861, Ellen’s parents lost most of their savings ($300) in the failure of Skinner’s Bank in Battle Creek, which distressed the family to no end and exacerbated already existing tensions between Ellen’s parents and James.42 Church members loaned money to assist the enterprise, but the loans were in White’s name, and he could not pay them back should they be called in. Risk-taking entrepreneur though he was, he did not like taking on this level of risk.43 The situation had become intolerable. Already on one occasion he had had to sell his horse and carriage to repay a debt. The

house he occupied in Battle Creek had been put in his wife’s name in order to protect his family against creditors in the case of financial failure. The difficulty he and many in his movement faced, however, was that Sabbatarian Adventism had a very strong heritage of opposition to any formal organization. To organize was to become Babylon, in very fulfilment of the prophecies of Revelation 14. As Knight observes, White had the delicate task of prying his fellow ministers free of what had become a very rigid literalism in their approach to understanding Scripture. What mattered, he argued, was not whether Scripture had explicitly mentioned or approved something but that things such as church structure would be OK as long as Scripture did not speak explicitly against it. This shift in mind-set took some time to achieve. White also had to change the meaning of “Babylon” so that it could be seen to describe confusion rather than apostasy. Confusion was what they now had with their lack of system. Achieving some sort of organization would get them out of confusion. In February of 1860, White drew a clear line in the sand for himself when he announced in the Review that he would no longer consider himself liable for loans and would refuse to sign notes of responsibility for the publishing business. “We hope,” he wrote, “that the time is not far distant when this people will be in that position necessary to be able to get church property insured.” This could only happen when they were able to “hold their meeting-houses in a proper manner.” If anyone objected, would they “please write out a plan on which we as a people can act?”44 It was not an elegant appeal but a rather blustery and confrontational stand, and it reflected deep frustration. Why White was not prepared to put up his own specific proposal for some form of association or organization for consideration is a puzzle. Did he subconsciously fear the kind of backlash that he suspected such a proposal might generate? Was this not his particular area of skill? Was he reluctant to take the initiative on specifics because he wanted to avoid blame if things went wrong? He had, in fact,

been thinking quite intensely about the problem for some time and had been talking about the necessity of doing something specific at various meetings with church members. For example, when he visited the church in Salem, Massachusetts, in September 1859, he had “talked at length upon our acting in union to place ourselves in a position to hold property legally.” That low-key meeting, at least in Ellen’s opinion, “passed off with profit.”45 As he traveled around, he was clearly trying to raise awareness and educate the church membership. As he later explained, White had intended only in a mild way to stimulate discussion with the issue of his February ultimatum. In fact, the ultimatum produced a vigorous and forceful response from Roswell Cottrell, his respected fellow corresponding editor. Cottrell brought up the traditional arguments and warned that adopting any form of organization would involve a return to the evils of the religions from which they had all come. It would fulfill what was spoken of concerning the beast power in Revelation. “It is my prayer that God will avert what I now believe would be an evil in his sight, and that we all may get the victory over the beast, his image, his mark and the number of his name.”46 White was away from the office at the time, and Uriah Smith published the piece without qualification or opportunity for White to provide a balancing perspective. Thus, in a very short time, the conflict, now out in the open, quickly became very heated. During April and May, Cottrell continued to object, suggesting at first “that anything like legal organization was wrong.” It was this stance, White later protested, “which produced such a sensation among our brethren.”47 The arguments went back and forth, and Cottrell modified his position, but White became increasingly discouraged as opposition arose, and he perceived Cottrell as having unwisely and unfairly prejudiced the church both against organization and against him. James thought that the Cottrell articles had, in fact, excited “a great deal, I think, of unreasonable prejudice.”48 Ellen White would later assert that Cottrell had taken a

“wrong stand” and that his articles were “calculated to have a scattering influence, to lead minds to wrong conclusions.”49 Others did not see it that way. J. H. Waggoner, the eldest of the quintet of editors, was rather more “slow to believe that Bro. Cottrell’s articles raised the prejudice attributed to them.” He felt that the brethren cited them only because they expressed what was already in the minds of many of the brethren. He had preached and written “very much after the same style. The sentiments found in Bro. C.’s articles will be found in our books and sermons,” he pointed out to his colleagues at a conference called later in the year to sort the matter out. Numerous other brethren had “written it and preached it as well.” He admitted that his mind was “prejudiced” against organizing and feared where the new “step might lead us.”50 The strongest opposition emanated from Ohio and from New York State, where Andrews was in charge. Writing from Massachusetts, Andrews bought into the controversy on April 19 when he told Review readers that, in fact, he supported the move to organize. “As to the Review Office it seems to me that we can hit upon a plan that will answer the desired purpose, and yet not be open to any reasonable objection.” Having a group of persons holding property was possible in states like Massachusetts, he argued, and he presumed it would also be possible under the laws of Michigan. Opposing Cottrell, he stated that he could not see that “it would be an act of apostasy, or that it would be ‘making to ourselves a name.’ ”51 His support might have seemed almost offhanded because in the opening paragraph of his letter he addressed other matters, such as the health of his father and his plans for the summer tent season. If White thought he was being casual, Andrews thought he had very clearly declared his colors. A month later, as arguments on organization seesawed back and forth in the Review, Andrews notified the brethren in the Northeast that he could not join them that summer because the need was greater in central New York. What he did not say was that a deep anti-organization sentiment was spreading rapidly there. Fears were also developing that either White or

other sections of the church would act precipitously either in separating from the main body or in moving forward. Andrews advised that he would shortly be attending a conference in Roosevelt, the center of the antiorganization sentiment, but until then he saw the need to spend a little more time gathering historical sources at Harvard for his Sabbath history project.52 In the meantime, as the summer progressed, the organization debate gathered steam, and Andrews soon found himself in an awkward situation. He was at the time working with Cottrell in tent evangelism in central New York.53 As it turned out, however, this relationship enabled him to become a bridge between the two forces and helped him suggest a common way forward. Conflict, it seemed, infected the air everyone in America breathed during the summer of 1860, as the level of community anxiety over politics ran ever higher. In April, the Democratic Party split bitterly into two as Southern Democrats walked out of their party convention over the issue of slavery. They nominated their own candidate. The remaining Democrat delegates nominated Stephen Douglas as their candidate. Early in May, Abraham Lincoln won the Republican nomination. The electoral fight between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas reached its peak in late summer, with the awful outcome clearly presaging civil war. Secession talk from the South inflamed passions, and the battle at Fort Sumter was less than twelve months away. James White was, of course, aware of these tensions, and while he did not suggest that voting was wrong, in August, he cautioned the brethren “not to be drawn into it [the excitement].” Tent evangelists would probably best be advised, he wrote, to “move back into small places away from the heat of political strife” or completely “close up” their programs for the rest of the season.54 Would the Adventists’ own developing civil war also result in walkouts and a broken community? The danger was extreme. In the same issue of the Review that carried White’s advice to close up tent meetings, John Andrews proposed a way forward to resolve the

conflict over organization between White and his fellow corresponding editor Cottrell. “How shall we manage relative to the legal holding of the Office?” he asked in a short column on the editorial page of the Review. “I would suggest with all respect to the feelings and opinions of others, that no step be taken until we first have a general gathering from all parts of the country, and a prayerful consultation relative to the right course. I believe that in this way we could act in unison, and what is still better, act just right.” Then, defending his senior leader, he added, “I have confidence in Bro. White’s integrity of purpose in bringing this subject before the brethren. It also seems to me that he is clearly right in asking that something should be done. I hope therefore that those who may think that some dangerous step is about to be taken, will pray with their whole hearts, that God will be pleased to avert all evil and to guide us aright. Meanwhile I would express the hope that we may be able to adopt so simple and proper an arrangement that it will be open to no reasonable objection.”55 Responding to Andrews’s suggestion, the Review, three weeks later, published a call for a conference to meet at sunset on Friday, September 28. Unusually, the notice was issued under the names of four leaders: Andrews, Smith, Waggoner, and White. They wanted it to be crystal clear that the initiative had wide backing. The call was “to all who wish to come” but especially to “brethren in ministry.” The conveners requested churches in other states to please send delegates because “important business will be considered” but the topic was not specified.56 That tensions and anticipations were high was evident from the start. Devotional meetings on Friday evening and Sabbath intentionally tried to calm things. James White spoke on “the relation that brethren sustain towards each other” and the “feelings of union that should exist among them,” while C. W. Sperry from New York spoke on Zephaniah 2:1–3, stressing that the time for scattering had been accomplished and that “now the time has come for the gathering of the remnant.”57 The business

sessions commenced immediately after sundown on Sabbath evening, with elder statesman Joseph Bates occupying the chair. There followed five tense sessions, lasting right through until Monday afternoon. Thankfully for those of us of later generations, extensive transcripts were taken of all the major speeches and the key points of discussion, and these were published in the next four issues of the Review.58 So important was the issue of the day. After preliminary discussion about what kind of motion should be on the floor to start the discussion, White recounted the rationale for his February ultimatum, his call for specific plans and suggestions, and the lack of any positive response on this particular point. There had been just general opposition to anything at all, he complained. He and others then reiterated the need for a plan of some kind—something that would at least be legal. At this point in the proceedings, John Andrews, hesitant somewhat “because my mind might differ from that of the brethren who have spoken,” repeated his “confidence in Bro. White’s integrity” and affirmed his agreement that action was needed. He had “reflected seriously” on the matter, he said, and was apprehensive about “framing our separate churches into one great whole . . . after the manner of the Methodist church.” He could not see that model being in accord with anything in the New Testament. But to “constitute an association” of brethren to hold property would be OK and would not actually be “a church incorporated by law.” This would be more like the apostolic church, which should be the pattern, he argued. Such an association could be legalized if need be, but at the present time the state of Michigan did not have legislation that could accommodate such an organization. Getting the state to frame such a provision would be possible if the request was made not just for a particular group but for a general law. But rather than wait for Michigan State to act, an association “choosing such officers as we find in the New Testament” should be formed.59 At last a specific proposal was on the

table. Following this, Cottrell’s perspective was heard, though he did not attend the meeting in person. Uriah Smith, as the secretary, read his lengthy letter, which was then debated until “the evening was far spent.” At sunrise the next morning, after prayer by Andrews, the discussion recommenced. The questions were many. Who should appoint such a group of officers and how many? How could their continuing orthodoxy be assured? What articles would govern their proceedings? Could such officers be sued or could they sue? Would these articles be articles of faith or just articles of association? How would the officers relate to the editorial stance of the paper? Would they control the editors’ teaching and writing, seemed to be the intent of the question. What would James White’s role be? James White and John Andrews were the chief spokesmen, clarifying issues, restating fine points, and proposing adjustments, with Waggoner and Loughborough playing a secondary role. Tentatively, the little group inched their way forward to resolution. At the end of Sunday morning’s session, Andrews, together with Waggoner and the Ohio delegate, T. L. Butler, were appointed as a committee to draw up a more definite proposal in writing, and by late Sunday afternoon, although they could not agree on a name for the larger entity that would appoint the officers, they at least had a proposal for an association to hold the Review office. Waggoner read it to the group. A vote was attempted and passed but clearly there was still uncertainty. Some did not vote. Andrews suggested that the action be rescinded. He did not disagree with the vote, but he wanted to make sure the brethren felt it had been adequately discussed. How would such a decision be explained in the face of the feeling which was abroad in the churches and the community that the action was “in conflict with our former teaching”? How could a movement change its theology and practice to this extent and remain credible? This was a point that James himself had wrestled with, and he understood the sensitivities of his brethren and the “deep” feeling that he

knew some “in the east” had on this. The feelings of the “brethren are not to be trifled with,” he noted, though he presented no particular alternative. It was simply that Adventists needed to be able to grow in understanding, even if that might mean leaving some previous understandings behind. “In embracing the truth of the second angel’s message,” he argued, “we embraced too much. We now know what the beast is, and what his mark is. Time has given us a chance to correct the errors we ran into there. We acted upon the best light we then had; but time has given us more light.” It was safe to “lay aside” some of those earlier details he reiterated. “The position I now take in reference to these things is, What is truth?”60 With this important principle of theological development established, and a final clarification from Andrews, the group was eventually ready to vote. The proposal was approved point by point, and then an expanded committee was appointed to draw up a constitution and to recommend appropriate personnel. With the organization plan finally approved, the conference turned again to the need for a name. On this follow-up vote an action to determine a name for the movement read, “We call ourselves Seventh-day Adventists.” One delegate was opposed, and Andrews, along with two others, abstained. The abstentions were anxiously noticed and recorded. Tension was high. After all his support and shepherding of the new association, what was holding Andrews back? Further discussion revealed that Andrews’s problem was not with the name but with the “who” referred to in the “we” of the landmark resolution. How could this small group speak for the entire church? When it was made clear that the “we” referred to only those present, he quickly gave assent, and a follow-up motion proposed that the name be recommended to the churches—this action he gladly supported.61 It had been an historic conference, and the cyclone had passed. But there was much more winter weather ahead for the church, and more blustering storms of opposition that would yet make James White’s life very uncomfortable. James’s discomfort would, in turn, cause serious problems

for John Andrews and his colleagues. White bore the brunt of criticism, suspicion, hostility, and evil rumors as he kept pushing to move the church forward beyond just choosing a name for the church and adopting an organization for the Review office. As Gerald Wheeler has noted, the necessities of the situation “required a strong and forceful leader who would not give up easily.”62 And White did not give up. He pushed the church into difficult new challenges. Over the next two years, he was the prime mover in the even more challenging task of adopting some form of umbrella organizational structure that would embrace the local congregations. The problem of “the proper manner of organizing churches” and establishing a “conference” structure to embrace them was undertaken at a meeting at Battle Creek a year later. It was processed in conjunction with the first annual meeting of the new publishing association. Knight notes the October 1861 meeting as “one of the pivotal events in Seventh-day Adventist history.”63 In the lead up to the meeting, substantial opposition came particularly from states in the Northeast, and from Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York. Church members in the West who had already broken away from traditional ideas and ways of doing things in the process of migration were less hobbled by the anti-organization attitudes that still shaped eastern Adventists, who, with their strong Millerite and Christian Connection anti-creedal and anti-organization roots, viewed all formal religious organizations with deep suspicion. So serious was the opposition in the East during the worst of the storm in August and September of 1861 that White seriously worried the weight of influence was actually turning against him. This was largely because the matter involved questions of membership lists and church covenants, which raised heavy discussions about creeds and tests of fellowship.64 John Andrews could not participate in the October 1861 meetings because he was absent in Waukon for the birth of his first daughter, Mary. His absence and preoccupation at the time with family seems to have created a serious rift with James and Ellen.

James White concluded that Andrews had become too cowardly and had lost his courage. The conference established for Michigan at the October 1861 meeting was viewed as a model and was recommended to other states. It was quickly adopted in the establishment of conferences in northern and southern Iowa, Vermont, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and New York. Though absent from the pivotal meeting, Andrews was actively involved in helping roll out the implementation of the new arrangements both at the state level (Minnesota and New York) and at the local church level.65 Maine could not be persuaded to adopt the new measures until 1867, and New England waited until 1870. Having organized themselves into conferences with regulations and policies to coordinate ministerial labor within local state territories during their first year (1861–1862), it became apparent to the new conferences that some additional higher structure would be needed to help coordinate ministerial assignments that extended beyond the local state territory. In June 1862, J. H. Waggoner pushed the issue to the forefront in a strong article in which he argued that the full benefits of the new organization would not be realized until some sort of general conference was organized, with its own committee with whom local conferences could then correspond. The suggestion was affirmed by others, including Andrews, who wrote that Waggoner’s suggestion had his “hearty approval.” Andrews argued forcefully that without such a level of organization, “we shall be thrown into confusion every time that concert of action is especially necessary.” He noted that wherever organization had been adopted “in a proper manner” it had “borne good fruit.” These results had apparently helped exorcise his and others’ initial fears about the danger of a Methodist-like structure, and he now concluded, “I desire to see it [organization] completed in such a manner as shall secure its full benefit, not only to each church, but to the whole body of the brethren and to the cause of truth, so dear to all.”66 But who was to initiate this step?

With wide endorsement being offered, Michigan Conference delegates, at the conclusion of their first annual session in 1862, extended an invitation to other conferences to meet with them at their next session in October 1863. They had established a range of policies and procedures to oversee ministerial work and church life within their own territory, and they felt that this could profitably be shared with other conferences. Anxious that the gathering momentum now not be lost, James White urged that the general meeting be brought forward to May.67 Others agreed, and the meeting was duly called. White announced that it would be “the most important meeting ever held by the Seventh-day Adventists” and stridently asserted that unless the entity to be established was able to exercise an authority “higher in authority than State Conferences,” he saw “but little use for it.” The brethren should think carefully about these things, he challenged, as they planned to attend.68 On the weekend of May 20–23, nineteen official delegates from five state conferences gathered in Battle Creek and formally approved the establishment of an entity they called a “General Conference” to oversee and coordinate the work of the conferences. With its own constitution and a slate of officers, the church would, as White had hoped, be able to ensure “systematic action.”69 James White was nominated as president for the new entity, but he had invested so much of himself in the effort to get the structure in place he did not wish to be perceived as making a power grab, and he declined. After many arguments to persuade him and stronger arguments from him as to why he must decline, John Byington was chosen in his place. Andrews attended the historic meeting as a delegate from the recently organized New York Conference and was a prominent figure in the proceedings, preaching twice at the meetings and being called on to offer prayer.70 Andrews was also appointed to the eight-member committee to draft the constitution and, following the adoption of this item, was also appointed as an elected (rather than ex officio) member of the resultant General Conference Executive Committee, together with

James White, John Loughborough, and George Amadon. A final assignment was an appointment to a committee tasked with reviewing a “series of rules and regulations” drawn up by the Michigan Conference for congregations, which were “building and holding meeting-houses.”71

The toll on James White’s health Looking back at the previous summer of discontent over organization from the perspective of April 1861, Ellen White expressed deep worry about the toll the conflict had exacted on her husband’s emotional health. He had fallen into a deep depression. “The trials which occurred last summer have so shaken his confidence in his brethren, especially ministers, that I fear he will never recover from it. He calls to mind the disinterested part he has acted in this cause and then the abuse he has suffered and his courage fails.” Writing confidentially to close friend Lucinda Hall, Ellen White noted that James had suffered badly from the traumas of the struggle and that he blamed his colleagues for the trouble because of what he perceived as their unsupportive attitudes.72 By September, things had worsened considerably, and Ellen confided again to Lucinda that James seriously fretted that he might lose the organizational struggle altogether. As he pessimistically calculated it, the numbers of those who were against, combined with those who were silent, were stronger in the “balance of influence.” Ellen White was sure “the Shaking Time” had come. “O God,” she wrote, “let us know who is on the Lord’s side.”73 Apparently, not only were there tensions in the field, but during June of 1860, tensions erupted again in the publishing office as the continual fifteen-to-sixteen-hour workdays and the pressure of deadlines and financial worries bore down on White’s health, exacerbating his plain spoken manner and the irascibility he was known for when under pressure. Correspondence from this particular period indicates that there were sharp exchanges and a clash with Uriah Smith and his wife, Harriet. Somehow John Andrews and his influence had become involved, and this had

resurrected the hard feelings from the earlier Paris days.74 Whether the particular difficulties related to the conflict over organization is not clear, but the tensions became so acute that Ellen White told Lucinda that he had wanted “to tear himself from the office and have nothing to do with the business matters there.” Personal offense had been taken during the exchanges, and rather than talking things through, the parties had become reserved toward each other with a cold bad feeling, keeping the two editors apart. In fact, it seems that, for a time, White did sever his connection with the office and an ad hoc “General Council” had to convene in June to resolve the crisis.75 But the discouragement did not go. “Never, did I see my husband so discouraged as now,” Ellen anxiously confided in her September letter.76 Difficulties at home gave both James and Ellen further stress during this period, and there were tensions with Ellen’s parents, who were living with them. Apparently, there were worries about the spiritual welfare and attitudes manifested by Ellen’s sister and her sister’s husband. “You know that the state of Stephen and Sarah and Father and Mother has been a source of great discouragement to us,” wrote Ellen. “Yes, it has proved the greatest trial to us we have ever had. Father made quite an [sic] humble confession. He [now] feels very differently in regard to James. He confessed his crooked feelings, and says he feels very differently.” They were both feeling more encouraged “to see this good work begun.”77 Ellen also spoke to another minister about her fears for James. She criticized severely his lack of support during this period. She declared, “I never saw my husband in the condition he is now in. Hope has died within him. I cannot make him hope and his confidence in his brethren is so shaken I fear sometimes he will become insane.”78 James White, a gifted writer, preacher, and creative risk-taking entrepreneur, had evidently inherited a tendency toward patterns of feverish work followed by episodes of deep depression that today would probably be identified as a mild manic-depressive syndrome. Not understood in the nineteenth

century, the cycles are related to deficiencies in blood chemistry that put the pattern of mood swings beyond the individual’s choice. Those closest to the individual in family and in work suffer the effects of the mood swings more severely but are not able to predict an onset, while those at a distance are not aware of the situation.79 John Andrews’s numerous ups and downs in his relationship with James were shaped by the problem, as the cyclical pattern became more frequent in James’s later years. Ellen related to James’s highs and lows from within the only world she knew— her framework of deep religious faith and conviction. And in the face of this new depression, she determined that she was not going to yield her faith. She believed that “nothing but the power of God can help him now. He is down, and none but God can lift him up. I dare not dwell on the dark side for a moment. I must be where I can help my husband. I will not despond. God will not leave us to perish. My husband’s health is poor and my cry is unto God for His deliverance.” She lamented the recent loss of two older ministers who had recently pulled out of ministry. “The shaking time has, I believe, come.” Others not meeting the standard “must be shaken off.”80 By November, tensions had surfaced again over finances and the care of Ellen’s parents, who had gone to live with their other daughter Sarah Belden. “Our parents are again with Stephen,” Ellen reported. James had offered to care for their needs for life if they would get together and deposit their savings of five hundred dollars with him. But Ellen’s mother had not been willing to call in an amount of two hundred dollars she had loaned to Ellen’s brother John, “and James said it was the last offer he should ever make them. Now Skinner’s Bank has gone down and they have lost all they had in the bank, some $300. Stephen and Sarah have quite a care upon them.”81 Some things, however, had improved. At least the relationship with Uriah and Harriet had been repaired. Smith had apologized and made “very humble acknowledgements.”82 “Uriah and Harriet are standing clear and in union with us,” Ellen noted to Lucinda.83

The struggle over organization had been long and arduous, and the stress and anxiety it added to the long days of labor took their toll on James’s health. The high levels of relentless stress during this period laid the groundwork for the stroke he suffered three years later. The difficult protracted conflict also exposed some raw nerves and gave occasion for the recycling of memories of the painful conflicted relationships with his colleague John Andrews and with the Stevens and Andrews families that James and Ellen had experienced in Paris in 1850. Andrews could not seem to rid himself of the weight of Maine. It was to take much time, contrition, confession, and adjustment for these wounds to heal, and it seems they never really did. Paris indeed cast a long, dark shadow.

1. RH, Jan. 27, 1859, 80. 2. “Institution of the Sabbath,” RH, Jan. 6, 1859, 52. 3. The trip also included nostalgic pastoral visits to former places of ministerial labor in upstate New York. “My Visit East,” RH, Apr. 28, 1859, 181. 4. EGW, MS 5, Mar. 4–8, 1859. MS 5 comprises Ellen White’s diary for Jan. 1–Mar. 31, 1859, EGWE-GC. 5. The gifts included a new calico dress and a pair of calfskin shoes for Angeline, a flannel shirt and stocking yarn for Mellie, a large well-wadded cape for John’s mother Sarah, and a pair of boots for John himself. She had previously stitched together a cloth bag in which to transport the gifts. EGW, MS 5, Mar. 8, 1859, EGWE-GC. 6. Ellen White had been expecting James to join her in Monterey, and when he canceled out, the church was “all disappointed,” as was Ellen. EGW, MS 5, Jan. 14, 1859, EGWE-GC. 7. JNL, Rise and Progress of the Seventh-day Adventists With Tokens of God’s Hand in the Movement and a Brief Sketch of the Advent Cause From 1831 to 1844 (Battle Creek, MI: General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, 1892), 215. A good contemporary description of the kind of totally inadequate remuneration of ministers is provided by James White in “Systematic Benevolence,” RH, Feb. 17, 104. The examples given were so common he asked if it was “not time that such evils were remedied among us?” 8. JNL, Rise and Progress, 215. Loughborough mistakenly places the Bible study on Systematic Benevolence a year earlier, in the winter of 1858. His memory failed him on the date. The meeting convened on Jan. 16, 1859. See “Systematic Benevolence,” RH, Feb. 3. 1859, 84. Neither does there seem to be any corroborating evidence for Loughborough’s 1910 memory that Ellen White advised James to invite Andrews to come in from Iowa to lead the ministers in a Bible study of the topic. PUR, Oct. 6, 1910, 1. Loughborough did not attend the first January meetings, for he was

involved in preaching engagements with Ellen White in Monterey at the time. He was back in town for the second meeting. EGW, MS 5, Jan. 16, 23, 1859. 9. “Systematic Benevolence,” RH, Feb. 10, 1859, 92. 10. “The Conference,” RH, June 5, 1859, 20–23. At this later conference, James White led the discussion and read an expanded address, which he had prepared in consultation with the other members of the subcommittee, that expanded significantly on the scriptural basis for the plan, its rationale, and its justification. 11. Also participating in the meeting were David Hewitt and “Brother Hart” (for), Henry Lyon (against), and J. P. Kellogg, who was persuaded to be in favor. White and Andrews argued that it was right to “cast a vote” in order to “give their influence in favor of right.” For further details on the Battle Creek election of 1859, see Yvonne Anderson, “The Bible, the Bottle, and the Ballot: Seventh-day Adventist Political Activism 1850–1900,” Adventist Heritage 7, no. 2 (Fall 1982): 39– 41. For a broader view of the transition, see Douglas Morgan, Adventism and the American Republic (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001). 12. “History of the Sabbath and First Day of the Week,” RH, July 14, 21, 28, 1859; Aug. 4, 1859. 13. “History of the Sabbath,” RH, July 14, 1859, 68. The thirty-seven-column, four-part series comprising ten chapters contained ninety-two footnotes. 14. “Wanted,” RH, Nov. 3, 1859, 192. The pamphlet carried a longer title, History of the Sabbath and First Day of the Week; Showing the Bible Record of the Sabbath and the Manner In Which It Has Been Supplanted by the Heathen Festival of the Sun. 15. “My Visit East,” RH, Apr. 28, 1859, 181. 16. “Wanted,” RH, Nov. 3, 1859, 192. When asked for a formula for establishing the exact time at which Sabbath should be considered to start on “a cloudy evening,” however, he declined. “How to keep the Sabbath,” RH, Feb. 2, 1860, 88. 17. Published by Graves, Marks & Rutland of Nashville, Tennessee, in 1858, the first volume in the two-volume set carries an inscription on the flyleaf that reads, “Mrs A. S. Andrews from her husband, March 9, 1859. A birthday present.” The book is part of the J. N. Andrews library collection at the Archives historiques de l’adventisme francophone, Campus Adventiste du Saleve, France. 18. Andrews or Loughborough would periodically report on the success or otherwise of their tent meetings during this period in the columns of the Review. See “Tent Meeting at Marshall,” RH, Aug. 11, 1859, 93. Forty Catholics attended these meetings “until their father confessor obliged them to leave” and put them “under penance.” “Tent Meeting at Parkville, Mich.,” RH, Sept. 15, 1859, 136. Twenty took their stand for truth at these meetings, but when the weather turned cold, the evening meetings became too uncomfortable to continue in the tent. 19. Hiram Edson of New York put up the money for this arrangement, which was voted by the brethren in June 1859. “The Conference,” RH, June 9, 1859, 20; “Note from Bro. Edson,” RH, June 16, 1859, 32. 20. “Wanted,” RH, Nov. 3, 1859, 102. 21. “Tent Meetings in N. Y.” RH, Aug. 28, 1860, 117. See also “Tent Meetings in N. Y.,” RH, Oct. 2, 1860, 156. 22. AAD, Oct. 3, 29, 1860, LLUHRC. She noted rather formally in her diary, “Four years ago

tonight I was united in marriage to J. N. Andrews and came here to live.” 23. “From Bro. Bostwick,” RH, Jan. 22, 1861, 29. Bostwick had visited the Andrews home. 24. “Extracts from Letters,” RH, July 16, 1861, 55. 25. JW to E. P. Butler, Dec. 12, 1861, EGWE-GC. The letter was sent to Ezra Butler, who was requested to read it to Edward Andrews. 26. AAD, May 15, 18, 28, 30; June 2, 1860, LLUHRC. 27. AAD, June 6, 1860, LLUHRC. 28. AAD, Oct. 2, 1860, LLUHRC. 29. AAD, June 28; Oct. 19, 1861, LLUHRC. 30. Mary’s whooping cough in October 1862 was so bad her mother feared for her life. AAD, Oct. 8, 1862, LLUHRC. 31. AAD, Oct. 14, 17, 1861, LLUHRC. 32. AAD, Jan. 7, 1861, LLUHRC. 33. AAD, Nov. 19, 1860, LLUHRC. 34. AAD, Jan. 16, 1860, LLUHRC. The comment suggests that the task was an extended, careful process. 35. “Arrival,” RH, June 25, 1861, 40. The announcement on the special notice page of the Review of the arrival of the manuscript is almost triumphant. “Safely arrived, June 22nd, the manuscript of the History of the Sabbath from J. N. Andrews.” Smith noted that “it will be put through the press as fast as possible.” 36. AAD, Mar. 17, 1861. LLUHRC. 37. “Business Proceedings of B. C. Conference,” RH, Oct. 23, 1860, 179. 38. “Conference at Melbourne, C. E.,” RH, Jan. 1851, 38; “From Bro. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 25, 1851, 54, 55; “Pultney Conference,” RH, Sept. 16, 1852, 80. 39. See, for example, the references to the need for church order in JW to “Dear Brethren in Christ,” Nov. 11, 1851, EGWE-GC. The letter was especially for the attention of Andrews and Rhodes. 40. George R. Knight, Organizing to Beat the Devil: The Development of Adventist Church Structure (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2001), 44–47. 41. “Yearly Meetings,” RH, July 21, 1859, 68. 42. EGW to LH, Nov. 13, 1861, EGWE-GC. Apparently, James had urged them to withdraw the funds. 43. See Gerald Wheeler, James White: Innovator and Overcomer (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2003), 94–98, for a discussion of White’s real estate trading at this time. 44. “Borrowed Money,” RH, Feb. 23, 1860, 108. 45. EGW, MS 7, Diary, Sept. 10, 1859, EGWE-GC. 46. “Making Us a Name,” RH, Mar. 22, 1860, 140, 141. 47. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Oct. 9, 1860, 163. The tension in the debate was strong. White stated that he was “grieved” that Cottrell had not acknowledged his first stand to be wrong when he later changed his position. 48. Ibid., 162. 49. EGW, T (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1885), 1:211. 50. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Oct. 16, 1860, 169.

51. “Letter from Bro. Andrews,” RH, Apr. 19, 1860, 172. 52. “Note from Bro. Andrews,” RH, May 29, 1850, 9. 53. He and Cottrell had been conducting weekend and weekday tent meetings in various towns all during July, August, and until September 15. For reports on the meetings, see RH, Aug. 28, 1860, 117; Oct. 2, 1860, 156. 54. “Politics,” RH, Aug. 21, 1860, 108. 55. “The Review Office,” RH, Aug. 21, 1860, 108. 56. “General Conference at Battle Creek,” RH, Sept. 4, 1860, 128. As the event commenced, fifteen preachers were mentioned by name as being in attendance, representing five states. Michigan had the most representatives, with seven being mentioned by name. “Battle Creek Conference,” RH, Oct. 2, 1860, 156. 57. “Battle Creek Conference,” RH, Oct. 2, 1860, 156. 58. RH, Oct. 9, 16, 13, 1860. 59. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Oct. 9, 1860, 162. What Andrews meant by “officers” in this context is not clear. Deacons, elders, men of good reputation? 60. “Business Proceedings of B. C. Conference,” RH, Oct. 23, 1860, 177, 178. 61. ALW’s suggestion that Andrews simply opposed the adoption of the name is an incorrect, truncated reading of the record. ALW, Ellen G. White: The Early Years (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1985), 424. 62. Wheeler, 125. Wheeler gives a good overview of the organization struggles. 63. Knight, Organizing to Beat the Devil, 55. 64. The Michigan Conference was organized in late 1861 as a sisterhood of churches, which then necessitated local church structure, membership lists, and some sort of instrument of commitment. A simple “covenant,” widely used in other New England churches, was adopted to help establish the latter. 65. He chaired the establishment of the New York Conference on Oct. 26, 1862. “Doings of the N. Y. Conference,” RH, Nov. 4, 1862, 182. 66. “General Conferences,” RH, July 15, 1862, 52. 67. The primary reason for urgency argued by White centered on the need for an effective system for the more equitable distribution of ministerial labor. “General Conference,” RH, Apr. 28, 1863, 172. He may also have had growing concerns that military conscription for the American Civil War, which had in 1862 been implemented for the first time at state level, could soon be enacted nationally, and the need to be able to speak with one voice or in unison would be vital. 68. Ibid. 69. Ibid. 70. “The Conference,” RH, May 26, 1863, 204. See also 205, 206. 71. Ibid., 206. 72. EGW to LH, Apr. 5, 1861, EGWE-GC. 73. EGW to LH, Sept. 3, 1861, EGWE-GC. 74. EGW to JNA, June 11, 1860, EGWE-GC. 75. EGW, L&M (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 680. See footnote 9. 76. Ibid.

77. EGW to LH, May 4, 1860, EGWE-GC. 78. EGW to “Brother Ingraham,” 1861. The letter carries no indication of the month in which it was written, but James’s circumstances would seem to fit with the situation Ellen describes in her letter to Lucinda Hall on May 4. Ellen White’s reference to James going “insane” was probably an allusion to an approaching nervous collapse. 79. Kay Redfield Jamison discusses the wide range of the continuum for the manic-depressive syndrome evident in highly creative people, noting that most who suffer from the problem function quite normally most of the time, although the cyclical episodes usually become more frequent with time. Jamison also highlights problems of posthumous identification of the manic-depressive syndrome and the dangers of superficial psychobiography. She maintains, however, that retrospective diagnosis is possible. “Biographical diagnoses must ultimately, of course, be more tentative than diagnoses made on living individuals, but they can be done, reliably and responsibly, and with an appreciation of the complexities that go into anyone’s life.” Kay Redfield Jamison, Touched With Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament (New York: Free Press, 1993), 16, 56–59. The patterns of mania and depression in James White’s experience are clear and warrant further study and analysis. The Christian belief in providence is not injured by such possibilities. Providence can only work through human weakness. 80. EGW to “Brother Ingraham,” 1861. 81. EGW to LH, Nov. 13, 1861 EGWE-GC. 82. EGW, L&M, 680. 83. EGW to LH, Nov. 13, 1861, EGWE-GC.

Chapter Nine

The Dark Shadow of Paris and the Organization Crisis

J

ames and Ellen White’s midwinter visit to Waukon, Iowa, in

December 1856 involved a week of enthusiastic revival meetings with the Andrews, Stevens, and Loughborough families and their neighbors. Explanations and clarifications from both sides of the divide resulted in confessions and apologies. And, it seemed, there had been reconciliation between the Whites and the Paris families. But the reconciliation did not last. In the years to come, there would be still further attempts to uproot the thicket of grievances that had taken such deep root in the soils of offense and misunderstanding and that had first sprouted in Paris in 1850. But in spite of repeated attempts, the garden seemed to be never fully cleared of the weeds. This chapter will interrupt the chronological discussion of Andrews’s life story and take time to explore the family and spiritual tensions between the Whites and the Andrews and Stevens families that resurfaced regularly at times of stress and conflict. Understanding the troubles that emanated from Paris, Maine—what was behind and within them—is necessary for comprehending the unsettling but important dynamic that long characterized the uneasy relationship between the Whites and John Andrews and his family. Sanctification in these transplanted Maine farmers and their offspring encountered temperaments characterized by a rugged and feisty individualism, stubbornness, and a tendency to carry grudges that in time hardened into an obstinate reserve, and a resistance to let things go even

after talking things through. Entwined around the strong, complex temperaments, Ellen White said she saw strands of self-interest and misplaced family loyalties. When these elements were overlaid with misunderstandings and encountered the strong and at times brusque leadership style of her Maine husband, there were injured feelings on both sides. As a result, the relational dynamics within the emerging movement became exceedingly complicated at times. Tensions often impaired the harmony of the young and growing church community. The hurts experienced on both sides muddied things even further as the Paris families struggled to come to terms with the phenomenon of Ellen White’s visions and, more particularly, the nature and role of their authority in the Adventist community. When mind and heart argued otherwise, it would take considerable time for John Andrews and the members of his family to develop the kind of understanding that would enable them to become comfortable with the belief that it was they who needed the gift of submission. Certainly, Ellen White was not going to apologize for counsels and condemnations she believed came from the Spirit of God. So such submission would be necessary for their own good and also the good of the community.

A visit home interrupted Immediately following James White’s February 1860 ultimatum notification in the Review that he would no longer consider himself liable for loans and would refuse to sign notes of responsibility for the publishing business, he and Ellen, who was three-months pregnant with their fourth child, left Battle Creek for what was intended to be ten weeks of evangelistic meetings 450 miles away in western Iowa and Wisconsin. Even though it was winter, they were glad to be out of Battle Creek. Traveling had been difficult. They were constrained to walk rather than ride across the frozen Mississippi because the ice was not thick enough to bear the weight of a horse. In Knoxville, in the south of Iowa, tensions

were high at the news of their coming because local preachers had put rumors out around the town that “Mormons” were coming, and there had been rash talk of the Whites being tarred and feathered.1 But nothing untoward happened, and good attendances were reported at their meetings, in spite of the fact that Ellen White’s health was not robust at the time. But then things began to go wrong. Their visit to Wisconsin was abruptly canceled after a breakdown in communication, and an impressive vision that Ellen White reported having at Knoxville conveyed warnings about problems back home at Battle Creek. They immediately returned to Michigan, arriving on April 5. It was true. Relationships in Waukon had been strained, but relationships back in Battle Creek were almost as bad. Suspicion, criticism, and an unhappy cold reserve permeated both the local church and the small companies nearby, and the negativity focused on the Whites. For the next several weeks, James and Ellen, feeling “no union with the church generally,” did not even go to church but spent their Sabbaths at home. The tensions over how the organization issue was being handled and friction now between James and Uriah and Harriet Smith created a daunting, leaden atmosphere. Ellen reports that she sensed an uncomfortable resistance even to her bearing her testimony in social meeting or praying in church.2 Then in June, the memory of her Knoxville vision came back, and the simmering tensions boiled over as Ellen White wrote a series of pointed letters to a number of ministerial colleagues, strongly criticizing the men and their spouses.3 In early May, Harriet Smith had let her family know that she was coming out to Waukon for a visit later that month. It seems that the visit home was a way to escape the tensions in the office. Angeline joyfully records in her diary that Harriet arrived May 24 and “seems very natural.” The sisters shared numerous happy activities together in the days that followed. Nothing is mentioned in Angeline’s diary of the work tensions at Battle Creek. One month later, however, on June 27, Angeline records that

on that day Harriet had “received a message from Sr. W. which caused her to feel most deeply. . . . O I will not attempt to describe the state of mind Harriet was in.” Arrangements were hurriedly made to curtail the home leave, and Harriet returned to Battle Creek that same day. “O God, help her to do right in all things,” was Angeline’s diary prayer for her sister.4 The letter Harriet received on that last Wednesday in June began with Ellen White stating, “I think it is my duty to write you a few lines this morning.” It then ran on for perhaps nineteen pages of detailed criticism of Harriet’s temperament and personality and her unhelpful attitude in Battle Creek.5 The letter is of particular interest in a study of John Andrews, for much of the letter was also addressed to him. At the time, he was engaged in evangelism in upstate New York. A parallel letter written on June 11 was also sent to him, and it included material about Harriet. It does not seem that Angeline saw either of the letters. They contained strong, biting, and unrelenting criticism. “As one reads these letters,” Ron Graybill notes, “the mind reels and staggers. The ego swells and rages.” And “Ellen White expected as much.” She understood how her letters could hurt way down.6 Ellen White wrote a number of other letters that June on similar topics, and we get some idea of the root cause of the problem from a letter she sent to local Battle Creek minister J. B. Frisbie. The core problem concerned her husband’s leadership style. Sometime previously, James White had told Frisbie that he was not a good writer and should not waste his time writing books. It was a blunt rejection. “I saw you were touched and felt wrong because James has plainly told you the truth,” Ellen White asserted to Frisbie. She continued: Your mind has been laboring in trial, and wrong feelings have rankled in your breast, and have had an influence on others. He told you plainly the truth. His views and Brethren Andrews’ and Uriah’s were the same, but they would not have spoken them to you; and self rose up against James and your mind was prejudiced against James. It was

a delicate matter for anyone to touch, but James shouldered the disagreeable task, relieving Uriah and John of a burden. This, I was shown, was the great cause of dissatisfaction on the part of individuals against James. He will speak in defense of the cause and to keep it clear from rubbish. Others who have influence, see it, feel it, are burdened over [it]; but will not venture to take the censure upon their heads. Brother White talks out plainly his feelings. Those who have been burdened are gratified, but Bro. White receives the hard feelings; and influences are exerted against him for these things, and he is left to bear the censure alone.7 This management style was a particular problem in the publishing office. Ellen White knew that there was a necessity in the office for what she called “a shrewd manager.” One who, keenly sensitive to wrong, “feels that the cause of God is a part of him” and who would “reprove.” For all his editorial and literary skills, Ellen White did not see that skill in Smith. His “easy manner would lead him to keep silent in many things when he ought to speak, [and] to suffer things to be introduced into the office which should have no place there. To save the feelings of an individual or two, he would go contrary to his own judgment,” she told Frisbie.8 Harriet’s part in this problem (she worked in the Review office at the time) was that when she encountered James White’s sharp plain-speaking reproof about matters in the office, her temperament led her to become quietly defensive for herself, her husband, or for the others who were being criticized. She shriveled up inside and grew quiet instead of talking things through. “When a word of reproof was given, instead of looking and seeing that there was a cause for it and admitting there was a wrong, you have kept silent and considered you were suffering wrongfully and Brother White was censorious, severe and exacting.” Ellen White agreed that “Brother White is not perfect. He may speak quite strongly in the ardor of his feelings,” but if Harriet would go to him in confidence and open her

mind to him, James would “not be backward to relieve your mind all he consistently could.” James was like that, Ellen White, explained. He was one who was willing to confess when he erred and in an “open, frank manner . . . tell his whole heart.”9 This was how Ellen had learned to handle James. If Harriet would just talk to him, she would also see her own prejudice and how she might have misconstrued his words. But Harriet was not like that. She recoiled, apparently falling into “an agony” of tears, and in fear of James, would react “as though he was a tyrant.” Then she would go silent, feel aggrieved, and harbor up the hurt. Her passive-aggressive personality would come into play. She would find solace in Uriah, feel sympathy for others who had been reproved, ally with them, and become “exclusive and secretive.” This had led Uriah and Harriet to move with another social group, “making confidants of those who should not [be confidants],” and becoming “close and secretive to us.” This forming of cliques within the small tight-knit community of faith was damaging, and, according to Ellen, God’s frown was upon it. Harriet might call her feelings “grief,” challenged Ellen, but they were really “anger,” and she had, in fact, “felt wrong, acted wrong and spoken wrong.” As Ellen White saw it, Harriet’s passive-aggressive personality was getting in the way. The real problem, said Ellen, was that Harriet was “too selfish,” and these feelings came from “a selfish, unconsecrated heart.” It would be better for her “to have left the office entirely than to remain and exert the influence you have.” With her “strong, set and willful feelings,” she had a bad influence on Uriah. These tendencies were “the natural besetment” of her family, asserted Ellen White, who viewed all this as making “war” on her husband. She then traced the problem back to a decade ago through “a perfect chain of connection,” to when the same thing happened in Paris in 1850. The same pattern had resurfaced in Rochester in 1855, and it was happening again in Battle Creek. But now it had reached a crisis point. James had “disconnected” himself from the office, stating that he would “remain so until proper acknowledgement”

was made by the others on the editorial and production team. Smith and his colleagues would just have to apologize. It was a standoff—an impasse. Work relationships in the office had become so polarized and dysfunctional at this juncture that a council of fifty or so leaders and church members from around Michigan had been called together, with Joseph Bates as senior statesman-cum-moderator, to try and sort the problem out and attempt some mediation. Finding a way out involved the airing of complaints and allegations by White and the public discussion of the poor attitudes of others, such as J. H. Waggoner, Uriah Smith, and Cyrenius Smith. Apparently, there was no airing of complaints, and allegations allowed for those about whom White complained. All three eventually made “very humble acknowledgements.” Neither John Andrews nor Harriet, however, were in Battle Creek at the time to be able to attend the council, and thus a subcommittee was assigned to inform them of White’s ultimatum and to outline the steps they would also have to take before White would resume his connection with the editorial office. These steps included the giving of a “pledge” from the “Editors, Publishing Committee and Office hands, to stand by him [White] until such times as they consider him to be wrong, and then labor directly with him.” Talking around him or about him when staff “thought themselves wronged” was not a productive way forward. On this occasion the practice had “been attended with disastrous circumstances,” and it was not to continue. But talking with White in such circumstances was easier said than done, and often dangerous to attempt. A decade later Ellen would herself tell her husband that he was the kind of man who could not “bear the slightest censure,” highly gifted though he was as an entrepreneur, writer, and spiritual leader.10 The subcommittee attended to their duty by publishing a small pamphlet, reporting in some detail on the council meeting, and publishing to the entire church membership the critical correspondence Ellen White

had sent to Harriet and John Andrews on this occasion. The pamphlet included several pieces of correspondence from previous years. This was, in effect, a public shaming, and it cut deeply.11 There were no letters in reply to give the perspectives of the recipients. Confessions would come later. Angeline’s diary seems to indicate that at least Harriet may have seen her personal version of the letter before she got to read the public version in the pamphlet. Whether John Andrews had the prior opportunity is not clear. What intensified the problem and made it yet more complex was that Ellen White took sides with her husband in these disputes, often on the basis of her visions, and she was sure she was justified in doing so because unity was needed for the sake of the cause. This meant that those who had been offended by James’s manner often began to question the visions of Ellen White, and these questions and attitudes undermined her leadership ministry as well. This was the burden of Ellen White’s much longer letter to John Andrews, written the day after the council meeting and which contained many paragraphs also addressed to Harriet. At the time, Andrews was running a fairly successful series of evangelistic meetings in Kirkville, New York, that resulted in over twenty baptisms. Whether he was acquainted in detail with the tensions at Battle Creek is not clear. Without bringing him up to date or referencing the council meeting, she simply began telling him that Harriet was a problem, that she lacked consecration, and that he, her brother-in-law, was somewhat to blame. She linked the current impasse in the office with the problems that had occurred in Paris in 1850 when James had then been regarded as being too “censorious and severe.” She lamented that “there was no union or real belief in visions with Uriah and Harriet,” and that this was because Andrews himself “had not taken a decided position in the past,” pointing out that “your position influences Harriet and Uriah much.”12 She then addressed various dimensions of the problem in a stream-of-consciousness way that flowed on for what is now nine-and-a-half pages of single-spaced

typescript. Andrews’s own discomfort with James’s plain speaking was part of the problem. “Some are constantly complaining of his severity,” she vented, “but are they to be the judges whether an erring individual should have a severe or a mild rebuke?” Only James could know that, she insisted, suggesting that James should really be the one who should be given sympathy because he was “the one who feels the burden,” not the one who erred. In the background lay a larger inherent problem. John Andrews’s gentle, scholarly temperament, which deterred him from the uncomfortable task of correcting and rebuking others, made the aggressive, businesslike, sharp-edged James look bad. Ellen accused Andrews of still harboring sore feelings from the Paris and Rochester episodes and that he had “represented” those “affairs to others in a wrong light.” As she saw things, there was “a thorough opposition in this place [Battle Creek] against plain testimony,” and none were so thorough in their discomfort with the plain speaking approach as John Andrews and his sister-in-law.

The struggle over visions It was true that John Andrews clearly experienced theological difficulty over the phenomenon of Ellen White’s visionary experiences. Finding consistency between his beliefs about New Testament spiritual gifts and the role of Ellen White eluded him and caused him much discomfort. Ellen White seems to have been quite aware of this, noting that he “suffered in his mind extremely” over the issue and had “been driven almost to insanity.”13 He had been “fiercely buffeted” but had made strong efforts to “have his mind directed in the right channel,” and if he could receive the right help on the matter, “he may yet be entirely free.” She concluded the letter by mentioning that the feelings of Angeline had not been “in union” either, and she, too, would have to come to “see matters as they are.” The matter was clear as Ellen saw it: “the visions are either of God or the devil. There is no half-way position to be taken.” Andrews’s struggle with this

“all or nothing” approach was to harmonize it with the reality that the gift was manifested in an earthen vessel. Angeline’s diary lets us know that back in Waukon the fiery letters from Ellen White, now being circulated in a pamphlet, gave rise to serious discussions among church members. Three weeks after Harriet returned, Angeline records that on a Thursday evening she had visited with her neighbors, Thomas Mead and his wife, and had “talked with them quite freely about my trials relating to some things which occurred back in Paris having a connection with Bro. and Sr. [W].” She shared her “present feelings respecting the visions.” She noted in her diary that she had “great confidence in Bro. and Sr. Mead.” They were similarly aged Adventists from New Hampshire who had recently moved to Waukon after working in the Review office in Battle Creek. Thomas had been forced to give up work because he had contracted tuberculosis there, and James and Ellen had participated in a special prayer meeting for him and helped raise funds for his care through appeals in the Review.14 “I cannot yet take just the position in regard to Sr. White’s visions that they [the Meads] do,” she noted, and then she reflected on the specific theological difficulty they posed for her. “They fully believe them to be all right from God, consequently of equal authority with the Bible.”15 Angeline simply could not go there. For her, the question was, “Are we not Protestants?” Two weeks later, Angeline recorded in a Sabbath evening entry in her diary that “the subject of Visions” had been introduced in our meeting again that day and that there was a “difference of views as to the place they should occupy in the church.” Again, it seems, the problem was the same. At issue was not the genuineness or otherwise of the phenomenon of the extraordinary visionary experiences, but rather their relationship to Scripture. “Some hold them as equal authority with the Bible and are designed to correct and guide the church,” and as such, the church needed them “in a great measure.” Others, she noted, “believe the Bible does not sanction such use of them.” She was genuinely perplexed. “O that we

might understand just the right position to take in regard to them.”16 Two days later, Angeline was called on by James White to function as a witness to endorse the accuracy of some events reported in Ellen White’s new book Christian Experience and Views (17–80). Her opinions and ideas were not just written off.17 She noted several weeks later that “Bro. W. writes in reply to mine very kindly.”18 None of the hundred or so letters written between John and Angeline at this time have survived. But it would seem reasonable to assume that the topic featured in their correspondence. And in the eighteen days following the time Harriet received her heavy letter from Ellen White, Angeline notes in her diary that she had written six letters to John, as if that was something to note. We know more certainly from Ellen White’s letters that John faced some of the same theological difficulties as those faced by his wife.19 The actual phenomenon of the visions was one thing. He had personally witnessed it numerous times, and he accepted the visions for what he saw them to be. He attributed to them the clear manifestation of the work of the Spirit helpfully advising church members.20 But how was one to understand the relationship of the guidance given by the visions to the sacred canon of Scripture, which was the sovereign standard of faith and practice so fundamental to his Protestant faith? His call to be faithful to the Seventh-day Sabbath and his ongoing research of Sabbath history sources were rooted in the premise that there was no extra-biblical authority that could determine Christian faith. Holding on steadfastly to sola Scriptura was their only safety. The perplexity was illustrative of the struggle other church members had and of the challenge the movement itself faced. Andrews understood and taught with his fellow Adventist preachers a strong belief in the perpetuity of the New Testament spiritual gifts and that the gift of prophecy was one of those gifts. They believed that this gift would be restored in the church in the last days (Joel 2). But in the New Testament church, when the gift of prophecy spoke in the church, as for

example in Corinth, the believers were expected to “weigh carefully what was said.” Did this not mean to give consideration to how, when, and if what was said was helpful? And was there to be just one person with the gift? Did not the New Testament teaching on spiritual gifts allow that several might have the gift, even within a congregation (1 Corinthians 14:29), and did not the New Testament describe four sisters in one house all speaking prophetically (Acts 21:9)?21 Yet Ellen White’s frequent use of “burden” seemed to suggest that she understood her experience more in the mode of the Old Testament Jeremiah or Isaiah, delivering an authoritative oracle which did seem to claim the same authority as Scripture (Jeremiah 14:14; Isaiah 30:10–13).22 If Ellen White’s gift had the same quality as the writers of the canon of Scripture, how could that not imply that the messages were to be taken as “revelations,” with the same authority of Scripture, and would not that mean they were somehow adding something to the canon of Scripture? And was not that what the Shakers and the Mormons were doing, which was part of the reason that rumors flew around when they visited the church at Knoxville in Iowa?23 The tension between these two concepts of the gift of prophecy was difficult for Andrews to reconcile—thus his recourse to the concept of “mystery.” His wrestling with these issues reflected his more scholarly orientation and perspective. Ellen White’s view was that he should not allow his mind to be so “overtaxed” by these perplexities.24 It took time, however, for Andrews and others in the church to find language and theological constructs that could lend coherence to these apparently conflicting ideas. Ellen White herself struggled at times to understand her role and her experience. She pointed out to Andrews that “when the Lord sees fit to give a vision,” she was “taken into the presence of Jesus and angels” and was “entirely lost to earthly things.” Sometimes she did not remember what she had seen until later. But she was adamant. The visions were either of God or of the devil. There was no halfway position, no room for

human influences. As she had explained to Cyrenius Smith a year earlier, she did not even know whether she should attempt to explain what she wrote in her letters. If what she wrote was unclear, why not just let the matter stand? Was it her role to interpret the message? She did not think so.25 Another question was whether she should make her messages public and embarrass the recipients or not. How else could she make sure the church would respond to what she wrote?26 These were issues she had to carefully think her way through. But she steadfastly maintained the genuineness of her experience, and the church, including John Andrews, legitimated her charismatic gift by acknowledging the helpfulness of her counsel, even though it often hurt.27 This process on the part of church members, of validating her special gift, involved appropriating the grace of submission, particularly when it came to relationships among a team of strong leaders.28 For Andrews, learning how to submit would require prayer and deep spiritual reflection, and he navigated his way to this understanding slowly, through a number of wave crests and troughs. He was at home in Waukon, in late 1861, just after the birth of Mary, when the next conflict between him and James erupted.

Caught in the cross fire After the legal establishment of the publishing association in October 1860, the struggle over organization moved on in 1861 to the issue of whether congregations and conferences should be arranged on a formal legal basis. Opposition grew so fierce in the Northeast that James White thought he would lose the struggle, and his editorials became more confrontational and raw. He warned in one editorial in late July that it was time for plain testimony, and he lamented that his colleagues were not being supportive of him. That very week, as the nation read in their newspapers of the first disaster of the Civil War, the First Battle of Bull Run, readers of the Review also had to absorb warnings of “alarm” and “danger” to the church. The nation reeled in shock at the news

reverberating out of Washington, which told of the Union forces’ loss to the South in the largest and bloodiest battle of the Civil War thus far.29 Ellen and James read of the disasters in the newspapers they found in the waiting room as they waited for dental appointments in Detroit.30 As the Battle Creek church agreed to participate in the national day of fasting and prayer called by President Lincoln, James White, in his blunt editorial in the Review, warned that there was also “a serious cause of alarm” for the church.31 In fact, “the greatest cause” of the present sad state of things was “the reluctance on the part of the most able preachers among us” to “bear that plain, scriptural testimony that condemns and displeases the carnal mind.”32 They were men of “fine feelings, of cool and candid judgement” who could “command respect,” he noted, but they were shunning the task of “bearing plain testimony” in the present hour of need. They were ministers who had “despised reproof ” and were thus casting a “stupefying influence over the cause.”33 He did not then mention names of those he perceived as the recalcitrant, ones he considered were opposing him, but readers guessed who he was referring to. He was aware that he was writing very bluntly, and he did so, he said, “to try and arouse them to the real state of things.” Provocatively, in an attempt to shame the others, he named M. E. Cornell as a model preacher, one who was blessed of God because of “his faithful testimony.”34 A week later he complained again even more provocatively at the lack of support he perceived, stating ingenuously that all he had done eighteen months previously was to have “merely hinted” at the need for organization with “mere suggestions” but claimed that he had been portrayed as being “in favor of something dreadful.” Now there was “a stupid uncertainty upon the subject of organization.” He was greatly distressed that in Pennsylvania, delegates to the conference had “voted down” the action to organize, and Ohio also was opposed, having been “dreadfully shaken.” James was feeling shaken himself, and he brashly named colleagues, apparently in an effort to shame them into coming out

publicly and more vigorously in his support. “If such ministers of experience as Brn. Ingraham, Andrews and Wheeler could have spoken upon the subject decidedly and in season, much might have been saved that has probably gone to ruin.” He was clearly angry as he reported one instance when after two hours of discussion on the subject at the Roosevelt church, Frederick Wheeler “kept his seat.”35 So stressed was James by all this that at Bucks Bridge in New York, on August 17, 1861, he was overcome with such a sense of injustice and isolation, that on his way to church he broke down in a long spasm of loud weeping. Only with great difficulty could he compose himself to be able to go to the pulpit to preach. He had hit an emotional rock bottom again. He later wrote in a blunt expression of despair in the Review that he thought church membership would decline in the following twelve months as the shaking time did its work. For himself, he was “done moving out in any enterprise connected with the cause until system can lie at the bottom of all our operations.” “Let others who choose, push the battle in confusion,” he declared, but he was pulling out. Let the shaking proceed. He “was making all preparations for a safe retreat until the army of Sabbath-keepers be organized, and the rebels against organization be purged out.”36 As James White saw it, civil war had come to the church. Ellen White, in a companion piece in the same issue of the Review, reflected on the implications of the Civil War for the nation and then also wrote about the strife within the church. God was displeased with “the cowardly silence, and lack of action” by those pastors who “feared blame and opposition.” There was “a great lack of moral courage” on the part of these ministers, she wrote. Her husband could not fight the battle alone. “The time for ministers to stand together is when the battle goes hard.”37 This response did not seem to envisage that others opposed might also be motivated by deeply held moral convictions. Reading his name associated with the strong public criticism in the Review gave Andrews a shock. At the time, he was conducting a tent

mission out in Cleveland, Minnesota. “The Review for August 27 has just come to hand,” he noted in an article of response, “and from it I learn with deep regret that the silence of myself and others on this subject has been a cause of grief to some, and an occasion of stumbling to others. I know not what to say,” he went on, “except that I am most sincerely sorry for the evil which I have occasioned.” He was “sensible” that he had “no wisdom to propose a plan of action.” Rather, he thought that the brethren who had been chosen for the purpose at the last conference in Battle Creek would have been the ones to come up with a “well matured plan for the action of the church,” as they had been requested. He thought White’s recent response to a critic in the Review was excellent, and he expressed his “hearty approbation.” Cottrell also explained to the Review readership that he had been “waiting in this matter” not because he had “objections,” but because he felt that he did “not know sufficiently what should be done,” and he hoped that someone else “more competent” would take the work in hand. But he had now concluded that “it was for me to lead out in this in Western N. Y.” He would wait for recommendations.38 Others also replied, affirming their support, but by October 22, James was still feeling greatly disappointed and discouraged. He informed churches in Ohio that he and Ellen were “much worn and dispirited.” They felt they could say as Paul had said of the Galatians, “I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labor in vain.”39 At the end of October, White published his most confrontational and hard-edged editorial yet. It was saturated in personal anguish and deep anger. Channeling the problems sundering the nation, he lamented the “perilous” state of the cause from “want of union.” He then engaged in a rather self-pitying lament recounting his sufferings for the cause. He hoped that this might motivate his colleagues to somehow work together, even at this far-gone stage. He wanted to rescue at least some form of organization. The differences between the brethren had not been so much insubordination, he thought, but rather the “consequences of blind

prejudice.” He had been “so crushed in spirit” he felt he could “neither preach nor write with freedom.” What hurt most, he said, was “the evidences of the coldest ingratitude.” This had led him in the past to “tear away from the cause, all but to publicly declare ourselves disconnected from it.”40 Some ministers had “come to their senses, and have done all they can by way of confession to relieve our feelings.” The editorial prompted more. In December, the Review published a confession from Fredrick Wheeler of New York. He wrote a lengthy apology, stating that he was sorry he had “murmured against Bro. and Sr. White,” thinking them “too severe,” and that he had been “slow to engage in the work of organization.” He regretted this and intended “to be more diligent.”41 Two weeks later, the Review also carried a confession from John Andrews. He had written it on November 28, and it was briefer and seemed carefully constructed. “It is my duty,” he wrote, to make confession on several points; and I do it cheerfully, and with sincerity of heart. I am satisfied that I have not exerted that direct influence in behalf of the testimony of the Spirit of God, given through vision to sister White, that I ought to have done. I deeply regret that I have been slow to act in a matter of so great importance. I now see that I have come far short of my duty in this matter, and that I have thus grieved the Holy Spirit. May God forgive me. It is the purpose of my heart, not merely to believe the testimony of the visions, but to impress the importance of their testimony upon others.42 He continued: “I see also that I have been remiss in bearing a pointed testimony against sin, and reproving the wrongs that have come under my observation, with the faithfulness that was requisite on my part. In other words, I have failed to declare with faithfulness the whole counsel of God. Deeply do I lament my fault in this thing. Yet such is my natural infirmity

that I can only hope to be an overcomer through the special assistance of the divine grace. Brethren, pray for me.” He added a comment on the problem of organization as a postscript. “I would like to add that the present work of organization meets my hearty approval. I see no objectionable features as it is now reduced to practice.”43 What this perhaps conveys rather directly is that Andrews was held in high esteem by the church generally and his views carried weight with the membership. Robust plain speaking, however, was not his natural style. He was more gentle and pastoral in manner, reflecting his scholarly temperament. James White, in some subconscious way, perceived this as a threat. Certainly, the perceived absence of overt support constituted a threat. He needed to have Andrews with him, submissive, not standing off at a distance. Within days of his confession, however, John Andrews found himself caught awkwardly in the midst of a heated quarrel between his father and James White, and once more the visions and the hurts and wrongs from 1850 in Paris were dredged back up and rehearsed again. On this occasion, the conflict was prompted by some kind of letter or note from Edward attacking James White over his alleged defrauding of him to the amount of eight dollars in rent when the Whites stayed with them in Paris. Edward had made his complaint “more or less public” in Waukon. What prompted John’s sixty-four-year-old father to write the accusing letter just at this time is unclear, but it would not be unreasonable to see it as a retaliation for White’s public criticism of his son in the Review. Edward’s outburst had been brewing for some time. Ellen White alludes to a report she had heard from Waukon via a couple of families six months previously that the church was in confusion again over the visions. She thought, this time, it was so serious that there was “likely to be a division of the church; part will go with old Brother [Edward] Andrews. The bone of contention is the visions.”44 The degree of resentment James White felt over the allegation of rent fraud is indicated by the fact that James sent his high-energy response to

Ezra Butler, now one of the leaders of the Waukon community, asking him to deliver the letter to Edward Andrews. He would not stoop to address John’s father directly. He also asked Butler to read the letter to the church. But whether Butler would or would not read it aloud to the church, would he please return the letter to White without “reserving a copy of any part of it” or “suffering anyone to take a copy of any part of it” after he had read it to Andrews. He enclosed stamps for the return postage and apologized that he “had to trouble you again with matters pertaining to the Andrews’ difficulty.”45 Apparently, Ezra Butler had tried to mediate this problem between the two men on previous occasions. James clearly viewed his response as highly sensitive and somewhat explosive in nature. It was. James’s letter of response to the charges made by the senior Andrews via Butler was intended as an explanation and vindication of his character to Butler and clearly to other readers or listeners. It betrays the author’s stretched nerves and utter exasperation with what he saw as completely unfair criticism. The letter gives deep insight into the fraught nature of relationships in this small, tightly knit community struggling with economic hardship and with each other. In his letter, White expresses surprise that now, eleven years later, the senior Andrews should even bother to bring up the matter when there had been plenty of opportunity to talk it out and clear it on any number of prior occasions when their paths had crossed. Instead, the offense “had been salted down eleven years.” It evidently still rankled.46 In response to the specific charge of rent fraud, White explained that from this distance he could not clearly remember the specific details of the money to be exchanged in the agreement with Andrews, but he did recall that they were not getting value for their money out of the agreement, which was meant to include regular board. He and Ellen had eventually decided to board themselves in the house that they shared at the time with the Andrews family in order “to prevent utter starvation.” But in any case, White was adamant, “I have not the least idea that I changed the terms of the aforesaid contract, to cheat a poor man out

of $8.00. Neither does any other man who knows my course believe this base suggestion.” He was sure that the senior Andrews did not really believe this himself.47 In defense of his generosity, White recounted numerous occasions when he had assisted both John and William Andrews with clothes and presents, and he had been very supportive of John’s ministry and supported his projects with finance and fund-raising. Furthermore, he had supported sponsorship for his publishing venture with the History of the Sabbath. It seemed incredible to White, in the light of this kindness to John, that the senior Andrews could “persist in the contemptible charge that according to his certain memory I changed a contract to cheat him.” Then White reached beyond the rent problem. He was stirred that John had not been more directly supportive of him over the organization issue. John’s “lack of taking a firm position, discouraged me utterly,” he complained, and even though he had not been consulted about John’s Minnesota mission (which John disputed), he had still sent money to him.48 That White was also quite capable of carrying a grudge is indicated by his recital of the occasion when he lent his horse for John to use and had, in turn, suffered greatly in his own much inconvenienced journeys during the winter of 1851. White had volunteered the loan of his horse and carriage to John and Samuel Rhodes on that occasion. The injury to his own health was what was remembered, and it too was well salted down in his recollections of the incident.49 Noting that he had written more than he intended (it was to be read publicly), White nevertheless continued into even more sensitive territory, suggesting that if this was a contest of who really was honest, and if he ever had the chance to talk face-to-face with the brethren in Waukon, he could easily “present a list of things against the accuser, one of rather a light-fingered character of which I happened to be an eye witness.” But it was his remarks on the marriage of John and Angeline and his attack on Angeline that probably was the most sensitive area and must have been

very difficult for John and his father and even Ezra Butler to read. “As to the marriage [of John and Angeline], if the two families had believed and acted upon the visions when they professed to believe them, poor Brother John might have been saved the dreadful trials he has suffered. When we left Paris, [my] wife saw that there was an unholy union between the two families which must be broken. They were then living some distance apart, but very soon moved into one house, and all the evidences show that that union increased. Also wife, in almost every vision for Brother John, which were, I think as frequent as once a year, addressed him like this,—‘Paris is no place for you. There is an influence there that would get you down from the work.’ ”50 Further resurrecting old history, White recounted that the group had blamed him for moving the Review office out of Rochester, and he had proved those charges as “groundless” when he visited Waukon back in 1856. But he still had “a high regard for Brother John Andrews.” “I pity him from the bottom of my heart,” he added. “If the two families had heeded the visions given them in 1850 doubtless his union with his wife would have been formed under circumstances free from their present trials.”51 If only. Not only would the cause have been saved “dreadful injuries,” but he himself would have been “saved from premature old age, despondency and anguish of spirit.” If only John had been of a different temperament, so as to stand out free from the influence of the rebellious ones at Paris, “he might have been saved from most of his [travails].”52 Changing one’s temperament was not easy—either for John or James. After the rush of emotion spends itself in the venting of anger and frustration, White seeks to look on the brighter side. He had said in “both private and in public,” he noted, that he “regarded J. N. Andrews and Uriah Smith as two splendid young men and sincere Christians, possessing sweetness of temper and fine feelings beyond any two men of their mind and talent I ever saw. They are coming out like gold, seven times purified. But O, the unnecessary anguish of spirit these two men have suffered in

consequence of the stubborn rebellion at Paris. It has well-nigh ruined them both, and resulted in tearing them down from responsible stations. Thank God it is not too late for wrongs to be righted.” White did not mince words. John Andrews felt painfully caught in the middle between family loyalties and his duty to the cause. It was not an easy position to be in. James closed his letter, “In hope of better days.” And better days would come, but not for a while. In the meantime, there were to be more difficult days because if J. N. Andrews’s temperament was of a particular stamp, so was James White’s. With such strong, determined, and forceful leadership in a small community, someone had to be ready to concede. This particular confrontation and outburst began to clear the air and produced some immediate results. John and Angeline were slowly learning more clearly how to appropriate the spiritual gift of submission. This involved spiritual reflection, confession, contrition, and a letting go of self. It took both tears and time.

Confessions and issues of leadership Just prior to James White’s astonishing December 12 letter to Edward Andrews, he had apparently also sent a severe letter of personal rebuke to John Andrews that included a testimony from his wife. Apparently, James and Ellen had also talked about whether to make it public.53 Judging from the content of Andrews’s several replies, it seems that the pre-December 12 letter continued the complaints White had been making about John’s alleged cowardly lack of support of White in the organization problem. Andrews began his reply by acknowledging the receipt of James’s letter, with some hurt, and with the observation, “I hardly know what to reply. You must use your own judgement as to what is best whether to further publish the testimony or not. I wish you to do what you judge proper without any reference to any of us. I submit my own case entirely to yourself and Sister White. The Lord has placed you at the head of this work and He has given you the wisdom to know what should be done.”54

He then expressed his regret and his resolve to do his duty. “I wish to do all my duty however much it may cost me. I have every way failed to accomplish what I should have done and have no wish to excuse myself. I pray God to help me to see my faults and to do all my duty with reference to them.”55 Having completed this note of reply, but before he was able to send it, James’s letter to E. P. Butler replying to the alleged rent fraud and criticizing John’s marriage came into his hands to read. It apparently absolutely stunned him. In a footnote to his letter, he agonized that he felt trapped in the middle. “Perhaps few persons are placed in circumstances more deeply distressing than myself.”56 Nevertheless, he would “endeavor to faithfully discharge all my duty.” He would correct his leader, however, on one point. White had gotten it wrong when he alleged in his letter to Butler that Andrews had gone to work in Minnesota two years earlier without consultation or permission. Andrews cited correspondence between them on the matter to remind White that he had indeed consulted his leader. “I trust,” he wrote, that this would “relieve your mind a little toward me.”57 But lest he make too big a thing of this, he went on, “I would acknowledge with deep self-abasement and humiliation the recent vision of Sister White which was read to quite a full meeting [at Waukon] Wednesday evening last. It seems that there is indeed a very small chance for us to be saved; but if there is any chance I mean to improve it at the expense of everything.”58 This particular meeting apparently brought Angeline’s younger sister Paulina under conviction, and on January 27, she, too, penned a note of confession and apology to Ellen White. She regretted that she was not more helpful in Paris when the Whites felt obliged to set up housekeeping for themselves. “I should have been willing to let you have things to have assisted you in keeping house such as armchairs, looking glass,” she wrote.59 John still had not sent his letter of reply, and on January 30, he had time to add a further footnote. The reply had been “delayed,” he explained, “by

the various things that have continually occurred.” But he thought they were “making some progress. I can say that we are making very earnest efforts and I mean to spare no pains to do all my duty. . . . I am willing to see my faults and to confess them and I do see them more clearly.” He concluded saying he would write “more fully” later.60 Three days later, John put pen to paper again “to write further by way of confession.”61 Although it began by acknowledging that he had “been a grief to you each when I might have been to some extent a help,” the letter was specifically addressed to James, and it grappled with the deep estrangement that had developed between the two men. He had “grieved the Holy Spirit,” he knew, “though I think not willfully” but as a result of “darkness and blindness.” Sympathy for his “immediate friends” had been “one great cause of leading me into the dark,” he observed. Then he proceeded to describe, in a carefully worded statement, where he thought he had gone wrong and what he thought was the root of the difficulties between the two men. Andrews did not think he had any cause “to confess feelings of enmity” toward either of the Whites. “I believe that is not the case.” He acknowledged, though, that he had “lacked to some extent that living faith in the visions that God will alone accept.” He did not think he had “knowingly gone contrary to the testimony,” but he stated rather frankly that “they have seemed to be a source of terror and distress so that I could not make that use of them that is such a blessing to others.” He was acknowledging that they intimidated him. But the real problem between the two men, as Andrews saw things, was how to relate to the authority role and the strong autocratic manner that James seemed to exhibit in his leadership. This posed a theological dilemma for him. “My mind” has not been “so much in the dark in regard to them [the visions], I think as it has been to your own position and calling.” If he had “seen this years ago” as he now saw it, “in the light of the visions and especially of what has appeared in the Review for some

months past, it would have saved me from the years of anguish and trouble that have been mine,” he lamented. He had “never had any wish to take the power into my own hands but I did not see on what ground—especially in the light of the New Testament—your position was based.” He seems to have wondered why James did all the deciding. But he had now resolved the issue in his thinking. He now understood that James was “called to fill an apostolic office—and I have not one wish to weaken your hands. On the contrary I am willing to place myself under your direction and watch care and—if I have any further duty in this work—to serve with you as a son in the Gospel.”62 Clearly, Andrews was seeking to find a scriptural and theological framework within which to explain for himself and somehow legitimize what he perceived as the overbearing, authoritarian leadership style that James manifested. Such a framework would help him to adopt an attitude of appropriate submission for the good of the cause. If James was the apostle, he would simply obey. “I only ask you,” he requested contritely, “to consider my present blindness and stupidity and to state plainly—so that I shall not fail to understand—what you wish me to do. I will do the best in my powers to hold up your hands in the important post that you are called to fill in the work of God. Had I seen your true position I should have felt very different on the subject of organization. I feared—from some expressions in the Review—a very different system of organization from what has been adopted.” It seems he had feared they might create something after the pattern of the great iron wheel of Methodism.63 He did not wish to “justify himself in any wrong.” He now accepted, in the light of his reflections, that had he “stood in the light,” he would have been a help, “to some extent,” to James “and to the cause of God.” James’s allegations were, he concluded, “a cause of great distress to myself and of deep humiliation before God.” Still deeply emotionally distressed at the turmoil, he stated that he had tried to write “something for the Review,” but his mind was “too dark and confused to do this properly.” He had written the letter “only

for yourselves,” but conceded that if they wished to publish “all or any part of it,” they could do as they saw fit. He was “not unwilling to make satisfactory confession—and to do it in the Review” and in other papers, if needed, in every way that he should.64 On the same day that John wrote this painful letter of confession and apology to James, Angeline also put pen to paper to express her deep remorse about her past attitudes to Ellen and James. Angeline recalled a specific instance of her reluctance to be of help to Ellen White in Paris in 1850 that apparently gave offense. “I should not have refused to come and live with you for a season and rendered what assistance I could as you invited me to. This was a source of grief to you,” she recalled.65 These do not seem to be major issues. But in Paris at a time of stress, they loomed large. Her unwillingness to go and board with the Whites had given deep offense. There was also a follow-up confession.66 She acknowledged particularly the position she had “occupied relative to the visions” and lamented, “O, why have I stood out in rebellion against them as I have?” There were times when she thought she “did accept the reproofs as from the Lord” and made “some effort to get right,” but she now knew she had to make a more “thorough” work. “I humbly and heartily bow to the testimonies received, believing them to be from the Lord,” she confessed. She would have preferred to talk to them both, but writing would have to suffice. “I am heartily sorry for everything wherein I have acted contrary to your counsel and caused you grief,” she wrote, expressing her distress “for the heavy burdens you have borne on my account and others of us at Paris.” Like her husband, Angeline acknowledged what we can see from today’s perspective as a difficult, intertwined problem. “I have never realized the responsible position of Brother White and how much he needed the support and sympathy of the friends of the cause as now.” She asserted that her influence against the visions had not been from a “multiplicity of words against them,” for she had been “very cautious how

I have spoken of them and never to my recollection have I written a word in the least prejudicial to them.” Her sin was that she had not “stood up for them and borne testimony in their favor.” Her “great trial” in regard to them was “not appreciating the position of Brother White,” but she felt her mind was “growing more and more clear on these points.” Slowly they were coming to terms with his apostleship, having to accept James’s autocratic leadership, rough edges included. Above all, she wanted to put things right because she wanted “to go with you to the promised inheritance.”67 In a postscript Angeline noted that “Mother Andrews” was also planning to write. If John’s mother, Sarah Andrews, ever wrote a confession, there appears to be no record of it. But four months later, Angeline’s widowed mother, fifty-nine-year-old Almyra Stevens, wrote her confession. “I have realized but little what it is to be truly a follower of Christ, and have passed lightly over messages which have been sent for our correction, without praying as I should to see my sins as they were. I think I am now trying in earnest to work out my salvation by confessing all my faults as I see them, and also by overcoming and forsaking them. . . . I do thank the Lord for the strait testimonies that he has sent us through Sister White.”68 By the time his mother-in-law’s confession appeared in the Review, John Andrews was on his way to New York with the intention of joining in evangelistic campaigns in Rochester and Adams Center with M. E. Cornell, the preacher whom James White thought of as the model of “plain testimony.” Was he looking for a new mentor? Angeline records in her diary that he left at 3:00 A.M. on Monday, June 9, and she offered a prayer for guidance.69 “It is my earnest desire that God’s hand may guide him and that his heart may be greatly cheered by the blessing of the Lord.” It would be another nine long, lonely months before she would see him again. If Andrews had hoped as he left Waukon that summer that the Paris shadow had given way to sunshine, he was to be disappointed. The abject

humiliation and the confessions of January and February did not achieve their purpose. In fact, it seems they may have aggravated things, and the worsened relationship appears to have shattered his confidence completely. Tensions with James White over organization persisted.

More confessions Andrews took time to stop off in Battle Creek on his way to New York, apparently in a state of uncertainty, waiting for Cornell to appear. He did not have to wait long. Within a week or so, he was in Rochester. As he explained later to White, however, “Up to a few days before I came to Battle Creek I had not the slightest idea that either yourself or Sister White would ever advise or even countenance my going out to engage publicly in this work. My confidence in myself was so utterly gone that I had not the courage to introduce the matter to you though it would have been a great relief to have talked freely with you.” He had taken time while in town, however, to talk “at considerable length with Sister White.” James White apparently took offense at this slight and wrote to him of it in early October, apparently expressing himself that he was mystified by Andrews’s behavior and accusing him of being too proud to talk to him about the problems.70 Again, Andrews found himself defending against unwarranted assumptions. “I had no idea that my not talking over the trials of the past with you appeared to you in the light you now state,” he explained. “I will simply state that it was not because I was too proud to do it.” He asserted that had White understood Andrews’s “real state while there the mystery would not have existed.” He also related that while in Battle Creek he had “had one of the most serious attacks of disease” upon his head that he had had all summer. “Words can hardly express the terrible depression that it brought with it.” He assured James that “the feelings of my heart toward yourself and Sister White” were as those the biblical Ruth expressed to Naomi (Ruth 1:16, 17). Once in New York, Andrews and Cornell busied themselves through the

summer in tent missions in Rochester, Adams Center, and Palermo, and they found reasonable success in the decisions of forty or fifty new Sabbath keepers. The intense excitement and agitation over the North’s lack of progress in the war, with the prospect of conscription being imposed, however, made it difficult to hold their audiences, and eventually the local brethren recommended they give up. (On occasion their tent had been requisitioned by town fathers for evening community meetings to discuss pressing war issues.)71 As summer turned into fall, Cornell was reassigned to Iowa for meetings, and the New York brethren requested Andrews to stay on in the state to further prepare the ground for the establishing of a state conference for New York. They authorized Andrews to issue a call for a meeting to implement the organization. There was now a strong sentiment to move forward.72 However, before Andrews had an opportunity to set the date and issue the call for the meeting, the next Review carried another heated editorial from James White on the poor progress on organization. He wanted it understood again that he was “done going the rounds in the present state of things.” Michigan was organizing itself quite well, and he was happy to stay there. Again, he protested publicly and pointedly about ministers who, “when the battle was going hard, drew back, and kept silent.” These men were, in fact, worse than those who had openly opposed the idea, he fumed. It was not enough for them just to confess. Shaping his metaphor to reflect the recent dramatic and alarming news from the war front in the South, he asserted that they needed to “put the armor on, and rush to the field of action, and save the sinking cause as far as possible.”73 Again, very pointedly, but without this time mentioning names, White publicly singled out for criticism one preacher who had had “more influence with our people than any other man, because of his talent and mildness. His silence alone, under such circumstances was an insupportable blow on the heads of those who stood with a minority in favor of organization.” If this was referring to John Andrews, it is a clear

indication that despite Andrews’s confession and apology, White still felt angry and badly betrayed. He had expected much more.74 Andrews was already deeply involved in rolling out the process of implementing organization in New York, and two weeks later he let Review readers know that they were making progress “where it has so long been hindered.” Again, he apologized publicly for the failure he had been accused of. “We are trying to rise by confessing our own faults, and seeking pardon for the same.” Then he publicly invited the Whites to attend the conference and reiterated, “I do feel that my heart is strongly united to yours, and I desire to hold up your hands in the great work in which you are engaged.” He also apologized to readers for “his silence in the Review.”75 He related that he had not been able to write at all because while his “general health” was good, his head was giving him serious trouble. His stress levels had skyrocketed. “The difficulty in my head is such that it appears to me nearly certain that I shall be compelled, at least for a season, to desist from mental labor. I do not now see any alternative.” He could cope with speaking in meetings, although it gave him pain that was “very unpleasant indeed but not so serious as that of writing.” He sought the prayers and counsel of friends of truth.76 In an intense series of meetings that Andrews chaired over the weekend of September 27 and 28, 1862, delegates from all across New York approved the admission of seventeen churches into a new conference structure. Despite Andrews’s ill health, he and five other colleagues put in a Saturday all-nighter “until sun-rising” on Sunday morning to work out a constitution for the new entity.77 The next day officers were appointed, and a recommendation was made that Andrews, who was not an officer (probably because his home was in Iowa), relocate to New York State with his family and make that region his field of labor. This was something that he would take up with Angeline. He did. In her diary in mid-November, Angeline noted that after an absence of five months from John, she was “willing to start with my baby alone to meet him in New York,” and she

had sent a letter to inform him.78 On November 9, Ellen White, writing from Monterey in Michigan, began another letter to John with the familiar words, “It becomes my duty to write to you.” The immediate purpose of this particular letter seems to have been to explain that it was not her duty to go to New York as requested by the New York brethren, but that the present field of labor for her and James must be Michigan. Then the lengthy letter, which Ellen reported as being based on a Sunday night vision four days previously, warmly commended John on his work in New York. “I saw that God has accepted your efforts. Your testimony in New York has been acceptable to Him. I saw that the Lord pities you and is willing to make you free.” Then after discussing the faults of several other individuals, the burden of the latter part of the letter talked bluntly of the wrongfulness of John’s past equivocation on the nature and authority of the visions, and she advised him that if he should “cease studying and exercising the mind and trust fully in God,” he would find the help he needed. His scholarly mind, it seems, was preventing a full exercise of faith. He should not “dwell upon the dark side” but try and “forget everything that would bring gloom upon the mind.” She ended affirmatively. Because he had been “striving” with all his might to remove wrongs and get to the light, “God accepts your efforts and will let His Holy Spirit rest upon you.”79 It was a letter he never received. Ellen White had sent the letter to Uriah Smith in Battle Creek, with a request that Harriet make a copy to send to Waukon and a copy to John “when you learn where he is.” If a copy was made, it never caught up with him.80 In the meantime, he was in serious dialogue with Angeline about her willingness to move to New York State. She would have read in the Review the request of the New York brethren in mid-September that he bring his family to New York to work.81 At the beginning of December, Angeline noted in her diary that she had received a letter from John saying that he was “in great trial of mind about returning home.” “The brethren

are urgent that he should send for me,” she noted, “and that he make that state his field of labor.” This now confirmed the earlier recommendation of the New York brethren, but “the matter of my going he submits to us as a whole. He desires much that I should be with him, yet leaves it with us to decide.” Angeline had already resolved in her mind that that was what she must do. “I have written him that I would come with my baby,” and she was thinking it best that she leave Mellie (Charles) with her folks in Waukon.82 Two days later, she reflected again after a visit to her mother’s home: “I feel sad in view of leaving home and home friends, especially our dear mother and Mellie. I desire if it is not right that God would in his kind providence hedge up the way.” She also noted in this December entry that her husband’s summer preaching partner, Merritt Cornell, was in town to conduct meetings. This was actually Cornell’s second visit, and his purpose this time was to try and completely dispel forever the dark cloud from Paris that still hung over Waukon. His visit proved problematic, but the episode gives helpful insight into the charismatic features of early Adventist worship. Merritt Cornell reported to Review readers after his first visit to Waukon in early November 1862, that he had given two discourses, one on spiritual gifts and one on unity in the church. Some confessions had been made after his sermons, and there was an awareness that the church had been absorbed by the cares of life rather than keeping its focus on the imminence of the Advent. He would have continued the meetings longer but, ironically, the urgent need to gather crops and prepare for winter needed to be attended to first, no matter how much he stressed the imminence of the end. He decided to return later, pleased with the first visit and looking forward to the next. “There will yet good come out of Waukon,” he observed, alluding to the famous aphorism about Nazareth. According to Angeline’s diary, Cornell returned on December 4, and a

series of meetings followed. At a Tuesday evening meeting of the church, “the cases of father Andrews and father Butler were considered.” Then on Friday another night meeting was called, particularly on father Andrews’s account, at which he “stated some of the reasons he had not fully gone with the visions [of Ellen White]. I think his mind was helped by some remarks from Bro. Cornell and others. He then took a stand fully upon the visions as being of the Lord.”83 This was a highly dramatic series of meetings that seem to have been stoked to fever pitch by Cornell’s style of plain speaking. We learn more about the highly unusual circumstances from a strongly worded letter Ellen White wrote to Cornell in late January, a copy of which was apparently sent to Andrews. We learn even more from a letter from George Butler written six weeks later to explain to his friend, John Andrews, the background to Ellen White’s January letter.84 According to Butler, who was present at Cornell’s meetings, those gathered for the meeting reflected on some comments (based on a vision) that Ellen White had made about “some of those from Maine.” They understood the vision to have predicted that they would have to feel as bad and as terrified of hell as Thomas Mead had felt on his deathbed.85 How should that happen? It was thought that the prophetic utterance had not yet been fulfilled “as fully as it would have to be.” With levels of conviction and guilt running high, participants became very fearful. Butler’s two sisters collapsed on the floor in “great agony” and in emotional distress and started confessing. Butler’s later reflection was that the confession was too thorough and covered “every little thing which probably needed not to have come into such a confession.” But at the time, it was thought that this must be of God. At the next meeting, the two women, feeling a burden for others, expressed great fears for the Stevens family and fell on the floor again, in severe distress for several hours. Cornell was asked to pray that the burden might lift from the Butler sisters and go where it belonged—on the Stevens women. And the burden did move. Soon others were “burdened” with

guilt, and then Paulina, Angeline’s younger sister, collapsed on the floor under the strain, and then after the distress passed, she found herself “burdened” with messages of rebuke and encouragement for her relatives and friends in the room and began to go around speaking to each one.86 According to Butler, this was “kept up all night and I should say many seemed [to] have great blessings.” Butler’s own sister Vernelia also had pointed messages for the little group.87 At the next meeting a day or two later, however, Butler’s sister Vernelia and Andrews’s sister-in-law Paulina, still under conviction and feeling hyper-spiritual, began to give strange, conflicting messages. Paulina asserted that John Andrews must come back to Waukon to work and that his brother William and his wife should leave for a while, making them feel as if there was no hope for them. Crushing things were said against father Butler. Then mother Stevens became involved. Then gradually, the religious excesses exposed themselves as being just that—hyper-spiritual excesses. “The spirit was rebuked by Bro. Cornell,” Butler related, and “our eyes began to open.” Did Cornell eventually see that there might be a downside to “plain speaking” when it induced too much guilt? Looking back on the episode in late January, Butler admitted that “it seems as if we were in Bedlam,” although, at the time, he acknowledged he “was perfectly carried away, as Abbey [another church leader], Bro. Cornell and all.”88 Responding to Cornell’s mid-episode, “under the influence” letter, Ellen White seems to have feared that John Andrews might take the message from Paulina seriously. She asserted firmly in strong opposition to Paulina’s message that John Andrews should not go back to Waukon by any means. He needed to “cut loose from that farm entirely.” She had no confidence in the counsel from Waukon, and it was “not safe for them to trust their own judgment.” They needed to “be led by the judgment of others who have been true to the cause.”89 Had not the Paris people “learned enough of fanaticism yet”? she asked. Their experience had taken them “first into the fire, next into the water, now again into the fires.” Her

soul was “sick and discouraged” at the news of these exercises in Iowa.90 For his part, George Butler learned from the experience “a lesson he would never forget.” But he was also glad that Edward Andrews had at last seen the light and realized that such charismatic experiences, though they might carry some evidence of sincere spiritual passion, were not reliable. This was a breakthrough, for in times past Edward had received such burdens and visions himself. Father Andrews wrote a confession and an apology to the Whites that he sent to the Review, which Butler had read through for him to give him feedback before he sent it.91 Three months later Edward related to John and Angeline that he now saw that the Paris experience had been “a master plot” that the evil one had intended to “cripple the Advent work,” and he lamented that he had had so “little discernment” despite his previous experience of nearly twenty years in the Methodist church. “Could I have believed what Sister White told me that the visions at Paris [his own visions] were all of or from the enemy it would have saved me a great amount of sorrow and deep regret.” He was determined to struggle on, however, and “become fully free in the Lord.”92 George Butler was also able to say that John’s father was “the freest I have seen him for some time.”93 In the meantime, Angeline had packed her belongings and, with children in tow, had gone to join her husband in New York State. The shadow of Paris was lifting—at least for a while. And John Andrews was about to begin a new phase of ministry.

1. “Western Tour,” RH, Apr. 12, 1860, 164. 2. EGW mentions this in her letter to Harriet Smith, June 1860, EGWE-GC. 3. The letters all began with reference to the vision at Knoxville four months previously and were sent to JHW, JNL, MEC, and JNA. 4. AAD, May 12, 24; June 27, 186, LLUHRC. 5. EGW to HNS, June 1860, EGWE-GC. The day on which the letter was written is not specified. 6. Ron Graybill, “The Family Man,” in J. N. Andrews, the Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 25. 7. EGW to J. B. Frisbie, June 17, 1860, EGWE-GC.

8. Ibid. Was she thinking of Smith’s lack of judgment in allowing Cottrell’s articles to be published in the Review? 9. Ibid. 10. EGW to JW, Sept. 2, 1871, EGWE-GC. 11. “To Brother J. N. Andrews and Sister H. N. Smith,” June 1860, CAR. The forty-page printed pamphlet is undated but it indicates that it was circulated shortly after the June 10 council meeting. How long after the sending of the personal copies of the letters is not clear. Letters from 1854, 1855, and 1857 were appended. 12. EGW to JNA, June 11, 1860, EGWE-GC. 13. By “insanity,” EGW probably means what she also meant for her own husband—the possibility of a mental or emotional breakdown. 14. EGW, L&M (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 606, 870. 15. AAD, July 20, 1860, LLUHRC. 16. AAD, July 28, 1860, LLUHRC. 17. Her signature is listed along with others at the back of Spiritual Gifts, vol. 2, verifying that they had “never known them [the Whites] to be in the least infected with the spirit of works of fanaticism” and that the account of fanaticism in Maine (49–65) was “a fair statement.” Seven other members of her extended family in Waukon also signed, although how her father’s name (Cyprian) came to be included in the list is troubling. He had died two years earlier in 1858. See 301, 302. 18. AAD, Aug. 28, 1860, LLUHRC. 19. EGW to JNA, Nov. 9, 1862. This was a letter that Andrews apparently never received. See EGW to JNA, Jan. 1863, EGWE-GC. Ministers had reported to Ellen White that Andrews, on occasion, would talk in confidence with them about his theological struggles and perplexities (“unwisely,” as Ellen White observed) as they traveled together. For Andrews, it was not simply a matter that some testimonies were cutting and harsh and hurt. There were serious theological conundrums and difficult passages of Scripture he could not make fit. He was also aware of other paranormal phenomena common in the era that suggested that simple foretelling of the future was not necessarily a sign of divine authenticity. Ellen White had heard that John Andrews would refer to the phenomenon as something of “a profound mystery,” and she did not like the idea of mystery. For her, it was simple and clear: it was either of God or of the devil. As Theodore Levterov observes, it was not until 1883 that Ellen White was faced with the need for revisions to some of her early writings in the face of criticism over “suppression” and abbreviating out problem passages and expressions in her writings. At that time, Ellen White found it useful to speak of the “mysteries of the Bible” and of Inspiration. See Theodore Levterov, Accepting Ellen White: Early Seventh-day Adventists and the Gift of Prophecy Dilemma (Nampa, ID: Pacific Press®, 2016), 75–78. 20. For example, in June 1859, Ellen White had been sick and severely depressed for several weeks, and she thought she “must lie down in the grave” and had “no desire to live.” On Thursday night, June 9, at midnight she suffered a fainting collapse, and John Andrews, with John Loughborough, were hastily called up to Ellen White’s bedroom to have prayer for her. At the end of the prayer season, Loughborough describes how she suddenly went into a rigid visionary trance for twelve minutes, sitting up diagonally in bed. JNLD, June 9, 1859, CAR. See also EGW, L&M, 633. 21. There is evidence that dreams, visions, and prophetic utterances of the kind described in

1 Corinthians were part of the experience of the North Paris community in the post-1844 period. Edward Andrews acknowledged having experienced such phenomena himself and reports that some at Paris still experienced them. “I fear that the spirit that gave those visions may still be resting on Sister Stowell and perhaps on her husband also,” he commented in his own later confession. Edward Andrews to “My Dear Children,” Mar. 1, 1863, CAR. The phenomena manifested itself again in the Waukon community in the winter of 1862. GIB to JNA, Jan. 26, 1863, CAR. In 1862, Edward Andrews eventually came to view these local charismatic experiences as not helpful to himself or to the church. 22. These were passages of Scripture used in explanation and in defense of plain speaking as opposed to “smooth testimony.” See “Pointed Testimony,” RH, July 30, 1860, 84. 23. Harvard University scholar David Holland argues that Adventist use of the terms “testimonies” or “visions” and the avoidance of the term “revelations” was an intentional rhetorical choice that helped maintain a crucial distance from Mormons and Shakers and enabled Adventism to maintain its position on the final authority of the biblical canon. “More than any other homegrown American religion, Seventh-day Adventists straddled the canonical borderland.” David Holland, Sacred Borders: Continuing Revelation and Canonical Restraint in Early America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 164, 165. 24. EGW to JNA, Nov. 9, 1862, EGWE-GC. 25. EGW to Cyrenius Smith and Louisa Smith, July 9, 1859, EGWE-GC. Ellen had visited the Smiths, at their request, in order to explain the meaning of a particular vision letter she had sent to them. How did the letter relate to their circumstances was their question. As she thought about the visit afterward, she realized that trying to explain the vision somehow “explained much of the force of the vision away,” and she resolved not to do this again. “It is the last time I shall undertake such business.” She determined that it was not her role to explain what was meant in order that it could be believed. “It is my duty to put the matter in as clear a light as possible before you and the work of making you believe it belongs to another.” See also EGW, L&M, 683, 684. 26. EGW to John Byington, July 1859, EGWE-GC. There had not been what Ellen White considered an adequate response to her messages about Laodicean lukewarmness. She began, therefore, to copy testimonies addressed to individuals and then send those copies to a wider circle of readers in order to make believers spiritually accountable to each other. This was a deliberate strategy to increase the impact and influence of the testimonies. 27. David Holland writes, “What is remarkable, in the midst of so many conflicting factors, is not that Ellen White’s prophetic role has proved so perplexing, but that she managed to define it and maintain it as well as she did. She took up residence on the canonical borderland and resolutely stayed there the rest of her life.” Holland, Sacred Borders, 168. 28. Numerous New Testament passages address the need for the discipline of submission. See Hebrews 13:17; 1 Corinthians 16:16; Ephesians 5:21; 1 Peter 2:13; and 5:5. 29. The battle in one savage day of fighting claimed 4,870 casualties. Union forces suffered 847 killed and 2,436 wounded or missing, while Confederate forces lost 387 killed and 1,587 wounded. 30. In a letter home to the family in Battle Creek, Ellen reported that she and James were each having two very difficult and painful cavities repaired “close to the gum.” They read of the shocking “war news” in newspapers given to them to read while they waited. EGW to “Friends at

Home,” July 26, 1861, EGWE-GC. 31. “The Cause,” RH, July 23, 1861, 60. 32. Ibid. Like James did himself was the implication of his claim. 33. Ibid. In the nation’s capital in this same week, General Irwin McDowell was blamed for the Union’s defeat, and on July 26, President Lincoln called someone who was perceived as a stronger general—George McClellan—to head up the newly created Army of the Potomac. Leadership issues were very much on the nation’s mind. The nation’s need for good order in the present war crisis was seen as an illustration of the church’s need for good order—a point that Rufus Baker made in his Review article in October. “Necessity of Church Order,” RH, Oct. 1, 1861, 142. 34. “The Cause,” RH, July 23, 1861, 60. Astute readers would have seen that he was clearly criticizing at least Andrews and Loughborough by his explicit reference to “despised reproof” and that such ministers, when they fail, are “turning to some trade, or to the cultivation of the soil.” Both Cornell and Andrews were, at the time, working together on a six-week-long evangelistic series in upstate New York, and the public comparison must have been uncomfortable for both. See “Tent Meeting at Adam’s Center, N. Y.,” RH, Aug. 19, 1861, 93. 35. “Organization,” RH, Aug. 27, 1861, 100. 36. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Sept. 3, 1861, 108. 37. “Slavery and the War,” RH, Aug. 27, 1861, 100–102. 38. “Letter from Bro. Cottrell,” RH, Oct. 8, 1861, 151. Others also explained that they were waiting for those appointed to prepare a proposal and that their silence should not be taken as opposition to him. “You will never find me holding back and setting my judgement against yours,” wrote Isaac Sanborn from Wisconsin. RH, Oct. 15, 1861, 160. Hiram Edson wrote, saying, “I have felt no risings against organization from its first suggestion among us. . . . Perhaps I ought to have spoken more publicly. . . . If I have erred here, pardon.” He would cast his “mite” onto the scale if it would help. RH, Oct. 22, 1861, 167. 39. “Appointments,” RH, Oct. 22, 1861, 168. 40. “The Cause,” RH, Oct. 29, 1861, 172. 41. “Confession,” RH, Dec. 3, 1861, 7. 42. “Confession,” RH, Dec. 17, 1861, 22. 43. Ibid. 44. EGW to Mary Loughborough, June 17, 1861, EGWE-GC. In her letter to Mary Loughborough passing on this news about Waukon, Ellen White said that she had expected as much and complained again that John Andrews was not as “open as he should be. He lacks frankness.” She felt he was keeping his thoughts to himself too much. 45. JW to E. P. Butler, Dec. 12, 1861, EGWE-GC. Butler had become a believer in the visions back in 1853, although his theology at times was rather eccentric. EGW, L&M, 800, 801. Sorting out the problem added a level of complication to the intertwined relationships between the families. About the time Butler received the letter written by James on December 12, Ezra Butler’s daughter Martha married Edward Andrews’s younger son William. Angeline’s diary says that they were married on December 18 in a quiet wedding, apparently only attended by six people—perhaps at the courthouse. A lawyer performed the ceremony. One wonders why it occurred in this way. 46. This would support the idea that the resurrection of the episode may have been as some

retaliation, perhaps for the attack White was perceived to have made on the older son of Edward and Sarah Andrews through the Review. 47. JW to E. P. Butler, Dec. 12, 1861, EGWE-GC. 48. John Andrews later pushed back, challenging James White on this point. JNA to JW, Jan. 12, 1862, EGWE-GC. 49. The episode came up repeatedly when things went through rough patches. 50. JW to E. P. Butler, Dec. 12, 1861, EGWE-GC. 51. Whether he suggests that Andrews should have married someone else or at another time and place is not clear. 52. Ibid. The word may be “travels” or “travails.” “Travails” seems to fit the context better. 53. The particular testimony is not identified, and it is unclear what document was being referred to. There are no testimony letters to the Andrews or the Waukon clan, now extant, written immediately prior to this date. It may have been destroyed, lost, or perhaps written earlier but sent later, as was Ellen White’s practice on occasion. 54. There were economic consequences when testimonies about individuals were made public. Beginning in mid-1859 after the poor response to the Laodicean message, Ellen White had begun to circulate personal letters of rebuke more widely in order to ensure a greater likelihood of achieving a response by way of a positive change in attitude or behavior. She then began to use letters of the alphabet to disguise the identity of the people mentioned in her rebukes, but the disguises did not always work. When a minister was publicly rebuked, it would often cause church members to reduce their financial support for the minister, and Ellen White realized that this, too, could be a very helpful pressure point in bringing about a change in behavior. For example, at this time, Ellen White observed to Andrews that Frederick Wheeler had not responded to a vision given months earlier about the weaknesses of his wife and his perceived lack of support for organization, “but his greatest anxiety has been that it should not be made public lest it would affect the liberalities of his brethren towards him.” But until he changed, she insisted, “he and his family must suffer the consequences.” EGW to JNA, Nov. 9, 1862, EGWE-GC. 55. Ibid. 56. Angeline’s diary refers to several church meetings during this period, one of which involved “most of our folk” going to a meeting at “Bro. Butler’s.” Another was their “first covenant meeting,” followed two days later by “ordinances.” It seems that some sort of church organization or reorganization was taking place at this time. January 1862 was a troubling time for the church in Waukon. AAD Jan. 7, 9, 11, 22, 1862, LLUHRC. 57. JNA to JW, Jan. 12, 1862, EGWE-GC. 58. What this particular testimony was is unclear. It seems from Andrews’s reference about his being shamed and embarrassed by it, that it may have been either a personal testimony that was read publicly or a letter specifically to the Waukon church. Angeline mentions in her diary that on Wednesday night January 22, at a meeting of the church at Hazeltine’s home, “a communication from Sr. White—testimony to the church was read.” 59. P. R. Stevens to EGW, Jan. 27, 1862, EGWE-GC; EGW, L&M, 285. 60. JNA to “Dear Brother,” Jan. 12, 1862, EGWE-GC. The two postscripts were added a short time after Jan. 22 and on Jan. 30. Whether the progress was being made by himself, as in the royal “we,”

or whether it was the church at Waukon, is not clear. 61. JNA to JW, Feb. 2, 1862, EGWE-GC. 62. Ibid. 63. Andrews’s Episcopalian Methodist church had been critiqued heavily by some of its clergy because of its despotic tendencies, and there was much community debate at the time about the rigidity of the “Great Iron Wheel of Methodism,” which had become an expression of dissent. See, for example, H. B. Bascom and J. R. Graves, The Little Iron Wheel: A Declaration of Christian Rights and Articles Showing the Despotism of Episcopalian Methodism (Nashville, TN: South Western Publishing House, 1856), iv. 64. JNA to JW, Feb. 2, 1862, EGWE-GC. 65. ASA to “Dear Bro. & Sis. White,” Jan. 30, 1862, EGWEDC. The handwritten letter in the White Estate appears tearstained. Angeline added, “My mind is confused and greatly embarrassed by what I have written and I fear will hardly be intelligible,” she lamented. “I take all the burden of blame upon myself.” 66. “I have been thinking that I must write again.” ASA to “Brother and Sister White,” Feb. 2, 1862, EGWE-GC. 67. Ibid. 68. “From Sister Stevens,” RH, July 29, 1862, 71. 69. The announcement of Andrews’s intention and plan was notified to Cornell in the Review. See “To M. E. Cornell,” RH, June 10, 1862, 62. Cornell had lost his voice in trying to care for the Ohio tent alone and was happy to join Andrews in New York. See “Tent Meeting in Wakeman, Huron Co., Ohio,” RH, June 24, 1862, 28. 70. James White’s letter, which, Andrews notes, was written on Oct. 13, is not extant. 71. “Tent Meeting at Adam’s Center, N. Y.,” RH, Aug. 19, 1862, 93; “Tent Meeting at Fairport, N. Y.,” Sept. 16, 1862, 125. Cornell reports that he gave his plain “testimony” against pride, which offended one of the local Protestant ministers, but which, in his view, bore good fruit. “Several have laid off their gold, &c.” 72. “Doings of the Brethren in Western N. Y.,” RH, Sept. 23, 1862, 136. 73. “Organization,” RH, Sept. 30, 1862, 140. Recent issues of the Review had reported extensively on the repeated setbacks the Northern forces were experiencing, and heavy debate had broken out in the columns of the magazine as to how Adventists should respond to the draft. There was uncertainty and anxiety about how to keep the Sabbath in the army if young men were drafted, and whether they should be combatants if forced to join up. The church was desperately seeking to establish what their position on such issues should be. 74. Ibid. It seems unlikely that Cottrell is being referred to because he had been a direct opponent, although several weeks later he publicly asserted in the Review that he, too, had been misunderstood and misrepresented and had not been anti-organization. It may have been Frederick Wheeler, but he seems not to have been one who “had more influence than any other man.” See also “Self Deception,” RH, Oct. 14, 1862, 156. 75. “Organization,” RH, Sept. 30, 1862, 140. This comment would seem to confirm that Andrews took White’s biting criticism to apply to himself. “The Cause in New York,” RH, Oct. 14, 1862, 158.

76. “Organization,” RH, Sept. 30, 1862, 140. 77. “Doings of the N. Y. Conference,” RH, Dec. 4, 1862, 182. 78. AAD, Nov. 10, 1862, LLUHRC. 79. EGW to JNA, Nov. 9, 1862, EGWE-GC. 80. EGW to JNA, Ltr 16, Jan. 1863. Ellen White records his not receiving the letter and gives a two-paragraph summary of it. 81. “Doings of the Brethren in Western N. Y.,” RH, Sept. 23, 1862, 136. 82. AAD, Nov. 10; Dec. 2, 1862, LLUHRC. Mellie was a nickname, short for his second name, Melville. 83. AAD, Dec. 4, 11, 12, 1862, LLUHRC. 84. Butler’s letter was written to Andrews, thinking it was necessary in order to help him understand both the severe rhetoric in Ellen White’s letter to Cornell and the content of a letter she had written to Andrews. Butler wanted to inform Andrews on the details of the fanaticism that had broken out in Waukon that winter, lest he be too startled when he read Ellen White’s letter. According to Butler, Ellen White’s letter to Cornell had been prompted by a letter Cornell had written to his wife back in Battle Creek, in the midst of the meetings (“while he was under the influence” of the fanaticism, according to Butler). Angeline Cornell was requested to read her husband’s letter to Ellen White. Butler’s explanation to Andrews was “to make you understand” Ellen White’s “communication.” EGW to MEC, Jan. 20, 1863, EGWE-GC; GIB to JNA, Jan. 26, 1863, CAR. See also EGW to JNA, Nov. 9, 1862, EGWE-GC (not received by Andrews) and EGW to JNA, Ltr 16, Jan. 1862, EGWE-GC. 85. If the surname is “Mead” (it is uncertain in the handwritten text), it may be referring to thirtythree-year-old Thomas Mead, who had died of tuberculosis at two on a Sabbath morning in July with several church members gathered around his bedside. It seems to have been a distressingly unpleasant scene. It was understood that Mead had lacked any hope or Christian assurance. GIB to JNA, Jan. 26, 1863, CAR. 86. According to Butler, Paulina was in great distress, “seemed to feel that she was in Hell,” in fulfillment of one of Ellen White’s visions. GIB to JNA, Jan. 26, 1863, CAR. 87. Butler reported that Vernelia “had messages for nearly everyone in the room, pointed out their faults and hit exactly in very many cases. . . . Oh we thought it was a blessed time.” Ibid. 88. Ibid. 89. EGW to MEC, Jan. 20, 1863, EGWE-GC. 90. Ibid. 91. Edward Andrews to “Brother and Sister White,” Jan. 25, 1863, EGWE-GC. Andrews acknowledges that part of the difficulty was that there had been “burthens [sic] and visions that were among the children and grown persons at Paris,” and that these also seemed “from the Lord.” Although the original letter in the White Estate has the notation “copy excerpts” written on it, the letter does not seem to have been published. 92. Edward Andrews to “My Dear Children,” Mar. 1, 1863, CAR. 93. GIB to JNA, Jan. 26, 1862, EGWE-GC.

Chapter Ten

Moving Out from the Shadow of Paris: 1863–1864

J

ohn Andrews had been away from his family in Waukon for five

months already by the end of October 1862, when he chaired the organizational meeting of the New York Conference in Roosevelt, New York. He led the committee that drew up the new conference constitution. In spite of health badly impaired by malaria and a chest complaint, he had engaged as best as he could in summer tent evangelism and had pressed himself into local church and member visitation. His advocacy of the need to organize had helped turn the tide in its favor.1 Andrews was not elected president of the new sisterhood of churches, for his health was too uncertain and his home was still in Iowa. Nevertheless, the brethren issued him credentials, appointed him to their executive committee, undertook to support him, and formalized their invitation for him “to remove his family [to come] among us.” They deemed “the labors of Bro. J. N. Andrews necessary to the good of the cause of present truth” in their state, and if it would “appear to be duty” for him, they urged him to labor in central New York.2 Just where that should be they were not quite sure. This indecision was to create confusion, uncertainty, and added stress for his family. But in spite of the uncertainty, these two years witnessed Andrews’s involvement in major developments within Adventism. We see him playing a significant role in moving the church toward health reform and in helping the church find resolution to its uncertainty over military conscription during the Civil War. We also find him determining just

where to base his future ministry. As Angeline’s diary indicates, her husband was torn between duty to his sense of mission, his colleagues, and the needs of the cause and the duty to care more for his family. “He seems to be in great trial of mind about returning home,” she noted in early December, after having received a number of letters from him.3 Sorting out how to prioritize his duties was not easy in these circumstances. Honoring a mortgage and commitments to relatives was also Christian duty. Willing to move herself and take the children with her, Angeline had prayed that “if it is not right, that God would in his kind providence hedge up the way.”4 In spite of the wintry cold, she dutifully packed her trunk and waited apprehensively for further guidance. Christmas came and went, and John had remained in New York, kept by his keen sense of duty to tend the pastoral needs of the churches. Six weeks later, in early February, the way still “seemed all hedged up,” and Angeline recorded in her diary that her mind had “been in great suspense.” Then finally she received word from her husband to join him, and with her two children in tow, she left for the east on Tuesday, February 10. “It is hard parting with dear friends,” she noted on the day John’s brother William and her sister Nettie took her to catch the ferry and then the train on the east side of the Mississippi. She was never to see Waukon again. What had cleared the way? A strong nudge from Ellen White clarified the issue and helped resolve John’s conflicted sense of duty. Sometime in January, in a short letter that recapitulated the essence of a much longer earlier letter that had gone missing, perhaps lost in the mail, Ellen White urged three things on Andrews, two of which he had already resolved to do. “I saw that if you labor in this cause,” she wrote to her colleague in January, “it is your duty to cut loose from your farm in Waukon, [and] that as it now stands it was not the duty of the church to help you while you are fastened to that place.” She added, “Their means might just as well be buried as to go in that direction.” It would be better

for him to be in a position where the churches could pay his salary and “know where it goes and have the satisfaction of its doing some good.”5 Andrews himself had helped establish within the New York Conference’s policy framework just such a new system of central funding for financing ministerial salaries, and the conference was now pleading with him right then to accept a regularly funded position with them.6 Reiterating counsel she had written him two months earlier, but which he had not seen, she urged him to cut ties with Waukon and also his financial ties with his uncles. Rather than feeling dependent on them and putting himself out to “scringe or cripple to please them,” he should “be God’s free man,” she counseled. It was time for him to “maintain a spirit of noble independence.”7 He would have to walk away from his mortgages. In response, and in spite of not knowing just where they would be required to live, Andrews had sent word for Angeline to come and instructed her to head for Rochester. The opportunity for the little family to stop over in Battle Creek en route provided several bonuses. Charles (five years old) and Mary (seventeen months) were able to meet their eighteen-month-old Smith cousin, Wilton, for the first time, and Angeline was able to catch up with her sister Harriet.8 More significantly, Angeline was able to further mend fences with Ellen White. The Whites had been invited for Sunday evening supper at the Smiths, and afterward, Harriet and Angeline walked home with Ellen to make a short call. “She showed me all over the house,” Angeline recalled. “I esteemed it a great privilege to see them once more. I had some talk with Sr. White concerning the past with considerable satisfaction.” Was this a reconciliation? “They both approve of my going to York State,” she noted with some relief.9 Somehow, her children were strong enough to avoid catching the highly contagious diphtheria, which had been devastating the country and which only a week before had laid low two of the White’s own children for more than a week and which Ellen and James had effectively treated with Dr. James Caleb Jackson’s innovative new

“water cure” approach.10 The arrival of the trio of travelers in Rochester at 6:00

A.M.

on a frigid,

mid-February Tuesday morning, after an eighteen-hour railway journey, had unfortunately been miscued. Husband John and his local church host had been waiting at the station, but, “strange to tell,” had somehow not seen his wife and children alight and thus had returned home disappointed. Angeline and her two little ones, after waiting two hours, caught a cab to take herself to the home where her husband was staying. The embrace, warm though it was after the couple had been apart for so long, had to be restrained, for John, too, was “just recovering from the diphtheria.” For little Mary, it was all too much. She became “afraid of everyone,” didn’t know the strange man who embraced her mother, and even after three days was still was not “willing to sit with her father.” The first Sabbath in Rochester, Angeline noted with satisfaction that she had not “been in meeting with my husband for eight or nine months.” But as a sign of things to come, for the next twelve weeks she would not have another chance to sit beside her itinerant preacher husband in church. John had a preaching appointment out of town the last weekend in February, and then on the first Friday in March he left for Kirkville, New York, a hundred miles to the east, for an evangelistic series. Two days previously the couple had received a letter from James White advising that they not settle in Rochester but that they make their home in Kirkville or in some other location away from Rochester, perhaps at Adams Center even farther north. “We have been much perplexed about fixing upon a location,” observed Angeline. But at least Andrews was with his wife on the Friday morning before he left, when she had fourteen of her teeth extracted, the pain of which chloroform was unable to dull. Church members would have to care for her in the process of getting a denture fitted and paid for a week or two later. Balancing the needs of his family with the intense sense of duty to mission and the guilt he experienced if he did not respond would

present an ongoing challenge for Andrews. For the next two months, Angeline and her two small children would move ten times, from family to family, around Rochester and two other nearby towns while they lived out of one of their trunks.11 In the meantime, “the brethren” located a house in Kirkville, which they were prepared to purchase, and John informed Angeline. “I am pleased at the thought of having a home and settling down with our little ones,” she noted in her diary on April 23. Five days later, with her trunks packed again and children in tow, she caught the train for Kirkville via Syracuse, where church elders met her, and the next day they showed her the new house she had hopes of turning into a domestic retreat for her husband. The home was “of an ordinary cast yet very good I understand, having been recently fixed up.” Best of all, the place had “an excellent garden containing quite a variety of fruit.”12 John arrived back in Kirkville later that same Wednesday “a good deal tired out,” but it was not until Friday that they were able to move in. By that time, five-year-old Mellie (Charles) had become seriously ill. He had contracted scarlet fever the day before they left Rochester and had since become considerably worse. Angeline noted, “This P.M. John takes him in his arms and we settle ourselves in our home.” It was a bittersweet settling in. Baths, cool packs, and a battle to reduce high temperatures with wet sheets meant no sleep for the parents for the first three nights in the new house. But the battle was won. Over the next two weeks, as Mellie recovered, John and Angeline tried to keep out of the way of workmen who were wallpapering bedrooms, kitchen, and sitting room, and whitewashing the exterior. Then John was gone again, this time for eleven days to attend the General Conference session in Battle Creek. It was a parting that hurt. “I believe the Lord calls him to labor in his service and mean to cheerfully submit to the necessary separation,” she noted with anxious and painful resignation.13 Even the reunions were tinged with anxiety. When John failed to return from this trip as he had informed (sometime about the last Thursday of the

month), Angeline, who was now four or five months pregnant, waited hopefully that day and all of the next day and then retired to bed Friday evening “with a sad anxious heart.” Then about midnight, she was “awakened by his calling my name at our bedroom window. Oh how my heart leaped with joy at the sound of his dear voice,” she noted the following Sunday. But it was an exhausted return for John. The 1863 General Conference Session had been exceptionally wearing. John had been required to work intensively throughout the historic formative session and participate both in the related publishing and Michigan State Conference meetings, and he was totally depleted. He had stayed on several days after the session, working intensively with Uriah Smith on revisions and preparation of a detailed fiduciary document defending the ethics of James White and seeking to rebuild the confidence of church members in the elder’s business practices.14 Both Sabbath and Sunday, Angeline noted, her husband had scarcely been able to get out of bed. By Monday afternoon he was somewhat on the mend, seeming “more like himself,” and at 9:00 A.M. the next morning, was on his way again 150 miles to the west to begin his summer tent evangelism season in Allegheny County. The call of duty and the pace of work were relentless. How much time the children got to spend with their father during the visits home was scant. Family always came second. On the evening before John was to leave for Allegheny County, a church elder stopped by to talk business, even though it was known that the family would not see John for another ten or twelve weeks. Angeline courageously made the following entry in her diary: “It is a sacrifice to have him thus leave home. I miss him much, but it is for the Lord’s work and I will do it cheerfully.”15 But remaining cheerful was easier said than done. Four months after leaving Waukon, the boxes of personal possessions and household furniture arrived in Kirkville in John’s absence. The pregnant Angeline busied herself with the unpacking, noting that John’s

precious bookcase had been damaged. Feeling increasingly “down cast” after she heard John had gone down with “lung fever” and was living in a tent with very little care, she fell into despair. Pneumonia could easily be fatal when one was already in a run-down condition, and the dangerously high fever confined him to bed all the next week, and his colleagues worried for him. Sporadic news meant sleepless nights and days “of deep sadness and anxious suspense” for Angeline, until correspondence reported survival and the beginning of a slow recovery.16 The tent evangelism schedule took him next to Alfred Centre, a town “populated almost entirely by Seventh Day Baptists,” he reported to Review readers.17 The three-week campaign illustrates well the bold, assertive confidence of the scholar-evangelist. There were no other denominations in the city, and the location was the seat of the Seventh Day Baptist–owned Alfred University, famed for its science program. There was no disagreement over the Sabbath question in this city, but the two movements were certainly at cross purposes in their understanding of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, and this topic became a major point of public contention. One of the university professors requested the privilege of replying to Andrews’s sermon on the topic. Andrews agreed, and Professor Jonathan Allen was given the tent for an evening to present the alternative view. It was spiced with “ridicule and sarcasm.” But Andrews quickly took the opportunity to reply to the professor the next morning. This led to a public challenge to a full-scale debate on the doctrine. When the rules of engagement could not be agreed upon, however, the challenge lapsed, at least for the time being.18 The exchange had certainly raised the profile of Andrews’s meetings, and in spite of the hostility and traditionalism of many in the community, Andrews reported numerous hearers “fully decided as to the truth.” Among them was a devout former Seventh Day Baptist preacher who, upon his conversion, brought much strength to the newly established Adventist church in the area.19 It was emotionally and physically exhausting work made more

demanding by the numerous educated people Andrews drew to his meetings. With the briefest of respites at home, he moved on to Port Byron in western New York to make a final run for the season. And then calamity struck. According to James White, heavy late-summer rains and a poor location for the tent almost washed out the evangelistic effort in Port Byron. White was present for the opening weekend. With the rains came the mosquitos. Their encounter with the pregnant Angeline had tragic consequences, although neither she nor any of her friends understood the connection. Angeline had gone out to Port Byron to spend a few days with her husband while her children stayed with friends. While there, she unknowingly contracted malaria, which surprisingly had never afflicted her previously. When she arrived home on September 3, she noted that she was “quite unwell.” This was her last diary entry for almost two months. When next Angeline took up her pen in the last week of October, it was to report the “trying scenes” that the family had passed through and to record that six days after she had returned home, she had given birth to a premature baby daughter. The little one had not survived, and Angeline had been so ill she was totally unaware of what was happening. “I was not in the least conscious of the sufferings of that day,” she lamented in her diary. “The following Monday we buried our baby. . . . Those days are almost a blank to me. I cannot note events as they occurred.”20 If Angeline’s “we” included her husband it seems that John had arrived back home, at least for the funeral. She noted that local church sisters “did what they could in helping us but it was impossible, situated as they were, to render us the help that we needed.” It seems that she had faced the crisis without adequate support. Sometime during the diary gap, Angeline’s sister, Nettie, had arrived from Waukon to help get the home back to normal.21 Having Nettie on hand helped Angeline feel more secure and able to cope with the absence of her husband more easily. John’s extended summer absence from home, his total commitment to

his ministerial duties, his close scrape with pneumonia, and the general wearing effect of his work on his health began to worry the Whites again, even before the calamity of Angeline’s attack of malaria had struck, along with its dire consequences. James, perhaps in an effort to repair some of the damage he had done to Andrews’s reputation when he blamed and named him in the organizational struggles of the previous year, wrote an endorsement in the Review and noted that the brethren needed to take more care of John. In fact, they could do nothing quite so effective to advance the cause in New York as to care for their president’s health and wellbeing. John was “ever disposed to do too much, to go beyond his strength to advance the cause,” wrote White. He noted that Andrews had been very thorough in organizing and building up the churches. In a commendation clearly intended to redeem things, he observed that despite Andrews’s “caution and fine feelings,” which “in time past held him from [giving] that plain testimony, and that thorough work which the state of the cause demanded,” he had “taken the position of a faithful and thorough laborer,” and “his caution, fine feelings and sound judgement make him a laborer in the cause, of priceless value.” Whether the endorsement helped Andrews be clearer about when “fine feelings” and “sound judgement” were and were not of value, he does not say. Had he known about “contingency” theories of leadership, he might have understood better. But James insisted that “the brethren” in New York State must not fail. They must see to it that Andrews did not work too hard, so that every burden possible could be lifted from him, “lest he break down in health, and his excellent labor and counsel be lost to the cause.”22 White made essentially the same speech at the state conference two months later in Adams Center. This prompted the local delegates to resolve to ease the burden on Andrews and to better care for his family.23 Of course, this was something of the pot calling the kettle black. James White himself was no example of a temperate approach to work. Perhaps James White’s more generous response to Andrews’s work was

written at least partially in the light of a reassessment of his own temperament and work practices that was prompted by a manuscript he had received from his wife just a couple of months previously. In June, Ellen had written a frank but delicately expressed analysis of tensions in their marriage and in the family. She addressed James’s tendency to carry a grudge, his exacting attitudes, and his inability to genuinely forgive. This tendency lay behind much of the conflicted relationship with Andrews. As Ellen White saw it, some ministers had “tried to shun responsibilities, fearing that they should receive censure,” and they had “sought to be esteemed of others.” But James was not without serious flaws either. “I saw my husband,” she wrote, “dwelling upon the past, every moment his face growing sadder; and his active memory was faithful in recounting the past. One act of thoughtlessness and neglect, which would cause him deep suffering, would open vividly before him. Satan would fasten his mind upon the injustice done him and it seemed as though he had no power to tear his mind from these unpleasant recollections where it seemed he had suffered needlessly. His mind seemed chained to these unpleasant memories and he seemed to delight to dwell upon them.”24 He might think that he had forgiven “those who err, fail in judgment, and make mistakes and errors; but if they fail again upon another point,” she observed, “all their wrongs which have been confessed revive in your mind. This reveals that they were not forgiven.” His relationship with his sons was no less problematic. “Censoring them and talking to them in “an ordering tone” was not helpful.25 Her husband’s tendency to micromanage things was also something he needed to let go of if he was to preserve his own health and the health of the organization. James “expected others to carry out things just as they were in his mind just as he would carry them out,” she continued. “When they fail to do this, it annoys him, his peace is destroyed. He can see and take in readily at a glance more than some can see or comprehend with some study. This has troubled him, because others could not carry out his

mind and views of order and perfection in their work.”26 Andrews was one who could not do exactly as White wanted, although he nearly burned himself out trying. In spite of the concerned cautions from both his mentors, Andrews found it difficult to slow down, and in mid-November he was again pushing himself in earnest at the first annual New York State Conference meeting at Adams Center. Duty kept him on in Adams Center, sorting out church problems, and as Angeline noted, he returned home “rather slim” a week after the other delegates from Kirkville. This time he intended to stop at home for a few days and try “a little water treatment to see if he can’t recruit somewhat.” A letter of request from White scotched that plan. James and Ellen had gone to Brookfield, forty miles distant from Kirkville, for a weekend of meetings. They had enjoyed a relaxing post-conference week in the township and then planned to conduct meetings over a second weekend. They sent word saying that they needed John’s help over this follow-up weekend. It turned out to be a strangely significant lateNovember weekend for both Angeline and John. A larger than anticipated number of interested believers attended the second, late-1863 Brookfield meetings, particularly young people from Sabbath-keeping families. James White waxed eloquent on Sabbath, preaching on “the law and baptism” from the epistle of Romans. On Saturday night a further revivalist “meeting of labor” for the young people extended late into the night and resulted in a number of “important decisions” being made, even though time ran out. A further “sunrise” meeting convened early the next morning following a breakfast “eaten by candlelight.” The “sunrise” revival meeting in “the old Christian Chapel” continued until 10:00 A.M., when the group made their way to a nearby pond for baptism. Eighteen were baptized in the chilly waters that day; eleven for the first time. Somewhat astonishingly, John Andrews, an ordained minister and baptized Christian of many years’ standing, along

with Angeline and five others who had also previously been baptized, were among the group James led into the cold waters that morning.27 White’s theology of baptism, and now evidently John Andrews’s understanding, as well, allowed for such repeat immersions. It was the result of a limited, legalistic view of salvation and a quite limited understanding of the deep meaning of Christian baptism. Four years later, White attempted to defend his idea of Christian rebaptism from Scripture. He asserted that should circumstances necessitate it, a person could, in theory, be baptized a score of times.28 If one gained some new theological insight, or an increased understanding of a biblical passage, one should be baptized again. The rebaptism idea was also shaped by a legalistic and transactional understanding of salvation that if one sinned in an egregious way, former repentances and confessions were blotted out, and one had to start all over again. The deeper significance of Christian baptism as a onetime incorporation into Christ and a deeper understanding of the biblical teaching about footwashing and Communion developed in Adventism only in the post-1888 years, following a clearer understanding of the gospel of grace. In reporting the Brookfield revival weekend, White took opportunity to further “redeem” Andrews (as White saw it) in the esteem of the broad church membership and to rehabilitate the reputation of the recalcitrant New York brethren in the wider church. In a subtle mellowing of his previous public suggestion of Andrews’s alleged cowardice, James now asserted, “Bro. Andrews’ thorough labor in organizing churches, has laid a good foundation upon which to build up the cause in the State.” Like a headmaster addressing a newly obedient and conforming classroom, he stated to Review readers, “We shall be happy to labor in the State as we have opportunity; for now we have confidence that our labors will be followed up by a good influence.”29 The Whites’ endorsements may also have helped Andrews’s family finances. During a three-week stint in early December, when John was at home, at least during weekdays, the couple

was able to become more settled domestically. Shopping together, they finally completed setting up their home. New dishes were purchased, as well as cutlery that included the moderate luxury of “some silver plated tablespoons, a set of teaspoons, a butter knife and a night lamp,” all for $13.72. Angeline cut and stitched two new shirts for John, and he bought a new boiler for her kitchen that cost nine dollars, and at last they were able to put in some window curtains.30 Before year’s end, Angeline was pregnant again.

Back to Rochester: 1864 A two-day monthly regional meeting in Kirkville began the 1864 new year with twenty members from the surrounding churches joining the local congregation. John found himself preaching five times and concluding with a service celebrating the ordinances. The intense pastoral counseling and preaching, noted Angeline, “was a heavy tax on his strength,” and then two days later he had to leave for another intense round of meetings 120 miles away in Brockport and then a quarterly meeting in Hamlin in the severest of winter weather.31 Angeline accompanied him this time, anxious because he had “not been at all well.”32 Noticing his pallor, the state conference brethren formulated a resolution “to invite John to lay by a few weeks and rest then go to Dansville if he would like. I was very grateful for such a move,” noted Angeline, “as it is very evident when he does not take time to rest and recruit somewhat,” he must give out. Then despairing of her husband’s rigid, driven sense of duty, she added, “Still John is loath to quit.”33 But quit he did—in his writing. His health did not improve, and a few days later he explained to the Review editor that he “would be glad to write much for the Review; but my head at present will not enable me to do it.”34 The advice of recent months to Andrews about husbanding his health more carefully was accompanied by an acknowledgement that James’s earlier insistence that the family settle in Kirkville had perhaps not been

the wisest advice. White had changed his mind and suggested that maybe the village of Olcott, on the shores of Lake Ontario at the far western end of the state (but closer to Battle Creek), would be better.35 Ellen White, in light of Angeline’s traumatic loss of her baby the previous September, had also lent her voice in October to the need for a more conducive environment as a base for Andrews’s ministry in New York State. He needed to be in a place where his family was well cared for, “that in his absence he may know that his family have no lack.”36 In February, still reeling from the recent loss of his own treasured sixteen-year-old Henry from pneumonia, White told Review readers that Andrews was “homeless.” This was not strictly true, but he set out an elaborate rationale as the basis of an appeal to raise funds to purchase a house for him. In the following issue, White acknowledged that the New York brethren had already invested funds in a house for Andrews, but he now became more specific and assertive, claiming that Andrews should probably “not [be] confined to any one state.” He was not “the property of any one state,” he argued, but rather “in a certain sense the property of the entire cause.” The General Conference was staking out its claim in the developing competition for the authority to direct Andrews’s rare gifts. White did not want to lose control. Thus he urged on readers the development of a housing fund by the end of May.37 This flurry of conflicting counsel led to the Kirkville house being placed on the market, and in late January it sold.38 The sale of the Kirkville house put the family in some turmoil again because a new location had not yet been settled. Now the Andrews family really were homeless. Five weeks later, in early March, the location issue was still not resolved, and Angeline was again “downcast, borrowing trouble about the future.” She struggled to “trust in Providence” and occupied the evenings during her husband’s absences reading the life of Luther. Nettie had also just completed reading aloud for the family a history of the United States.39 By mid-March, John had apparently found

the courage to inform James White what he preferred. Rochester, with its universities, he argued, would be the more central location for his work and would be a place where he would have better access to a library. Thus, on the last day of the month, they arrived in the rapidly growing commercial hub on the southern shores of Lake Ontario. Two weeks later, they moved into a house rented at one dollar per week, with the length of tenancy uncertain, but as Andrews noted, “Providential circumstances have for the present cast our lot in Rochester.”40 Again taking time out between intense weekend meetings, the couple shopped for furniture to fit out their new abode, temporary though it was.41 As it turned out, the Andrews family would stay in this home for the next nine months, until the arguments about a more permanent ministry location for John were resolved. Consequently, Rochester would become a very significant place for the development of Adventist health reform.

Health reform In the midst of all the weekend preaching appointments, monthly and quarterly regional meetings, midweek evangelistic sermons, Bible studies, and endless correspondence and writing that became the norm for John Andrews in 1864, three dominant concerns shaped his year. The first concerned the continuing problems with his own health and the steadily deteriorating health of his overworked ministerial colleagues in Battle Creek and elsewhere. A close analysis of Andrews’s involvement in health reform provides a wider context and a helpful balance and corrective to an often overidealized and simplified account of Ellen White’s involvement in introducing health reform ideas to the church. For Andrews, the matter of health touched his family closely. Since his son had been two years of age, Charles had experienced a problem with his left leg.42 Over time, the ankle joint had become greatly enlarged, with a puffy deposit, and was so stiff that when he walked he was forced to turn the ankle outward, almost at right angles. Eventually, the muscles had

withered away, and the little fellow dragged his leg along after him. No doctors had been able to prescribe medication or suggest anything to fix the painful infection, and by the time Charles was six-years-old, his parents thought that he would become a permanent cripple. The problem affected his general health and gave him back pain at night. Andrews had read a few issues of a health journal put out by Dr. James Caleb Jackson of the Dansville health retreat. In this journal he had seen the institution advertised, and, during his travels, he had heard talk of the value of the Dansville program and had become familiar with hydrotherapy treatments. If wrapping children in a wet sheet to bring temperatures down can be considered hydrotherapy, the family began experimenting with this approach as early as August 23, 1862. Over the next nine months they had used such other hydrotherapy remedies as packs and warm baths to treat whooping cough (late 1862), scarlet fever (May 1863), and pneumonia in mid-June 1863. In each situation, the family member had recovered. As both Denton Reebok and Ronald Numbers observe, significant discussions of core health reform ideas were already occurring in the Adventist community at the time of Ellen White’s first vision on the topic in June 1863, and these discussions, along with her visions, effectively linked the emphasis with the broader Adventist system of belief.43 The use of hydrotherapy treatments by the Andrews family supports this understanding. At the end of March 1864, the problem with Charles’s leg had become so severe that Andrews inquired at Dansville from Dr. Jackson as to whether the hydrotherapy treatments and natural foods health regimen that Dansville offered might provide some help. In “deep distress” over the situation, and after prayerful consideration, they had determined that they would try Dr. Jackson’s program and send Charles down to the water cure for treatment.44 Apparently, friends came up with funds to cover expenses. Angeline’s diary tells us that her sister Nettie took seven-year-old Charles the fifty miles south to “Our Home on the Hillside” and stayed to care for

him. Within days, Andrews had received a letter of proposal from Dr. Jackson telling him that he thought he could cure Charles, but it would require regular, mild hydrotherapy treatment and a strict dietary regimen of grains, fruits, and vegetables and regular mealtimes, with no eating between meals. The cost? Two dollars per week. The good doctor believed that with such treatment the leg would heal itself and there would be no need for physiotherapy. John and Angeline were delighted, and the treatments commenced.45 At the water cure facility, Nettie stayed with Charles in a room they rented for about four weeks, and then Angeline took over for a further ten weeks, while Nettie went back to Rochester to care for Mary.46 Although feeling “like a stranger in a strange land,” Angeline was much encouraged by Charles’s improvement. “[He] does not walk as lame and his ankle is not as badly swollen,” she noted, even though she thought that he looked “some poorer,” probably meaning that he had lost some weight since he had left home. Her letters to John, who at this time was attending the General Conference session in Battle Creek and staying with the Smiths, conveyed the good news. It would be natural that he share the news with family and friends. Despite having had the measles, Charles had “gained finely.”47 Although it cost them $7.50 a week for board and $2.00 for each treatment session, they were sure it was a worthwhile investment. Angeline occupied her days writing letters to family members and to John, who had stayed on in Michigan after the General Conference session to undertake some requested ministerial work in rural areas. She did not want to disadvantage Charles’s full recovery, and yet toward the end of June, she felt the need to be home in time for her delivery. After taking advice from the doctors, she and Charles returned home in the peak of summer heat on July 12. This time at the Rochester station, she and Charles were met by her whole delighted family. There was “a nice new carpet,” a present to welcome her home, as well as “a beautiful present from Sr. White of a photograph picture of their family in a nice frame.”

Angeline could not have been much more pleased with the positive turn things were taking in relationship to the Whites, and she noted the details in her diary.48 The shadows of Paris seemed to be dissipating. “John is very much struck with the change wrought in Mellie,” Angeline noted in her entry for that day. “I think his hopes are fully met.” In fact, they were more than met. The transformation in Charles without any medication had been remarkable, and both John and Angeline resolved to become disciples of the new health regime. The encounter with Jackson’s water cure, and its new “hygienic” diet and lifestyle regime not only changed their own way of life, but they became ardent advocates of health reform in the church. In fact, Angeline had been able to bring back with her from Dansville Dr. Trall’s new Hydropathic Encyclopedia, which John had earned by selling subscriptions to Jackson’s health reform journal, the Laws of Life. He had canvassed it among colleagues and friends.49 A substantial number of influential Adventists were thus familiar with the health reform journal and its contents in mid-1864. The significance of John Andrews’s encounter with health reform in the person of James Caleb Jackson was not just in the health benefits it brought to his own family. Rather, the cure of Charlie’s affliction after fifteen weeks of treatments and the adoption of the new lifestyle without resort to medication provided a dramatic high-profile case study that became widely known by word of mouth throughout Adventism, and it gave solid credibility to the emerging health reform program in the church. The episode throws much additional background light on the introduction of health reform to Adventism. As already noted, Andrews was aware of water cures and the ideas of the Dansville institute even before June 1863. His colleagues in New York had recommended that Andrews spend some time there in January 1864. It seems entirely reasonable then that when Andrews visited Battle Creek for the General Conference session in May 1864, he talked with his in-laws, the Smiths, and with James and Ellen White about the dramatic progress

Charlie was already making after having been at Dansville for only six weeks. Now familiar with Dr. Jackson’s diagnosis and his prescribed remedies, one can imagine Andrews describing such things in conversations with such close friends as he sought to secure subscriptions to the Laws of Life journal. In their earlier encounter with Jackson’s treatment methods for diphtheria during the epidemic of February 1863, the Whites had seen success in the case of their own sons’ recovery. Now, this news about young Charlie Andrews reinforced the value of health reform and provided an Adventist context highly amenable to general health reform ideas. Later in 1864, Ellen White would begin clarifying her vision and her views of health reform and their relevance to her Adventist community. The more concrete and specific expression she gave to health principles at this time followed the generalized and broad-based insights that came into view for her in June 1863. These would have resonated well with the Adventist readers of the Laws of Health that Andrews had recruited, and with other Adventists beyond this circle. Beginning in the mid-1860s, Andrews’s home in Rochester frequently became a way station for church members on their way to and from Dansville for treatment.50 Later when Andrews would speak or write about health reform and its value, as he did in the Health Reformer, the story of the healing of his son would provide his launchpad.51 His numerous articles and talks on the need to adopt health reform reinforced Ellen White’s advocacy of this distinctive dimension of Adventist teaching.52 Angeline and Charlie returned from Dansville to a home with a father as busy as ever. A day after Angeline returned from her two-month absence, John left again to complete an evangelistic series he had been running at Victor, a town twenty miles southeast of Rochester.53 He was away for the next three weeks and returned late on August 8. As that Monday wore on, Angeline grew more anxious because John had not yet returned, and her diary notes that she felt “quite miserable.” He arrived home on the train at 9:00 that evening, quite some time after her labor pains had begun. There

was no sleep for either of them that night. At 1:00

A.M.

they sent for a

midwife, and at 10:00 A.M. the next morning baby Carrie was placed in the arms of her exhausted mother. Angeline writes of gratitude that the Lord had “mercifully sustained and carried me through the hour of labor and deliverance,” but there is no note of joy. She was particularly glad, however, that John had managed to be back in time for the birth. Sadly, he was not to be present when the little one died. But that was still a little time in the future. Three days after the birth of his daughter, he had to be away again for the monthly meetings in the far west of the state. When he returned from that trip, and just two weeks after Carrie’s birth, his household was besieged by large problems and unexpected responsibilities —the second major development in 1864.

The Civil War confronts Adventism Since its outbreak with the capture of Fort Sumter in April 1861, the Civil War had worried Adventists, but they had regarded it primarily as a sign of the imminent eschatos, prompting them to further evangelistic intensity. They thus managed to distance themselves from the war, even while coming to increasingly endorse its righteous cause in the weekly Review. Over time, as casualties mounted and as crucial battles were won and lost, the question of a declaration of political loyalties became increasingly important for Adventists. During 1862 and 1863, as the war dragged on, the Review adopted a stronger educational stance and a more strident support of the cause of the Union, and it became caustic in its condemnation of slavery as an institution. In March 1863, no longer able to sustain the war effort with volunteer militias, the federal government enacted conscription, and all males between the ages of eighteen and forty were required to register for service. The tensions for Adventism, with its still undefined stance on what members should do if conscripted, became quite sharp. Two issues made the matter of war a difficulty for the church, and both

were connected to the church’s emphasis on commandment keeping. The duty to keep the seventh-day Sabbath holy was a hugely important value, as was the injunction not to kill. Neither issue could be avoided in the military. The church thus frowned on volunteering for the fighting because of these two principles. In an effort to give room to those who conscientiously objected to war, the federal registration act provided that men conscripted into service could find a substitute and/or pay a three hundred dollar “bounty” fee to have their service commuted. The system, which gave room for Adventists to avoid service, was, however, widely abused and became hugely unpopular, giving rise to the epithet that the war was “a rich man’s war but a poor man’s fight.” The bounty issue raised larger ethical questions of fairness and justice. Adventist parents feared for their sons when in every town across the North in mid-1863, new recruitment drives and parading troops became a feature of town life. Kevin Burton estimates that eventually more than two hundred Adventists likely volunteered and another two hundred were conscripted—about 10 percent of the membership.54 Pressure was even felt in the Whites’ home on Wood Street in Battle Creek, which stood next door to a local horse-trotting track, which, during 1863, was being used as a recruitment camp. The drums, flute, and fife used in marching practice attracted the musical White boys, and sixteenyear-old Henry and his fourteen-year-old brother Edson would often be drawn to the parade ground with their instruments to participate in practicing marching with the recruits. Henry was sorely tempted to sign up for service as a drummer, and this bothered his parents greatly, thinking they might lose him to the army. The eldest son of Jonas and Caroline Lewis, their Adventist next-door neighbors on Wood Street, had been a talented cornetist and had already signed up for Union army service.55 War fever raged more fiercely following the horrific casualty count at the battle of Gettysburg in July 1863, and the realization quickly developed that ever more troops would be needed. According to Arthur L. White, James and

Ellen, fearing they would lose Henry, went to the trouble of deliberately removing their boys from temptation by taking them on an extended trip of several months to the East at the end of the year to keep them occupied with other things. Tragically, the family was to lose Henry anyway in early December when he succumbed to pneumonia and inadequate medical care in a harsh Maine winter.56 With the lack of any clear or firm policy on what the church’s stance should be when men were faced with the issue of compulsory military service, James White initiated a discussion of possible options. The initiative sparked a feisty debate as the church groped its way to a consensus position. John Andrews, though requested several times by his colleagues to formulate a theological perspective, responded that he was too unwell to put pen to paper coherently. All he could do was to endorse the positions suggested by White. But matters soon became urgent when, in July 1863, the first of the recruitment lotteries were conducted to raise the conscripted forces. Five days of deadly riots broke out in New York in protest against the conscription plan and its perceived unjust impositions on the poor. Scores lost their lives in the violence (largely immigrant Irish workers against blacks), and the property damage was enormous. President Lincoln was forced to deploy federal troops to restore order. The impact on the nation was sobering. In Battle Creek in early 1864, depressed and deeply scarred by his recent bereavement and again overworking, James White found himself increasingly pressed to help conscripted Adventists find their three hundred dollars commutation fee, or to intervene in other ways. Difficulties were compounded by the need to cope with the economic fallout of the war, with its huge inflationary impact on local prices and the increasing scarcity of resources. James’s stress levels shot up. Then on February 24, with the Union forces suffering significant reverses in the war, the conscription act was amended to reduce the exemption period covered by the payment of the commutation fee. The fee would now only

procure a one-year exemption, not three. The costs to individuals and their faith communities of staying out of the war suddenly became astronomical. The new measure promised to decimate the ranks of the younger ministry if many were called up. Fortunately, however, section seventeen of the conscription act, which had earlier provided for a paid substitute, was now also expanded to provide for noncombatant status for men from religious bodies, which had a moral objection to killing. Such noncombatant service might be rendered through hospital work or in caring for freedmen.57 When the Iowa local state conference tried to avail itself of this provision, advocating a strictly pacifist stance, however, the attempt failed, resulting in confusion and very negative publicity for the church, and schism threatened over the issue of pacifism.58 It now became urgent that the General Conference, as a central body, become involved. The achievement of central organization had been very timely. The Quaker movement had succeeded in being recognized for noncombatant status for its followers, and that encouraged James White and his leadership colleagues that they might also perhaps have a chance, even though their organization was but one year old, represented only about forty-five hundred members, and did not have a defined position or a consistent practice on military service. Realizing that time was of the essence, the General Conference committee’s action initiated the complex, multilayered application process in Michigan. This involved the preparation of explanatory documentation, diplomacy, and the seeking of formal letters of endorsement and recommendations from local government and military officials. Andrews apparently became generally aware of moves the church was planning to make when, according to Angeline, very late on Friday night, August 19, he received an urgent visit by the local New York State Conference president, Brother Lanphear, “on business connected with the draft.” The “Battle Creek brethren,” had secured “letters of recent date” that had “released them from certain considerations.”59 The brethren were now

carefully picking out a way through the bureaucratic thicket. Apparently, Lanphear brought a letter of endorsement for the church signed earlier in the week by the Niagara County Military Commissioner for the ThirtyFirst District.60 The following Sunday, Andrews learned that James and Ellen themselves were on their way to Rochester to visit him and that they would probably arrive on Wednesday. Instead, all that happened that day, again according to Angeline, now using military language in her diary, was that her husband had “received orders and intelligence from Battle Creek that he has been chosen by the General Conference Committee to visit the Provost Marshal General at Washington.” The word cast a “heavy burden” on him, she observed. There would be large outcomes riding on this visit. If he had to go, he did not want to go alone and wished James to accompany him. As it turned out, the Whites did not arrive until Friday, and there then followed a flurry of consultations in downtown Rochester. An indication of the importance of Andrews’s upcoming assignment in Washington may be implied from the fact that in town that Friday, James White fitted the newly appointed legate out in a “whole suit of new clothes” that cost about fifty dollars, as much as John and Angeline had spent on a dozen substantial items of household furniture six months previously. At church on Sabbath, “John’s mission at Washington was made a particular subject of prayer.” As Doug Morgan observes, not only was there concern about whether the petition would be successful, there was also “deep ambivalence” about whether they were even doing the right thing.61 On Sunday John and Angeline invited James and Ellen for dinner for further consultation before John left for Washington the next morning. The Washington visit involved an appointment with the Michigan Military Agency in the capital on Wednesday to secure a further letter of endorsement. Then the freshly-tailored legate presented himself and submitted his documents to the Provost Marshal. How long the interview

took, we do not know. But the news was good. Andrews learned at his interview on September 1 that the officer had no need of the specially prepared pamphlet. That was a document that should be submitted to local district marshals. But the Provost Marshall informed Andrews after reviewing his submission that “the exemption clause of the enrolment [sic] law was not construed by him to mean Quakers merely.” Rather, he declared, it applied “to any religious body who hold non-combatant views.” Copies of the documents would be kept on file, and he would issue orders to the deputy marshals in the various states informing them of the provision. Andrews was delighted. It is not known if Andrews immediately telegraphed the news to White, who had by this time left Rochester and gone on to Dansville. Angeline found out how things had gone in Washington five days later when she received a letter telling her that the interview had “been quite satisfactory.” After another five days, John arrived home “well satisfied with the result of his mission to Washington.” But he was very weary, and she desperately hoped he would “get some rest at home before he leaves again.”62 This time he did. Andrews’s report in the Review, signed off on the same day he secured the recognition, reverberated through the growing church. “In obedience to the instruction of the Gen. Conf. Committee I have visited the Provost Marshal General,” he wrote. He then explained the outcome of the interview, outlined the steps that conscripted believers should follow to obtain the benefit of the exemption, and appended copies of all the documents he had submitted, minus the pamphlet.63 This was the very first official interaction of the newly established Adventist Church with federal authorities at the highest level, and it had gone successfully, setting a benchmark for future formal interactions. The issue had been something of a nerve-racking test question. Leaders understood well enough that section seventeen of the conscription act would apply to other long-standing Christian groups, but the question had been, Would their “comparatively unknown” body be recognized? Again, there had been considerable

apprehension about this. The success in Washington was a confidence booster for the young community.64 It also enabled them to take a firmer disciplinary position on their new noncombatancy stance. In early 1865, for example, the church at Battle Creek would very publicly (by editorial page notice in the Review) disfellowship Enoch Hayes for volunteering to fight.65 The mission to Washington burnished Andrews’s image as a leader who could be entrusted with important matters and who would represent the church well.

Where to live? The third major challenge that helped define 1864 for Andrews was resolving the question of where the family would live—Rochester or some other smaller rural town. In sorting out this issue, John became involved in a contentious tug-of-war with James White and his executive committee colleagues in Battle Creek. The episode illuminates the sometimes tense relationship between J. N. Andrews and the General Conference and the processes of ministerial appointment in the early years of the church. During Andrews’s visit to Washington, James and Ellen had gone to Dansville to learn what they could about Dr. Jackson’s new health ideas and his program. John joined them for ten days on his return from Washington to personally acquaint himself further with the program. He came back from his sojourn quite favorably impressed with Jackson’s institution. The Whites, with their two boys and other New York State Conference leaders, took three days to visit with the Andrews family at their rented home on Main Street when they returned from Dansville on their way to the state conference in Adams Center, 150 miles away to the northeast of Rochester. During the visit, they took the opportunity to explore real estate options for the Andrews family. The Main Street house currently being rented, according to Angeline, was not comfortable in cold weather. With so many visitors now being entertained, this was an issue. John and Angeline had identified a property

out to the east of the city, near the university, and James and others had twice looked it over with them.66 James, who had raised almost fifteen hundred dollars in his appeal for housing for Andrews in the Review, was willing to actually make an offer of twenty-one hundred dollars on the house, but the owner, sensing an opportunity to make money, had raised his price by three hundred dollars. But even as he was making his offer, which he knew would probably not be accepted, White was proposing to John and Angeline that they move to Battle Creek, Michigan, instead. Neither of them liked this option, although they were “earnestly praying to God to guide in the matter of our location.” Because the seller had raised the price on the house a further 12.5 percent, the offer to buy fell through. Increasingly, in the weeks that followed, Angeline found herself in the hostess role. It seems their home quickly became something of a bed-andbreakfast establishment for traveling workers and church members. In mid-November, the discussion about where to live became very intense. John received a letter from the General Conference quite firmly stating the committee’s conviction, as Angeline paraphrased it, that “it would be our best course to remove at once to Battle Creek.”67 The reasons the committee gave may have seemed compelling to the committee. They had already bought a house in Battle Creek with a large yard comprising two lots. The house would be deeded to the Andrews on their arrival in Battle Creek. The committee thought this to be “a good bargain.” Battle Creek, furthermore, would be a more central center for a more general work, and Andrews would thus be able to accomplish more. Another argument suggested that with increasing fiery attacks and bitter opposition being directed at the church, John would be better placed to contribute answers from Battle Creek. While the committee did not consider it their “duty to direct” Andrews, they nevertheless wanted Andrews to understand that the committee had “united convictions.”68 The letter plunged the couple into deep distress. Angeline noted that it had “thrown a great burden upon us, particularly John.” The next day John wrote a

carefully worded deferential reply, observing that he had prayerfully considered their decision and then added, “Unless you see cause to change the opinion expressed I [shall] govern myself by it as obligatory and final in the case.” He then laid out a number of reasons why he felt that their decision, in fact, was not a good one and why it should be reversed. The letter is a key document and serves as a critical introduction to our understanding of Andrews as a scholar. Stating that he had made the question a matter of prayer ever since the recent state conference and that the Lord had impressed him differently, he wondered if the committee had not “mistaken the mind of the Spirit,” although he would not “set up my impressions in the case against yours.” Nevertheless, there were good reasons for looking at this another way, and he argued these as if his whole life’s work was wrapped up in the decision to be made. In this episode, Andrews’s passion as a scholar and his commitment to the scholarly enterprise emerges vividly. Andrews argued against moving back to Battle Creek. For years, he wrote, “almost from the beginning” of his “connection with this cause,” he had been exercised about the importance of our being prepared for that class of antagonists that should call in question our application of Prophecy by denying our historical testimonies, by citing others that should better fulfil the prophecies than our own and by the various devices that shrewd, well-informed opponents embittered against the unpopular truths that we cherish would make use of. I have been certain that whenever our faith had gained ground enough to make it a subject of public attention, then the class I have referred to would step forward to block our wheels and that they would do it for a time unless we were better prepared than we have been.69 He had had “such powerful impressions upon the subject,” he went on, “as

to render many of my nights almost sleepless. These impressions have been the grand cause of my intense desire to study and the impelling motive that pushed me on to act as I did in the matter up to about two years ago when my head was well-nigh ruined.” He related with appreciation that “the testimony of the vision then stopped me and I have religiously regarded it.” In faithfulness to Ellen White’s counsel, he had not given himself to study further. But now he urged, pouring his heart out, “I have now recovered the use of my brain to a good degree and what is of more importance to me, have learned how to use it so as not to abuse it or injure it under these circumstances.” With regard to “matters pertaining to the History of the Sabbath,” they “have exercised my mind intensely and my impressions of the importance of these matters have been much deepened.” Recent issues of the opposition journal the Crisis had come into his hands, and on some points the enemies of Adventism were calling them out because of imperfections in the History of the Sabbath. His critic, T. M. Preble, was also picking up failings in the book because in writing it he had not been close to a library for rechecking sources. Obliged to take notes quickly and then take them home with him, he had not always been able to make “the connections,” and asserting or exploring the implications of his sources had not been done well. The sequencing of his extracts had not been done well either. “I am therefore desirous to possess for a time such advantages as I have indicated in order to do the things that are upon my mind.”70 In reflecting on the process of his scholarly research and writing, Andrews had clearly developed a strong conviction about the value of having continuing access to library sources but conceded that White might see this differently. It was critical from his perspective, however, that he should be “permitted to make my home for a time in the vicinity of the University library that I could consult its valuable collection.” Had he been able to work near a library previously, “the History should have been a better work.” This was “the reason above all others that has caused me to

desire to live for a time in this city.” He could consult libraries in New York or Boston for short visits, he said, but he had done that previously and though it might be “very well in itself, it does not cover the ground.” Previously he had prepared the work “under the most disadvantageous circumstances,” and he had ended up with citations of “the most miscellaneous character” and had not been able to put them in proper order, thus often losing their connectedness. He concluded by stressing that he thought he had sufficient self-government to manage his investment of time in the project. He also thought he had “light from the Lord,” but again, deferentially, he would not set his light “up against yours.”71 It was an impassioned plea. After he sent his letter “stating frankly his convictions of duty in the matter,” Angeline confided to her diary, “We wait with anxious solicitude for a response.” They were also “making the subject a special subject of prayer. . . . Oh that His hand might appear to open our right way before us and hedge up every wrong way.” The opening up of the right way would not come easily. As they waited with baited breath for a response from the General Conference, Angeline noted afterward that “great perplexities have rested upon us.”72 They had not wanted to be caught in the middle of a tug-of-war between Battle Creek and the New York Conference. A few days after he had sent his letter, the local state conference officers arrived in Rochester to assert their claim to John’s service. They, too, had the money for a house and were apparently operating under an understanding previously endorsed by White that the town of Victor should be the place of Andrews’s residence. Their agenda involved the idea that Andrews would settle in Victor to replace John Loughborough, who had been called elsewhere. After much discussion, the officers felt they had arrived at a “final decision.” That day “was a day of great strait with us,” observed Angeline later. But as the couple retired that night, things still did not seem right. The next day the New York brethren, for some reason, also had second thoughts about the decision. Then, “for the

first time,” noted Angeline, John was given “a candid hearing as to his own judgement and choice or rather light in the matter and they at once fell in with it. But the thing was in such a shape that it seemed better to wait than to move on the spur of the moment. The brethren went home and still we are unsettled.” Patience stretched very thin as the confused couple tried to “wait humbly trusting that the Lord will open our way.”73 Slowly the logic of John’s argument persuaded both his Battle Creek and New York counselors, and his patience was rewarded. Just three days before 1864 came to a close, Angeline recorded with relief that a solution had been found. The family would stay in Rochester. “Bro. White, had in reply to John’s letter given away somewhat and wrote to the effect that if we could be situated advantageously in Rochester so that John could attend to the writing that is on his mind . . . he should feel perfectly free to have him remain.”74 But the letter of concession had prickles in it, and it spoke of the concerns White harbored about John’s ministry. It may have been difficult for Andrews to read and yet not feel somewhat abused or at least roughly handled by the leader he was trying to accept as an apostle. In his letter of reply, White conceded that his General Conference committee had “no special light” in suggesting that John locate in Battle Creek. They were judging rather from “facts and circumstances.”75 If Andrews moved to Michigan, he would be “free to give himself wholly to the work . . . which has not been the case with you at Rochester” (emphasis supplied). This perception of things from Battle Creek’s perspective seems strange, for it is difficult to imagine how much more committed to the work Andrews could have been. Furthermore, wrote White, “We know your tendency to involve yourself in care, such as bookselling, book-binding, maps, bread, jams & c & c. Here you would not be allowed to meddle with these things.” This too seems a strange objection. Had not James White also found it necessary to substantially supplement his income by selling all manner of books, Bibles, dictionaries, atlases, and pots and pans and household goods as he traveled on his preaching

appointments? How did this fit with the proverb that what was good for the goose was good for the gander? It would not be strange if Andrews wondered why it was appropriate only for White to engage in entrepreneurial sideline work that had enabled him to purchase two homes and to be generous with the support of poor church workers. To Andrews, this seemed like another case of the pot calling the kettle black. A major reason White enumerated for wanting Andrews located in Battle Creek was that he considered that “friends have great influence over you and often have led you from duty, to wear and weary yourself to no profit. This would not be allowed here.” James White seemed quite clear about his desire to control Andrews, albeit with good intentions. “We therefore concluded that you could do the most good at Battle Creek,” he noted, adding that he could not imagine Andrews resisting calls by local churches for pastoral help, even if he could get to focus “most profitably at Rochester on the works you mention.” Would he really say no to requests from a local church from within “the conference that sustains you”? The Battle Creek committee did not believe he “could resist the call” if New York presented him with “an earnest” request. They were probably right on this one. Battle Creek was persuaded, explained White, that Andrews was right about “the importance of the work of meeting error.” This was a need highlighted by recent issues of the Crisis. But that was “the very reason why we felt you should be divorced from the New York Conference.”76 Having listed his objections, White then conceded his ground. He acknowledged that if Andrews would be “deaf to calls from different parts of the State,” and if he took subscriptions to the religious journals that opposed Adventism, such as “the Crisis, Voice of the West, Herald & c & c,” and if he could have good advisers around him who could encourage and pray for him, then yes, “Rochester would be the best place for you at present.” But there were yet other “ifs” in the way, he cautioned. The committee in Battle Creek, he pointed out, had no other reason to care

where Andrews worked other than to “help you do the work which the cause demands of you.” White then cut loose with a sharp personal critique, hoping that John Andrews would thereby fully understand their “motives and feelings.” The fact that Andrews had “been controlled by personal friends in the past”— and that he had “been held and activated by influences, sometimes the most poisonous—is, we trust a sufficient apology for this pointed statement,” wrote James. The shadow of Paris had apparently not entirely moved on yet. White hoped that his correspondence would give John “a correct idea of our intense interest in the defense of the truth and of your prosperity in the work, and also set before you the real grounds of our fears in regards to the enemy calling you from the work.” If John decided to stay in Rochester, he could share White’s letter as evidence of White giving way on the matter. If he went to Battle Creek, “we shall be ready to receive you and yours.”77 Just how wrung out John may have felt as a result of such brutal “plain speaking” he does not say. Perhaps he had become accustomed to it. And he was learning to submit. One wonders what the state of working relationships might have been if recipients of these plain-cutting communications had replied in kind in the making of similar personal criticism. The negative personal criticism of attitudes and behaviors seemed always one-sided. Did Andrews feel that being some distance from Battle Creek was attractive for other reasons and not just because he could be near a university library in Rochester? Perhaps he would be able to be more his own man, as Ellen White had urged him to be with regard to his uncles. Grudging though the concession was, it cleared the air. The level of anxiety the couple experienced over the tussle is reflected in Angeline’s diary notes. Within a week they were settling matters on the “place that we have had on our minds to buy.” This seemed to be what “the Lord would have us have,” noted Angeline. The owner, Mr. Hartman, was still willing

to sell—although now John’s church member go-between, Jonathon Orton, was having to offer twenty-nine hundred dollars—a further 17.5 percent increase—in order to obtain the property. Another anxious night passed with Angeline worrying about the outcome; her mind “being exercised about obtaining this place.” Repeating to herself the words “Faith, Hope and Patience” helped her to go back to sleep again. The next day she learned with huge relief that the trade had been settled. She even began to feel a little guilty. “It really seems too much is being done for us,” she wrote.78 As well as providing library sources for Andrews’s research, Rochester also provided the opportunity to interact with other major reformers of the day. As they were waiting to move into their new house, they took time out to hear a lecture in town by the nationally famous African American antislavery advocate Frederick Douglass. They also met Dr. Jackson and a woman physician, Dr. Austin, who were visiting Rochester from Dansville. The city also provided rich currents of cultural and intellectual enrichment beyond the usual social causes, which found so much support among its progressive citizens. Angeline moved into the new house on January 18 with a prayer, “O that we may be truly fitted to dwell here.” She felt settled at last. “The prospect now is that we shall [live here] at least for a season.”79 In fact, John and Angeline were never obliged to move again for the rest of Angeline’s short life. Ironically, however, she and the children got to see John at home, at least for the next few years, almost as little as they had seen him in Waukon. For Angeline, whether they lived east or west, she had to learn to cope with a husband driven compulsively by the relentless call of “duty” and the need to give priority to other people’s—including other church leaders’—needs.

1. “Business Meeting in New York,” RH, Oct. 14, 1862, 158. 2. “Doings of the N. Y. Conference,” RH, Dec. 4, 1862, 182.

3. AAD, Nov. 11; Dec. 2, 1862, LLUHRC. 4. AAD, Dec. 4, 1862, LLUHRC. 5. EGW to JNA, Jan. 1863, EGWE-GC. 6. The new financial measures identified as “Rule 4” in the revised policy adopted by the new conference involved a requirement that churches report on a monthly basis their Systematic Benevolence receipts and that the conference then notify them of a specified percentage of these required for centralized expenses. RH, Nov. 4, 1862, 182; Nov. 11, 1862, 198. 7. EGW to JNA, Jan. 1863, EGWE-GC. 8. Angeline noted that “Mary and Wilton make quite a pair. Folks here think they look a good deal alike.” AAD, Feb. 12, 1863, LLUHRC. 9. AAD, Feb. 16, 1863, LLUHRC. 10. James ran the diphtheria treatment article by Dr. Jackson as a front-page feature in the Review. “Diphtheria, Its Causes, Treatment and Cure,” RH, Feb. 17, 1863, 89–91. Ronald Numbers suggests that the article may have been brought to the attention of the Whites by John Andrews, who came down with the disease in the diphtheria epidemic of early 1863 when he was preaching in western New York. See Ronald L. Numbers, Prophetess of Health: Ellen G. White and the Origins of Seventh-day Adventist Health Reform (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1992), 288. The Seventh Day Baptist journal The Sabbath Recorder also ran an article on the treatment of diphtheria on its front page in its first issue for 1863, but it recommended traditional treatment. “Diphtheria,” The Sabbath Recorder, Jan. 8, 1863, 1, 2. 11. A noted local attorney and John’s maternal uncle Edward Pottle and his wife, Sarah, lived in Rochester but were not Adventists. Angeline and John visited them occasionally, but it was not thought appropriate, it seems, to stay with them, and it was taking time to get to know them. Visiting them without John in late April, Angeline noted, “They seem friendly and I had a pleasant time.” Church members provided the safer social network. AAD, Apr. 27, 1863, LLUHRC. 12. AAD, Apr. 29, 1863, LLUHRC. 13. AAD, May 18, 1863, LLUHRC. 14. “Report of General Conference,” RH, May 26, 1863, 204–206. White had not retained many records of his complex business dealings, and repeated criticism had emerged concerning his motivations and his habits, dictated by haste, to mix personal and church business dealings together. See US, JW, GWA, E. S. Walker, Vindication of the Business Career of Elder James White (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist Pub. Assn., 1863). 15. AAD, June 1, 1863, LLUHRC. 16. AAD, June 12, 14, 15, 17, 24, 1863, LLUHRC. She resigned herself to “submitting to the order of God.” 17. “Tent Meeting in Alfred Centre, N. Y.,” RH, Aug. 18, 1863, 92. See also The Sabbath Recorder, Aug. 20, 1863, 31. 18. “Propose Discussion,” RH, Mar. 3, 1864, 134. RFC eventually negotiated the terms of a debate on the topic and, following the debate, ran the transcript as a twelve-part series of articles in the Review. 19. When the preacher Elder William Green died four years later, Andrews, at very short notice, was invited to preach his funeral sermon. He spoke on Hosea 13:14, highlighting for the very large

non-Adventist congregation Green’s belief in the non-immortality of the soul. “Tribute to the Memory of Elder Green,” RH, July 24, 1866, 62. 20. AAD, Sept. 3; Oct. 28, 1863, LLUHRC. 21. AAD, Oct. 28, 1863, LLUHRC. 22. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Sept. 29, 1863, 140. 23. “New York Conference Report,” RH, Dec. 1, 1863, 3. 24. EGW, MS 1, Jun. 6, 1863, EGWE-GC. 25. Ibid. 26. Ibid. 27. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Dec. 8, 1863, 12. 28. “Rebaptism,” RH, Aug. 4, 1867, 114. White’s argument was based on Acts 19:1–7, which speaks of “John’s baptism,” and he interpreted this as a Christian baptism (though White does not cite the reference). According to White’s argument, rebaptism could occur after any serious sin or simply following a new understanding of scriptural truth. He bases his understanding on the idea that each specific sin brings about death and, therefore, the necessity of burial in water rather than any reflection on the theological implications of the apostle Paul’s view of baptism as an ongoing solidarity with Christ. 29. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Dec. 8, 1863, 12. In his report, White also attempted, on this occasion, to burnish Andrews’s image and indicate his inclusion in the inner circle with humor. He related that during one of Andrews’s sermons in the tightly crowded church at the recent state conference, Ellen White had sat “within four feet of the pulpit and used her Bible for a writing desk,” busily writing testimony to be read later that day. “When asked what she thought of Bro. Andrews as a speaker, she replied that she could not say, as it had been so long since she had heard him.” 30. AAD, Dec. 1, 6, 1864, LLUHRC. 31. “Quarterly Meeting at Hamlin, N. Y.,” RH, Feb. 2, 1864, 80. 32. AAD, Jan. 1, 3, 5, 9, 1863, LLUHRC. 33. AAD, Jan. 10, 1863, LLUHRC. 34. “Note From Bro. Andrews,” RH, Feb. 9, 1864, 88. 35. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Sept. 29, 1863, 140. 36. EGW, MS 11, Oct. 1, 1863, EGWE-GC. 37. “Love in Deed and in Truth,” RH, Mar. 1, 1864, 112. 38. Whose name was on the deed for the Kirkville house is not clear. Andrews accepted the offer of seven hundred dollars and signed the papers. Nettie deposited the funds in a bank in Syracuse. AAD, Jan. 26, 28, 1863, LLUHRC. 39. AAD, Feb. 17, 23; Mar. 6, 1864, LLUHRC. 40. “To the Brethren in N.Y.,” RH, May 24, 1864, 204. 41. Finances had improved. A bedstead, bureau, table, stand, and a “half dozen flag seat chairs” cost sixty-five dollars. 42. Angeline’s first diary mention of his ankle ailment is on July 15, 1862, when Charles’s grandmother took him to the doctor for treatment in Waukon. AAD, July 15, 1862, LLUHRC. 43. Dores E. Robinson, The Story of Our Health Message: The Origin, Character, and Development of Health Education in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, 3rd ed. (Nashville, TN:

Southern Publishing, 1965). Numbers, Prophetess of Health, 88. 44. THR, Jun. 1877, 161. See also THR, Apr. 1877, 98. 45. James G. Jackson, MD, to Miss Stevens, Mar. 30, 1864, CAR. Andrews was sufficiently familiar with the Dansville program by this time that he recommended to ministerial friends at the General Conference that funds be pooled together to send Hiram Edson there for several weeks in order to help him regain his health. “To the Friends of the Cause,” RH, July 29, 1864, 72. 46. AAD, Apr. 29; May 2, 5, 1864, LLUHRC. 47. AAD, May 9, 11, 15, 1864, LLUHRC. Andrews again played a fairly prominent part at this first annual General Conference session, preaching the ordination sermon for Isaac D. Van Horn. The session assigned him to work in Michigan in June. “The Conference,” RH, May 24, 1864, 204. 48. AAD, July 12, 1864, LLUHRC 49. At the time Angeline left Dansville, John had sent only half the number of subscriptions required, but the agent had let her take the premium award volumes in advance on trust. Ibid. See Numbers, Prophetess of Health, 88. 50. See, for example, AAD, Oct. 16, 1864; Jan. 3, 1865, LLUHRC. 51. THR, June 1877, 161. See also THR, Apr. 1877, 98. 52. Ronald Numbers has an excellent discussion of the role of the Danville water cure in introducing Adventists to the methods of hydrotherapy and of the broader social context for health reform. See Numbers, Prophetess of Health, 77–101. 53. RH, July 26, 1864, 72. Victor was another location the General Conference had considered for Andrews. 54. Kevin Burton, “Situating Views on Military Service: Seventh-day Adventist Soldiers and the Church’s Political Rhetoric During the Civil War” (Association of Seventh-day Adventist Historians Conference, Washington, DC, Jan. 8, 2018), 12. Burton bases his estimate on a much closer analysis of Review correspondence and other sources, such as local church records, than has previously been undertaken. 55. Griffin Lewis had been a printer at the Review office and enlisted in 1862. See Lewis Family Genealogy Folder Photo Folder, Theodore Bogardus Lewis Collection, LLUHRC. 56. ALW, Ellen G. White: The Progressive Years, 1862–1876 (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1986), 2:60, 61, 70, 71; “Eastern Tour,” RH, Feb. 2, 1864, 76. 57. See “Statute Thirteen,” Thirty-Eighth Congress, accessed March 2, 2018, http://legisworks.org/sal/13/stats/STATUTE-13-Pg6.pdf. 58. “The Visions—Objections Answered,” RH, July 10, 1866, 41, 42. According to Smith’s version of the episode, church leaders in the state of Iowa, feeling under intense pressure from the local government, which was enlisting significant numbers of Adventists, petitioned at a state level for special legislation and exemption. The petition caused a major community backlash, misunderstanding, and a large expense for the local Iowa Conference on legal fees. The state conference’s response, based on strict pacifism, also created friction with the Battle Creek leadership. 59. A pamphlet was hurriedly prepared entitled “The Draft,” which contained an endorsement from Austin Blair, the governor of Michigan. A cover letter signed by the Michigan Military Agent introduced Andrews as the bearer of the documents.

60. Burton explains that church leaders found themselves “bending the truth” rather than speaking factually in telling the government at this time that the church had a unified policy position on military service. They may have seen themselves as speaking aspirationally. Burton, “Situating Views on Military Service,” 20. 61. Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon, Eds., EGWEncycl. (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 721. Twenty years later, Ellen White observed that the question of whether such an approach to government would indicate a lack of full trust in God “had been a burden of my soul for some time.” EGW to GIB and SNH, Aug. 12, 1886, EGWE-GC. 62. AAD, Sept. 5, 9, 1864, LLUHRC. 63. “Seventh-day Adventists Recognized as Non-combatants,” RH, Sept. 13, 1864, 124. 64. RH, Sept. 13, 1864, 128. 65. “Notice,” RH, Mar. 7, 1865, 112. 66. They had searched out the area using “Uncle Edward’s horse and buggy” when John had first returned from Washington and needed a few day’s rest. AAD, Sept. 12, 19, 1864, LLUHRC. 67. AAD, Nov. 13, 1864, LLUHRC. The diary date may be in error. The date on the letter from James White is inscribed as Nov. 15, 1864. 68. John Byington, GWA, and JW (for JNL) to JNA, Nov. 15, 1864, EGWE-GC. 69. JNA to “Dear Brethren White, Byington & Amadon,” Nov. 16, 1864, EGWE-GC. 70. Ibid. 71. Ibid. 72. AAD, Nov. 29, 1864, LLUHRC. 73. AAD, Nov. 19, 1864, LLUHRC. 74. AAD, Nov. 29, 1864, LLUHRC. 75. GWA and JW to JNA, Nov. 22, 1864, EGWE-GC. The letter notes, “Father Byington absent from here.” He had apparently not seen the response. The handwritten letter bears the marks of having been written in haste. 76. Ibid. 77. Ibid. 78. AAD, Jan. 9, 1865, LLUHRC. 79. AAD, Jan. 18, 1865, LLUHRC.

Chapter Eleven

Preparing for Leadership: 1865– 1867

I

f John Andrews thought he was going to be able to give more time to

do research on his History of the Sabbath project when 1865 got underway, he was soon disappointed. Unexpected disruptive developments that began to unfold in the first months of the new year carried farreaching consequences. These developments gave a shape to his life and ministry in the years that followed in ways that he could not have predicted, and they radically modified his hopes and dreams. It was not that the Sabbath history project wasn’t urgent and needed attention. The book, in fact, was being read ever more widely in the community and was increasingly cited and critiqued, particularly by first-day Adventist writers.1 But its revision and further development would simply have to wait. The years 1865–1867 were perplexing years for Andrews and for his church community. Books had long been Andrews’s passion, and late 1864 saw a widening appreciation for his scholarly contribution to the Advent cause and a growing recognition of his expertise on all things bookish. For example, he had been asked to recommend titles for Sabbath School libraries in local churches. He had recommended what the editor of the Review considered “a fine selection” for the Battle Creek church, and they had been willing to spend the greater part of a one-hundred-dollar budget for the books (the equivalent of six months’ salary for the Review editor.) The Review promoted the library idea to other churches, pointing out that collections

could be shaped to meet any budget between ten dollars and one hundred dollars.2 Andrews’s endorsement of books authored by others also began to count for more as the years passed. In the same issue of the Review that reported his work on library lists, Andrews wrote a warm endorsement of the recently issued volumes 3 and 4 of the Spiritual Gifts set published by Ellen White. He recommended reading them aloud on Sabbath on those occasions when families could not get to worship.3 Andrews’s assessments were valued in such matters. During this period, he also arranged to have his own numerous pamphlets published as a neat hardbound library set of seven volumes, each comprising 570 pages. His advertisement in the Review announced that anyone who might be “desirous of acquainting themselves with the doctrines of S. D. Adventists” could purchase the whole set for eight dollars.4 Andrews’s pen had certainly been busy, and his influence extended beyond Adventism. The almost four-thousand-page set seems to have embraced much more than what Andrews had just been publishing in the Review and probably included articles he had written for other numerous first-day Adventist journals in his defense of the Sabbath and the distinctive Adventist doctrines.

Andrews, politics, and the end of the Civil War The first unexpected development that led to the reshaping of Andrews’s plans arose from the ending of the Civil War in early 1865. Victory for the North, which Adventists saw as an answer to prayer, calmed the unprecedented turmoil in the country and brought with it the theoretical end of slavery, although the fruits of victory would take a long, sad century to fully ripen. There would be no quick and easy harvest of liberty. Change would come slowly for the millions of freed families. For Adventists, the end of the Civil War brought a significant revision in their prophetic understanding that generated an increased sense of urgency of mission, the setting of new priorities for the church, and a

heightened expectation of the imminence of the Advent. The consequence of this new emphasis on urgency would be seen in the increased stress on ministers and an even greater challenge to achieve a healthy balance in life. Awareness of the need for health reform and Ellen White’s endorsement of its importance for the church and its ministry could not have been better timed than for the mid-1860s. The last issue of the 1864 Review carried the announcement of her first substantial publication on health, a series of six pamphlets eventually bound together and appropriately titled Health: Or How to Live.5 Nine months later in a lead editorial in the Review, Andrews, who had himself been the initial channel of communication on the topic, enthusiastically endorsed the completed series, stressing the importance of obeying the laws of nature. Such obedience was seen to be equally as important as obeying the moral law. Obedience to both laws would affect destiny.6 Implementing Ellen White’s health counsel on avoiding overwork would be a challenge to John Andrews, her husband, and others of their overworked, overstressed colleagues in Battle Creek. The end of the Civil War was good news, but it would add urgency to the need for health reform. The months just prior to the end of the war were particularly difficult for Adventist leaders. John Andrews’s objection to the institution of slavery and his support for its abolition was almost as passionate as his belief in the rightness of the seventh-day Sabbath and the nearness of the end of the world. Since his first writings on the United States as the fulfillment of the two-horned beast of Revelation 13, he had argued that the country’s practice of slavery was a primary reason for seeing the linkage.7 He does not appear to have felt the same passion or reasoned in the same way in regard to the ethnic cleansing and genocide practiced under the Andrew Jackson administration, with its inhuman Native American removal policy of the previous thirty years. Other evangelical groups were prepared to speak out on Native American removal.8 But as the Civil War bled into 1864, Andrews became even more outspoken on the topic of slavery, as

did the Review in its general coverage of the news of the war. The Review regularly published educational and opinion pieces on the issue of slavery and on the need for the Northern forces to win the mammoth struggle.9 Following Andrews’s visit to Washington in October 1864 on behalf of the church, he became an agent for an antislavery book titled The Bible Against Slavery, advertising it in the Review and persuading the editor to serialize its chapters in the magazine.10 Though there had been recent successes in the war, as with the fall of Atlanta to General Sherman’s troops in early September 1864 (providing the occasion for a national day of celebration on September 5), and though there had been good news from General Sheridan’s aggressive moves in the Shenandoah Valley of Northern Virginia in October, nevertheless, as 1864 wound to its close there was, throughout the Northern states, great uncertainty about whether Lincoln would be reelected and whether all the lives lost thus far had been lost in vain. Pessimism prevailed. In the midst of this dark uncertainty, and perhaps surprisingly for an Adventist Church leader, Andrews approached as near as he dared to a public political endorsement of an elected leader for the nation. He argued outspokenly of the need to reelect Lincoln in the cause of justice and righteousness. In a piece that appeared in the Review two weeks before Election Day, November 4, 1864, Andrews wrote one of the most passionate articles he ever penned. Slavery, he asserted, was that great national sin whereby our country is distinguished from all other civilized lands. The existing wicked rebellion is that great national calamity by which the Most High makes our country an example and a warning to all the nations of the earth; and by which he admonishes mankind that punishment is inseparably connected with transgression. The crime of making merchandize of human beings, is the most atrocious in the catalogue of wicked deeds; involving in American slavery the commission of every foul and abominable act

that absolute power in the hands of wicked men, over the helpless, and unfortunate might be expected to cause.11 Andrews was particularly incensed by the emergence of a substantial political movement in the North led by former General McClellan, which while professing that they were “as much opposed to slavery as any man,” wanted above all to bring peace, even if that meant leaving slavery to exist. Achieving reunion of the states was all that was important to this party. Such a stance, Andrews fumed, was to participate “in the evil deeds of the oppressor, and cannot be less criminal than he, in the sight of Heaven.” This was strong stuff for a nonpolitically aligned religious movement. But not only did Andrews write, he participated in a church conference session that took the bold action of placing itself on record on a political issue and then also advised members how to vote. In the annual session of the New York State Conference six weeks before the national presidential election of 1864, constituents in session voted that “we regard slavery as the great sin of our nation, and the prime cause of the existing rebellion: and that we regard Southern slave-holders, and Northern sympathizers with slavery, as alike, guilty in this matter.”12 In a further resolution, they placed themselves on record stating that though they held “non-combatant views,” they were nevertheless “thoroughly loyal, as well as anti-slavery people; and that our sympathies are with the national government in its struggle against this wicked rebellion.” The strident language closely parallels that of Andrews’s strong Review article. A final resolution by the conference on this topic was even more explicit. “We consider it a criminal act to cast our votes for those whose business, we have reasons to believe, would be to restore to slavery the many thousands already delivered therefrom.” This was clearly a political stance indicating that Adventists should vote for Lincoln and that at least morally, it would be considered a crime to vote for the peace Democrats derisively named the Copperheads.13 The New York delegates

voted to send their voted statements for publication in the Review. They arrived just in time for the editor to make room for them on the back page of the magazine, with an editorial endorsement that they were such “as will commend them to every enlightened conscience throughout the land.”14 Adventists in Battle Creek attended the Republican mass meetings, and arguments flared over voting when some Copperhead activists appeared in town and the local constabulary was called out.15 Slavery was a social justice issue that aroused the conscience of the church. Being a noncombatant in this environment was not easy. In late January 1865, reports from those Adventist servicemen who had been called to the front indicated that the newly won noncombatant status (NCS) that the church had gained turned out to be not as helpful in ensuring Sabbath observance privileges as leaders had anticipated. There was trouble securing NCS recognition for individuals at the local level.16 Andrews was called upon for further advice, which necessitated another trip to his acquaintance, the District Marshal of the New York Twenty-Eighth District up in Niagara. He discovered that the way the system was to work was that each NCS application needed to work its way up through the military chain of command, right to the top, where applications for individual soldiers would be approved by the secretary of war.17 Whether local commanders in the field would treat individual noncombatants kindly was another matter. Even more troubling for the church during the last months of the war, however, was the government’s call for more men. This was now being made at more frequent intervals. The cost that this imposed on larger numbers of Adventist families was huge as they struggled to pay their commutation fees. Some pled for a more equitable approach to financing noncombatant status, considering that church members were now expected not to fight. Some families were being forced to borrow money to pay the fee, some had sold their homes, and some preachers were having to raise

the fee for themselves by subscription.18 The economics of it all was quickly becoming desperate. Church leaders realized that should the war continue, the reach of the draft and the demand for men would not only very quickly bankrupt churches and families but would decimate the church’s workforce through the loss of men. Already the nation had become so totally absorbed in the drama being played out on the battlefields that preachers were having little success in trying to call up an interest in religious things. Church leaders were themselves preoccupied in attending to the needs of members affected by the war, as increasing numbers of Adventist men were called up and the number of widows and orphans increased.19 The times were serious.

An answer to prayer So alarming was the “terrible American war” that in late 1864, Adventist churches adopted the practice of observing the second Sabbath of each month as “a day of special humiliation, fasting and prayer.” Then in late February 1865, in a dramatic public recognition of the truly perilous situation the church faced, leaders called for a four-day-long prayer-fast beginning March 1. They suspended all labor at the publishing office and canceled the Review for that week.20 James White stated with alarm that unless the war stopped, “the cause would be crushed.” The continuing war had become an existential crisis for the church. “The war must stop, or our work in spreading truth must stop. Which shall it be?”21 For four days, from Wednesday, March 1, through Sabbath, March 4, Adventists fasted and met at 1:00 P.M. for prayer. No preaching, no discussion. Just “humiliation, confessions, prayers for light and truth,” although at least for the Battle Creek church suggestions were made about four things that could be prayed for in particular. These were: (a) a quiet and peaceable life; (b) that the draft might fall on men that “were true to the constitution and laws of High Heaven” (the fear of traitors was real); (c) that confusion might be sent into the councils of the rebels, with Providence directing the

councils of the North so they could achieve a “bloodless victory”; and (d) that the shackles might fall from the bondmen so that the message could be heard in the ears of both white and black.22 The Sabbath of March 4, the last day of the fast, coincided with Abraham Lincoln’s second inauguration, and the following month witnessed a bewildering yet exhilarating swirl of events. One month after the four days of prayer, the Confederate capital of Richmond fell to Union troops on April 3. Six days later, on April 9, the defeated Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered to the victorious Ulysses Grant at Appomattox Court House. The war was over. In Rochester, Andrews would have heard church bells peeling all night long, accompanied by the firing of cannons.23 Jubilation erupted around the North. Then on April 14 an assassin took Lincoln’s life at Ford’s Theatre in Washington, DC The nation staggered in disbelief. The Review carried the news of the assassination with heavy black-bordered columns.24 For John Andrews, the day brought a double volley of bad news. On the same day that Lincoln was assassinated, John’s father died of consumption at the age of sixtyseven out at Waukon. He had been suffering for some time. Whether John was able to attend the funeral or not is not known. Iowa Conference President W. H. Brinkerhoff attended Father Andrews’s deathbed and conducted the funeral.25 For James White and his General Conference Committee members, the momentous developments were clearly providential. In a unique way, they firmly believed Sabbath-keeping Adventists had saved the nation. Their special four days of prayer had brought an end to the conflict. This was not something of “trifling value,” noted White, but to those who had participated in the days of prayer it was of “vast importance.” The experience had “thrilling interest” because “ten-thousand commandmentkeeping petitioners have seen already the answer to their prayers to a wonderful degree.”26 In his review of the situation, White noted cautiously that “the masses” would not appreciate such a position and might look at it

as “fanciful, fanatical, egotistical.” Adventists should not, therefore, speak of it “in a spirit of carnal boasting,” but they nevertheless could “enjoy the truth in our own hearts . . . and learn how to speak, and when to speak the precious truth of the Lord.”27 Adventist prayers had ended the war. History and destiny clearly centered on their important role. The rapidly unfolding events prompted them to look for a new revised understanding of prophecy. “As a general thing,” White noted in his rather dramatic announcement of the new understanding of the prophecies, “Seventh-day Adventists take new positions with great caution. But when, by comparing prophecy with passing events, evidence seems complete, they do not hesitate to take positions which are bold and startling.”28 In this case, the new understanding of prophecy occasioned by the end of the war was to have profound and far-reaching consequences for the church, and on the lives of John Andrews, James White, and their families. At the beginning of the war, Adventists had interpreted the calamity as the beginning of the time of trouble. The shaking had started (in the struggle over organization), and the end of all things would follow very quickly. But the war had dragged on, and still the end had not come. Now in a necessary reevaluation of those prophecies in the light of the delay in the Lord’s coming and the unfolding history of current events, it became clear to them that the four angels of Revelation 7:1 had been instructed to hold back the winds of strife in order to enable the angel from the east (Revelation 7:2–4) to accomplish the sealing of the saints. It was this “holding back” that they believed was a direct response to the ten thousand Sabbath keepers’ prayers. The seal of God was the seventh-day Sabbath, and the rapid work of sealing was interpreted as believers being convicted to observe the seventh-day Sabbath. This would quickly make up the 144,000 (a literal number), and then the end would come.29 This new understanding of the real-time fulfillment of prophecy before their eyes in the sealing message of Revelation 7 was to infuse Adventist proclamation

with a renewed sense of mission. Because the holding back of the winds of strife would last only for a short season, the sense of imminence intensified immensely. Three weeks after James White announced this new theological position in the Review, John Andrews, along with nineteen other conference delegates, formally convened in Battle Creek for the third annual session of the General Conference.30 Right from the outset, noted Uriah Smith, there was a new buoyancy and a renewed sense of optimism at the session. Over the five days, delegates sat through fifteen religious meetings and seven long business sessions, if one included business meetings for the Michigan State Conference and the Publishing Association. At this meeting, Andrews is respected as a senior leader among his peers and is recognized as occupying almost a lieutenant role to James White himself. Minutes record him facilitating the business sessions by moving important motions, offering the opening prayers, and having a prominent voice in the preaching. At the very outset of the session he was nominated to the three-man committee on resolutions, which was immediately also designated the committee for the nomination of officers. The group quickly brought back a recommendation that James White be the president, Uriah Smith the secretary, and Isaac van Horn the treasurer, in what was the first major realignment of personnel since the first session in 1863. Sensitive politics and perhaps self-effacement prevented the three-man committee from being able to come to a resolution on who should serve on the executive committee. This was promptly resolved by James, the new president, when he immediately stepped in and nominated Andrews and John Loughborough to the two powerful committee positions. It was a familiar team, and White clearly valued Andrews’s counsel and thought they worked well together. But it was the church’s theological development rather than the nominal change in leadership personnel that really marked this third General Conference session. This was a time of growth and development in biblical understanding.

White preached on the seven seals, “showing its appropriate place [and] how strikingly is now fulfilled before us the holding of the winds, preparatory to the sealing of the servants of God. From this [new] position there did not seem to be a dissenting voice.”31 Andrews preached at the early hour of 5:00 A.M. on Sunday morning to a congregation one reporter estimated at one thousand—“nearly a tent-full of Sabbath-keepers.” He also had “some new light” but on a different topic. He discoursed on “the commandment to restore and build Jerusalem, the event from which the 2,300 days are to be dated.” Listeners noted approvingly that the new information Andrews presented meant that “our position on this question is rendered invulnerable.” He was requested to further develop and write out his new views for publication. The conference, in fact, took an action to formally endorse his new light as they did also for White’s new understanding of the prophecy of the four winds and the seven seals. A concluding formal resolution of gratitude was also adopted for the “direct answer to prayer” that had brought the war to an end and gave new duties of service. “In view of the increased responsibilities laid upon us in again opening the way for the progress of the message, we solemnly consecrate ourselves anew to this great work.”32

New horizons in mission In practical terms, the new prophetic understanding provided the foundation for a broader field of mission and a renewed, more focused commitment, even if contemporary readers might find that difficult to imagine. How could it be possible for these leaders to have an even more focused commitment than they already had? The conference noted that “the south” was now opened for labor “among the colored people,” and that this “should be entered upon according to our ability.” In the days following the conference, the General Conference committee determined that they would implement their new commitment by all going into the field in the ensuing year “as missionaries.” John Andrews was assigned to

“the New England Mission.” Loughborough and White would labor in the western and central divisions of the field.33 If they had been compelled by the urgency of an imminent Advent previously, now they sensed an even greater compulsion. The demands of duty took on an even greater intensity. During the conference, Andrews took time to pen a note of gratitude for the provision of a house for his family. “To those who have contributed toward procuring my family a home, and especially to Bro. White and others who have especially interested themselves in this matter, I would express my deep and heartfelt gratitude. I trust that I shall never forget the interest which has been manifested in behalf of one so unworthy; and that my whole being shall be devoted to the cause of God as a living sacrifice.”34 Andrews meant what he wrote. The sense of obligation was exceedingly heavy, and there was no time to lose in discharging it. He seemed to feel guilty every moment he was not working. Something of the depth and strength of Andrews’s sense of duty can be understood more clearly from an article he wrote in June 1865, during the first weeks of his new “mission to the East.” Ever since he had first heard a preacher talk about the great judgment bar of God when he was a boy in North Paris, the last judgment loomed up before him. Even now, thirty years later, the same dark hues of Judgment Day dominated Andrews’s eschatology. “The Bible is full of references to the second advent of the Saviour, and the events of the great day of God.” The Bible represents that day, he stressed, “as the great day of his wrath; as the time when destruction from the Almighty shall come upon the wicked, and when the land shall be made desolate. . . . The language of the inspired writers expresses in the most vivid manner the awful and terrific scenes of that day.”35 The dominant aspect of this picture of the Advent for Andrews was fear and apprehension. Yes, God does provide a warning before the “irretrievable ruin,” but in the warning there is only a passing reference to the rescue of the saints.36 No bright, glad hope, eager anticipation, or

effusive joy of welcome brightens the canvas, just hard responsibility. For Andrews, this was a keenly felt responsibility. It added a heavy weight of duty that would not allow him to be at peace, nor, it seems, did it allow him to think of the future with joy and anticipation. Even when he lost a loved one, his consolation was chiefly that they would not have to endure the time of trouble or the dark days of persecution ahead. It was this deep sense of anguished responsibility—that if he did not give warning to his fellow human beings, he would be held accountable—that drove Andrews’s mission from beginning to end. Thus it was that, after the briefest of stays at home following the 1865 conference, he left Rochester on June 14, hastening to meet his assigned appointment in the Northeast. Behind him he left a seven-year-old son and two daughters (a four-year-old and a baby who had not yet seen her first birthday) wrapped in the care of their mother, a watchful uncle, and any church members who might live nearby.37 Vermont needed him to preach at their annual conference in Enosburgh. On his arrival in the Northeast, he found comfortable accommodations with the Bourdeau brothers, Frenchspeaking fellow ministers, but it was not always to be so during this sojourn.38 Thus began his commitment to the “Eastern Mission.” His sense of duty to this commitment shaped by his sharp sense of the imminence of the end was to hold him in the Northeast almost continuously for the next six months. The cost to his family was high. During his first six weeks in the Northeast, Andrews preached and visited his way around a circuit that began with Enosburgh in Vermont and extended to towns and villages in Maine and Massachusetts. Between the pressing weekend schedules of multiple preaching appointments, he was able to squeeze in several days of writing.39 His extended article setting out the new arguments on Daniel 8:14 and 9:27 was completed at this time and sent to Battle Creek to be published as a pamphlet. The Review editor heralded the scholarly piece as “a complete refutation of the attempts of the new-time theory to remove one of the ancient landmarks of the Advent

faith,” because it threw “the light of day” on old difficulties, and it was warmly welcomed by Adventist preachers.40 At the same time, Andrews polished up three substantial articles he had been developing on the doctrine of the immortality of the soul.41 The subject of the state of the dead had taken on much greater significance during the Civil War years, when fighting and disease had claimed the lives of so many. The explosive growth of Spiritualism during this same period was related to the same social phenomenon. Many spirit mediums claimed to be able to put bereaved parents in touch with lost sons now on “the other side.” In October the Review announced the publication of Andrews’s more comprehensive polemical treatment of the life after death question entitled Thoughts for the Candid. According to the Youth’s Instructor editor, George Amadon, who claimed he had read the little book through a number of times, it was “a splendid tract.” The first chapter, “A Gloomy Doctrine,” was a particularly helpful discussion that he thought was worth the price of the book just by itself.42 With the writing assignments out of the way, Andrews was ready to launch his first evangelistic series on August 11, although just where to locate the effort had been a cause for some “anxious enquiry.”43 This first post–Civil War evangelistic series is worth noting in some detail because it clearly marked important shifting tides in Adventist mission. Partnering with Merritt E. Cornell, the pair pitched their tent at Norridgewock, the seat of Somerset County on the Kennebec River in central Maine. The village served as the hub of a small hinterland of farms and six or seven neighboring villages. Right from the first Friday night, the meetings were surprisingly well attended, with audiences of 250–400 most nights, and on Sundays the two preachers attracted up to 800. “The deepest interest has been manifested,” reported Andrews. “The people are much stirred up on the subject of the Sabbath.”44 After the third weekend of meetings, their books and tracts had sold out, and the two evangelists had to quickly send for more. Sixty-five people had taken subscriptions to the Review, and they

were requested to extend their meetings another week. The audience, in fact, had agreed to pay the stipends of the two men in order for them to continue.45 This was exceptional. Usually interest dropped away. Here it was increasing. The series had the feel of being something markedly different. Two weeks later, they had a further fortytwo Review subscriptions, three hundred had voted their agreement with what was being presented, and more than sixty had already committed to keeping the Sabbath. Eventually, the series continued for six weeks. The numbers of converts from the Norridgewock campaign, along with their families, was so great that no local schoolroom or hall was adequate to accommodate them all at once. Talk quickly turned to building a new meeting hall.46 While Cornell visited other towns in the region, Andrews stayed on in Norridgewock visiting, giving Bible studies, and coordinating the work of building a large (almost 1,700 square feet) new church. The building was completed in two months. In the meantime, as the church was being built, Cornell had been challenged by a local Protestant minister to debate the non-immortality of the soul, and in mid-October the tent was pitched again for the two-day event. This successful full-scale “discussion” (from Andrews’s perspective) sparked even greater interest. Then came another debate challenge, this time from anti-Sabbath preacher T. M. Preble on “the Sabbath Question” down in Portland. This event also drew large crowds and provided a context for a full weekend of evangelistic meetings. Andrews and Cornell dedicated the new church building back in Norridgewock on Sunday, December 10, and with interest still growing, they announced that they would stay to conduct further evangelistic meetings in the new church building for another three weeks, right up until the very end of the year.47 This unprecedented evangelistic series had snowballed in ways quite new to Adventism, and it challenged the accepted norms of evangelistic practice. Interest surprisingly continued to grow. The two evangelists felt it unwise to stop and move on to the next

town, as had been their customary practice. Furthermore, they noticed, with some puzzlement, that this audience was different. It was not comprised mainly of former Millerites. The Norridgewock audience was made up of people from the broad community hungry for a clearer understanding of the Bible—at least intellectually. Evangelists with expertise to explain some of the more academic conundrums of Scripture attracted their attention. The awareness of personal spiritual need and the desirability of any lifestyle change would emerge later and more slowly. The Norridgewock meetings in Maine in late-1865 marked a significant new development in Adventist mission practice. The changed social environment of the post-war years presented the need for new approaches, which we know about because Andrews and his colleagues who shared in the mission over the next two years reflected on them at some length in their Review reports. In April 1866, the group of covenanted Sabbath keepers had grown to eighty, while a further eighty were still attending but worked their way through their covenant decision more slowly. Sabbath School for the children drew more than forty each weekend, and Andrews explained why he had felt it necessary to stay put and spend more time with the group. “Many of those who began to observe Sabbath,” he explained, “were not professors of religion, and it has seemed imperatively necessary that the work should be continued in this place until these persons become truly converted to the Lord.” Much of the ministers’ labors had been involved in “visiting from house to house, and in pleading earnestly with each person that they should seek the Saviour, and a great part of the evenings have been devoted to such meeting as seemed best adapted to the existing circumstances. Quite a number have found the Saviour.”48 Andrews wasn’t quite sure how long he could remain to care for the young congregation, but he was anxious not to leave it to “be readily overthrown by Satan.”49 In the latter part of 1866, the energetic Dudley M. Canright from Michigan was assigned to work with Andrews in the “Mission to the

East.” After spending a further eight weeks with the Norridgewock group, he observed, “This may seem like throwing away time to those who believe in driving things, but we have thought otherwise.” It was a necessity.50 A week later Canright explained to Review readers that “the people move slow here. As Bro. Andrews wrote several months ago, they had received a theory of the truth, but still many need to be converted to God.” Nevertheless, the church was still steadily growing. People who had been long considering were only now, he reported, taking their stand on the Sabbath, and “almost every Sabbath” there were yet other fresh-faced newcomers in church.51 Andrews ran other tent meetings in nearby towns in the Northeast, using Norridgewock as his base, and these efforts also produced a steady stream of baptisms, with ever less former Millerites responding. Audiences were now comprised of more secularly minded listeners who might be persuaded intellectually but manifested little spiritual sensitivity. Increasingly, methods needed to adjust to the Norridgewock model. Changing times called for changing methods, and Andrews recognized this fact.

The high cost of duty The “Mission to the East” and the success at Norridgewock cost John Andrews dearly in a very personal way. Just three weeks after he had started in on the meetings in August the previous year, his youngest daughter had become ill with dysentery. He had just made a commitment to his emerging congregation to extend the meetings to meet the snowballing interest in the town, and he felt unable to leave to go to the assistance of his family. Three weeks later, Carrie died of the illness on September 24, and the pressure of the demands at Norridgewock was relentless. He felt the extreme tension created when one sacred duty competes with another, but he felt that he could not forsake his duty to his new “children” in the Adventist faith, and so he stayed on. News of the tragedy in the Andrews home was telegraphed to Loughborough at

Dansville, but he had sacrificed health for duty for so long that he was physically unable to go to assist. Instead, Uriah Smith, Angeline’s brotherin-law, also seeking treatment at Dansville, traveled to Rochester to minister to the bereft Angeline and her children and to conduct the funeral of the little one.52 Fortunately, some months previously, John’s aged mother Sarah had traveled from Waukon to be with Angeline to help keep the family together, but that was still not the same as a husband and father’s presence and support.53 Angeline’s sisters sympathetically noted that it would be only “a few months” until mother and daughter would be reunited again at the resurrection, but they also warned that if not careful, John would soon wear out and end up beside his daughter in the Rochester cemetery.54 The experience of not being able to leave his post of duty as a missionary to the East caused Andrews “weeks of distress and anxiety.”55 He felt unable to return home to Rochester until almost three months after Carrie’s death, when another health crisis presented itself. This time the call came from his apostolic leader, and it became a duty he could not easily ignore. Fortunately, the need in Maine was now not so critical.

A health calamity for James White The keenly felt sense of duty and the willingness to sacrifice health for the needs of the Advent cause was, as we have already noticed, sharpened and intensified by the events of early 1865. The new developments in prophetic understanding intensified the sense of imminence. The keen sense of duty that went along with it carried, on its reverse side, an overriding sense of guilt if duty was not attended to. Without grace, it could be a toxic mix. The mercy of God, of course, comprised a firm cornerstone of belief, but it was believed and taught more as a necessary part of the theoretical interpretive perspective than as a cherished personally experienced divine-human relationship. Adventist teaching could, at times, be a heavy burden to bear when linked with the inherent systemic legalism the movement had inherited from Joseph Bates and as

believed and taught by White, Andrews, and others, particularly when fused to a dark view of the Second Coming and judgment.56 In practical experience, the theme of mercy did little to modify the inherent legalism. For years James White, like Andrews himself, had been obsessively driven by the sharp-edged duty-bound dynamic outlined above. Fifteen- to eighteen-hour workdays were his norm. Much of this grew out of his temperament, perhaps exacerbated by a tendency to mild mania, and much of it was inevitable in the start-up of a new movement or enterprise, where there is always more work to be done than hands available to do it. The perceived unwillingness of others to share in the bearing of burdens was a theme of many of Ellen White’s testimonies. But a large measure of the gift of submission was also needed for those called to work closely with James White in order for them to be comfortable enough to relate to his strong leadership style. The long days, short nights, high expectations of himself and of his followers, and resistance to some of his ideas, exacerbated the demanding nature of his work as a speaker, writer, and counselor, and over time these pressures elevated his stress levels and undermined his health. As the early months of 1865 unfolded, the pressures on James became even more intense as he was confronted with the existential dilemma facing the church over the military draft and its potentially destructive impact on church finances. The emotional drain of the General Conference session in May 1865, intensified by the new weight of duty imposed by his sharpened sense of imminence, added to his load as General Conference president. All this climaxed into overload in July when in the Iowa Conference a serious rift with ministerial colleagues occurred. James felt very badly betrayed, for he had placed much confidence in the two leaders from Iowa, B. F. Snook and W. H. Brinkerhoff, and their break with him in July 1865 caused enormous anxiety and labor as he tried to heal the breach and prevent a schism. Stress levels skyrocketed again.57 After a string of sleep-interrupted nights and further heavy confrontational

appointments back in eastern Michigan on August 16, White returned to Battle Creek, and on an early morning walk suffered a debilitating stroke that temporarily robbed him of speech and paralyzed his right arm.58 Church friends and colleagues received the news with alarm. Only after two days was White strong enough to be moved back to his own home in Battle Creek. In the days that followed, recovery was slow and not what was hoped for. While speech and movement gradually returned, it became clear that the damage to his nervous system had been severe, and there were fears it would be permanent. He manifested symptoms of highly elevated nervousness, excessive agitation, and distress. Five weeks later a decision was made to seek treatment for him at Dr. Jackson’s water cure at Dansville. Ellen, together with two other church workers with disabling health problems who also now feared possible stroke, traveled with James to the health institute.59 On the way they spent Sabbath, September 16, at Rochester, where Angeline was in the midst of her own deepening dysentery crisis with baby Carrie. We first hear of John Andrews’s reaction to White’s health crisis in a letter written September 14 from his evangelistic tent almost six hundred miles away in Norridgewock, Maine. He had become aware from correspondence that “Bro. White continues in a very alarming situation,” and he proposed to his fellow General Conference committee members the calling of a church-wide day of fasting and prayer.60 The Review announced the call for Sabbath, October 14. Three weeks later, James publicly reflected on his trauma and acknowledged to Review readers the source of much of his problem. He had lived under a “gloom” of spirit too often, he wrote. “False-hearted brethren have grieved me, and I have too often cherished a feeling of murmuring against them.” This was the downside of his natural temperament. Then, for seventeen years, he had worked seven days a week, he said, and that with a load of two men instead of one. Now he was so prostrate, he could not even write a complete letter.61 He was enduring “heroic treatments and had lost 25

1bs.” While prayer, change of diet, and Jackson’s hydrotherapy treatments seemed to move him toward a partial physical recovery, sadly, the six weeks he had spent at Dansville had done nothing to reduce his distressing symptoms of insomnia, excitability, and nervous agitation. These seemed to be growing worse and were exhausting his wife. She could not even knit or sew in his room, she reported, “his brain was confused almost beyond endurance.”62 He wanted out. Thus, after several sleepless nights and prayerful anxious reflection, and against the advice of the Dansville doctors, Ellen decided on December 7 to take her husband back to Michigan. James was so fragile, however, that they had to plan for travel in stages. They stopped over in Rochester, where they stayed with friends for three weeks. In her lengthy account of the distressing experience, written two months later, Ellen White recalled that some days after their arrival in Rochester, James proposed that John Andrews be called back from Maine to come and pray for him. Within a few days, Andrews was back at home, and together with two or three other workers from elsewhere in New York State “who felt it their duty,” they joined in ten days of “special and earnest seasons of prayer.” But in spite of earnest prayer, James’s emotional state still swung high and low, from times of confidence and hope to periods of black despair and depression. After the other prayer partners left, Andrews stayed on and, according to Ellen, he “especially felt the burden of the case, and labored earnestly in faith, while the power of the Holy Spirit seemed to indite prayer.” Ellen was ever hopeful of improvement, but progress was very slow and fitful, and she suffered great anxiety which manifested itself in her own digestive ailments. On Christmas Eve at a prayer meeting at Andrews’s home on Main Street, Ellen “became wrapt in a vision of God’s glory,” during which she reported an encouraging view of the outcome of James’s case. This view was to shape and perplex many as the future unfolded. The experience immediately persuaded James that he could make it back to Battle Creek,

even though, at the time, he was unable to sit up for any length of time. Andrews, as dutiful son and concerned colleague, offered to accompany the now quite apprehensive couple when they left on New Year’s Day in the face of gloomy weather and a threatened snowstorm. How Angeline felt about her husband’s sense of priorities at this time is not known. Ellen declined the offer, however, but also refused to postpone the trip. Two days later friends welcomed them back to Battle Creek.63 In early March, Andrews was back in Norridgewock caring for his new converts.64 He found time between preaching appointments to respond to the challenges from first-day advocates to his History of the Sabbath. Miles Grant and T. M. Preble were questioning his interpretation of sources and the integrity of his documentation. Uriah Smith, in a partial defense of Andrews in the Review, observed that queries had arisen among some Adventists as to “why this work is made the object of so much bitterness.” In Smith’s view, it was because the book was “making more Sabbath-keepers than almost any other agency at work. . . . Where there is great fluttering, it is certain that somebody is hit.” He mused that opposition like this “must be especially gratifying to the author.”65 His brother-in-law would have appreciated the defense. With James White debilitated and not able to function effectively as General Conference president, more of Andrews’s time was being taken up in correspondence and consultation with Loughborough and others in Battle Creek over administrative issues. It was with considerable apprehension that the General Conference committee planned for the 1866 General Conference Session scheduled to commence May 16. Already some changes had been made to cope with the absence of White and to ensure that the work in Battle Creek continued. Former Quaker Jotham Aldrich, for example, a successful businessman and now secretary of the New York Conference, had been assigned to Battle Creek to assist in publishing house business affairs in the absence of White.66 The future, however, looked very uncertain.

Adventists’ shock over the illness of James White was compounded by the fact that so many other leaders were also disabled by ill health. A statement in the Review prior to the 1866 session listed quite a number who had either died or were out of action. Both the General Conference committee and the Michigan Conference committee had, at times, been unable to meet for business because of a lack of quorum occasioned by the ill health of committee members. Further reflection on events since the previous session also highlighted some leadership chagrin over what they began to see as theological missteps. The previous year, the Lord had “signally heard the prayers of his people . . . and restrained the winds of war and strife in behalf of his cause . . . that the servants of God might be sealed,” wrote the Review editor. Instead of the sealing of multitudes, however, there had been illness and failure. What had gone wrong? There developed a deep sense that with James White’s collapse the cause had “reached a crisis in which it seems that the Lord alone can save us.” The committee proposed again that there be another four-day shutdown of prayer and fasting prior to the General Conference session—this time the prayers should be that the Lord would “revive his cause, remove his rebuke from off his people.”67 Prayers were also especially offered for the recovery of James White. Back in Battle Creek, White was in such feeble heath that he could participate “but little” in the seasons of prayer.68 It was a subdued slate of delegates who assembled for session business on Wednesday morning, May 16, 1866. Andrews, who attended this time as a “returned missionary,” reported on his work in the East. Again, he participated prominently in the proceedings, offering opening prayers, serving on the committee on resolutions, and being requested to write up an official statement of the church’s position “on the subject of War.” Surprisingly, White’s name was approved for the office of president in the first session of the afternoon on the first day. Clearly, delegates were acting on the basis of faith. His health was such that he participated very little in the proceedings.

Both prior to the session and afterward, Andrews was involved in helping his brother-in-law, Uriah Smith, in again writing up a new defense of the Whites, with the focus on an elaborate and detailed set of responses to general objections regarding the credibility of Ellen White’s visions. The objections had been published by disaffected former colleagues out in Marion, Iowa, soon to be known as the dissident Marion Party. A serious schism had rendered the church in Iowa. The responses were written in an aggressive and confident apologetic tone, and General Conference officers carefully reviewed and helped revise them before endorsing them.69 Given the serious leadership health problems that hovered as such a dark cloud over the 1866 session, it is not surprising that the importance of health and health reform featured prominently. One of the major resolutions that came out of the three-man resolutions committee (comprised of Andrews, Loughborough, and Elder Ingraham of Wisconsin) was a recommendation to commit the church to the adoption of the health reform Ellen White had recently written about in the pamphlets How to Live and Testimony 10. They resolved that “we acknowledge the health reform as set forth in the Testimony of Sr. White as part of the work of God incumbent on us at this time.”70 Then on Sabbath morning, Ellen White preached on health reform and boldly called for the establishment of “a home for the afflicted and those who wish to learn how to take care of their bodies that they may prevent sickness.”71 The developing awareness of the importance of a health reform emphasis at this time is viewed as providential within the movement. Even though some would argue that the new focus on health posed a serious threat to the sharp sense of imminence because it involved establishing institutions with a longer-range mission, in time the new theme would do much to introduce joy and well-being into the Adventist duty of service. Although the call for an institute totally surprised the delegates, they sensed an obligation to do something—even without James to give his usual entrepreneurial lead in such matters. Within days they had composed

a prospectus for the establishment of a health institute and the launch of a health reform journal. Papers were drawn up for willing shareholders to sign.72 Right from the start the new enterprise secured several big investors. Prosperous Battle Creek Adventist store owner and broom factory proprietor J. P. Kellogg, for example, signed up immediately for five hundred dollars. As the president of the Michigan Conference, Loughborough found himself in the president’s chair for the new enterprise and was appointed as agent for the church in the West. John Andrews was appointed as the senior subscription agent for the church in the East.73 By the middle of June, two thousand six hundred dollars had been invested, and the organizing committee was busy exploring real estate options in Battle Creek. A five-acre property was soon purchased, and plans were shaped for the institute to open in early September. Meanwhile, James White, as leisurely as he possibly could, visited around churches in southern Michigan. He was working at regaining his health, and Andrews stayed on in Michigan a while to assist where he could.74 Early July found Andrews, after a brief visit home, returning to the eastern mission at Norridgewock, again making it his base. From there he and Canright would extend their evangelistic series in wider circles throughout New England.75 Andrews’s announcement of the plans conveyed an increasing sense of his being frazzled. “We will do our utmost to fulfil the demands for labor, and we ask our brethren to have all possible patience.” He apologized for his late return to the field though he had “done all in my power to hasten” back.76 For the next five months he remained in the East, visiting churches and running smaller evangelistic series.77 At the end of September he attended the New York State conference in Roosevelt and, in what was becoming a pattern, served as the elder statesman, praying at the opening of the sessions and serving on the nominating committee and resolutions committee. Although the Whites also traveled to this session, James was too ill to attend any of the meetings, much to Ellen’s distress. His recovery had stalled.78

De facto president Following the New York session, Andrews and John Loughborough spent a week together in delicate consultations regarding James White’s dysfunctionality and “the best measures to be adopted for the general advancement of the cause of present truth,” given the uncertain circumstances. They worked together on such things as drafting by-laws for the health institute and talked about how to handle the absence of the General Conference president who appeared to be becoming a permanent invalid.79 During the months following the General Conference session, Andrews’s voice increasingly became the leadership voice in the Review. For example, he endorsed the call for further means for the health institute, advocated for its support, and he endorsed the proposal to enlarge the Review from eight to twelve pages.80 In early November, he was back temporarily at Rochester, but the increasing burden of having to share with Loughborough the delicate task of covering the de facto vacancy in the presidency was making his life complicated. He was due to go back to the Northeast, but an urgent telegram from Battle Creek called for a change in plans.81 Diplomatically, he explained to eastern colleagues that “matters of importance” would detain him further, and he requested “the continued forbearance of the brethren.”82 The urgent telegram from Battle Creek is noted by Harriet Smith in her diary, with an explanation that it had been sent to Andrews because the headquarters church had “plunged” into difficulties. Andrews arrived on November 19 and found himself quickly absorbed in trying to mediate sensitive problems between the Whites and the local church. Harriet noted on November 22 that “the brethren had an interview with Sr. W. in the Office in relation to Eld. W. She is very much distressed in regard to his case.” Harriet added that she “felt so bad” for Ellen that, together with two friends from their circle, Cornelia Cornell and Martha Amadon, she went up to visit her at home in the evening “but found her refusing comfort; most wretched indeed.”83

The year 1866 had been a particularly difficult one for the White family. According to Harriet’s fairly full diary descriptions, there had been many, many seasons of prayer for James, some at the Smith home and some at the Whites’ and some at their neighbors. But progress had been fitful. On March 26, Harriet had noted: “Sad, very sad, is the condition of things at Br. White’s. Shall we ever look back upon this time from a brighter point in the future, is a question I often ask myself.” Two weeks later on April 9, after having had the couple to her home for dinner with some other church leaders, she confided to her diary: “It makes me feel very sad to note the contrast between Bro. White as he is now & as he was once. My heart faints in hope of any better future.” On April 17, she recorded, “Sr. W. had a very bad time today. Was crazy, fainted, & c.” Uriah and others “went & prayed for her a long time & left her better.” But two days later she noted again, “Sr. W. has had another poor turn today.” In May, there had been quarrels at the White home, and a home assistant had left offended and hurt. “Things are growing worse at Bro. White’s. Annie [Anna M. Driscal] has left & Sr. W. is alone with her family.”84 The quarrel had involved James and Edson and other members of the family, and there had been a severe fracturing of relationships. Harriet and her circle of women friends had earlier tried to be helpful, doing dressmaking for the family, taking Ellen shopping, and helping with food and supplies, but the effects of James’s illness were severe, and the emotional stress in the family was excruciating and took its toll on the community. Harriet and others in the church became involved in trying to reconcile the parties, hearing their individual perspectives on the matter, seeking confessions, and soothing hurt feelings.85 Matters had settled down through the middle of the year, but relapses continued to bedevil church relations, and in November a difference over dress reform had factionalized the membership severely. Andrews’s intervention required presidential preaching, intensive pastoral visitation, and much prayer and diplomacy. On Sunday, November 25, after a distressed visit to the Smith home by Ellen and then

a couple of return visits by Harriet to the White home, Harriet noted in her diary that “Bro. W. has written some confessions today,” although she also added cautiously, “It is doubtful how lasting they will be.” Continued meetings in the church on the matter of dress reform did little to quell the discussion, even though Ellen White, according to Harriet, gave good testimony. After one meeting, however, in which it appeared that Ellen “was somewhat wandering in her remarks from the main point,” Harriet observed that “the anti-reform dressers claimed her on their side after all & we felt rather saddened. A turbulent spirit manifested itself at the door after meeting which was a grief to Bro. Andrews.”86 It would take time to resolve the reform issues. James White’s aged father thought that Andrews’s three Sabbath sermons in Battle Creek during the upheaval had been “accepted by all,” but for his part he was still not sure about the health reform business. He noted to his sister that Ellen, his daughter-inlaw, was “more engaged in the health reform that [sic] I have seen her in anything else and calls it preaching.” He had no objection, he noted with tongue in cheek, but would have preferred it “in separate dishes so that I can help myself to that I like best.”87 The visit to Battle Creek and being required to act as informal de facto president, stressful though it was, enabled Andrews to report that he had visited the “excellent Health Institute,” now up and running well. He thought that it was in excellent administrative hands and emphasized that it was not a speculative venture but that it was a perfectly safe place in which Adventists could invest their funds.88 He again encouraged church members to rally behind the new venture. In the same issue of the Review, he congratulated the editorial staff on the new house style for the weekly magazine. He commended its new design and the “steady light” that the Review provided for the church.89 As he headed back to the relative tranquility of Rochester, he took with him a large carpet for Angeline, purchased as a token of appreciation by a group of the church leaders.90 Dealing with James White’s unpredictable illness presented Andrews,

Loughborough, and Amadon with a highly sensitive matter. It was like walking on proverbial eggshells. Following the October New York conference in Roosevelt, Ellen White expressed on paper her feelings of disappointment about matters. She clearly felt wounded that, as she had perceived it, the three men had not extended as much pity and sympathy to the couple as Ellen thought was warranted, given their situation. One question in the background seems to have been, If White was too sick to work, should he have received a salary? There was no precedent or policy for this. Furthermore, if his colleagues had “labored by earnest prayer,” reasoned Ellen White, they would have lifted James out of his helpless state, for he was “incapable of helping himself” and was “powerless.” In her view, the ineffectiveness of their prayers was their fault. She recognized that Andrews had had “much perplexity of mind in regard to this case” and that the “unhappy perplexities caused by the affliction of my husband” may have been difficult to resolve. But cases like this were entitled to “long, patient, compassion and care.” She confided to herself that she thought Andrews had been “jealous” of James, as had the others.91 James was entitled to extended compassion because of “the weight of the burdens he has staggered under for years.” Andrews’s “feelings and views and fears were natural, but at the same time they were incorrect.” It is not clear that either Andrews or his colleagues ever received or read this memoire-type document. Previously unpublished, it is not in the normal form of a letter. Its existence, however, helps to highlight how Ellen White perceived things and the sensitivity of the situation created by James’s inability to fully function as president at this time. Andrews struggled to relate to the problem. Duties detained Andrews in New York during January 1867.92 By the beginning of February, he was again in the Northeast, visiting churches from Boston through to northern Maine, with a stay at Norridgewock, where he used the opportunity to conduct a workers’ meeting for the recently appointed ministers of the surrounding districts.93 Monthly and

quarterly meetings called him to numerous towns in New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts. In the meantime, James White in Michigan, under his wife’s patient and watchful nurture, was growing stronger after their relocation to their new farm seventy miles north at Greenville, Michigan. He slowly gained confidence again as they began to move around the churches in their vicinity on the weekends, preaching and conducting various services. He was also becoming active again in writing, providing lengthy articles that were largely narratives of the couple’s travels from church to church. These provided interesting reading and helpful spiritual lessons, but they are simple and provincial in the topics they address. They lacked the theological depth and insight of someone fulfilling the role of a strategic, fully functioning leader. They did not reflect the usual James. What would the 1867 General Conference session do if James was not well enough to competently take on the task of leadership? Andrews did not mention this in the public call for a further four-day season of prayer in the run-up to the May 1867 General Conference. It must surely have been a question, however, to which he and his colleagues had given much thought.

1. Isaac Welcome, in the January 3 issue of the World’s Crisis, took issue with some of Andrews’s citations. As Andrews had earlier acknowledged to James White, however, parts of the volume did need fixing. “Who is N. J. A?” RH, Jan. 17, 1865, 60. 2. “Library for Sabbath School,” RH, Dec. 13, 1864, 24; “Records of the Wright, Mich. SDA Church,” Nov. 4, 1864, CAR. 3. “Spiritual Gifts, Vols. 3 and 4,” RH, Dec. 13, 1864, 24. 4. “To Whom It May Concern,” RH, July 17, 1866, 56. 5. RH, Dec. 27, 1864, 40. Each pamphlet in the series focused on a specific health reform topic and was comprised of material Ellen White wrote, plus carefully chosen material from the most widely known health reform writers being read by Adventists at the time. 6. “How to Live,” RH, Sept. 12, 1865, 116. Whether his hope that a copy of the volume be purchased by every Adventist family was realized is not known. The volume which sold at $1.25 was at least priced to help achieve that goal. The hope was also expressed by R. F. Cottrell. “Our New Publications,” RH, Oct. 10, 1865, 116. For further background to the kind of material included in the volume, see Ronald L. Numbers, Prophetess of Health: Ellen G. White and the Origins of

Seventh-day Adventist Health Reform (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1992), 92– 95.7. Douglas Morgan, Adventism and the American Republic (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001), xx. 7. Douglas Morgan, Adventism and the American Republic (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001), xx. 8. For a discussion of evangelical opposition to the Native American removal policy during the 1830s, see Daniel Walker Howe, What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America, 1815– 1848 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 342–357. 9. See, for example, “The Doom of Virginia,” RH, Feb. 9, 1864, 82, 83; “The End Approaching,” RH, Feb. 23, 1864, 97, 98; “The Tables Turned,” RH, Feb. 23, 1864, 98; “The Generous Slave,” RH, Feb. 23, 1864, 99. 10. RH, Sept. 20, 1864, 136. 11. “Slavery,” RH, Oct. 25, 1864, 172. 12. The session was attended by Andrews and by James and Ellen White, all of whom participated prominently in preaching. It would not be unreasonable to imagine that Andrews reported on his recent successful visit to Washington earlier in the month. “Third Annual Report of the N. Y. and Northern Pa. Conference of the Seventh-Day Adventists,” RH, Oct. 25, 1864, 174, 175. 13. Ibid. 14. “The N. Y. Conference—Important Resolutions,” RH, Oct. 18, 1864, 168. 15. Theodore B. Lewis Diary, Oct. 1, 13, 22; Nov. 7, 8, 1864, T. B. Lewis Family Collection, LLUHRC. Lewis reports that he also heard a “colored man lecture in town” on November 12, just four days after the election on November 8. Probably Frederick Douglass. 16. “Experience of a Drafted Non-combatant,” RH, Jan. 24, 1865, 70. See also “Something Wrong,” RH, Jan. 24, 1865, 70. 17. “How to Proceed if Drafted,” RH, Feb. 7, 1865, 85. 18. “The New Call for Men,” RH, Jan. 24, 1865, 68. 19. During the war, some 2.75 million men left farm, factory, and family to fight. Approximately 40 percent of the male population between the ages of fifteen and forty-five were called for various periods to serve in the military. By the most conservative estimates, the war claimed 620,000 lives. Some recent scholars argue an additional 130,000, for a total of 750,000. See James McPherson, The War That Forged a Nation: Why the Civil War Still Matters (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 2, 48. 20. “The Time has Come,” RH, Feb. 21, 1865, 100. 21. Ibid. 22. “Our Position,” RH, Apr. 25, 1865, 164. 23. Andrews’s aunt Sarah Pottle reports hearing the bells and cannons firing. SPD, Apr. 10, 1865, MLCBU. 24. “The Nation’s Appalling Calamity,” RH, Apr. 16, 1865, 156. 25. “Obituary Notices,” RH, May 2, 1865, 175. 26. Official church membership at the time listed about four thousand members. White may have extended the number to ten thousand to include family members of Sabbath keepers. “Never have we realized such intensity of feeling . . . such confidence in the answer of fervent prayer,” he wrote

of the experience. “Our Position,” RH, Apr. 25, 1865, 164. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid. The Review carrying the article which set out the new prophetic understanding also republished the recent Feb. 21, 1865, piece “The Time Has Come!” (RH, Apr. 25, 1865, 164, 165) to highlight in a dramatic way the recent fulfillment of the prophecy. 30. A number of delegates had come in on the previous Sabbath for fellowship and to get an early start on business. “The Conference,” RH, May 23, 1865, 196. 31. Ibid. 32. “The Conference,” RH, May 23, 1865, 197. 33. “Missionary Labors,” RH, May 30, 1865, 204. 34. “Note from Br. Andrews,” RH, May 23, 1865, 200. 35. “Our Light and Our Responsibility,” RH, Aug. 29, 1865, 100. The dark hue also featured in notices of meetings where sobriety of thought and conduct were desired. See, for example, “New York and Pennsylvania State Conference,” RH, Sept. 12, 1865, 120, “In view of the solemn time in which we are living, and the awful scenes that are before us.” 36. RH, Aug. 29, 1864, 100. 37. Angeline’s diary does not continue beyond January 1865, so we do not have a record of her feelings about this new extended absence. Whether she stopped writing her diary at this time, or whether she continued writing and the manuscript from this point on has been lost, is not known. The diary of John’s maternal aunt Sarah Pottle, married to his mother’s younger brother Edward, records periodic visits to Angeline during this period: delivering a basket of fruit, a child’s garment, or to help with dressmaking. SPD, May 2, 30; June 6, 7; July 19; Aug. 29, 1865, MLCBU. 38. “The Vermont Conference,” RH, July 11, 1865, 48. 39. “Meetings in Portland,” RH, Aug. 1, 1865, 70. 40. “A Tract for the Times,” RH, Aug. 1, 1865, 72. 41. “The Wicked Dead” was a seven-and-a-half column piece. RH, Mar. 28, 1865, 129–131, 136; “The Prayer of the Souls,” RH, July 18, 1865, 56. 42. It is assumed here that the editor identified simply as “G” in the Review is George Amadon. See “Devil’s Rampant,” RH, Oct. 17, 1865, 160. 43. “Labors in Maine,” RH, Oct. 31, 1865, 173. 44. “The New England Tent,” RH, Aug. 29, 1865, 104. 45. “Note from the New England Tent,” RH, Sept. 5, 1865, 112. 46. “Note from Bro. Cornell,” RH, Sept. 19, 1865, 128. 47. After starting this December series, Andrews was called away to Rochester for a short time but was soon back nurturing new believers in Norridgewock. “Our Late Experience,” RH, Feb. 2, 1866, 97. 48. “The Work at Norridgewock,” RH, Apr. 24, 1866, 168. 49. Ibid. “The Cause in Norridgewock,” RH, July 17, 1866, 56. Eventually, he found an experienced Elder Putnam from a nearby church to pastor the group while he left to attend the General Conference session. 50. “Report from Maine,” RH, Oct. 28, 1866, 165. See also Canright’s observations made in August

1866. “From my short experience, as a preacher, in present truth, I have been forcibly impressed with the necessity of holding on, when we once begin in a new place. Now from what I have seen in this place, I am double impressed with its great utility.” “The Cause in Norridgewock, Me.,” RH, Aug. 14, 1866, 85, 86. 51. “Encouraging,” RH, Nov. 6, 1866, 184. 52. “Obituary,” RH, Oct. 3, 1865, 143. According to Sarah Pottle, the funeral was conducted in the Andrewses’ home. SPD, Sept. 17, 27, 1865, MLCBU. 53. Sarah Pottle mentions that Mother Andrews had arrived in Rochester by late June. SPD Jun. 27, 1865, MLCBU. 54. Almyra Stevens to “Dear Afflicted Daughter,” Oct. 7, 1865; Paulina Stevens to ASA, Oct. 28, 1865, CAR. See also, F. J. Farnsworth to ASA, Oct. 21, 1865, CAR. 55. “God’s Present Dealings With His People,” RH, Apr. 17, 1866, 156. 56. Knight documents the sinister legalism that crept into Adventist teaching through Bates’s preaching. George R. Knight, Joseph Bates: The Real Founder of Seventh-day Adventism (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2004), 83–88. 57. Three months after his stroke, White placed much of the blame of “that terrible conflict” on Brinkerhoff for bringing him “to where I am now.” “My Condition,” RH, Nov. 7, 1865, 180. 58. “Sickness of Bro. White,” RH, Aug, 22, 1865, 96. 59. RH, Sept. 12, 1865, 120. John Loughborough and Uriah Smith were part of a party of five invalids that left for New York State on September 14. “Notes by the Way,” RH, Oct. 3, 1865, 140. Loughborough describes his excessive, stroke-inducing work responsibilities in “Report from Bro. Loughborough,” RH, Oct. 10, 1865, 149. 60. RH, Sept. 19, 1865, 128. 61. Halfway through the letter, he could no longer hold a pen and had to finish it by dictating his thoughts to Loughborough. “My Condition,” RH, Nov. 7, 1865, 180. 62. Ibid. White described his condition as suffering from “an extreme nervous condition.” Ellen White noted “the debilitated and excitable state of his nervous system.” “Our Late Experience,” RH, Feb. 27, 1866, 98. 63. Ibid. 64. “The Work at Norridgewock,” RH, Apr. 24, 1866, 168. Sarah Pottle reports that Mrs. Andrews had traveled on to the East on December 4. This seems to be a reference to John’s mother. SPD, Dec. 4, 1865, MLCBU. 65. “Close of the Discussion,” RH, Jan. 30, 1866, 69; “Elder Preble’s Challenge for a Discussion Through the World’s Crisis,” RH, Apr. 24, 1866, 164. 66. A. Lanphear and R. F. Cottrell, “Fourth Annual Report of the N. Y. State Conference,” RH, Oct. 31, 1865, 172, 173. Kevin Burton’s study of Jotham Aldrich provides a helpful analysis of Aldrich’s contribution to Adventist leadership. Kevin Burton, “An Adventist Gentleman in Battle Creek: the Leadership of Jotham M. Aldrich, 1866–1868,” Journal of Asia Adventist Seminary 16, no. 2 (2013): 127–152. 67. “God’s Present Dealings With His People,” RH, Apr. 17, 1866, 156. 68. “The Fast in Battle Creek,” RH, May 15, 1866, 192. 69. “Answers to the Objections Against the Visions,” RH, Aug. 14, 1866, 88. The responses were

later serialized in the Review. 70. “Fourth Annual Session of General Conference,” RH, May 22, 1866, 196. 71. EGW, Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1 (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1868), 489. 72. The text of the prospectus was published in the Review, Aug. 7, 1865, 79. 73. “The Western Health-Reform Institute,” RH, June 10, 1866, 24; “Meeting in Western N. Y.,” RH, Jun. 19, 1866, 20. 74. “Report from Bro. White,” RH, June 19, 1866, 20; “The Health-Reform Institute,” RH, July 10, 1865, 48. 75. “The Cause in Norridgewock, Me.,” RH, Aug. 14, 1866, 86. 76. “To the Brethren in New England,” RH, July 3, 1866, 65. 77. The Review lists some of these as Eddington, Hartland, Portland, and some in Massachusetts, such as South Lancaster. “Report from Maine,” RH, Oct. 23, 1866, 165. 78. “N. Y. and Pa. Conference,” RH, Oct. 16, 1866, 158. The tone of the brief note on the Whites’ departure from Battle Creek carries a hint that things are not going well with James’s recovery. RH, Sept. 18, 1866, 128. Arthur White observes that, for a time, Review readers were “left in the dark” about James’s health. Ellen is obliged to leave James with friends while she goes to bid farewell to her dying father. “I never was more perplexed in my life to know what was my duty.” EGW to JEW, Oct. 7, 1866, EGWE-GC. See also ALW, Ellen G. White: The Progressive Years, 1862–1876 (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1986), 2:155. 79. “Report from Bro. Loughborough,” RH, Nov. 6, 1866, 181. 80. “The Health Institute at Battle Creek,” RH, Sept. 9, 1866, 120; “Enlargement of the Review,” RH, Sept. 18, 1866, 128. Canright joined him in this. See also RH, Nov. 11, 1866, 192. 81. HNSD, Nov. 16, 1866, CAR. 82. “To the Brethren in N. E.,” RH, Nov. 13, 1866, 192. 83. HNSD, Nov. 22, 1866, CAR. 84. Ibid. 85. On Wednesday, May 9, 1866, just prior to the General Conference session, Harriet noted: “The fast commences today. In the forenoon very busy with this & that. One, here & there, in regard to existing difficulties at Bro. W.’s. About noon went to work & righted up neglected matters about house, shed, &c. . . . In the evening another [meeting] with Edson in company with M. [Martha Amadon]. A very busy & weary day.” Then the next day she observed, “Went to meeting this evening & gave my report of the interview mentioned on the other page. Had interview with Annie & Sr. White separately in relation to the trouble there. I have to think fast.” HNSD, May 10, 1866, CAR. 86. HNSD, Nov. 26, 1866, CAR. 87. Deacon John White to Dear Sister, Dec. 9, 1866, EGWE-GC. An indication of the quiet resistance in the Battle Creek church can be gauged from a further observation by James’s father. He noted that Ellen “gave us a long lecture Sabbath before last after Brother Loughborough had preached. I thought it a damper—did not hear nor feel one response. She talks of traveling and preaching it but I think the weather and the subject too cold.” 88. “The Health Institute,” RH, Feb. 19, 1867, 126. 89. “The Review,” Feb. 19, 1867, 132.

90. HNSD, Dec. 3, 11, 1866, CAR. 91. EGW to JNA [undated], EGWE-GC. It is not clear what particular problem Ellen White is referring to in this document. Was it that the brethren did not know how long to continue a salary for James given his long invalidism? 92. “Quarterly Meetings in N. Y.,” RH, Feb. 5, 1867, 104. 93. “Report From Bro. Andrews,” RH, Feb. 19, 1867, 127.

Chapter Twelve

Caretaker President: 1868–1869

T

he fifth annual General Conference session opened at 9:00

A.M.

on

Tuesday, May 14, 1867, with much uncertainty and tension in the air. It was the largest gathering yet for such a session, and delegates met in the brand-new and much larger Adventist meetinghouse in Battle Creek. President James White, however, was notably not present to serve as chair. He was too unwell to make it to the morning meeting. With uneasy apprehension, the nineteen official delegates representing 160 churches asked publishing association secretary Jotham Aldrich to serve as chairman pro tem. After John Andrews offered the opening prayer, Aldrich invited other ministers in attendance to “take part in the conference.” As the morning progressed the constitution was amended to allow all attendees to participate in floor discussions, although not in the voting.1 A long, busy first session tentatively proceeded to receive numerous reports and then more confidently approved a dozen or so substantial resolutions. Apprehension had been steadily building throughout the church for several months in the lead-up to the session as White’s colleagues realized that the church’s president could no longer function as such. Although White had recently begun to resume his “plain preaching” in central Michigan churches and occasionally in Battle Creek, his energy levels were still very low, and emotional stability had not yet returned. The evidence suggests that there were also concerns over a diminished sense of judgment.2 Six weeks previously he had confessed to Review readers that he had “erred” and in “some cases made work for bitter repentance.” He

had spoken of “his then shattered brain” and “mysterious circumstances in the case” that “irritated” his “weakened nerves.” He had confessed about misuse of resources and business sidelines, and he had hoped and prayed for recovery, but such recovery had not yet come.3 Would he be strong enough to continue serving as president? The answer to that question is the story of this chapter, where we seek to understand the unique challenges Andrews faced that were posed by James White’s ill health. Complicating the general situation in the church prior to the session were criticisms from some quarters that the introduction of the health reform message and the building of the Health Institute in Battle Creek compromised the church’s convictions on the imminence of the Advent. The church had accepted that the Lord was delaying His coming.4 On the practical level, quarreling and factionalism over dress and dietary reform were still erupting in the Battle Creek church and in other places. And there were clearly anxieties over leadership succession. Ellen White anguished over whether James would ever be well enough to function as a leader again, and her personal anxiety over what that might mean for her own future was especially acute just prior to the session. The overall uncertainty, the misunderstanding between her and her friends, and the misinterpretations of each other’s actions and motives conspired to rob her of sleep, seriously depressed her, and gave her nightmares.5 White concluded his presession article on the state of the church in Battle Creek with the prayer, “May this church live to outride the storm.”6 Most church leaders had become convicted that the “storm” the church faced was a result of “the afflicting hand of God” laid on the church in judgment, particularly because of their arrogant “self-glorifying and vanity” two years earlier. They had claimed that it was their own four-day season of prayer that had ended the Civil War and that God had done this for the purpose of enabling the distinctive Adventist mission. This assessment they now regretted. Another day of fasting and prayer was enjoined in all the churches on Sabbath, May 11, just three days prior to

the 1867 session. Fervent prayers were offered both for a return to health for James White and for God’s forgiveness for their previous narrow arrogance.7 James was well enough to get himself to the afternoon session of the opening day, which convened at 2:30 P.M., and he offered the opening prayer but then immediately, in a rather dramatic but probably not unexpected announcement, “stated that he had simply come to excuse himself from serving as chairman of the meeting.” Then he explained further that he “wished rest and retirement” and that “in view of his state of health and his anticipated change of location . . . he requested to be released from all office in the Conference.” The fact that he concluded his request with the phrase “during the coming year” clearly alerted delegates and church members to the idea that he intended to return.8 At White’s suggestion, Aldrich resumed the chair, and another productive session approved numerous substantive resolutions concerning relationships with Seventh Day Baptists, health reform, and publishing and evangelistic strategies. Business seemed to be able to get done even without James. Two days later on Thursday morning at the annual publishing association meeting, James White was again present to offer the opening prayer, but his vice president, George Amadon, chaired the meeting, and in the election of officers, James’s name appeared not at all—not even as a trustee or committee member. Aldrich was appointed leader of the publishing enterprise, editorial staff were assigned and salaries set, and a number of actions taken, as we will note below, that would later prove controversial. Whether White was present as one of the forty-six shareholders voting for these important decisions is not clear. It was not until Thursday afternoon that the General Conference session turned to the election of its own officers and, apparently in response to the tensions in the air, decided on this occasion to elect officers by ballot rather than the usual open show of hands process. Balloting produced a slate of names for

the various positions, and the slate was voted unanimously. John Andrews had been elected as General Conference president.9 By Sunday lunchtime, the session was over and the leaders breathed a sigh of exhausted relief. According to Uriah Smith, the business accomplished had “exceeded by nearly two-thirds the business of any previous meeting.”10 The developments had not been without some pain, for White and his colleagues had tried to ease the transition. During the session, Andrews and two other ministers had gone to the Whites’ home, where they “enjoyed a precious season of prayer.” This made it the best day, James reported, that he and his wife had seen “in twenty-one months.” James appreciated it but felt it not “proper to narrate all the touching acts of kindness of our brethren in doing all in their power to relieve our feelings.” He expressed his commitment to “fullest union” with the members of the church and those who “composed the great convocation.”11 One week later on the eve of the Whites’ return to Greenville, a special farewell gathering held at the Battle Creek church voted to express “deepest sympathy for them in their afflictions, and our regret at their leaving us.”12 The Whites affirmed the leadership change. “No good cause can prosper without a constituted head of good persons and also confidence in that head by fellow laborers and by those who should be led. Such a head [Andrews] exists at Battle Creek, which will be sustained by our people.”13 Andrews probably realized that his presidency was to be that of a caretaker. If he didn’t, he was soon to learn it. Much of the next two years he was to spend in the shadow of a James White, whose health continued to slowly improve and who therefore felt unable to really let go of the reigns of leadership. Illness, nevertheless, had dented his sense of social appropriateness and damaged his relational inhibitions. In the weeks ahead, James continued to report extensively in the Review, noting such things as where he preached, what time he got up in the morning, how long he slept, whether he dreamed or not, how the strawberries were growing, how worn down to stubs his teeth had become, a new technique for

baptizing people without them having to catch for breath and hurry back to the bank “in a strangled condition,” and what he thought of young people who stood around at the back of his tent talking during his meeting —“rude.”14 In many respects, during the next few months the Review functioned for White as his personal Facebook page. He did not intend to be forgotten. The cause still meant everything to him.

Team ministry in the East By mid-July, John Andrews was back briefly with his family at Rochester attending a quarterly meeting.15 But if his family had seen little of him prior to his appointment as General Conference president, they were to see even less of him now. He did not move his family to Battle Creek, a clear indication of his lack of ambition to be a long-term president. Rochester continued to be his official domicile, though he was rarely there. He was soon crisscrossing New England, attending conference sessions and trying to fulfill previously arranged speaking engagements and beginning to feel hassled.16 This was life on the rails as it had not been before. Contributions to the Review from the new president became brief notices. One item endorsed his brother-in-law’s new book Thoughts on the Revelation, a volume that would become a classic in Adventism. Another brief note two months later provided a correction to a misunderstanding about Ellen White’s earliest visions, which some said did not teach the unconscious state of the dead. Not true said Andrews. “I have had a personal acquaintance with sister White for more than twenty-two years, and have had an accurate knowledge of nearly every vision,” he wrote authoritatively. He could “state most explicitly and unqualifiedly that” the claim was “without the slightest foundation in truth.”17 Working with and defending the special role of Ellen White would become one of the special burdens of Andrews’s presidency. While Andrews toured the East, the Whites and Uriah Smith toured camp meetings in the West. Old colleagues like Butler in Iowa noted

White’s returning capacities and renewed forceful preaching, although they were also “astonished to see how changed in appearance and how old he has grown.”18 Enthused by the success of the big-tent convocation idea James had tried out in the West, he would repeat the exercise at Wright, Michigan, the following year. John Andrews returned to Battle Creek in mid-October and joined with the Whites in further revival meetings in the local church over the last two weekends of the month. The meetings followed up discussions earlier in the summer when vigorous conflict over dress reform had erupted.19 Perceived inconsistencies in the visions about the length of the off-thefloor “short” reform dress had created misunderstanding. This mattered when a show of ankle was regarded in society as very sexually provocative. Now the preaching trio tried to pull the headquarters church together both in their attitude toward the Whites and on the issue of health and dress reform. The Whites renewed their “plain speaking,” and as the Review politely recorded, there were further “investigations” of various matters “over which misunderstandings and wrong feelings have existed.”20 John Loughborough’s diary notes that these “investigations” actually took the form of a formal church trial, over which Andrews apparently had to preside. The trial cleared the air over the misinterpretations of motives between the leaders and allegations that the Battle Creek church declined to help the Whites when they were in need. For a time, a semblance of harmony was restored, and the leadership team was encouraged at the progress being made.21 On the second Sabbath a large group went forward for baptism, and after a lengthy review of the standing of the candidates on Sunday evening, forty-four were immersed in the nearby Kalamazoo River on Monday morning—the largest baptism thus far ever witnessed in the church. Sixteen went forward for rebaptism, apparently by James White, and twenty-eight mostly young people were baptized by Andrews and Loughborough. Ordinances were celebrated on Tuesday night with a greater degree of “humility, union and love” of a

kind never before enjoyed, noted the Review.22 It did not last. For the next two months, Andrews traveled with the Whites back through the East, where they took a tag team approach to preaching and revival. At Norridgewock on November 1, in spite of difficulty and strong opposition, Andrews and the Whites were finally able to organize the strong-minded and somewhat eccentric believers in Maine into a state conference.23 The work was heavy going, and one of the outcomes was that only four of the ten preachers in the state were granted credentials.24 The pattern of work involved intensive, lengthy preaching sessions shared between the three preachers, with Andrews preaching three or four times over a weekend and often two or three times during the week. Sabbath hours alone, from Friday evening to Saturday evening, could accommodate five sermons beside early morning and late afternoon social (testimony) meetings. Meetings would frequently run for six-hour sessions without a break and usually included intense confrontations, as Ellen White would identify faults in individuals in the small congregations. This would lead to extended personal appeals, general altar calls, sometimes investigations, confessions, and expressions of submission and acceptance, concluding with lengthy seasons of prayer and baptisms in chilly northern ponds and streams. It was physically exhausting and emotionally draining work, and both James and Ellen complained of the pressure but felt that duty compelled them to continue to engage in it. They continued in this right up until the last days of 1867.25 We get some idea of Andrews’s part in this routine and an insight into his preaching style from Ellen White’s detailed description of it at a Sunday evening meeting in late December at the Farnsworth farmhouse in Washington, New Hampshire. She noted that a blustery winter storm blew outside. For Andrews it was yet another Christmas not at home with his family. The day had already been fully occupied with preaching by James White and “plain testimony” meetings on dress and health reform by Ellen

White. Activities had included confrontations with an eccentric believer espousing extreme ideas and appeals for believers to follow the truth. The evening meeting resumed with further investigation of the case of a Brother Ball, who had exercised a negative influence in the group and was having difficulty making a decision to become a member. Then Andrews began to preach, and Ellen White was impressed. “If ever the Lord helped a man talk, He helped Brother Andrews that night, as he dwelt upon the subject of suffering for Christ’s sake,” Ellen White wrote to her seventeenyear-old son Edson back in Battle Creek.26 In her extended paraphrase of Andrews’s sermon, Ellen White highlighted his skill as a storyteller. She described how Andrews related a familiar story of a faithful Christian about to suffer martyrdom by burning at the stake. The Christian had promised to signal to his friend if his faith was stronger than the fire. Andrews did not spare the graphic details. “He was brought to the stake amid the taunts and jeers of the idle and curious crowd assembled to witness the burning of this Christian. The fagots were brought and the fire kindled.” The friend “fixed his eyes upon the suffering, dying martyr, feeling that much depended upon the signal.” When all thought that the fire had done its work, and that no life remained and there had been no signal, “lo! amid the flames, up went both arms toward heaven. The brother Christian, whose heart was becoming faint, caught sight of the joyful signal; it sent a thrill through his whole being.”27 “As Brother Andrews spoke of the blackened, burned arms raised aloft amid the flames, he, too, wept like a child,” reported Ellen White. “Nearly the whole congregation were [sic] affected to tears. This meeting closed about ten.”28 Andrews had in his library Bishop Alban Butler’s twovolume set of The Lives of the Fathers, Martyrs and other Principal Saints, and he apparently drew on these for sermon illustration material.29 Ellen White had felt so burdened during the meeting she recalled that she, too, had “wept aloud for about half an hour.” The weather was so bad the next day the group decided to stay and convene a further meeting that

started at 10:00 A.M. and ran without a break, with one preacher following another, until between 3:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon. The congregation reconvened at 6:00 P.M. for another evening meeting. Straight personal testimonies were again a feature, and confessions were made. The conference president “wept like a child,” and John Andrews, again in appealing to the youth and those who had resisted the special role of Ellen White, “talked in an earnest touching manner and with weeping.”30 As James White looked back on this intense period of labor and the breakthrough in his home state, he reflected on the role of his own and his wife’s “plain testimony.” Not in any earlier year had the testimony been “so plain and pointed,” and in spite of people’s fears that “many would be killed” by such plainness, he felt that, to the contrary, it had achieved the reclaiming of many backsliders.31 Clearly there was considerable discussion through the community as to whether this “plain speaking” approach was really helpful or appropriate. It had both its upside and its downside. Andrews himself was not normally given to such blunt, sharp speech for which he was sometimes faulted by his mentor Ellen White, but working at close quarters with the Whites, he had learned to appreciate some of its value, just as he had himself learned to be submissive to the sharp counsel when it came his way. Noting that “plainness of speech, faithful reproof for wrongs, words of compassion and encouragement for the trembling souls” had “entered largely” into the labors of his partners in ministry, Andrews observed that “the testimony of Sr. White, reproving wrongs in the case of many individuals that she had seen in vision, had been borne with great faithfulness.”32 His report to Review readers on the meetings in the Northeast lent support to the distinctive work of his colleagues. He shared his conviction of the helpfulness of the visions because he had observed them from especially close quarters. Andrews noted that Ellen White’s gift of special insight into personal trials and spiritual crises at the congregational level was a major feature of

her ministry. This was unknown to many of the new believers in Maine. As some of these new believers had been reproved, it was “not a matter of surprise,” he noted, “that a state of trial and confusion with quite a number existed for a season.” Some protested that as individuals they had been “set forth in a wrong light by her reproofs.” Others, however, affirmed her assessment, and by the end of the meetings, Andrews felt the confusion had been largely removed. “I have had great opportunity to judge of the truthfulness of these testimonies by witnessing their faithful and exact delineations of character in a very large number of cases, presenting widely dissimilar features,” he wrote. In careful language he went on to explain, “I have every reason to know that these things were almost entirely unknown to Sr. White, and in some cases absolutely unknown, only as given her by the Spirit of God. Yet a most perfect and exact representation of the faults, as well as the virtues, of many persons has thus been given, so that even those who know them best have said they could not so well have described them.” Andrews noted that as an evangelistic method, this approach might not always be appropriate. There were those, he noted, who apparently attended meetings as visitors and who were not Sabbath keepers and that might “feel glad that they are not connected with a people who regard these testimonies.” For his part, however, “from the depths of my heart I thank God for these indispensable mercies toward the people who are seeking to prepare for translation.”33 Dudley Canright, who also attended and reported on the same series of meetings, observed that it was clear that the office of rebuking people sharply (Titus 1:13) had also “been laid on Bro. W., and a very important and necessary office it is.” Does it follow, he asked, “that a man has a hard spirit, and lacks meekness and charity because he is pointed and sharp in reproving the guilty? Not at all.” He noted that “the trimming and pruning” that had been going on in the Northeast (possibly referring to the withholding of credentials from more than half of the ministers) had been “absolutely necessary to save the cause from ruin.” He had come to

realize, he said, that “God has laid upon Bro. W. a work that no other man could do.” Canright would later, quite famously and very publicly, change his assessment of this feature of James White’s ministry, but in late 1867 he had been convicted of “the need of the gifts which God had placed in the church.”34 Andrews and his two colleagues concluded their work for the year 1867 with a weekend of revival meetings in Enosburg, Vermont. By Monday morning, forty-four had responded to the call for baptism, and that evening, just before sundown, eleven hardy souls were baptized in a nearby clear-flowing stream after access had been gained by cutting through the ice. The fact that “the thermometer stood at twenty degrees below zero” was a deterrent for only a few who chose to wait for warmer days. Waiting was not an option for Elder Daniel Bourdeau’s aged parents, who, under conviction, had decided they could not afford the risk of delay. Freezing temperatures would not deter them. Andrews began his long trip back east to Battle Creek on New Year’s Day 1868, with stops along the way for meetings at various centers. The return trip allowed for a two-day layover in Rochester on January 8 and 9. It was precious little time to spend with ten-year-old Mellie and seven-year-old Mary, but his sense of church duty would not allow him to stay longer. For the next two months, Andrews spent his time in Michigan supporting the Whites in their ministry. This was in truth turning out to be very much a caretaker presidency. Andrews wore the title of General Conference president lightly, if he wore it at all. James White was the name again dominating the pages of the Review. But Andrews, it seems, had come to terms with that. It was his duty. During a weekend stopover in Battle Creek, James White occupied the pulpit on Sabbath morning, reports were given on the eastern tour, and an appeal was made by James and Ellen for the establishing of a special new literature fund to purchase the book

Spiritual Gifts and other Ellen White publications for the new believers in the Northeast.35 By Friday the following week, the trio had arrived at the White farm in Greenville. It seems that Andrews was unable to attend the funeral of his thirty-four-year-old sister-in-law Nettie out in Waukon, who, after an unhappy marriage, had died on January 19, twelve days after the birth of her first child—a boy.36 Greenville would now become Andrews’s ministry base until early March. Again, during this period we are able to catch intimate and illuminating glimpses of the relationship between Andrews and his mentors and also something of the dynamics of the White home at a delicate time in their family life. The Whites were glad that Andrews had decided to accompany them home. “Bro. Andrews designs to labor with us several weeks, perhaps months in Michigan,” James informed Review readers in late January. “This seems absolutely necessary in our worn condition,” he observed, adding that “the brethren will greet him with joy wherever it may be our pleasure to accompany him.”37 This latter observation was diplomatic speak, for in reality, for most of the time it was Andrews accompanying the Whites in their travels to the surrounding churches in their new horse and carriage. Only occasionally, it seems, did Andrews take the initiative for appointments. James and Ellen were deeply appreciative of the support of their young colleague, and James spoke of him in glowing terms as he concluded his lengthy Review report in late January. “We have greatly enjoyed the society and labors of Bro. J. N. Andrews, who has been with us in labors and travels, the past fifteen weeks. His long experience, studies, habits, mental strength, love for the cause, and for the salvation of dying men, and the ease with which he adapts himself to the work of the ministry, whether publicly or socially, are among his qualifications. He is temperate in labor and study, yet actively employing all his time to some good purpose.” The relationship had come a long way since the troubled times in Waukon. “The care which this dear servant of Christ has had for our comfort and

welfare, and the interest he has taken in our general prosperity calls for our most fervent gratitude, and greatly endears him to us,” White enthused.38 White would not always view his colleague in such glowing terms, but this was a season for good will, and warm cordiality prevailed. It was an uptime for James. Andrews became, as it were, not so much a houseguest but a regular member of the family. To help him cope with the cold weather, for example, and with his wife being five hundred miles away in Rochester, Ellen White attended to his clothing needs, purchasing underwear for him one day in Greenville and the next day again going to town to buy yards of warm woolen flannel for his drawers, measuring them up, cutting them out, and making them up herself, such were her sewing skills.39 To some extent, he was like her younger brother. The first advertised appointment in Michigan was at Wright on the last weekend in January. A severe winter storm almost prevented the trio from making the thirty-five-mile trip on Friday, but duty prevailed, and Andrews “took the front, drove, and made the journey as comfortable and cheerful as possible.” Andrews preached “a solemn and impressive discourse” Sabbath morning, James held forth for two hours in the afternoon, and a social meeting occupied Saturday night. Sunday followed almost the same pattern but with Ellen and James addressing the crowded church in the morning, Andrews preaching in the afternoon “with great clearness and force,” and the three of them shared the Sunday evening, turning it into a revival meeting, calling for deeper consecration and commitment. Monday they drove home. Thus was established the pattern for the next two months, except for when some journeys farther away and farther to the North and East occupied the weekdays in between, as well as the weekends. Pastoral visits and evangelistic meetings along the way often occupied the time between major appointments. Where possible, Andrews took opportunity for writing, but during this period he produced only short items for the Review, such as brief devotional pieces or exegetical expositions of problem texts.40 Steadily

gaining strength again and becoming more stable in his emotional health and judgment, James White was the one producing the longer reports and the leadership articles, such as the strategic analysis of the church’s mission he issued in mid-February. He argued that of the four “branches” of the work, ministry ranked first in strategic importance, publishing came second, followed by the care of widows, orphans, and the suffering poor, and then came the work of the health institute.41 The plight of recently converted and returned Anglican missionary Hannah More had made it clear to the church that care for the poor took precedence even over the health work. In Battle Creek the competition for scarce financial and personnel resources was beginning to cause tensions, and the proposal to move into a rapid expansion of the health work by the erection of a larger building was beginning to worry the de facto church leader.

The stresses of life Living in the White home during this particular period in their lives acquainted John Andrews firsthand with the very human dynamics of a family still very much in stress and struggling on the domestic front to maintain equilibrium and also meet the demands of public work. Public ministry, with its constant demands of preaching, conducting interviews with distressed or enquiring church members, sorting out church conflicts, traveling in uncomfortable weather and in uncomfortable conveyances, and sleeping in different beds each night all while having to be politely socially engaged with the church members who provided the hospitality, took its emotional and physical toll on the traveling leaders. Inevitably, the impact of weariness, bouts of ill health, and interrupted sleep produced occasions for domestic stress, sharp verbal exchanges, and conflict. In her diary, Ellen White records numerous such occasions and realities during the time that Andrews lived in their home. On Thursday, January 30, for example, Ellen White awoke after a period of some days of indifferent health with a prayer on her lips that the

Lord would help “guard my tongue lest I shall offend in word.”42 Two days later, on February 1, she confided to her diary when the three preachers were spending a weekend at Orleans, Michigan, fifteen or so miles from home, that she did not attend church that day because she was “sad and dispirited . . . sick, body and mind” and very much out of sorts with her husband because he did not understand her. This funk had apparently produced sharp words from her to him along the way. “I will keep my mouth with a bridle,” she resolved after a Sabbath day’s reflection. “I wrote my mind to James. Confessed my wrong in speaking and acting sometimes.” Two days later she gave the letters to James. Apparently, relationships with colleagues in Battle Creek became tense again, and this complicated things. After one exchange, James wrote an irate, intemperate letter to Battle Creek. “I could not sanction it. He burned it,” she reported. He then wrote another with which she “could heartily concur.” As the month rolled on, there were days when her spirits were “languid and depressed” and her head ached all the time, yet, as she was able, she still met speaking appointments. On February 12, she confessed to her diary again, after an early start to the day, that she would “be more watchful, to speak carefully at all times to my husband.” They prayed together and asked God’s help to “do right every time.” In March, she told her diary that again she had “not felt and spoken to James as I ought” and acknowledged to him that she had “erred.” Sometime later she spent the whole day in a carriage with James in a depressed mood and “did not speak as carefully and as cheerfully as I ought.” She confessed her grumpiness before leaving the carriage and “felt relieved.”43 Crafting two strong temperaments into a harmonious relationship clearly took focused work, particularly when one partner was still recovering from a stroke and the other, at age forty, was beginning menopause.44 In spite of some recovery, it seems that James was still inclined to be irascible, though he found healing in vigorous work on the farm as well as in his preaching and writing.45 But the question persisted: Would he be recovered enough to

resume formal administrative duties as General Conference president again in May? Adding to the complexity of the Whites’ domestic relations during Andrews’s stay with them was the fact that Ellen White was, at this time, as she explained to Edson, experiencing her “turn of life,” and the disorientation of menopause frightened her. Her sister had not survived the transition, she explained to her son. Ellen also feared that she might not survive it. During this time, her ability to cope with the stresses induced by her environment became limited. At one meeting, she observed, “several wanted me to encourage them; told me their troubles. I was so confused I did not know what to do. Oh, how glad I was to get a little rest and peace! It is so difficult to remain calm with everything going on—some talking all at once.”46 Anxiety about eighteen-year-old Edson also added deep layers of anxiety to Ellen White’s life during the time Andrews stayed with them. Edson had left home the previous year to get an education in Battle Creek, but his spendthrift ways, insecurities, independent spirit, and lack of spiritual commitment caused his mother to lose much sleep. He was becoming distant from her, and she feared she was losing him. She urged him to read her books in order to develop his devotional life, and she found herself concluding one letter of admonition to her troubled son by citing her colleague’s daily study pattern as an example. “Brother Andrews puts many to blush,” she wrote. “He rises in the morning at 4 o’clock. Reads several chapters in Spiritual Gifts and the Bible to become familiar with the contents. Some others ought to be as diligent in reading them.”47 When Andrews left the farm to return to the East, she reported to Edson, “We miss Brother Andrews very much.”48 But others also had a claim on his time, and March and April found him preaching in Lancaster, New York, and, at last, at least for a short while, he could spend some time at home in Rochester.49

Another year as caretaker president The General Conference session that convened in Battle Creek at 9:00 A.M. on Tuesday, May 12, 1868, was a less stressful and more low-key event than the conference of the previous year. This time James White was present to offer the opening prayer. The fifteen delegates under Andrews’s chairmanship quickly organized themselves, appointing subcommittees and receiving reports. Other attendees were invited to participate in the discussions. Work on the new hymnbook was progressing, but Andrews had not been able to complete the preparation of a manuscript on the subject of war (it was “requiring much research and study”). The treasury had, in hand, funds amounting to $880.35, and the six “missionaries” (Andrews, John Loughborough, Daniel Bourdeau, Luther Howard, Isaac Van Horn, and James White) gave an account of the work in their various fields of labor. The first morning session concluded with the appointment of a three-man nominating committee, which apparently met during the lunch hour, and when the second session convened at 2:00 P.M., they gave their report. John Andrews was again declared the president. This time James White, however, had been added back on to the executive committee. At least anxieties over leadership had been speedily resolved. Andrews’s second year as caretaker had begun. According to J. H. Waggoner, the 1868 session was characterized by “perfect harmony” and from first to last by “an absence of personal excitement.” The “vindication” of the organizational structure was evidenced in the efficiency with which the work was done.50 With James White’s steadily returning health, however, came the asserting of his role as de facto leader behind the scenes. This next year would not be without its tensions and conflicts. Session delegates were very much aware of the national political crisis unfolding in Washington, DC, as Congress sought unsuccessfully to impeach President Andrew Johnson and as law and order broke down in many parts of the South. The dark shadow of armed conflict still hovered

over the nation. The fractious disputes and divisions over Reconstruction policy in the South worried church members, and the divisive political issues had an unsettling impact on congregations. Session delegates, in an expression of their deep anxiety, resolved to pray for the national leadership “that they may have wisdom to govern with discretion” given the “unsettled condition of national affairs.”51 The resolution also urged the brethren to “abstain from worldly strife.” The contentious spirit that characterized the leadership in the nation’s capital reflected itself in the testy leadership affairs of the church. As the year wore on, the Adventist Church found itself having to cope with its own reconstruction, as tensions surrounded the return of James White to leadership. At year’s end, the strains would cause casualties among the church’s own leadership team. But more on this later. Even though the report of the entire 1868 General Conference Session was able to be documented in the space of one page in the Review, it was not because no important decisions had been taken. Under John Andrews’s administration, four major new initiatives to facilitate the mission of the church emerged. Andrews was responsible to see them through. Great concern had been aroused by the plight of former Protestant missionary Hannah More—now a Sabbath keeper but without a job. Furthermore, increasingly in the horrific humanitarian aftermath of the Civil War, the duty to care for widows, orphans, and the poor pressed itself sharply into the church’s consciousness.52 This was the church’s first encounter with the issue of practical social justice and humanitarian welfare. Consequently, a major initiative of the session was the organization of yet another church entity, eventually to be called the Seventh-day Adventist Benevolent Association. Its structure paralleled that of the publishing association, and before the end of the session, it had attracted fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of subscriptions. This was something the brethren felt James White could adequately handle in spite of his weak health, and he was appointed president of the association.

A second major development concerned the establishment of a “Book Fund” for the purchase of reading materials for the poorer members of the church and for books for use in evangelism and the spiritual nurture of new church members. The establishment of this fund also helped clear old stock that was collecting dust on the publisher’s shelves. James had a keen interest in both objectives. A third major initiative proposed to coalesce the General Conference session with an annual big-tent type of camp meeting. After much discussion about the feasibility of this idea, it was determined that it would perhaps work much better at the local conference level. Thus another distinctive feature of Adventism was born—the annual big-tent conference camp meeting, absorbing wherever possible the annual conference business session. The first state to carry through with the combination idea in a major way was Michigan, with its camp meeting at Wright in the month of August building on pilot projects tried out in the West the previous year. The fourth initiative was a call initiated by Merritt Kellogg for the opening of mission work in California.53 This took a little longer to resolve. There was debate about whether it was the right time and whether it was even feasible. How might such a mission “be sustained,” was not a little question because the new territory of Missouri was also calling for attention. J. N. Loughborough, recently left a widower, and Vermonter Daniel Bourdeau had both expressed a conviction during the session that they had come to see California as their duty and were willing to respond to such a call. Two weeks later, “after much prayer and counseling,” the pair were sent off to the West with the blessing and support of the church.54 James White made the announcement and published the call. Adventism was expanding its horizons and spreading its sails, and White was getting his hand on the tiller again. During the next two busy years, Loughborough and Bourdeau would successfully plant churches along the southern reaches of the nation’s West Coast.

While the issue of dress reform had apparently not troubled the waters of the 1868 session, it had not been entirely forgotten. The Review noted that a “Convention of Sisters” had organized themselves with Ellen White as a committee member for the purpose of “deciding upon a proper style and manufacture of hats for their use.”55 The matter of dress reform would yet give Ellen White and Andrews serious headaches. Following the 1868 General Conference Session, the reelected Andrews spent June and July in the West, again preaching and counseling in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa.56 As he began his new term of office, he sought advice. He had acquired, at some cost, the gift of submission and had learned how to be helped by it, and he did not want to offend or make further mistakes in what was a very ambiguous leadership role. “Now I do most earnestly desire that you will both feel free at any time to advise me as to duty or to counsel me in anyway, or to reprove me sharply, or to express your fears of my course,” he wrote. “I promise not to be offended but to regard your admonitions and reproofs. It is altogether likely that God has given reproof and correction for me in those last visions. I pity Sister White to have so much of this distressing work to do but I bespoke [her] not to spare me. I know her lot is a hard one—but there is an exceeding great reward.”57 Sometime later, as he continued to grow in the art of submission, he would find that he would need to differentiate between conflicting advice from his two colleagues in ministry and give greater weight to the advice of Ellen. Between conferences, Andrews took the opportunity of visiting his mother, mother-in-law, and other relatives out west in Waukon. He was “very grateful for this privilege after so many years of separation.”58 It had been more than six years since he had seen them. He also used the opportunity to labor with the churches and to try again to straighten out the eccentric theology of Ezra Butler—although that seems to have been a hopeless task. It was during Andrews’s western tour that signs of tension over the

ambiguity in his leadership role as the caretaker president began to first appear. He would learn the hard way what is regularly taught in leadership theory classes. Role ambiguity inevitably generates conflict. Although James White carried only informal influence, he had begun to be quite assertive again shortly after the 1868 session. For example, in early June the back page of the Review carried four notices about developments in the church all placed by James, along with one curious but prominent notice promoting his own town of Greenville as a better place than Battle Creek for people to settle in if they were moving to Michigan. Greenville needed more help than Battle Creek. Why other rural towns were not just as suitable for promotion is a question that might have suggested itself to a curious reader of the Review. It seems as if the world needed to revolve around James White.59 Six weeks later, following up the decision at the session to schedule big-tent camp meeting convocations combined with conference sessions, James published a lengthy argument for the introduction of such meetings to be convened in late summer and early fall. His article called for such convocations in Michigan and for the brethren to plan for such meetings in other states.60 “Brethren, shall we have these meetings?” he asked as if he was in charge. “If so, please respond immediately.” He gave his personal mailing address. In the same issue of the Review that carried James’s big-tent convocation call, the Whites announced that because the weather was currently too hot, it was not their “duty to go out of the State of Michigan to labor.” James was not feeling well, and furthermore, he was engaged in a major writing project.61 (Uriah Smith had joined him at Greenville to help him complete the manuscript for his autobiographical book Life Incidents.) James declared that he and Ellen would not attend meetings in Ohio or Indiana and suggested that the convocation already called for Wisconsin be changed. He believed it had been called for the wrong time. White also advised Andrews against attending the Wisconsin convocation in a letter Andrews had received the same day the Review was

published.62 According to Andrews, James had taken offense at the call for the Wisconsin convocation because he and Ellen had not been invited to it. Andrews assured him in private correspondence, however, that Wisconsin had indeed planned to invite the Whites. “I cannot for a moment think that they were indifferent to your presence. If so they are consummate hypocrites, for they expressed themselves very strongly on the point in the Conference.” He thought that the misunderstanding arose from the wording of the announcement that had been framed a little clumsily.63 In Battle Creek an emergency meeting of publishing leaders considered the matter and published a formal cancellation notice for the Wisconsin convocation that overrode the decision of the local conference leadership.64 The heavy-handed intervention produced angry disappointment and a flurry of correspondence. Andrews, still in Waukon and alarmed by developments, was not certain what to do—whether to return to Michigan immediately or wait things out. White, still assuming he was in charge though not carrying the title, had apparently directed Andrews to come back to Michigan to work again with him in that field. Andrews waited in Iowa to complete speaking appointments he had undertaken and tried to clear the misunderstandings by letter. He was rather defensive. “I have found no freedom in this decision [to return immediately], and so I decide to remain here till Monday morning.” He would not attend the Wisconsin meeting, he thought, unless there “seems to be some strong decided conviction that I ought to do so.” He added, “You leave some degree of responsibility upon me as to the decision. I will do the very best I can to decide right.”65 Two days later he was more sure of his footing when he wrote to Ellen. “I do not expect to attend the Wisconsin convocation meeting. I did intend to do this but I certainly do not mean to disregard your husband’s counsel.” He was sorry that the problem had occurred because, while he understood that there were reasons for Battle Creek to override the decision, “most of the brethren [here] do not understand the matter at all.”66

Two weeks later assistant Review editor J. H. Waggoner tried diplomatically to explain the irregular actions concerning the notice (and another similar cancellation concerning a New York convocation). By this time, Andrews was back with the Whites in Greenville. A Freudian slip in Waggoner’s explanation revealed the ambiguity about the real leadership of the church. Noting that the Review staff had consulted church leadership on whether to override the New York committee and cancel their call for a convocation, J. H. Waggoner committed a classic blooper. “Feeling thus [discomfort with the plans for the convocation],” he noted, “we forwarded the [page] proof to Bro. White, President of the General Conference. Fortunately Bro. Andrews was with Bro. White; he is on both the General Conference Committee and State Committee of New York. Our minds were much relieved to find that our action in withholding it was approved of” (italics supplied). Was not Waggoner present when the session of 1868 adopted its nominating report with Andrews clearly appointed as president? Did he have a personal difficulty with the decision? We do not know what Andrews thought when he read the explanation, but the gaffe revealed more of the complex realities and sensitivities of church affairs than either Andrews or Waggoner would have liked to acknowledge in public.67

Camp meeting season Arriving back at the White farm in Greenville in late July, Andrews found himself caught up with planning for a mid-August major camp meeting fifty miles to the east at Wright, Michigan, along the grandiose lines envisaged by White. All the churches from the state of Michigan would bring in three to six family-size tents each and gather around two sixtyfoot diameter conference tents. The tents would be set out in a grove, with a preaching stand in the center and rows of anxious seats set out in front of the pulpit. The plan envisaged church members also coming in from New York, Ohio, Illinois, and Indiana, crossing state conference lines. In fact,

there were so many planning details to care for that the date scheduled had to be postponed for two weeks until September 1–7. Troubles in the publishing house also slowed things down. Andrews, as a trustee of the publishing association, found himself caught up in publishing politics and some painful decision-making in Battle Creek. The only indication of trouble that Review readers might have picked up on was in a report that on September 23, James White had attended the 7:30 A.M. Sunday morning staff worship period, which began every work week and that he had talked with some emotion and shedding of tears about the importance of the Review to the church. On the following Thursday at a meeting of the association, trustees made a decision to reduce the size of the magazine back to its original eight pages and to reduce its price from three dollars to two dollars. The change was to be effective immediately. Financial economies had to prevail. Inevitably, there were hurt feelings, disappointment, and a number of disillusioned and disaffected employees. The difficult discussions had taken White and Andrews away from camp meeting preparation.68 When the new-style camp meeting eventually convened on September 1, White’s grand hopes for a massive crowd were not quite fulfilled. Nevertheless, the event was the largest the denomination had ever yet witnessed. Twenty-two smaller church tents clustered neatly around the two large conference tents, and during the week one thousand campers attended meetings, with the crowds swelling to two thousand on the weekend. John Andrews preached four times during the week, and the Whites shared eleven talks between them. More than twenty social meetings gave ample opportunity for testimonies and altar calls and the anxious seats were often crowded, reported Joseph Bates.69 According to James White’s report of the phenomenon, many old-timers “had seen nothing like this since 1844.”70 James White’s preaching of new light on the sanctuary and the end time may also have reminded them of 1844.

Now, White was suggesting that the fourth or morning watch had begun, and the return of our Lord from the wedding (Luke 12:36) is not His coming in the clouds of heaven as has been supposed—but His return from the Most Holy Place to the Holy Place, where He went as a bridegroom to the marriage in 1844. Coming back to the Holy Place would mark the close of probation, and that would be happening soon and at any time.71 A quarter century after their crushing disappointment, this new sanctuary doctrine refinement helped renew the sense of imminence and was a powerful motivator of commitment. Bates noted that the camp meeting had convened “under the supervision of Brn. James White and J. N. Andrews and was one of the best conducted, most orderly” meetings of the kind he had ever attended. Unlike the oftnoted New Testament relationship between Barnabas and Paul, which slowly became Paul and Barnabas, this James and John remained as James and John. Though John carried the title of president, it was but a formality. Leadership, however, was a delicate issue. When Joseph Clark, secretary of the Ohio Conference, described what he observed at the Wright camp meeting, he appreciated the “great power” with which John Andrews spoke at the meetings and noted, “He has accompanied Bro. and Sr. White much in their late tours among the churches, and has caught the same spirit.” Clark saw in it all “the loud cry.”72 The remark touched a deep sensitivity in James, and two weeks later he vigorously objected in the Review to the use of such “incautious words,” even from friends. Speaking of Andrews as catching “the same spirit” hurt us, he wrote. Did he take the remark as disguised criticism of Andrews, suggesting he was just aping James White? Perhaps James perceived it as a subtle put-down on himself. In any case, he took pains to assert, “Bro. Andrews is a man of God. He is a close Bible student. He walks with God, and shares largely of the Holy Spirit direct from the throne.” Andrews did not get his spirit from the Whites. In fact, “Bro. and Sr. White, especially when groaning under responsibilities and trials, often find relief in counseling with Bro.

Andrews and listening to words of wisdom from his lips.” White felt so strongly about the matter he publicly suggested that the editor “would be acting in harmony with the duties of his position, if he were to strike such incautious expressions from all articles.”73 Did Smith ever feel that he should exercise the same rule in regard to James’s articles as well? Having perfected the camp meeting idea in Michigan, the Andrews and White preaching team immediately launched the big-tent convocation model in Illinois and Iowa, with similar effectiveness, although not achieving the same scale. By October 13, they were back in Battle Creek for an intense week of church business meetings and consultations giving attention to “matters of importance relative to the Health Institute, the Publishing Association, the new Battle Creek School” that had been started by Goodloe Harper Bell, and to a multitude of other administrative details. Then the trio traveled east to attend the annual New York State Conference in Adams Centre. The preachers reached Rochester at the end of October. Andrews had been away from home almost continuously for six months. But this time he had not come home for just a short visit. He planned to stay—at least for a while.74 A major reason for James White’s inability to attend the Ohio, Indiana, and Wisconsin camp meetings during the early summer of 1868, as already noted, was because he was writing a manuscript for his autobiography. At the General Conference session in May, he had requested the help of an “amanuensis,” and Uriah Smith had been assigned the task. During the previous summer, Smith had spent time assisting the Whites by publishing an extensive defense of Ellen White’s visions in response to the objections from former ministers, Snook and Brinkerhoff, and their Marion Party.75 Now, in the summer of 1868, Smith spent two months on the farm at Greenville helping James prepare and polish the manuscript on his life story. Published in time for the Wright camp meeting, the book functioned

as a political biography and was an instant success. The first edition of five thousand had quickly sold out. As a companion volume to Ellen White’s own autobiography in Spiritual Gifts, James’s Life Incidents did much not only to help consolidate his leadership of the church but also to unify the movement and help in its aggressive evangelistic outreach in much the same way that political and leadership biographies still do today.76 The book gave him publicity and demonstrated his bonafides. With steadily improving health as 1868 turned into 1869, White’s role as de facto leader became even more prominent and apparent. The back page of the Review was dominated by announcements, calls, explanations, and notes about his activities. Clearly he was moving back to center stage. Andrews could soon forget about the title of General Conference president. In the winter of 1868–1869, it would be his turn for a writing sabbatical. Stocks of Andrews’s History of the Sabbath in Battle Creek were exhausted, and as he explained to readers of the Review in November, as the author, he was not willing to run with a new edition until he could revise it. He therefore planned “to spend a portion of the winter chiefly in this business.” His approach to the task of revision provides important insights into John Andrews and his understanding of the scholarly enterprise. He began by seeking critical feedback both from Sabbath keepers and those who were opposed to its observance. He would welcome any input on how the work could be improved and any critical reviews pointing out its faults, real or imagined.77 Further study of the church fathers had indicated to Andrews the need for a more nuanced explanation of the change of the Sabbath. Avoiding a “party spirit” would be an ideal he would strive to achieve. The use of derogatory anti-Catholic language nevertheless remained a hallmark of the volume. The winter at home also enabled Andrews to give more time to writing articles for the Review during this period. There had been little from his pen during the time he had been with the Whites at their Greenview farm or on the camp meeting circuit. Now, within the space of four months,

almost thirty items appeared in the Review under his byline. Quite a number were shorter pieces providing exegesis of problem texts and some were noting news items that illuminated the meaning of scriptural concepts. For example, he wrote how recent descriptions of volcanic eruptions in Hawaii illustrated the biblical picture of the lake of fire. Other articles were short devotional or exhortatory pieces stressing the duty of rigorous obedience to the law and the need for the overcoming of sin in the light of the coming judgment. “It will not be a light thing to pass the inspection of the Judge of all the earth.” There would be “no mercy in the Judgement. . . . That day will reveal just what you are.”78 Five major articles were transcripts of expository sermons exhorting believers to good works and rigorous faithfulness in keeping the law. The driving motivation of fear is clear in them all, and they demonstrate the terrifying vision of the awful Judgment Day. The great white throne that he had heard about in church in North Paris when he was five years old still dominated his preaching and his religious experience. Probation would soon close, and if one had any sin remaining, the prospect was too awful to contemplate. “The guilt of those who cause others to stumble” was even worse. “It is a terrible thing to be lost. No tongue can express the unutterable horror of despair that shall seize men when they find that mercy is clean gone forever. But if we could perish alone, and not by our evil example and poisonous influence drag others to perdition also, the case would be less fearful than it is.”79 In Andrews’s worldview, the fate of the wicked loomed large, and there was not much room left in it for any large meaningful measure of assurance. “Who of us are Christians after such a fashion of this?” he concluded after one piece on the kind of entire consecration needed in the Christian life.80 In spite of his hopes for the revision task, Andrews had made little progress by the time the next General Conference session arrived in May 1869. He had found time, however, to read some of the current literature on the Sabbath question, and he provided for Review readers a very

favorable critique of a new book on the Sabbath by Seventh Day Baptist writer Thomas Brown. A man of “original mind,” Brown, with brevity and fairness, had made “a very complete and satisfactory statement” on the Sabbath question that was worthy of the Adventist reader’s attention.81 Andrews, as General Conference president, was one of the few who held that post and who nevertheless took time to provide a scholarly review of a book for church members. But he had to fight the pressure of other duties to do so. The “magnitude of duties pressing upon me,” Andrews noted, had prevented him from even acknowledging friendly correspondents who had sent revision suggestions in for consideration, and he had to resort to thanking his well-wishers by way of a public note in the Review.82 The problem had been not so much the other writing he had sent off to the Review but rather the pressing nature of major administrative problems that had first erupted in Battle Creek in the late summer and fall of 1868 but which now had grown worse. Sharp disputes had occurred in the publishing enterprise over publishing mission strategy and priorities, and these had led to confrontation and a change in management. The size of the weekly Review had been abruptly cut from sixteen pages back to eight pages and, as previously noted, there had been hurt feelings and confusion. Andrews found himself trying to apologize and giving a belated explanation to readers four months after the radical reduction, acknowledging that readers perhaps had “some ground for dissatisfaction.”83 A further complicating matter was the problem of the new building project for the health institute. Construction had been stopped by James White’s personal intervention after the foundations and first story walls had already been erected. The intervention was perceived as autocratic and had contributed to further misunderstanding and criticism. The change in the size of the Review actually concealed a much larger struggle over strategy and leadership style than Andrews was able to

discuss in his belated explanation. But if he thought that he might be relieved from onerous leadership roles in Battle Creek now that James White moved formally back in charge, he was to be disappointed. The changes in leadership eventually involved the loss of Smith as editor, and that meant that Andrews would have to continue to labor in Battle Creek while his family languished in Rochester. The General Conference session scheduled for May 11 looked as if it would again not be a very comfortable meeting for Andrews.

1. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 28, 1867, 283, 284. Fifteen of the nineteen delegates were ministers. For the Sabbath meetings, the congregation swelled to between seven hundred and eight hundred, and even in the large meetinghouse there was not enough seating. 2. The effects of the stroke continued to impact James’s health, exacerbating tensions in the family. Quarrels with seventeen-year-old son Edson had become known to the leadership circle. There had also been quarrels with Review staff that had involved the intervention of others to achieve reconciliation. See HNSD, Mar. 14, 15; Aug. 25; Nov. 24, 25, 1866, CAR. Recent Review articles by James included what seemed to be excessive and rather inappropriate personal details. Delegates requested the Review editor to exercise more care in excluding articles “of a personal or censorious character, except such as are positively necessary to defend the cause of truth.” “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 27, 1867, 284. 3. “God is True,” RH, Mar. 26, 1867, 192. 4. “A Point Overlooked,” RH, Mar. 5, 1867, 150. Uriah Smith rejected the criticism, replying that health reform was a necessary part of believers preparing for translation and such preparation could be done “speedily.” But the building inevitably challenged the timetable for the return and set up an ongoing tension with the idea of imminence. 5. EGW, T (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1868), 1:575–579. Ellen White describes her deep emotional trauma through this period as causing an “inexpressible depression of spirits,” an “agony of mind,” long periods of weeping, “uncontrollable grief,” and a terrible nightmare which woke her up crying with a “pillow wet with tears.” 6. “The Battle Creek Church,” RH, Apr. 2, 1867, 198. 7. “The Appointed Fast,” RH, May 7, 1867, 258. Public confession over the “past self-glorifying and vanity” was expressed also during the conference in a formal resolution and with public prayer and weeping. James White reported that the resolution was “an unspeakable relief” to his feelings personally, as he felt that he was “the most guilty of the wrongs expressed in that resolution.” “The Conference,” RH, May 28, 1867, 282. 8. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 28, 1867, 283, 284. 9. Ibid.

10. “This Week’s Reports,” RH, May 28, 1867, 282. 11. “The Conference” RH, May 28, 1867, 282. 12. “An Expression,” RH, May 28, 1867, 282. 13. “Response,” RH, May 28, 1867, 283. 14. “Report for Bro. White,” RH, July 16, 1867, 72. See also RH, July 30, 1867, 104; Aug. 27, 1867, 172. 15. R. F. Cottrell reports participating in a quarterly meeting with him at Rochester in mid-July. “Meetings in Rochester, N. Y.” RH, July 27, 1867, 92. 16. “The New England Mission,” RH, Aug. 6, 1867, 128. “We wish to assure the brethren in N. H. that we will meet all the calls made on us as fast as in the order of God’s providence we can.” 17. “A Misstatement Corrected,” RH, Oct. 8, 1867, 268. 18. “Our Excellent Convocation Meeting,” RH, Oct. 22, 1867, 292; JW to WCW, Oct. 6, 1867, EGWE-GC; “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Sept. 24, 1867, 232; “Western Tour,” RH, Sept. 24, 1867, 233. 19. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Oct. 1, 1867, 248; “To the Church Scattered Abroad,” RH, Sept. 24, 1867, 234. The difficulty with the reform dress was occasioned by the fact that it made a very clear public statement and was often misunderstood because of its adoption by the women’s rights movement, which was frequently linked in the public mind with free love advocates. Ellen White observed that even in her local town the dress drew attention when she and eight others wore the dress to church. “Quite a curiosity in the proud little village of Greenville, but many of the best citizens commend them, not only for their moral courage, but for their neat appearance.” “Report From Bro. White,” RH, Feb. 26, 1867, 138. 20. “The Work Still Onward,” RH, Oct. 22, 1867, 292. 21. JNLD, Oct. 11–21, 1867, CAR. See also “The Response From Battle Creek Church,” in EGW, T, 1:609–612. The response indicated misunderstandings on both sides. Testimony number 13 was issued shortly thereafter in a further attempt to clear the air. Kevin Burton argues that this period constituted the lowest point in the long relationship of the Whites with the Adventist Church. Kevin Burton, “Centralized for Protection: George I. Butler and His Philosophy of One-Person Leadership” (master’s thesis, Andrews University, 2015), 18, CAR. 22. “The Work in Battle Creek,” RH, Oct. 29, 1867, 304. 23. “Report of the Maine Conference,” RH, Nov. 12, 1867, 336, 337. James White was quite explicit in identifying “those converted from the ranks of the nominal Adventists” as those “the most difficult to get along with.” Those converted from the world were generally the easiest, and those from other churches the next best. “Things in Maine,” RH, Nov. 26, 1867, 377. 24. “Things in Maine,” RH, Nov. 26, 1867, 377–379. 25. “What Shall We Do?” RH, Nov. 5, 1867, 320. 26. The letter was written two days after Christmas 1867 and was later incorporated in Testimony number 14. See EGW, T, 1:653, 656, 657. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid., 658. 29. The two volumes published in Dublin in 1830 are in the Andrews’s library collection held in the Archives Historiques de l’Adventisme Francophone (AHAF).

30. EGW, T, 1:658. 31. “One Year Since,” RH, Dec. 31, 1867, 41. 32. “Labors in Maine,” RH, Dec. 24, 1867, 24. 33. Ibid. 34. “Visit of Bro. and Sr. White to Maine,” RH, Jan. 7, 1868, 56; “Report of the Maine Conference,” RH, Nov. 12, 1867, 336. 35. The appeal was also published in the Review as a statement signed by both James and Ellen. “An Appeal to the Friends of Truth,” RH, Jan. 14, 1868, 72. 36. “Obituary Notices,” RH, Feb. 25, 1868, 174. Nettie had been a big help to his family in relocating to Rochester and in caring for Charles. 37. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Jan. 28, 1868, 104–106. 38. Ibid. 39. EGW, Diary, Jan. 22, 23, 1868, MS 12, EGWE-GC. 40. See “The Blessing of God,” RH, Feb. 11, 1868, 136; “The Leaves of the Tree of Life,” RH, Feb. 11, 1868, 144. 41. “The Cause,” RH, Feb. 18, 1868, 152. 42. EGW, Diary, Jan. 30, 1868. Did she also voice the same prayer on June 10, 1869, when she wrote to George and Martha Amadon one of her most caustic letters expressing her feelings and concluding with the note “I should not have written this, but Martha’s letters have drawn it out”? EGW to “Brother and Sister Amadon,” July 7, 1869, EGWE-GC. This previously unpublished letter gives new insight into Ellen White’s emotions and the strained relationships that existed at times between the Amadons and the Whites, embarrassing perhaps to both sender and recipient. It was first published in 2015. 43. EGW, Diary, Mar., Apr., 1868, EGWE-GC. 44. Ellen White had also indicated to her sister Sarah that she had begun her “turn in life.” EGW to Stephen and Sarah Belden, Sept. 24, 1867, EGWE-GC. 45. Ellen White’s diary for March 1867 reports extensive farmwork necessitated not just because of the season but for James’s rehabilitation. 46. EGW, Diary, Feb. 1–29, 1868, EGWE-GC. 47. EGW to JEW, Feb. 27, 1868, EGWE-GC. 48. EGW to JEW, Mar. 8, 1868, EGWE-GC. 49. “Meeting at Lancaster, N.Y.,” RH, Mar. 24, 1868, 240. 50. “The Conference,” RH, May 26, 1868, 360. 51. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 26, 1868, 356. 52. Kevin Burton estimates that around four hundred, and possibly more, church members had been involved in the military during the Civil War. The presence of higher numbers of Adventist widows and orphans may have been the result of casualties in the war. Kevin Burton, “Situating Views on Military Service: Seventh-day Adventist Soldiers and the Church’s Political Rhetoric During the Civil War” (ASDAH Conference, Washington, DC, Jan. 8, 2018), 12. 53. Kellogg had worked as a layman in California during the previous two or three years. 54. “Mission to California,” RH, June 2, 1868, 384. 55. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 26, 1868, 356.

56. JNA to JW and EGW, July 2, 1868, EGWE-GC. 57. Ibid. 58. “Report of Meetings,” RH, July 21, 1868, 77. 59. “Greenville,” RH, June 2, 1868, 384. 60. “Convocations,” RH, July 14, 1868, 57. 61. “Future Labors,” RH, July 14, 1868, 64. 62. JNA to JW, July 14, 1868, EGWE-GC. The letter references a letter from White postmarked July 7 and received on July 13. 63. JNA to JW, July 14, 1868, EGWE-GC. 64. “Wisconsin Convocation Notice,” RH, July 14, 1868, 64. The notice was signed by four resident Review office staff and gave the rationale for cancellation. 65. Ibid. 66. JNA to EGW, July 16, 1868, EGWE-GC. 67. “An Explanation,” RH, Aug. 4, 1868, 108. 68. RH, Aug. 25, 1868, 156; Sept. 1, 1868, 168. Large numbers of subscribers were failing to renew subscriptions, and repeated appeals had been ineffective. See “What Shall Be Done?” RH, Sept. 29, 1868, 192. 69. “Camp Meeting,” RH, Oct. 6, 1868, 197. 70. “The Camp Meeting at Wright,” RH, Sept. 15, 1868, 172. 71. Ibid. 72. “The Camp Meeting at Wright,” RH, Sept. 22, 1868, 178. 73. “Caution,” RH, Oct. 13, 1868, 204. 74. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Nov. 17, 1868, 244. 75. Uriah Smith, The Visions of Mrs. E. G. White, A Manifestation of Spiritual Gifts According to the Scriptures (Battle Creek: Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association, 1868). 76. The book was featured at camp meetings and wherever White went on his preaching assignments. 77. “New History of the Sabbath,” RH, Nov. 24, 1868, 252. 78. “Practical Thoughts on Scripture Subjects,” RH, Dec. 1, 1868, 261, 262; “Judgment vs Mercy,” RH, Dec. 1, 1868, 264. Andrews objected strongly to a concept of justification by faith “as awful delusion” if it conveyed the idea that sin was not to be overcome. 79. “The Guilt of Those Who Cause Others To Stumble,” RH, Jan. 26, 1869, 33, 34. The theme is echoed in “The Ruin of Solomon,” RH, Jan. 12, 1869, 17, 18, and in “Death, Sin and the Law,” RH, Feb. 2, 1869, 66. 80. “Consecration,” RH, Mar. 30, 1869, 108. See also “Decision,” RH, Apr. 6, 1869, 117. 81. “Gilfillan on the Sabbath,” RH, May 15, 1869, 165. 82. “Acknowledgement,” RH, May 11, 1869, 160. 83. “The Review—Its Enlargement and Diminution,” RH, Jan. 12, 1869, 21.

J. N. Andrews’s World

J. N. Andrews, author of The History of the Sabbath

Edward and Sarah Andrews’s rented home in Paris Hill shared with James and Ellen White

Edward and Sarah Andrews (circa 1849; courtesy LLUHRC)

William and John Andrews (circa 1849; courtesy LLUHRC)

Rear view of Edward Andrews’s rented home—birthplace of the Review

Home of Uncle Charles and Aunt Persis Andrews on the main street of Paris Hill. John Andrews visited here many times. (As it appeared in 2014.)

John and Angeline Andrews with Charles

and Mary in Rochester, NY (Taken shortly after their move to Rochester in 1863)

J. N. Andrews—a photograph taken for Angeline

Harriet Smith (née Stevens), younger sister to Angeline

Uriah Smith, editor of the Review and Herald and brother-in-law to John Andrews

Review and Herald building in Battle Creek when John Andrews edited the Review

James and Ellen White in 1868 when John Andrews spent months in their home in Greenville, Michigan

John Andrews about the time he was editor of the Review

Dr. Jackson’s “Home on the Hillside” in Dansville, NY, where Charles found a cure for his lame leg

George Amadon, foreman at the Review and Herald

Grave markers for Angeline Andrews and daughter Carrie in the Mt. Hope Cemetery, Rochester, NY

J. N. Andrews’s trunk that he took to Switzerland in late 1874

Daniel and Marion Bourdeau, J. N. Andrews’s coworkers in Europe

Albert Vuilleumier leading elder of the Sabbath keepers in Switzerland

First issue of Les Signes des Temps, in July 1876

John and Anna Loughborough, with whom John Andrews stayed while in Southampton, England

The Dime Tabernacle in Battle Creek where J. N. Andrews preached the dedicatory sermon in 1880

Lucinda Hall, the widowed friend of Ellen

White whom Ellen White thought John Andrews should marry.

Gravestone for John Andrews and his niece, Edith Andrews, in Basel Cemetery, Switzerland.

Chapter Thirteen

A Caretaker for the Review: 1869– 1870

W

hen John Andrews agreed to serve as editor of the Review in May

1869, replacing his brother-in-law, Uriah Smith, his salary was set at ten dollars per week. The previous year the trustees had set editorial pay at fifteen dollars per week, and the year before that, Smith’s salary had been set at eighteen dollars per week. Why such radical changes? The change in salary levels was probably not much noticed by the ordinary church member, although they were printed in the Review as part of the published minutes of the annual board meeting. In truth, the changes in remuneration related to deep underlying disputes in the publishing house over organizational culture and over publishing strategies designed to accomplish denominational mission. Also connected to the publishing house disputes were deep conflicts over the new health institute, as the church struggled to cope with questions of how best to advance its growth and development. Behind these issues was the question of how to cope with strong leaders whose business viewpoints differed. Such struggles were, in a sense, inevitable in a young and growing organization. John Andrews served as editor of the Review at a time when these painful struggles peaked, although he occupied the editor’s chair for a little less than twelve months. His time as editor would become one of the most intense and challenging periods of his ministry thus far. It is a chapter in his life that further illuminates both the developmental struggles of a growing church and the complexities of leadership relationships.

Troubles at the press On numerous occasions, James White had very publicly lamented that he had allowed himself to be totally absorbed in the publishing enterprise, working eighteen out of the twenty-four hours in the day for long spells and thus ruining his health. He had appealed to his colleagues “to take warning from our mistakes.”1 In an explicit confession published in the Review just prior to his being succeeded by John Andrews as General Conference president at the 1867 session, White declared that he had “erred in not taking [for a salary] more than half a sufficient sum, most of the time, of the office funds to support my family.” His salary during 1866 had been set at ten dollars per week.2 Taking such a low salary was wrong, he acknowledged. It had led him to make up the shortfall to meet his living expenses by operating a book-selling business on the side. For convenience, he operated the little business out of his office in the publishing house. So successful was this side enterprise that it usually brought in more than twice his regular salary. James acknowledged that this was wrong if only because it put an additional tax upon his strength, although later he employed his own clerk to care for the details of the business. The larger trouble, as he saw it, was that it provided a precedent for others to also go into sideline selling of “useful things not so sacred,” although much of his own merchandise was not altogether sacred either. His 1867 confession acknowledged that he should have had “nothing to do with selling books, charts, bread pans, stationary, syringes and medical works, at the office.” White would regularly take his mobile bookstore with him on preaching trips. It seems strange that he had been so concerned to restrict such sideline activities for John Andrews in their 1864 discussions about whether Andrews should settle in Rochester. Andrews could perhaps have been excused for wondering why he was being treated in such an arbitrary way. Today, denominational practice would consider such business activity unethical because of potential or actual conflicts of interest. And indeed,

much of the criticism that came James White’s way over his business practices was occasioned by perceptions of conflict of interest and a lack of clarity and transparency about his business transactions.3 Policies protecting against conflict of interest would have saved much anguish, but such were not widely seen as necessary at the time. People were trusted to just do the right thing. At the 1867 General Conference Session, White had been too incapacitated to be appointed to any office at all, and a new president had been appointed in his place to lead the publishing association. Jotham Aldrich, previously assisting in the publishing house in the interim during White’s absence, was designated as president and unsurprisingly brought a different management style to the enterprise. While the higher salaries may have been part of this transition in leadership, it seems that primarily the changes were in response to White’s earlier suggestions and to the intention of making sideline enterprises unnecessary for pastors and leaders in the office. In any event, at the annual meeting of the publishing association in 1867, the salary for both the president and the editor was increased by 50 percent and set at eighteen dollars per week, about where James White had earlier indicated he thought it should be.4 A former Quaker, Jotham Aldrich and his wife, Jerutha, had become interested in the seventh-day Sabbath in 1860 and became members of the church after they attended an evangelistic series conducted by J. N. Andrews that year. Aldrich was an astute businessman who had accumulated extensive property in New York, had served as a leading alderman in his hometown of Somerset, and was extensively involved in other civic affairs.5 He had been elected as secretary for the New York Conference in 1862 and had become well acquainted with Andrews.6 In late 1865, just after James White’s stroke, Aldrich had moved to Battle Creek with what many in the church regarded as providential timing.7 In White’s absence from leadership during 1866, he provided business expertise. Although he was not particularly knowledgeable about the

printing and publishing industry, he gave confidence to the staff during a critical time. But soon, the relationship with James White became strained. After he was elected president of the publishing association at the General Conference session in 1867, Aldrich began to reflect a more relaxed and less exacting organizational culture at the press. While appreciated by the staff, this did not meet with the approval of either Ellen or James. One of the publishing innovations introduced at this time, after extensive consultation with trustees and readers, involved an expanded version of the Review. The idea was to give more room for feedback from readers, more informative selected articles from other religious journals, and more news items about significant developments in the broader society. Originally, the enlargement for the Review had been intended to go from eight to just twelve pages, but someone had not done careful enough homework on paper sizes and printing restrictions. At the last minute, therefore, the trustees had been obliged to add four more pages, jumping up to sixteen. It was viewed as an experiment but done for the sake of efficiency.8 This meant, unfortunately, that the price of an annual subscription had to be increased by 33 percent to three dollars in order to cover costs. It was an inopportune time for increases, for the Review was now also competing for readers’ subscription dollars with the Youth’s Instructor and the newly introduced Health Reformer, a recent publishing initiative of James. Although these cost only one dollar per year, they nevertheless tended to discourage patronage of the Review by church members with lower incomes. The annual meeting of the trustees in 1867 enthusiastically endorsed the expansion initiative as an important step to “meet the wants of the cause,” and they approved an appeal for freewill offerings to meet added expenses. Whether James White was present at this meeting is not clear, but he was at least familiar with the agenda item. He had also been present to open the meeting with prayer in the morning, so it seems reasonable to assume that he, too, endorsed the initiatives.9 But the experiment failed, and the magazine soon began to lose renewals. The

higher subscription price also discouraged new subscriptions. These untoward developments under Aldrich’s management had occurred during Andrews’s first year of presidency of the General Conference, and thus, in White’s mind, because Andrews was the president, he was to be held accountable.

Growing pains During Andrews’s caretaker administration, similar growth stresses were experienced in regard to the infant health institute. The initial response to the establishment of the health institute in 1866 was slow but positive, but as news of its benefits and success in healing patients quickly spread, the demand for rooms grew rapidly. Young and inexperienced managers and trustees decided to quickly erect another larger brick building to cope with the evident demand. They launched an appeal for funding in the Review, using Ellen White’s testimonies about the urgent need for the institute to help put pressure on church members to give. The trustees sincerely believed that they were implementing Ellen White’s vision. But there soon developed a sharp competition for access to the available but limited resources obtainable in the church. Funding was clearly inadequate for the envisaged expansion, and tensions developed. Anxious about the stability of the health enterprise, James White felt he had to step in, and at a meeting of the trustees authoritatively insisted that a freeze be implemented immediately on the new building. Work stopped immediately, and the building remained in its unfinished state for the next year. Aldrich, who in Uriah Smith’s account of events had not favored the expansion to begin with because he thought it ill-advised, believed, nevertheless, that once begun, the project needed to be taken through to completion. In the trustees meeting that voted to stop the project, he abstained from the vote, and this earned White’s displeasure. Tensions between White and Aldrich began to deepen. In the leadership vacuum in the publishing enterprise caused by White’s incapacity, Aldrich became

much more visible as the leader, promoting publishing initiatives in the Review, and the initials JMA began to dominate the columns of the Review just as the initials JW had done previously. It could reasonably be assumed that this assertiveness made White feel uncomfortable. J. N. Andrews’s approach to leadership during this interim period was much more submissive and perhaps could even be perceived as obsequious. A downside of the introduction of higher salaries in the publishing house complicated the management task for Aldrich. According to Ellen White, they introduced levels of jealousy and a “selfish spirit” among the staff, and this had spilled over and to some extent infected church member relationships in the Battle Creek church.10 Furthermore, Aldrich, as much an entrepreneur as James White himself, engaged in extensive real estate transactions in Battle Creek. In addition, together with one of the Review editorial staff, E. S. Walker, he set up a small private “job” printing business, which, like White’s sideline business, was located on the premises of the Review. He also successfully sought election as an alderman for the Battle Creek town council and became a member of a number of civic committees, which regularly took him away from the Review office.11 The mixing of private enterprise with church employment had been quite an established tradition under James White, but in White’s view of things, the extra income was to enable him to employ personnel in his own household so that his wife had time for writing or to enable him to give to charitable causes and the needs of church development. The Whites were not so sure about the use of the extra income in the Aldrich home. Thus Ellen White wrote testimonies criticizing Aldrich for allowing a more commercially hued organizational culture to surround his private enterprise, and they reproved him for his tendency to selfishness. Distrust began to spoil and to eventually poison the White-Aldrich relationship.12 An 1868 testimony of rebuke urged Aldrich to lay aside his moonlighting activities, warning that the Lord “will remove you from your positions unless you cease your worldly enterprises and engage in the work He has

assigned you, unselfishly and with a deep and thorough interest.”13 There is no suggestion that the activities were dishonest or unethical. It was rather a matter that the real estate activities were not aligned with the spiritual commitment required for his church work. What brought the tension to a climax was the fact that, as White returned to health, he became more able to reenter the publishing enterprise as a member of the trustees. As he saw the enterprise running into financial difficulties, given the added expenses required for the production of the Review and the additional salary expenses, he felt he needed to intervene. And he did so strongly. It had become an administrative nightmare for John Andrews as president. As White became more involved again in the publishing enterprise, he developed a particular burden of his own for the mass production of tracts and books and evolved new competing financial strategies of his own for making these materials available. This led to the downsizing of the Review magazine in order to free up resources for White’s other expansive endeavors and to stem the unprofitability that had begun to appear as red ink in the annual financial statements. There just wasn’t room for two James Whites. In September of 1868, after consulting with other publishing trustees (on the grounds of the Wright camp meeting), White, asserting his renewed leadership role, asked for Aldrich’s resignation. What was actually said in the meeting was later disputed and became the basis for serious misunderstanding.14 But Aldrich promptly stood aside as president of the publishing association, although he did not immediately formally resign. In his place, James White began to function as the de facto publishing leader.15 The coup d’état created more serious problems that took time to resolve. White’s key publishing house associates, George Amadon and Uriah Smith, felt that the move was unfair, and for a time they lost confidence in White’s judgment. The discontent brooded all through the winter. In the early spring of 1869, Andrews found himself hastily called to Battle Creek to help heal the deeply fractured

relationships.

Coping with plain testimony Back at church headquarters again, Andrews and the Whites led out in further attempts at reform and reconciliation. During the last week of March, “the plainest and most searching testimonies we ever heard,” wrote the editor of the Review, “have been borne by Br. and Sr. White and Bro. Andrews, giving us new views of the sacredness of the work, the straightness of the way, the proximity of the Judgement and the exceeding carefulness with which we must prepare for its unerring decisions.”16 Attitudes, however, had become so hostile toward the Whites that they felt totally ostracized and distrusted and finally determined they could take no more. They publicly stated that instead of relocating back to Battle Creek from Greenville, as initially planned given James’s hopeful recovery, they had now put on hold their plans to sell their country retreat. They returned disheartened again to their farm in the woods in early April.17 Further meetings later in April attempted again to rebuild trust and to cope with the fallout from the Aldrich forced resignation. These again were meetings “at which Brn. White and Andrews labored so long to set things in order.”18 Progress was slow. Some of the frustrations seething underneath had bubbled over into print earlier in March when, in undiplomatic terms, James White badgered “delinquents”—those who had not paid up their subscriptions. His public rebuke of those who still owed him money but had not yet paid with regard to his private book sale business was particularly blunt. “I am embarrassed for the want of the many small sums which are withheld from me. This is my last call for these sums. And for the future, I shall trust none. I will sell for cash, or I will give, but I will not trust.”19 For James White, “the cause” and his life were one and the same thing. He was totally invested in sharing the news of the coming judgment by whatever means available. He lived and breathed “the work” twenty-four

hours a day. The lines between personal and denominational enterprises thus became blurred, if they existed at all. There was just no time to keep complete paper records or to keep things straight. Many agreements were verbal and made on the run on the basis of trust. This meant, however, that perceptions of conflict of interest between private and denominational interests, both potential and real, would inevitably arise. For White, there was no conflict of interest, no clear line between his personal affairs and those of “the cause.” For others looking on, the blurring of lines did matter, and they ate away at trust. White’s approach to leadership and administration would call for absolute trust in order for it to succeed. Such absolute levels of trust were not always forthcoming, and perhaps to expect such was too great an expectation. When White was criticized or distrusted, he felt betrayed. This problem would rear its head again and again throughout White’s leadership and would lay at the root of much of the misunderstanding between him and his colleagues and other church members. According to Smith, this was a very difficult time for Andrews, who felt himself squeezed between two loyalties. On the one hand, there was his editor brother-in-law with his supporters, people whom he trusted and respected, and on the other hand, his respected and trusted, although somewhat irascible mentor, James White. Andrews’s natural loyalties to White and his conviction that the larger needs of the cause must prevail, led him to support White and to defend him before the larger body. On April 23, Ellen White wrote to Smith and George Amadon explaining in a particularly sharp letter her perception of the conflict. The letter, sharp as it was, expressed only “a faint expression” of her feelings, she said. Her concern was that they had not seen the negative aspects of Aldrich’s administrative practices as clearly as they should have, and thus they were also to blame for not reproving him. For their part, they had thought that James “did not pursue the right course” toward Aldrich because “Brother White was jealous.” In Ellen White’s view, there was a

“striking contrast” between her husband’s view of the way the publishing mission of the church should be accomplished and the approach of Aldrich. Smith did not understand this difference. She had visited the editor at home in an effort to talk things through but had found “no rest in spirit in the house of Brother Uriah.” In fact, she had left the house saying to herself, “It is a godless house,” and noted that she had witnessed four evil angels controlling members of the family there. This must have been difficult reading for the editor of the Review.20 Ellen White was particularly distressed because George Amadon interpreted the negativity on the part of James and Ellen as a reaction to their recent intemperate work schedules in the East. He had, in a frank, caring, and brotherly fashion, rebuked her for their overwork. This overwork, he dared to suggest, had exhausted the couple and had contributed to the misunderstandings. “Brother Amadon came in the morning after they had prayed for me, and said in a very decided manner, ‘I know what is the matter with you. You have overlabored, and it is sin. You hold too many meetings. [In the] East, you went too fast from place to place. It is wrong. The Lord has cautioned you in this matter. Brother White takes too many burdens on himself in the office.’ ”21 Amadon’s gift of spiritual discernment, on this occasion, did not coincide with Ellen’s. The different perspective on each other’s work distressed her, and she felt frustrated in having her colleagues misunderstand her. The misunderstandings were mutual, and they ran deep.

Arguments lead to resignation Sorting out the acute differences between the leadership at Battle Creek eventually took the form of a “church trial,” which required written statements by each of the parties. The statements described personal perspectives and perceptions of the problems and the writers’ attitudes toward the problem. From Uriah Smith’s perspective, there had been serious misunderstanding throughout the whole episode. “We [Smith and

George Amadon] do not understand what you mean by [your] being driven to poverty and beggary,” he wrote to the Whites. Was it not the case that “the Gen[eral] Conference had pledged you the sum of $18.00 per week and you could at any time have drawn that amount from the Conf. funds? I am certain that no one designed to drive you to want, or had any idea that they were driving so; nor do I know what any one did which could be construed in such a light.” Then speaking for himself, he observed, “Again, I do not know as I understand what you mean by charging me with occupying a ‘neutral position.’ ”22 Smith objected to the impugning of his position and of his motives in relation to the Aldrich resignation. “I do not plead guilty to the charges.” Furthermore, he challenged James White’s memory of certain conversations. We have “some reason to infer,” he wrote, “that your memory may have failed you in this instance, from the fact that according to the recollection of all concerned, it has failed you in reference to the interview held in Bro. Aldrich’s case on the Wright campground. You called that meeting and laid the matter before us. This is fresh and distinct in the memory of myself, Bro. Andrews, Bro. Gage, and Bro. Amadon and Bro. Walker and it was a matter of great surprise to me to hear you even disclaim all knowledge of that meeting. But we were willing to let it pass, the sooner to get through the unpleasant controversy.” In his letter, Smith mentioned several other leadership decisions over which he felt Aldrich had been unfairly singled out and that the blame for the things that might have gone wrong should be shared by all. For himself, he could not join with others in “denouncing his [Aldrich’s] course.” There were two different memories of what had been said by each of the parties in what was remembered as a fairly dramatic confrontation between Aldrich and James White. Smith concluded the account of his perceptions of the affair by rather defiantly stating, “If I am a person who will not, when I see the right, stand up for it, on account of reputation or any such consideration, I pray the trustees to dismiss me from the office, and get a person of moral

integrity in my place.”23 Though clearly stressed, Smith, in spite of his ultimatum, was still able to sign his letter “in haste and love.” Still deeply riled and feeling the need to defend himself over accusations of disloyalty, Smith wrote sharply to Ellen White five days later, challenging her factual account of some specific events in Battle Creek of which he was an eyewitness. He concluded, “That the Lord has been with you, blessed your labors, called you out to lead etc, I have not doubted nor questioned. We do not need more evidence of this. But this is not saying that you cannot in particular things err and misjudge.”24 For the past seven or eight years, “we have tried to be your true friends,” he asserted, clearly with some exasperation. I have tried “to the best of my ability to stand by you and yet we have failed to meet your mind,” he wrote. “Harriet, I know, has been one of the firmest friends you have had and I have taken more pains, and put forth more efforts, tenfold, to defend your position and reputation, than I would have done to defend my own.” Clearly frustrated, it seemed to Smith that there was no way to meet expectations. Now, Ellen White had said she could not trust him. He was therefore ready to “vacate” his editorship rather “than that you should longer be burdened and the cause hindered.”25 He made the point even clearer in a sharper letter on May 4, notifying James White that the forthcoming General Conference session would have to be delayed by a week to meet with the terms of notice required in the bylaws. This letter concluded with a reiteration of his determination to quit. “Of two things I am certain, 1. That your place is in Battle Creek and 2. That if we cannot co-operate it is my place to leave not yours.”26 James White did not like ultimatums nor the attitude Smith exhibited. He responded on May 2 in a letter that undoubtedly crossed Smith’s May 4 letter in the mail. White made it quite clear that unless Smith experienced “a thorough conversion,” he would “withhold [his vote]” for Smith as editor at the upcoming session of the publishing association board.27 White did not need to withhold his vote. Smith took the initiative and requested

not to be reappointed. James explained his perspective on the troubles to the wider church in late April. “Great mistakes had been made in the management of matters pertaining to the interests of the cause there [Battle Creek], in our absence, without our counsel, and, in some things, against our entreaties. When those who had made the mistakes should correct them, as far as possible, and when the church should get into a place to help us in our labors, then, and not till then, could it be our duty to settle in their midst [in Battle Creek].” White wanted to make clear that he and his wife were “not in the least responsible for the mistakes.” He felt that his mistake was, in fact, to get involved again. “Those who had embarrassed the cause” should fix it themselves. He complained that “we had nearly fallen under the burdens of the past few months.”28 When the postponed General Conference session convened in the third week of May, as already noted, Smith, at his own request, was not reappointed as editor, although delegates did not see any inconsistency in returning him to the not insignificant post of General Conference secretary.29 Did they understand that there might be distinctly personal elements to all this tension and that this did not completely disqualify a leader from service? For Smith, it was perhaps a way of showing that while he might disagree over the treatment of a former colleague, he was still committed to the larger cause. In any event, he needed to lay his editorial pen down a while and have some space to get things in broader perspective. J. H. Waggoner, also a very competent writer and editor who could perhaps have replaced Smith, was too unwell to be seriously considered. He had not written for the Review for several months and was in New England trying to regain his health.30 The duty of editor thus fell to the weary and reluctant John Andrews.

Caretaker editor Although for the public record, the Review observed that the session was a

harmonious event, albeit without the usual “enthusiasm.” The underlying tensions were palpable as John Andrews was appointed editor on May 20, 1869, to take his brother-in-law’s place. Although he accepted the position, right from the outset, Andrews wanted it understood that his role was to be a temporary caretaker assignment. “The recent action of the Publishing Association in the choice of editor for the Review demands a few words of explanation,” wrote Andrews on June 14, when his name first headed up the masthead list on the editorial page. “In the judgment of the members of the Association, and in accordance with his own request, it was thought advisable that he [Smith] should have a season of relief from the duties to which he has so long been confined. He will still devote his best energies to the advancement of this great cause, and as he may for a time labor in the field at large, it is hoped that at no distant day he will with renewed strength, and with quickened zeal and courage, resume the duties of this place.”31 For the next few months, Smith would engage in evangelistic work in rural Michigan with the blind pastor Wolcott H. Littlejohn. Two days after Andrews had been appointed to replace him, Smith wrote a letter of apology to Ellen White expressing regret for writing so sharply and being so disagreeable to her prior to the session. He had not intended unkindness nor “to wound” her “feelings.” Apparently, some discussion between them during the session had clarified matters concerning the “particular things” she had written to Aldrich. The discussion made things “perfectly satisfactory” to his mind, and he assured her of his sympathy and love. He would seek “a fresh consecration” as he headed out into conference work.32 In a “valedictory” editorial announcing his departure from the Review “with a sense of relief” after sixteen years of “constant employment” in publishing, he noted that a “change in the field of labor” would be for his physical and spiritual good. The editorial also provided opportunity for him to affirm his appreciation “of the important place which the faithful labors of Bro. and Sr. White have held in this cause.”

Their work demanded “confidence, support, and co-operation of all the lovers of the truth.”33 During the summer, Smith stayed a while in the Whites’ Greenville home before taking up his preaching. Later, he would keep the Whites informed of his evangelistic experiences. As it turned out, he would find the fieldwork more than challenging, for he was not a naturally forceful public speaker, and the labors of the preaching duo were not particularly fruitful. Neither of them were natural evangelists. Nevertheless, Smith felt he had learned from the exercise and from the change in duties. As the outgoing president, Andrews had made special effort during the session to try and clear the air and rebuild the confidence of the Battle Creek community in the Whites. For this reason, he had led in the framing of a resolution approved by the health institute board at its Friday meeting. The resolution wanted to make it clear that “errors” in the management of the health institute during the period of James’s illness should not “in anywise” be laid to the Whites’ “charge.” Those who attributed blame to the Whites for the aborted building project “act unjustly and without any ground for censure,” he argued. They should, in fact, be thanked for their efforts in calling a halt to the expansion. Nothing could be more “cruel than to hold them responsible for the errors of others.” Andrews’s resolution further stated that the same was true of the publishing association. “We consider it our duty to exonerate them from all blame.” The trustees in approving the resolution pledged themselves “to cooperate” with the Whites in their work “and to sustain them.”34 Aldrich eventually came to accept the personal reproof that Ellen White had sent him in September 1868, but it took sixteen months before he found grace to exercise the gift of submission.35

From frying pan into fire If Andrews thought that handing back the presidency of the General Conference to James would ease the pressure on him, he was soon to learn

otherwise. Editing the church’s flagship magazine would have to be done remotely and on the run, for he was still required for a series of short evangelistic tent meetings in Michigan as soon as the session was over. Duty then called for him to participate in a full ten-week summer camp meeting circuit through several states that followed soon thereafter.36 The ever-enterprising James White had, again on his own dime and authority, purchased a new sixty-foot meeting tent from Chicago for $550.00. Under his own management as “an experiment,” he proposed to take it around Michigan for revival meetings as long as church members would pay for its transport from place to place. Both Andrews and Smith joined him in these initial post-session revival meetings, and Andrews then continued on through at least seven camp meetings from mid-July to mid-October, during what was now becoming established as the regular summer camp meeting season.37 By late June, when the first issue of the new volume 34 of the Review rolled off the press, Andrews laid out his vision for the new publishing year under his editorship. The paper ought, he thought, “enter upon a higher sphere of usefulness” and be “a more spiritual paper.” Did Smith take umbrage at the unspoken assumption? Andrews saw the paper as needing to “give the trumpet a certain sound.” Furthermore, it should be “the means of instructing its readers in the truths of the Bible,” leading people “to the observance of the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus, that they may prepare for the swiftly-hastening Judgment.” The judgment. It was in the foreground of everything for Andrews. “Every volume brings us nearer this grand event,” he concluded. But lest the adjustment in editorial direction sound too critical of his brother-in-law, Andrews diplomatically noted that “with every volume the responsibility of the Review increases,” and he sought the prayers of readers.38 Under the oversight of Andrews, the church paper took on a more intense exhortatory and revivalist focus supplemented by expository and exegetical articles. Andrews’s editorials led the way. Each week he had a

major exhortatory piece and often short, supplementary pieces reflecting on passages of Scripture that he considered posed problems or were especially applicable to the times. The overriding theme was exhortation to faithful living set in the context of the looming judgment. In early November, he commenced a series on the order of events in the judgment that ran continuously for nineteen weeks until mid-March. He had not intended the series to run so long, he observed apologetically near the end, but once he got going he had “been led to speak more fully than he designed.”39 Over the course of the year, Andrews wrote seventeen closely argued exegetical pieces explaining biblical concepts such as “Outer Darkness,” “Peoples of the Earth,” “Lake of Fire,” “See Here, See There,” and “Consecration.” Devotional articles explored themes such as the “Value of Prayer” and “Our Need of a Savior.”40 In a July editorial that was an appeal for young men to enter the ministry written at the specific request of the General Conference session, Andrews set out his understanding of what kind of men “the cause” needed in its ministerial ranks.41 To a large extent, he was describing himself. He did not talk about the need of education or preaching ability or pastoral skills. These were assumed. His major concern was the character of the minister. The cause suffered, he wrote, for “the lack of faithful, devoted men.” The ministry needed men who could “bear disappointment” and who were “humble, patient, watchful, exemplary men, who love and fear the Creator.” Any other kind of minister would, “in the day of Judgment,” be “weighed in the balance and found wanting.” The need was urgent because “the hours of our probation are swiftly passing.”42 The moral standards of ministers became a particular burden of the editor just one month after he took up his editorial duties when he learned that Nathan Fuller, a minister colleague in New York whom Andrews had mentored and who had until recently served as the president of the conference, had “violated the seventh commandment” and seduced a

number of young women in his Wellsville, New York, congregation. Fuller had been exposed and had acknowledged that “he was guilty of charges alleged against him: that he was the wickedest man that lived; that he had no hopes, but expected to suffer the pains of the second death.” He requested his church membership be dropped, and it was. Andrews felt hugely embarrassed over Fuller’s “apostasy and crime,” for “in good faith” he had personally “commended him to the brethren as a man of virtue and piety.”43 This egregious moral lapse of such a prominent leader was clearly perceived as a major threat to the good name of the church, and it rattled Andrews deeply. During the next few weeks, repeated editorials and articles by Andrews continued to address the theme of moral purity and the need for a faithful ministry.44 Most of Andrews’s writing for the Review, at least during the three months of camp meeting season, was done at night, according to James White. “Bro. Andrews was much worn with traveling, preaching, and writing nights.” By mid-season, as they reached southern Michigan and Ohio, James became hoarse and “the burden of the meeting rested principally upon Bro. Andrews, who discharged with earnestness and solemnity the responsibilities resting upon him.”45 Meetings often ran until late at night, with scores of penitents coming to the front. After one “most powerful and searching discourse by Bro. Andrews on the whole duty of man,” which emphasized “the certainty that every work will be brought into judgment,” so many penitents came forward in response to his call that “it was not until after ten o’clock that it was found possible to close the meeting.”46 Andrews was “clear in argument, free in spirit and his voice rang out upon the evening air with wonderful clearness and power.” So James White reported on his colleague’s preaching on the last night of the Ohio meeting, which finished about 9.00 P.M. “He had complete command of the crowd.” In early September, the itinerary brought the movement’s leadership to

the New England camp in South Lancaster, where they were able to launch Andrews’s new 164-page book Sermons on the Sabbath and the Law. James White thought it “the best thing we have on the Sabbath” and that it should be circulated “anywhere and everywhere.”47 Then in midSeptember, it was back to Kirkville for the New York camp meeting and conference session, with the briefest of visits to Angeline and his two children in Rochester en route. The specter of Nathan Fuller overshadowed the New York Conference’s annual session and resulted in yet more responsibilities descending on Andrews’s shoulders. Delegates took an action to “deplore the apostasy and crime” of their former president and elected John Andrews as the new president. The need for stability was urgent. And to make things quite clear, the final action of the delegates “expelled” Fuller from the conference “for immorality.”48 The preaching party, now near exhaustion, saw out the camp meeting season with visits to Minnesota and Iowa.49 Andrews spoke solo at the Wisconsin meeting because the Whites had to return to Michigan, where dark storm clouds of dissent were gathering yet again. Being caretaker Review editor and trying to carry heavy camp meeting duties, as well as new local conference administration responsibilities, was clearly an unsustainable overload, and by the time Andrews was back in Battle Creek in early November, his emotional resources were almost fully depleted. Furthermore, he was not feeling happy about his neglect of the Review. One hears his frustration and defensiveness over the near impossibility of the situation in a plea he issued to correspondents shortly after his return. “Many questions have been sent to this Office which are worthy of careful answers,” he noted on the editorial page. “These would have been attended to long since had not the circumstances of the case rendered it absolutely impossible. The whole summer, and all the fall, until a short time since, has been spent, by me, at a distance from the Review Office, laboring in other departments of the work, from which I could not be excused.” Laboring the point, he explained, “So many other duties have

devolved upon me that it has been absolutely impossible to discharge my duty to the Review. There is a limit to both time and strength. The Review should have the labor of those, who, without many other special cares and burdens upon them, can devote their best energies to it. I trust that this may, before long, be the case.” Andrews was clearly arguing for the early return of Smith to the editorial chair. He asked the forbearance of readers and correspondents.50 In fact, Smith may already have been helping unofficially with the editorial load in the Review office. Several of the columns in November begin to have the Smith feel to them. Moreover, a quiet concluding note in a report on Smith’s Michigan fieldwork at the end of October mentions that he and Littlejohn had abruptly changed their evangelistic plans, “being unexpectedly called to Battle Creek on business” for a short season.51 The immediate project back in Battle Creek that needed to be undertaken was to once again prepare a character defense of James and Ellen. Vicious criticism had apparently surfaced again about James’s alleged avaricious business practices (the New York Conference session minutes allude to it) and a “wicked slander” against Ellen falsely alleging an illicit pregnancy during her teen years had begun to circulate more extensively in New England. Andrews, Smith, and Goodloe Harper Bell, a respected teacher now settled in Battle Creek, were appointed as a committee to prepare a detailed response. How long Smith’s reassignment to Battle Creek was to last would only become clear with time, but Andrews was to continue in the editor’s chair until March of the following year. It was to be an extremely distressing winter for the overworked fortyyear-old stand-in.

Defending the Whites In the same issue that mentioned Smith’s return to Battle Creek, the Review published an announcement about the necessity of a new defense of the Whites. The notice appealed both for any information concerning

specific criticisms and for testimonials. The rationale for such a public response was also made plain. To prepare a defense “against the unjust attacks of [James’s] enemies” was not undertaken “merely as an act of personal justice” to James White. Rather, it was because “what is said against him is used by our enemies as their best weapon with which to assail the cause of present truth.” To defend the Whites in these circumstances was, in reality, a defense of the entire movement. The defense committee acknowledged that no claims of infallibility had ever been made by or for the couple. But their leadership role, and Ellen White’s special gift, was vitally important to the movement. Andrews’s committee had resolved to put all information before the public, and if there was any evidence of the charge of “dishonesty, or overreaching, or fraud, or covetousness or grasping of means,” they wanted to know of it so that a “fitting reply” could be made. The character of the leaders was at stake, and the church was absolutely sure this was unassailable.52 Preparing the response took several months and resulted in two documents. A 155-page pamphlet, was ready for publication by the following March. A second document appeared in April. Preparing the material involved many interviews and careful auditing of both the family’s finances and James’s extensive financial transactions as far as existing papers could allow (details of which were analyzed and published). It also involved collating and editing character references and testimonials, a number of which took the form of apologies and confessions.53 The whole exercise, in a sense, took on the form of a very public church trial of the General Conference president and his wife, with the intent of exonerating them both. The nature of the content of the publications indicates that it must have taken large swathes of time for the editorial panel; time Andrews had to carve out from his regular editorial and other duties. Andrews contributed to the general pages that successfully argued James White’s good character, but his personal testimonial letter of

affirmation, apology, and explanation is of particular value to the historian for the unique insights into the extremely stressful time the church and its second tier of leadership experienced during James White’s illness. The letter indicates that White’s illness posed a serious theological dilemma for John Andrews and for his colleagues and the church community who shared his worldview. The problem became particularly sharp during some of the most acute phases of White’s illness, marked as they were by nervous irritability, unpredictability, and other erratic and aggravating behaviors that were, at the time, threatening to become chronic. If James was not getting well in spite of his colleagues’ and the community’s earnest seasons of prayers for his recovery, the fault must somehow be with the one they prayed for, went the reasoning. There must be some fault in White’s life. Andrews explained, “I came to the conclusion, after Bro. White had been sick something over one year, that there must be something wrong on his part which caused the Lord to withhold his blessing so that he was not restored to health in answer to prayer.”54 He noted carefully that he did not in any way take pleasure in White’s suffering, but he came to the conviction that White needed spiritual counsel—plain testimony. “I thought I was doing God [a] service,” he affirmed. He hoped that James “would be restored to his place in the work,” as the result of this labor. “It was a matter of pain to me to do what I did in his case. But I nevertheless did deal in severe reproof. It was mainly in suggesting things where I thought he might have been wrong, and urging it upon him as really being so.” This calling of a colleague to spiritual account was understood as a spiritual duty and as the way to treat and help to heal patients suffering from stroke when God would not or could not heal them. But when this approach did not produce results either, then further spiritual reflection, seeking to explain unanswered prayers, turned to find blame among the ones doing the praying. “I am now satisfied,” (Andrews was writing two years after the events), “that there were wrongs on the part of many who engaged in prayer for him that

rendered it improper that the prayers offered should be answered.” God could not answer their prayers because clearly there must be sin among the praying ones. Given his worldview, what other resolution could there be? Looking back on the dilemma, Andrews realized that what he had done “was every way un-becoming and improper.” A side effect of finding the fault in White was that, inadvertently, he had become “the means of strengthening the hands of all who meddled with this case. And those who had some degree of envious feeling toward Bro. White were, no doubt, by my position and course of action, caused to give way to this wicked feeling.” He had “unwittingly, but actually,” strengthened the hands “of those who had the seeds of rebellion in their hearts.”55 Thus, ironically, some of the criticism of James White was fostered in the community by the one who was closest to him and who more than others was trying to be helpful in resolving a desperate situation. Looking back on the dilemma and its fallout, Andrews was sincere in his apology for the consequences of what happened. But this was hindsight. If Andrews was in the same circumstances again and looking forward, given the logical options within his theology, could he have acted any differently? Others also experienced difficulty over how to relate to James White in his illness. Harriet Smith, for example, related that she had understood from personal conversations with Ellen White that the visions had indicated that James’s “days of cutting and slashing” were past. When he got well he would be different. But as he began to improve again, Harriet observed that this was not so. When James began to preach again in Battle Creek, in Harriet’s view, he still had strong opinions and harsh words now reinforced by some rather gross or at least socially inappropriate expressions. Harriet confessed that she had listened to one of James’s sermons during this early recovery period and had felt “the same feeling that I would [have if listening] to a crazy man with no feelings of love and respect,” in her heart.56 She had talked confidentially about the problem with Andrews, her brother-in-law (who was staying in White’s home at the

time). But when she perceived from Andrews that he thought she had a wrong attitude and that she might therefore have a confession to make, she felt “tried.” The overall difficulty for Harriet, it seemed, was that James White would return to leadership unreformed and continue to “administer such rebukes as he did.” She viewed him as determined “to prove himself right and all others wrong,” and what this meant for Uriah, her husband, she could only imagine. She wrestled with contradictory concerns over her tortured sense of justice, friendship, self-interest, jealousy, and the desire to be loyal to the cause. She knew ultimately, however, that she had to let the matter rest and concluded saying that she would “try to submit all” to the Lord “from whence the only rays of light and hope can come.”57 Another personal failing that became apparent during White’s illness, which Andrews felt the need to apologize for, related to natural differences in personal style from the Whites and an error of judgment in trying to lighten the daunting seriousness of the work culture in the publishing office. Looking back, be regretted that he “set an evil example in the Office by speaking in a mirthful, jesting manner many times, though our circumstances demanded solemnity, and watchfulness, and deep humiliation.” He had not addressed what Ellen White saw as a “general lack of consecration in the Office,” and he “did not act in any decisive manner to check or correct it. This was a very grievous wrong,” he acknowledged submissively. Andrews also wanted to make clear that the Whites were not in any way responsible for the financial difficulties of either the publishing office or the health institute.58 He considered both the Whites to be “called of God to act a prominent part in his work in a most especial manner. Their course has given evidence of divine guidance.”59 The criticism surrounding the Whites and the quarrels that had simmered away for some years broke out and stormed through the Battle Creek church during the winter of 1869–1870, with particular intensity during the last months of Andrews’s caretaker editorship, even while the defense pamphlets were being prepared. The events constitute one of the

most fractured and dyspeptic episodes in early Adventist history. It was, as Kevin Burton suggests, a period when Ellen and James White had to struggle to reassert and reestablish their influence as they had at no other time in their ministry.60 Andrews, as Review editor and senior defender of the Whites, found himself at the vortex of the storm just when he would much rather have been at home with his family in Rochester. It was a storm he found himself presiding over.

“Compounditis” crisis in Battle Creek A phenomenon that generations of missionaries recognize as a variant of “cabin fever” sometimes breaks out among families and coworkers on confined compounds surrounded by a hostile and alien culture. Sometimes a strange sense of social claustrophobia develops. Such an outbreak took hold of the Adventist community in Battle Creek in a hugely debilitating way in the dark winter months of 1869–1870.61 The “disease known to overseas missionaries as ‘compounditis,’ ” wrote one experienced observer, “is a disorder of the judgment and spirit resulting from close confinement within a too homogeneous group engaged in occupations producing considerable nervous strain. In progressive order the symptoms are irritability suspicion, delusions of persecution, loss of ability to cooperate, loss of judgment for self-appraisal, and spiritual deterioration.”62 Communities that are particularly prone to the phenomenon are those where members not only occupy the same tight physical environment, but they work, worship, exercise, shop, and socialize together. Comments to friends and acquaintances about each other’s actions, or judgments about the quality of their work, even when meant to be helpful, are passed on to colleagues and friends, often out of context, and then offense is taken, hurts experienced, and communication and fellowship is disrupted. Humor in such situations is often unproductive, being misunderstood as further insult. So it was in 1869. A light satirical piece authored by Uriah Smith and George Amadon is

reported to have circulated among a small circle of church members in Battle Creek around this time, which pilloried the legalistic faultfinding and exaggerated concerns church members sometimes gave to minor matters of daily life. The piece made fun of a preoccupation with the length of bonnet ribbons, the cost of pots and pans, gilt edges on Bibles, and the use of “artificials” (although if one wore them not as flowers in a hat but as wooden legs—as three of the brethren did—that was OK).63 The witty composition was apparently not appreciated. Concerns such as the reform dress and health reform were weighty matters, not laughing matters. Some seem to have taken the piece as jesting perhaps at Ellen White, whose role was to push such reform. Her role also sought to ameliorate conflicted personal relations through her practical prophetic counsel, but often this counsel actually exacerbated the tensions. As the nation struggled to reconstruct its political life in the post–Civil War period, so the Adventist community struggled to reconstruct its own confidence in church leadership and to meet the strict standards of behavior called for by a prophetic voice that lived down the street, went shopping with them midweek, and worshiped with them on Sabbath morning. This was not at all easy. Plain speaking in such a context could both help and hinder understanding. Exacerbating the social and spiritual tensions internal to the little apocalyptic community at Battle Creek during this period were external influences as well. Massive waves of social change swept around the community and across the nation in the aftermath of the Civil War and in the failure of the first attempts at national Reconstruction. Political equality in the passage of the Civil Rights bill had been achieved for freedmen in 1866. Yet in a bitter and determined attempt to turn the clock back on these advances, a wave of terrorist and racial violence swept across large swathes of the South on an unparalleled scale with the rise of the Ku Klux Klan in 1869. As Eric Foner, the consummate American historian of the period, observes, “To Europeans, America has always

seemed a violent land—a consequence, perhaps, of its individualist values, frontier traditions and weak governmental authority,” but “the wave of counterrevolutionary terror that swept over large parts of the south between 1868 and 1871 lacks a counterpart” in any other society that had abolished slavery in the nineteenth century.64 The population in the north was traumatized by newspapers full of accounts of the horrific carnage. The Battle Creek community was more convinced than ever that such developments presaged the last moments of the present world, and the judgment of God could not be more imminent. During this period, the Adventist presence in Battle Creek had swelled with the arrival of church migrants (new members seeking employment or support and widows and orphans from the war) crowding the neighborhoods around the press and the health institute. These church immigrants were looking for work and for help, but their needs created more work for church leaders. It was not a happy community, and faultfinding became endemic. Confronting the need to correct personal faults and to prepare for the end time became acute.65 The issue of “plain speaking” had surfaced several times already in Adventism’s short history as a source of tension and conflict. The origins of the term are to be found with the early Society of Friends (Quakers), for whom the expression meant simply speaking to each other in the community of faith without regard to the honorifics of title and position that might nurture vanity. All were equal at the foot of the cross. The term emphasized simplicity, honesty, Christian respect, and the gentle pacifist values of the Quakers.66 In Methodist class usage and in the ministry of Ellen and James White, the term took on the connotation of bluntly addressing discrepancies and failures in Christian life and practice without regard to the niceties of diplomatic expression or the feelings of the person being addressed. Plain speaking was no longer gentle but could be sharp and sometimes rough in its focus on being truthful. This form of rhetoric had, for some time, been the hallmark of political discourse between political opponents in nineteenth century society, and inevitably it seeped

across into both interchurch and intra-church discourse. Undoubtedly, Ellen White saw herself modeling the plain speaking of the faithful and fearless Old Testament prophets as they unburdened themselves. Her “burden” paralleled theirs. But the social and political tenor of her times also seemed to facilitate and legitimize the acceptance of such speech in the Adventist community. During the General Conference session of May 1869, Andrews had spent some time defending the value of Ellen White’s “plain speaking.” The enduring of such “plain speaking” had, in its own way, become a test of faith or at least a test of piety. During the summer of 1869, James White, when announcing the series of tent revival meetings in Michigan, explained that the purpose of the meetings was “to arouse our people to the duties and dangers of this time.” The meetings would, in fact, be “a poor place for invalids and small children.” Only those of robust spirituality should attend. “We hope to see a crowd of those who can endure the hardships of the war and very plain speaking.”67 But was not New Testament plain speech to be a two-way street? That the issue of plain speech was a major source of discord in the church is suggested by a number of striking articles that Andrews wrote in the fall of 1869. It was a great mistake, he asserted, “to suppose that reproof and fault-finding are one and the same thing.” Reproof originated from “a desire to benefit the wrong doer” and came from a higher source. Faultfinding was impelled by “a fretful, peevish spirit” and was the “result of ill temper.”68 The church, if it was to be alive at all, needed reproof. Battle Creek church members also seemed to be convinced that their “plain speech” about or to each other was not faultfinding but rather genuine “reproof” motivated by the best of intentions in order to help a fellow believer. Andrews’s second article discussed the spiritual blessing of submission. “Submission to God always brings relief; sometimes it brings the sweetest joy.”69 Trials and afflictions were often sent by God, and responding submissively was the way to advance in the Christian life. “There is no

peace in the un-submissive man,” he wrote. Andrews himself had learned with difficulty to appropriate the gift of submission. Battle Creek church members found the task of appropriating the gift even more of a challenge. What appears to have complicated the situation in Battle Creek was a perception that if church leaders were to be models of Christian living and their two foremost leaders specialized in “reproof,” why was it that when other church members tried to emulate their leaders it brought only rebuke and accusations of faultfinding? Were there only two members in the church who had the gift of “reproof”? By late December, the criticism of the Whites from both outside and inside the church had become exceedingly intense. In a further editorial, Andrews described it as a “kind of warfare” which he found “utterly inexplicable.”70 Folk who criticized because of “a mistaken judgment” he could understand. When men “show a hatred,” however, and “lose sight of the courtesies, and even decencies of life, and make personal thrusts and bitter assaults upon the character of others, we are very certain that this is not by any means zeal for the Lord, but rather the outpouring of their own evil hearts.” This third article, just before Christmas, evidenced a deepening crisis in the church. “Suppose,” Andrews argued, “that they [Ellen and James White] are mistaken in believing themselves called of God to reprove sin with an outspoken and unsparing plainness of speech,” and “suppose that she is mistaken in believing herself called of God to bear a special testimony of reproof.” This would still not be a “just cause for representing her as a hypocrite, a liar, a dishonest and base deceiver.” He acknowledged that Ellen White’s reproofs were “sometimes given with much severity.” But at other times, he noted, they were given “with comparative mildness.” There was also “tender pity” as well as “stern condemnation.” He could not understand the “resort to bitter personalities” and regretted the “unrighteous warfare” against his two colleagues. “Bitter words” were not arguments. “We must have some better reason for turning from them, than the unrighteous warfare of slanderous tongues,” he

concluded.71 In early January, Andrews’s Review published a short note affirming that Ellen White’s “courage and cheerfulness” had never been greater and that the “wicked slanders” had not disturbed her peace of mind.72 This was whistling in the dark, or at least it was an aspirational assessment of things. Two weeks later, James wrote another piece appealing for charges to be made or unfavorable reports to be sent in. Clearly the ongoing criticism irritated and distressed them. Why wasn’t their self-sacrifice appreciated? “We regret,” he concluded a little self-pityingly, “that we have robbed ourselves and family to help others, and have robbed the cause of God of more efficient service, by wearing out too soon, in the exercise of too rigid industry and economy.”73 According to George Amadon’s diary, James White’s frayed nerves afflicted themselves afresh on his coworkers in the publishing house. “Bro. White still feels led to bear down on me. Praise God that I am worthy of reproof,” he noted in his entry for January 14. On February 8, he noted again, “Bro. White seemed to be much tried with me today. Accused me of ‘yelping’ when I spoke to Bro. Miller.” March 20 has Amadon recording, “Have been addressed very sharply by Bro. White several times. . . . Better are the reproof of the righteous than the kisses of a friend.” Stress and tension did not make for a happy work place, and doubtless, Amadon’s and Smith’s perceived laissez-faire approach to things in general frustrated the more driven James White.

Housecleaning Sometime during this dark winter, church leaders decided the way to cure the cabin fever was by emptying the cabin and disinfecting it. John Andrews was appointed, apparently as the lead pastor, to work together with Joseph Waggoner and Goodloe Harper Bell in constituting a panel to implement the cleansing process.74 There would be a church trial. Young John Harvey Kellogg served as the secretary to the trial bench. Responding to a request from the Battle Creek church itself (clearly reflecting a still

developing ecclesiology) the General Conference in session approved the needed cleansing. They requested the Michigan Conference to ratify the decision. Andrews was asked by the Michigan Conference to join the panel of “experienced ministers” to conduct the trials and reorganize the church.75 “Ministers for the Crooked” was the name that disenchanted George Amadon gave to the special investigating committee, noting that they were “after the crooked.” As the senior elder of the local church and vice president of the press, Amadon noted that his influence was perceived to be counterproductive and not supportive of the general reform program. He recorded that he had been spoken to “very sharply.” As the investigations of church members proceeded, “votes of censure” against an increasing number were passed. The church roll shrank precipitously. Discipline imposed by the “trial” committee was a censure that cut off offenders from membership. Readmission was by formal application providing evidence of reform. Sometimes rebaptism was necessitated, sometimes not. In deep frustration and with his church membership removed, Amadon resigned on March 22 from his position as vice president of the publishing house. The next month he left town and returned to work on his father’s farm for the next eight months. Others excluded in the roll pruning moved west, some to California. Family relations proved no impediment to Andrews and his committee. Both Uriah and Harriet Smith were tried and suspended. In a final sweep, the committee called a special meeting of the remaining members on Wednesday night, April 6, to deal with the large number of names on the church roll of people who had moved to other places and had not kept their covenant of reporting their spiritual standing by letter at the required stated times. A large number of the remaining names were dropped in this last flurry. In the defense of Ellen and James White and in the quest for deeper spirituality in the church, the Battle Creek roll had been culled from perhaps three hundred to about twelve. It was a strange and chilly winter. As the April storms subsided and new

spring flowers began to brighten Battle Creek’s parks and gardens, Waggoner reported in the Review that Ellen and James had preached powerfully on Sabbath, the twenty-third, and that “union” prevailed again. The church, even if now only a remnant, was once more “in working order.”76 The intensity of the storm accompanying the trials swept painfully through the church, seriously stretching its spiritual and social fabric. It touched the whole village. Almost four decades later, Harriet, in recalling a similar related episode, would reply in answer to a question as to why she would confess to something she had not done: “They kept at us until they got us so nearly crazy we did not know what we were doing, and there was no way we could stop it but confess.” She reported that on that occasion (1866) James White had apologized to her for trying to “crush” her.77 Andrews reported that during the process, about fifty families had moved from Battle Creek and that the General Conference committee was still planning to follow its spiritual cleansing strategy and labor “to induce those who cannot be a help to the cause at Battle Creek to remove to other parts.” They wanted “real helpers to move in.”78 Looking back on the troubling episode from the perspective of thirty-seven years later, Amadon commented ruefully in a conversation with J. H. Kellogg that “the tailboard of the cart was pulled out and the contents were dumped.” He was glad that Kellogg had escaped the dumping process and that the book of record had been lost.79 Ellen White also came to have regrets and some embarrassment over the episode. A year after the dust had settled, she fretted in a private testimony letter to J. H. Waggoner about the excesses and the harsh judgments involved in the 1870 spring-cleaning of the church. She cited the names of at least four women who had been mistreated, and there had been others. For example, in regard to Sister Hewitt, there was “nothing worthy of remark or severe censure in her case which would shut her out of the church.” Sister Dodge was also a “precious, God-fearing woman” and had

not been “dealt with as she should have been.”80 Addie James “might have been saved from insanity if greater care, and more tender, thoughtful compassion had been exercised.” Ellen White appreciated that the panel members “had a zeal for the Lord” and “wanted to do His work faithfully,” but none of them, she saw in hindsight, “were in good working order” or “sufficiently imbued with the Spirit that dwelt in the bosom of Jesus.”81 But this was hindsight. She did not intervene during the process. One particularly heartbreaking incident during this sad episode concerned Andrews and his sister-in-law Harriet and his violation of her private correspondence before the trial committee. As noted earlier, at a time when James was at his lowest point of dysfunctionality, around November 1866, and after Harriet had witnessed some of James’s distracted and extreme behavior, like Ellen herself, Harriet feared that he would not ever recover, and she wrote to Andrews about Ellen’s fears and her conversations with her. She included her own concerns about the struggle she was witnessing.82 A testimony of rebuke from Ellen had later been written to Harriet and Uriah about these aspects of their involvement in the episode and their perceived disloyalty. The testimony had asserted that Harriet’s letter to Andrews was not right and should not have been written. Ellen White thought that it had presented things “in an exaggerated light,” and she knew it had greatly influenced Andrews. At the time (1866) James and Ellen had attributed the writing of the letter to evil motives but later realized that they had been wrong in making these assumptions about Harriet. The motives “were not what my husband, myself, and many others, supposed they must have been,” Ellen White later explained. She further noted that “our feelings from that time [when evil motives had been attributed] were that Sister Smith had gone too far for repentance.” This expression, “too far for repentance,” had found its way into the testimony to Harriet, who had interpreted it to mean she had committed the unpardonable sin. As a result, Harriet had become totally discouraged and had given up any hope of her salvation. Three years later,

in the spring of 1870 when Harriet’s case was being considered in the cleaning up of the church roll, she had made confession and applied for readmission to the church. Some church members, however, remembered the testimony about Harriet having gone “too far for repentance,” and on this basis they objected to her being readmitted. Her confession could not possibly be genuine, it was argued. In the process of discussion and review, Andrews found her 1866 letter, and Waggoner read it to the church trial meeting in an attempt to provide a context to explain the testimony. On the basis of the letter and the testimony, Harriet’s application to rejoin the church was rejected. Harriet was totally humiliated, not just because the decision went against her but because the testimony and her confidential letter had been made public. The reading of the letter in this public way was a “cruel act” by Andrews and Waggoner, Ellen later observed. “Sister Smith was placed in the worst light it was possible for her to be before the large company present,” Ellen later recalled with sorrow.83 The matter should have been resolved in private not in public. A week later Harriet was readmitted, and from somewhere deep in God’s grace she found resources of willingness to continue to be part of the Battle Creek church. But the humiliation had been deep and the scars were lasting. Andrews himself, feeling that he was only trying to be true to the testimony and loyal to James and Ellen, found that it was not always easy to choose a right path. Ellen White later explained to Waggoner that she would not “enumerate all the mistakes and errors of that Spring,” for it was now water under the bridge, but Waggoner should be careful in the future of the danger of “censuring where censure is not deserved.”84 Again, with the benefit of hindsight, both Waggoner and Andrews were, in 1872, publicly critiqued for exhibiting a “spirit of cold criticism in the examination of individuals.” There is no record that any cautions were expressed during the episode, when perhaps the observations might have been more helpful.85 Slowly over the next twelve months, a congregation of the repentant and

the faithful was rebuilt. The Smiths and the Amadons were not readmitted until early the following year (1871). “Joined the church. Amen. Thank the Lord!” observed Amadon in his diary on the last Sabbath of January.86 The paroxysm of cleansing, as Kevin Burton points out, produced some exceedingly strange anomalies. Uriah Smith, for example, at the time he was under censure from the church, still served as both the General Conference secretary and the president of the Michigan Conference. And in spite of his status of being under local church discipline at the time, he was also reappointed as the editor of the Review and as the president of the Michigan Conference. The episode highlighted a confused and underdeveloped ecclesiology. More significantly, the episode also illustrates the acute lack of alternative leadership personnel. It also speaks to the grace and forbearance of a group of men totally convicted of the rightness of their cause who were willing to acknowledge the flaws of their shared humanity and submit to each other in the larger interests of heralding the message of a more weighty coming judgment. To a significant degree, the subtext to the crisis in Battle Creek in the winter and spring of 1869–1870 that Andrews found himself caught up in concerned sensitive and contentious issues of church leadership and loyalty. Would individuals recognize and submit to the special role claimed by Ellen White? For most, as evident on previous occasions, the genuineness of her claim to a special charisma carried its own credentials, and affirming it was not difficult. As Uriah Smith had said earlier, they did not need more evidence. What was a problem, however, was knowing just how far the authority extended and how one was to relate to it and still preserve the integrity of one’s own spiritual gifts; that is, one’s own spiritinformed judgment and sense of responsibility before God. This was more of a challenge for Smith than it was for Andrews, although, as we have yet to see, Andrews also struggled over the issue. And for John Andrews’s sensitive and talented sister-in-law Harriet, trapped in the fishbowl of Battle Creek and trying to live faithfully as a believer, it was even more

difficult if we can give any credence to her New Year’s resolutions in her diary of 1870. The previous year had been “the darkest, saddest year of my life. I hope to make the one to come the most acceptable to God.”87 The fact that her husband had by then been recalled to the editor role gave her hope and some assurance that she “might lay hold of God and press forward to better things.” She accepted that it was her weakness that caused problems for Uriah and hoped that with the reorganization of the church “the ark of the Lord may once more rest in B[attle] C[reek].”88 The General Conference session for 1870 assembled in mid-March. It convened three weeks ahead of schedule in order to deal with the publishing leadership crisis, and a smaller group of leaders came together even a week before that for consultation, confrontation, and confession. Review editor Andrews reported his hopes at the end of the presession week that “even those who have stood chiefly in the way of the work will heartily return to God.”89 During the 1870 session, Andrews served on the influential Resolutions Committee, which produced a dozen strategically important resolutions ranging from the emerging mission opportunities in central Europe, the successful mission to California, and publishing responsibilities to European immigrant communities within America. A strengthening sense of self-identity in the movement allowed a more formal statement of relationships with first-day Adventists and active engagement with the Seventh Day Baptist Church. The longest resolutions, however, affirmed the resolution of the Battle Creek church problem and a lengthy endorsement of the value of the testimonies.90 Andrews played a prominent part at the session, initiating numerous discussions and framing numerous actions. He was reappointed as a member of the General Conference Executive Committee but managed to avoid any other appointments to office. By the end of March, Andrews was, in fact, in too “worn [a] condition” because of “incessant labor and taxation” to fully finish out his editorial

term, reported Uriah Smith.91 So exhausted was he by the heavy overload he had carried, that he persuaded the publishing association to allow Smith to resume his editorial role again three weeks ahead of the scheduled changeover. By the end of April, J. H. Waggoner was able to report that the Battle Creek cauldron was cooling off and the second defense book for James White had been finalized by its editors for circulation.92 In a creative attempt to continue strengthening and restoring fellowship, the publishing house was closed and Sabbath observers took a rare day off work to gather for an early summer Sunday picnic out at Goguac Lake. It was a rather stiff affair, with no games or lighthearted banter allowed. A temperance talk in the morning was followed by singing and testimonies in the afternoon. Uriah Smith reported the day a success because there was a “gratifying absence of fun.” Ellen White also noted approvingly the absence of “jesting and joking.” Being a no-work day helped to strengthen goodwill.93 Andrews was too weary to attend. Nearing the end of his fortieth year, and with an insightful observation about the need for “divine guidance” published in a corner of his last Review, Andrews was already on his way back to Rochester to become reacquainted with his family and to take up his postponed work of revising his cherished History of the Sabbath.94 When his aunt Sarah Pottle saw him on his return to Rochester, she observed that he looked “terribly buffeted.”95

1. “Report from Bro. White,” RH, Jan. 22, 1867, 74. 2. JNA, G. H. Bell, and US, The Defense of Elder James White and Wife: The Battle Creek Church to the Churches and Brethren Scattered Abroad (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist Pub. Assn., 1870), 9. 3. The repeated defenses required to demonstrate that White was not in fact a sharp, moneyobsessed, covetous entrepreneur would probably have been avoided if “Conflict of Interest” policies had been in place. Ibid. 4. RH, May 28, 1867, 281. 5. Kevin Burton provides previously unknown biographical details and a richly documented

analysis of Aldrich in “An Adventist Gentleman in Battle Creek: The Leadership of Jotham M. Aldrich. 1866–1868,” Journal of Asia Adventist Seminary 16, no. 2 (2013): 127–152. 6. “Doings of the N. Y. Conference,” RH, Nov. 4, 1863, 182. The report is jointly signed by Andrews and Aldrich. 7. Burton, “An Adventist Gentleman in Battle Creek,” 136. 8. “The Review—Its Enlargement and Diminution,” RH, Jan. 12, 1869, 21. Andrews gives a detailed account of the failed experiment. 9. “Seventh Annual Meeting of the Seventh-Day Adventist Pub. Association,” RH, May 28, 1867, 281. 10. EGW, Testimony for the Church at Battle Creek (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of Seventh-day Adventist Pub. Assn., 1868), 14. 11. Surprisingly, Ellen White objected to this involvement. Such involvement, she said, would only be legitimate if “it was necessary to the transaction of business among our people.” A conundrum for those who wish to see Ellen White as fully supportive of church member engagement in community affairs. Ibid. 12. Ellen White reports that she had begun to be concerned about the distraction of publishing leaders by external interests in June 1868, but whether she actually said anything at that time is not clear. Her manuscript reporting her concerns was not written until 1869, and the manuscript is undated. See EGW, MS 3, EGWE-GC. 13. EGW to JMA, 1868, EGWE-GC. The letter has no specific date, but in a letter of apology written in March 1870, Aldrich reports that he received a “plain testimony” in September 1868, and, as a consequence, ceased to function in the office or take further responsibility for its affairs, although he did not formally resign as president until some months later. Whether the “plain testimony” is a reference to what he received from Ellen White or from James, who in September asked for his resignation, is not clear. JMA to EGW, Jan. 20, 1870, EGWE-GC. 14. Uriah Smith reports that White and Aldrich gave different accounts of what was said in the meeting. Aldrich later responded to rumors that had hurt White, and perhaps to clarify matters on a legal basis, he explained that White “did not discharge” him from office. Asking for a resignation was not technically the same as firing him. US to JW, Apr. 23, 1869, CAR. JNA, G. H. Bell, and US, Defense of Elder James White and Wife, 36, 37. 15. “S.D.A. Publishing Association,” RH, May 25, 1869, 174. See also EGW to US and GWA, Apr. 23, 1869, EGWE-GC, and JNA, G. H. Bell, and US, Defense of Elder James White and Wife, 28, 29. White was formally appointed as publishing president again at the 1869 General Conference Session. Kevin Burton reports on the basis of an analysis of Battle Creek land records that show that, within two years after he left the Review, Aldrich (beginning in the spring of 1868) engaged in more than forty real estate transactions and was by 1870, one of the wealthiest citizens in Battle Creek, with property valued at $21,000. Ibid., 145. 16. “S.D.A. Publishing Association,” RH, May 25, 1869, 174. 17. RH, Mar. 30 1869, 112. 18. RH, Apr. 27, 1869, 144. 19. Ibid.; “To Delinquents,” RH, Mar. 9, 1869, 88. 20. EGW to US and GWA, Apr. 23, 1869, EGWE-GC.

21. Ibid. 22. US to JW, Apr. 23, 1869, EGWE-GC. 23. Ibid. 24. US to EGW, Apr. 28, 1869, EGWE-GC. Smith asserted that in regard to the troublesome testimony about Aldrich, “As a whole and in general terms, we have endorsed it.” But there were “some particulars which if they constitute part of the view [vision], I do not know what to do with.” 25. Ibid. 26. US to JW, May 4, 1869, EGWE-GC. 27. JW to US, GWA, and WCG, May 2, 1869, CAR. 28. “Report From Bro. White,” RH, Apr. 27, 1869, 141. 29. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 25, 1869, 172–174. Also serving during 1868 as president of the Michigan Conference and president of the health institute, Smith, out of necessity, had presided over these meetings during the session, but he was not reelected to either of these two boards— whether of his own choice or not is not known. 30. “Report from Bro. Waggoner,” RH, Nov. 9, 1869, 159. 31. “Explanatory,” RH, June 15, 1869, 196. 32. US to EGW, May 22, 1869, EGWE-GC. 33. “Valedictory,” RH, June 8, 1869, 188. 34. “The Health Reform Institute,” RH, May 25, 1869, 174. 35. JMA to EGW, Jan. 20, 1870, EGWE-GC. George Amadon notes in his diary on January 13, 1869, “Jotham finally submits!” suggesting that the process of healing and of learning the grace of submission had taken some time and involved the labors of his former colleagues. 36. “Where Shall it Be?” RH, July 13, 1869, 24; “Camp-Meetings,” RH, July 13, 1869, 21. Some of the locations were still being determined by the GC committee camped out together at Whites’ Greenville home. See JW to “Sister Hall,” July 12, 1869, EGWE-GC. 37. “Tent Meetings,” RH, June 8, 1869, 192. See also “Meeting in Orange, Mich.,” RH, June 22, 1869, 207. The tent became problematic later when White expected different sectors of the Michigan Conference membership to pay him back for his investment and only some were able or willing to do so, leading to a heavy-handed threat to sell the tent outside the conference. RH, Nov. 16, 1869, 168 and RH, Nov. 23, 1869, 178. The action was somewhat typical of the kind of well-intentioned initiative involving expenses that others were later expected to assume that slowly built up resistance to the autocratic leadership style of the president. 38. “The New Volume of the Review,” RH, June 29, 1869, 8. 39. RH, Mar. 8, 1870, 96. 40. “Value of Prayer,” RH, Sept. 28, 1869, 108; “The Order of Events in the Judgment,” RH, Mar. 22, 1870, 108; “Interesting Baptism,” RH, Mar. 22, 1870, 108. 41. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 25, 1869, 173; “The Wants of the Cause,” RH, July 6, 1869, 12. 42. “The Wants of the Cause,” RH, July 6, 1869, 12. 43. “Apostasy and Crime,” RH, July 20, 1869, 30. 44. “Camp-meetings in New York,” RH, July 20, 1869, 32. See also RH, July 20, 1869, 28, 30; RH, Aug. 3, 1869, 48; “The Violation of the Seventh Commandment Under the Garb of Religion,” RH,

Aug. 10, 1869, 52. Fuller’s moral failure was the motivation for a number of resolutions at the General Conference session of 1870. It also caused Ellen White “much grief and anguish of spirit,” and functioned as the occasion for the publishing of “Solemn Appeal,” with its rather frank discussion of sex and solitary vice. RH, Mar. 22, 1870, 109. EGW, T (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1948), 2:449. See also EGW, T, 2:439–489. 45. “Owosso Camp-Meeting,” RH, Aug. 31, 1869, 77; “Camp-Meeting at Ceresco, Mich.,” RH, Aug. 31, 1869, 77, 78. 46. “Camp-Meeting at Ceresco, Mich.,” RH, Aug. 31, 1869, 77, 78 47. “New and Important Work,” RH, Aug. 31, 1869, 80. 48. It is not quite clear what this action meant other than expressing disgust and making a public relations statement. The action had no formal effect. Fuller had already been disfellowshipped by his local church and thus had no formal standing with the conference. 49. “Our Camp-meeting,” RH, Nov. 9, 1869, 159. 50. RH, Nov. 9, 1869, 160. 51. “Note From Brn. Smith and Littlejohn,” RH, Oct. 26, 1869, 144. The style and wording of announcements in the RH issue of Nov. 16, 1869, 168, have a distinctive Smith style. 52. “Defense of Eld. James White,” RH, Oct. 26, 1869, 144. 53. JNA, G. H. Bell, and US, Defense of Eld. James White and Wife. The book contains thirty-two testimonials of good character. A list of fifty-nine other individuals is given whose testimonials could not be included for lack of space. See Michael Campbell’s article “Defense of Eld. James White . . .” in the EGWEncycl., ed. Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 762. 54. Andrews, Bell, and Smith, Defense of Eld. James White and Wife, 39. 55. Ibid., 42. 56. Ibid., 50. James White’s Sabbath sermon on sanctification on March 16, 1867, for example, dealt crudely with health reform. Stenographically reported by Uriah Smith, we can see why the sermon apparently gave offense. Some comments on work intemperance may have sounded hypocritical. Other comments contained a political opinion. References to meat-eaters’ flatulence were accompanied by other gross descriptions that could be considered by refined women listeners as socially inappropriate, at least for Sabbath morning. See “Sanctification,” RH, Apr. 9, 1867, 205– 209. Also EGW, T (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press®, 1948), 1:579. 57. Andrews, Bell, and Smith, Defense of Eld. James White and Wife, 50. 58. E. S. Walker, one of the directors of the health institute, apologized for using Ellen White’s testimonies as a basis for raising money for the new health institute building. But this poor judgement was also only realized in hindsight. “I now feel and see that our course was all wrong, and that in the management of the affairs of the Health Institute during Bro. White’s sickness, we were actuated by a wrong spirit and were wholly in the dark.” Andrews, Bell, and Smith, Defense of Eld. James White and Wife, 40, 41. 59. Ibid. 60. Kevin Burton, “Centralized for Protection: George I. Butler and His Philosophy of One-Person Leadership” (master’s thesis, Andrews University, 2015), CAR. Burton’s study is a detailed investigation of the leadership conflicts that plagued Adventism during the mid-1870s.

61. Ellen White would allude to the problem as a “general infection.” EGW, T, 1:595. 62. Keld J. Reynolds, The Journal of True Education 12, no. 4 (April 1950): 3. 63. US and GWA, A Record of Some of the Pride and Extravagances of the Battle Creek Church. Cited in Eugene F. Durand, RH, Feb. 3, 1983, 4–6. Gary Land, Uriah Smith: Apologist and Biblical Commentator (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 81, 82, has a good discussion of this episode. See also Milton Hook, Flames Over Battle Creek (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1977), 60, 61. There appears to be no extant copy of the satirical document. Kevin Burton suggests that it may derive from a different period. See “Cracking the Whip to Make a Perfect Church: The Purge of the Battle Creek Church on April 6, 1870,” Journal of the Adventist Theological Society, 28/1–2 (2018): 1–31. 64. Eric Foner, Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution 1863–1877 (New York: Harper and Row, 1988), 425. Foner provides a comprehensive analysis of the violent social turmoil and change of this period distinctively drawn from the perspective of everyday people from both the North and the South. His study makes extensive use of diaries and correspondence. 65. To what extent did the subtle violence embedded in American culture, and manifested acceptably in brutal political dialogue between parties and communities, also manifest itself in the subtle violence of plain speaking within religious communities? 66. Thomas D. Hamm, The Quakers in America (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), 101. 67. “Tent Meetings,” RH, June 8, 1869, 192. 68. “Reproof,” RH, Oct. 5, 1869, 120. 69. “Submission to God,” RH, Oct. 5, 1869, 120. 70. “Unrighteous Warfare,” RH, Dec. 14, 1869, 196. 71. Ibid. 72. “Will They Respond?” RH, Jan. 11, 1870, 24. 73. Ibid. 74. That Andrews headed up the panel is suggested by the fact that in March 1870, after the trial was over, the Michigan Conference Auditing Committee was instructed by the delegates to “settle” with Andrews for this additional “labor” for the Battle Creek church. No mention is made of remuneration for the other panel members. “Michigan State Conference,” RH, Mar. 22, 1870, 110. No mention is made of remuneration for the other panel members. Burton argues that J. H. Waggoner chaired the panel noting that Ellen White wrote him more frequently than Andrews on the topic. Ibid. 75. HNS to JW and EGW, 1870, EGWE-GC. Harriet Smith’s later letter of confession confirms that the Michigan Conference had appointed the committee that also included J. H. Waggoner. “Keep Your Covenant,” RH, Apr. 19, 1870, 144. 76. “A Profitable Day,” RH, Apr. 26, 1870, 152. 77. “An Authentic Interview Between Elder G. W. Amadon, Elder A. C. Bourdeau and Dr John Harvey Kellogg, October 7, 1907,” 39, CAR. The dynamics of the unusually intense church trials carried distant echoes of the Salem trials of three centuries earlier. 78. “The Conference,” RH, Jan. 24, 1871, 48. The diminished numbers had the downside of making it difficult to entertain visitors for the next General Conference session in the city.

79. Kellogg explained that he had not been “dumped” simply because the committee needed a clerk and that he had kept a full record of the trials. “There is a book full of this somewhere,” he noted, further observing rather cynically, “It was purely machine politics.” Amadon guessed that the record book had been burned up in the fire, “and I am glad of it,” he said.” “An Authentic Interview,” October 7, 1907, 6. CAR. 80. EGW to JHW, Feb. 1, 1872, EGWE-GC. Much of the matter in the letter was published a few months later, with names included. Ellen White thought the allegation against Hewitt and Dodge made by a Sister Richmond were about “some trivial deficiency” and that Richmond herself was in no better position. EGW, Testimony, No. 21 (Special), 1872, 130, 131, CAR. This particular version of the Testimony includes additional unpublished material about John Andrews, as well as individuals’ names. 81. EGW to JHW, Feb. 1, 1872, EGWE-GC. The letter stated that what was being written was based on things Ellen White had been “shown” in December, 1871. The play on the words “working order” seems deliberate. Had she just re-read the April 1871 Review or was it such a mantra of Goodloe Bell in his effort to make the church as disciplined as his classroom that it became temporary shibboleth? She repeats the expression in EGW, Testimony to the Church in Battle Creek, 1872, 15, EGWE-GC. 82. Harriet’s observations about James’s emotional fragility and extreme mental distress at this time are recorded in her diary. HNSD, Nov. 24–28, 1866, CAR. The letter is not extant but is referred to in EGW, Testimony to Battle Creek Church, 1872, 37–39. CAR. 83. Ibid. 84. EGW to JHW, Feb. 1, 1872, EGWE-GC. This previously unpublished letter chides Waggoner for reconciling with his wife after he had had the opportunity biblically and legally of being free from her. According to Ellen White, she was an unconverted woman and a distraction to his ministry. 85. EGW, Testimony to the Church in Battle Creek, 1872, 11, EGWE-GC. 86. GWAD, Jan. 28, 1871, CAR. Martha Amadon was readmitted the following Sabbath. GWAD, Feb. 3, 1871, CAR. See also Hook, Flames Over Battle Creek, 63. 87. HNSD, Jan. 1, 1870. The 1870 extended entry is written across the allocated dates for February 4–9 in her 1869 diary. 88. HNS to EGW, 1870, EGWE-GC. The letter carries no specific date but appears to have been written shortly after the General Conference session in March 1870. Uriah was still to apply for readmission to the church. “I feel anxious that Uriah should go forward to join the church if there is no objection and I am not without hope that the time will come when my life shall have proved the genuineness of my conversion to God and my poor name may too be found among the records of his people.” 89. “Our Preliminary Meetings in Battle Creek,” RH, Mar. 15, 1870, 104. The meetings were helpful, for example, to Harriet Smith, who prior to that time had seen “men as trees walking, but then a 2nd anointing was given.” HNS to EGW, 1870, EGWE-GC. 90. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Mar. 22, 1869, 109. 91. RH, Mar. 29, 1875, 116. Smith, expressing his gratitude for the year of “release,” protested that “if he had consulted his own feelings,” he would have preferred a “continuance of this freedom.”

92. “A Profitable Day,” RH, Apr. 26, 1870, 152. 93. “A Good Day,” RH, May 31, 1870, 188. See also “Christian Recreation,” RH, May 31, 1870, 185. 94. RH, Apr. 19, 1870, 141. 95. SPD, May 6, 1870, MLCBU.

Chapter Fourteen

A Retreat to the East: 1870–1874 eginning in May 1870, after Andrews’s stint at the Review and following the church storm in Battle Creek, John Andrews returned to the East as the primary base of his ministry. During the next four years,

B

until mid-1874, it seemed as if he was trying to stay away from Michigan as much as possible, although councils, major new developments, and recurring crises continued to draw him back, sometimes for uncomfortably extended stays. The early 1870s were an unsettled and complicated period of development for the Adventist Church. Explosive membership growth (22 percent in 1872) was matched by an even more rapid growth in the number of ministers.1 And with the numerical growth came growing pains. The horizon for mission now extended into southern states, across to California, and into different ethnic immigrant groups in the Midwest. Increasing demands of the various fields for care and attention added to the stress on leaders. During this period, the growing church also began to receive requests for help from overseas, and leadership increasingly began to see a world of opportunity that lay beyond the continental United States. The adding of new institutions and the continuing expansion and increasing complexity of existing entities began to expose the limitations of the existing core of experienced senior workers, even as new territories created a demand for additional workers. Thus it was that, on a personal level, this period of Andrews’s ministry was also, in many ways, a troubled and unsettled time. Personal tragedy, uncomfortable intractable conflict with his senior colleague, and a

worrying loss of confidence in himself darkened his life. It was as if the requirement for him to submit to the will of others so regularly eventually undermined his sense of who he really was and hollowed out confidence in his own judgment. Duty, as he understood it, remained the lodestar of his life, and with this came relentless pressure. And the flipside of duty was an abiding sense of guilt at having never done enough. Yet, at the same time, this was also a period of great fulfillment for Andrews. During these years he was able to write extensively on the theme of the Sabbath from various perspectives, and he eventually completed the revision of his magnum opus, History of the Sabbath. Andrews was clearly glad to be home, as his short piece in the Review at the end of May 1870 revealed. The joys of coming home to Rochester seemed to point him forward to the “inexpressible blessedness” when for the saints, “their journeyings end in their safe arrival in the kingdom of God.”2 During his first year back in New York, he would write more than thirty such devotional reflections for the Review. These were short pastoral meditations and exhortations sometimes on five or six topics clustered together in one larger piece, and they provided a striking counterpoint to his many rigorous and densely argued doctrinal and theological articles. Beginning as a short column entitled “Random Thoughts,” the contributions morphed into “Practical Thoughts on Scripture Subjects” and then became simply “Brief Practical Thoughts.”3 An intermittent unnumbered series, these short pieces open a window into Andrews’s warm pastoral heart and illustrate his keen sense of duty. Readiness for the coming judgment was a recurring theme, as was the need to develop the spiritual gift of being thankful for reproof.4 In the first weeks after his return to Rochester, Andrews picked up anew his temporarily shelved duties as president of the New York Conference. Twenty-three churches and several companies needed to convene for their combined camp meeting and conference session. He was also able to make up for the postponed preaching assignments and regional quarterly

meetings. R. F. Cottrell observed after one such meeting in early June that Andrews, “though worn and exhausted with labor, spoke the word with clearness and to edification and exhortation.”5 Preaching, pastoral visitation, and the occasional funeral in these early weeks also helped him accomplish another important task assigned him on his return east. He had been asked to help educate and mentor twenty-six-year-old James Erzberger from Switzerland.6 Erzberger had worked as a colporteur and itinerant pastor in rural Switzerland after having received a year of seminary training. In 1868, he met a group of Advent believers in the village of Tramelan that had been organized by M. B. Czechowski. Erzberger was baptized by the group’s lay leader, Albert Vuilleumier, and then when the little company of believers had eventually learned of the existence of Seventh-day Adventists in the United States, Erzberger had been sent to attend the 1869 General Conference Session to learn more. He had stayed for a time at the home of Ellen and James White and spent two extended periods at the health institute recovering from a period of ill health and learning health principles. In June, he went to stay with the Andrews family in Rochester for six weeks, after which he was to participate with Andrews in the early summer eastern camp meetings. Andrews’s task was to give him a good finishing in Adventist theology before he returned to Europe, and the pair spent considerable time in study and pastoral work together.7 In early August, Erzberger participated with Andrews in the New York Conference annual session and camp meeting at Oneida, where Andrews was again reelected as conference president and where, under Andrews’s chairmanship, a licensed woman minister made Adventist history by officially giving her report to the conference delegates on her preaching and evangelism. Mrs. Sarah Lindsay had been recognized as a minister by session delegates the previous year and had been issued a license. (Ellen White was granted full ordination credentials six months later.)8 At a subsequent eastern camp meeting that fall, Erzberger was also ordained. In

September, he returned to Switzerland as the first ordained Seventh-day Adventist minister in Europe. The warm relationship between Andrews and Erzberger continued to mature through correspondence and formed the basis of the close working relationship so important to Andrews when he was sent to Europe four years later.9 Another important future-shaping decision was made in response to Andrews’s preaching that summer in the Northeast. During the Massachusetts camp meeting in late August, John Andrews baptized young Will Prescott, who was about to commence his “finishing” year in classical studies at Penacook Academy in New Hampshire prior to going to Dartmouth College. Did Andrews recognize in the seventeen-year-old an intellect akin to his own and a future church leader of giant proportions? In spite of his weak health and state of exhaustion, Andrews pushed himself to meet the expectations of his senior colleagues and what looked like promising opportunities for mission. Prior to the conclusion of the eastern camp meeting circuit, a corporate sense of duty required Andrews and W. H. Littlejohn to leave the preaching team and return to Oneida, New York, home of the famed utopian community founded in 1848 by John Humphrey Noyes. Here, the two men ran follow-up evangelistic meetings. There were hopes that the intense interest generated by the August camp meeting would continue. Alas, while the smallish congregation they attracted acknowledged that they had been persuaded of the validity of Adventist claims about the seventh-day Sabbath, very few were willing to commit to the cause. Even sermons by the Whites, who came to help with the preaching on their way back to western camp meetings, failed to rescue the effort.10 After four discouraging weeks, the men moved on. Neither the utopians nor the ordinary citizens were convicted.

A sabbatical for the Sabbath Following the failed Oneida mission, Andrews returned to Rochester and

made plans to go to Boston. At last, he was to have time for his major project. Boston would give him access to local university libraries to pursue his further study on the History of the Sabbath and undertake the long awaited and now pressing revisions. The 1860 edition of the book had now been out of print for two years, and before he printed a new edition, his colleagues had urged that the text be expanded and updated. There had been much feedback on the volume since its publication. In spite of its imperfections, it had achieved widespread respect.11 Focused commitment to the project on the part of Andrews had been laid down as an expectation by James White. In the light of later developments, this needs to be noted. In late September, James White told his estimated ten thousand readers of the Review that what was urgently wanted at present was “a revised” edition of Andrews’s history and that a way to accomplish this had been devised. Andrews would “immediately devote himself to the work, when other pressing duties shall be done.” The plan was for him to “spend the autumn and much of the winter near Boston,” where he would be expected to preach only “once, or at the most twice, each week.” He could therefore “devote his entire time and energies, with this exception, to the preparation of his History.”12 “Friends in, and near, Boston,” White noted, would assist “in every way they can,” and they would “not call his mind from the work . . . to the local interests of the cause there.” The revision task was a “work of great importance,” and White understood that it would call “for a vast amount of labor” on Andrews’s part. He concluded his announcement with an appeal for two hundred Sabbath keepers to contribute ten dollars each to a two-thousand-dollar fund for the purpose of purchasing books for a library that Andrews could use for his research and which would, at least in the interim, be the property of the publishing house.13 Donations did not reach the two-thousand-dollar mark, but there was enough to fund a substantial collection. Two weeks later, White told Andrews and the rest of the church through the pages of the Review that he hoped Andrews would prepare the new edition “as soon as possible” and

that he could “have all the help and means he needs to accomplish the work on application to this Office.”14 James White again reiterated his enthusiasm for the project in the Review in early November. It was a good investment in evangelism, he argued. “We look forward with great pleasure to the time when Bro. Andrews’ History of the Sabbath shall be revised and enlarged, and an edition of ten thousand copies shall be printed, for our people to put into the hands of candid men and women everywhere. There are hundreds of our people who date their conversion to the Sabbath from reading that able work. There are thousands more, just as honest as they were, who can be brought to the Sabbath by the same means. May God help Bro. Andrews in the preparation of this important work.”15 Circumstances soon prevailed, however, that made “as fast as possible” slower than both Andrews and his patron would have liked. Competing pressures from a number of different sources complicated Andrews’s life and slowed his rate of progress on the revisions. James White had stressed urgency and a strong focus on the project. On the other hand, he was also being strongly counseled by Ellen White to not become too much immersed in his historical research and literary work, and for the good of his health, he should spend more time in physical labor outdoors. It was not only his own health that needed to be husbanded. Angeline’s failing health also worried him. Sometime during November of 1870, the couple had consulted with Dr. Caleb Jackson of the Dansville Institute, possibly at his Rochester office. Jackson’s verdict was that Angeline’s health was “critical”—a “congestion of the brain, caused by anxiety of the mind,” and this threatened “consumption of the bowels and also of the lungs.” Angeline and John had for the past six years followed a rigorous health reform regime with a good diet, proper dress, and regular exercise. This, it seems, was not enough to counteract the impact of stress and the anxiety of church problems, loneliness, and her husband’s increasingly toxic and complicated working

relationships. They had decided Angeline should go to “Our Home on the Hillside” at Dansville, where they had previously taken Charles, so that she could learn their treatment for her condition and find much needed rest. Sending her to the Battle Creek Institute at this time they thought not wise. She departed for Dansville on Wednesday morning, December 21. The unexpected plan for treatment financially embarrassed the family, and Andrews found himself asking a local church elder, P. Z. Kinne, for a loan to cover treatment expenses.16 Just hours after Angeline left home, Andrews received in the mail a letter and a testimony from Ellen White that shook him to his core. Neither the covering letter nor the testimony letter itself are now extant. Neither is another—“your former letter and testimony”—Andrews apparently received prior to December. We do, however, learn something of the apparently scathing nature of the letter Andrews received that late December from the extended and rather anguished reply Andrews wrote. It is clear that he is not at all sure about how he should proceed in order to please both of his longtime coworkers. As a result of the turmoil, Andrews appears to lose a sense of the ground he should stand on and becomes unsure about who he is or who he is meant to be. He feels deeply guilty that he is not the person that Ellen White says the Lord would have him be.17 Andrews’s reply is one of the most poignant and, at the same time, one of the most troubling letters of his entire career. It is a letter of profound self-reflection and spiritual awareness. Andrews began by explaining the steps he had taken to inform her that he had received her earlier letter (his message was not passed on by James) and that given the circumstances, he thought it would be better to “report after a little time had elapsed.” He then articulated in careful, diplomatic, submissive, and respectful language the confusion and ambivalence wracking his soul. “I will now try to open my case so far as telling how I have supposed I ought to act,” he began, adding that it was written not “in a spirit of self-justification—nor to set aside in any way what you have

written.” He reported that he had responded to her counsel given two years previously by making major changes in his study patterns. Previously he had studied for a block of time before breakfast, but since then he had reduced his reading time by more than two-thirds. She indicated that he should do this because he was in danger of using time that “was needed for some urgent matter in the cause.” For the past year he reported that he had not read any Greek, “not one verse—and no German—and nothing in any other language.” He went on to report that he had recently been reading only three chapters in the Bible each day, and that had been in French, which he claimed he could read “nearly as easily as English,” but this had “not usually occupied more than 30 or 40 minutes” each day. Since her “recent testimony,” he had given that up too. He “did not read the exchanges—the Crisis and other Advent sheets only a little.” He did not want to say that his course was now right, he assured her, but he also wanted her to understand that he “had not willfully violated the testimony.” He confessed that his occasional habit of reading papers at the table had been wrong, but in what seems to be a pushback against an overstated generalized assertion, he stated firmly that “it has not been the case that I have read from morning to night and at the table also.” During all the recent fall, he explained, he had, in fact, spent “the greater part of each day at work outdoors,” and only in this context, when he “came in to eat,” had he taken a paper and read it over at the table. “This was wrong,” he now acknowledged, and he had since given it up. He did not report any response from his wife or children to this piece of self-discipline, but presumably the opportunity for more conversation at the table was appreciated. He went on to explain that he was willing now, if need be, “to give up everything like a course of study” (by which he meant a systematic program of reading) “and try to help others without this attempt to learn myself.” Perhaps he had been selfish in his previous pattern, but he “did not suppose so.”18 In a perceptive attempt to understand his own gifts, he described how he

had “looked at you each” [Ellen and James] and “compared” them with himself. Sister White has direct inspiration from heaven and does not need to study either the doctrinal or practical parts of the Bible because the Spirit of God brings it to her remembrance in such a manner as no other one among us can expect it. And next to this is the case of Brother White. He has the gift of seeing at a glance. He takes things in at first sight and does not improve the view by much afterthought, as he gets correct first views. Now I am not like either of these two and must use diligence in study and reflections and I must redeem the time for the purpose. I do not defend my own course. I thought perhaps I ought to state what had been the reasoning of my mind on these things. He wanted to assure her, however, that since his last reproof had been received, he had not “acted in any of these things in a way to slight” the counsel that had been sent. He explained further that it was “a matter of deep and extreme distress” to him that Ellen and her husband had to labor so hard and that his own work (as she seemed to have suggested) was “misdirected and in some respects . . . an injury to the cause.” This was “an unceasing source of anguish of spirit” to him. He said that he was willing to make to the Battle Creek church any “confession or retraction that will relieve my errors,” if what he had confessed to them already did not meet the case. He would attempt to write only “short articles” for the Review “if God will help me and accept it.” (Ellen White had apparently reproved him for his long ones.) “If I can get out of myself, and be changed into a different man I will be thankful.” Was she asking him to stop being a scholar? Why was she so impatient with his scholarship? How was he to balance being mission-driven by a keen sense of imminence, something he and Ellen shared, with the demands of careful scholarship?

The two pressures created unresolvable tensions. Andrews then gingerly raised the sensitive area of work relationships. “I know it seems to Brother White that I am constantly shunning responsibilities and throwing everything on him. But while it may be true that I am not as willing as I ought to be to do my part, it is also true that I have found myself in so many errors when I have taken responsibility that I dare not act, even when I think I see the right way.” He had lost confidence. James White’s repeated public castigating of the former administration in the columns of the Review over alleged financial blunders during his illness in 1866 and 1867 not only hurt his colleagues but it also intimidated them. There was a distinct downside to James’s plain speaking and his inability to leave things in the past. In a further attempt to clarify a misunderstanding, Andrews sought to correct Ellen White’s interpretation of a letter he had sent to Uriah Smith. She had misread the meaning of one of his sentences. He also wanted to set the record straight about his library use. In a gentle attempt to correct her misunderstanding on this, he declared, “I wish to say that I have not visited even for a single time any library or reading room in the city since I came from Battle Creek last spring [May 1870], except in one single instance, I stepped into the college library to show it to Uriah. But I did not then make any use of the books.”19 In her letter, it seems that Ellen White had suggested that his family should move out of Rochester to join John’s colleagues at Battle Creek. Andrews replied that his “one great object” had been “to live in Rochester while I should re-write the Sabbath History, and prepare one other work that I have long had on my mind.” In the light of Ellen White’s letter, he was now not so sure. “I do not say in these things that I have not been wrong.” And in the light of the counsel, he expressed his willingness to “give up the place which we have here and to remove from this city.” Angeline, he said, felt as he did, if it became clear that this was the light of duty and was what Ellen White was really telling them to do. “I shall never

set up my light against what I know comes from heaven,” he affirmed.20 He wondered, as he closed off his twelve-page response, if he had “written perhaps too fully.” He had not done so, however, “to rise up against what you have written. I thought if I stated to you just how I have reasoned in my own mind it would show that I have not had rebellion in my heart, however much I have departed from the right way.” He apologized for taking so much of her time and worried that he had grieved her in what he had said. Perhaps “I have not at all understood my own case,” he pondered again in a spirit of submission. “O, if I can now do right before God, even at this late hour, it may be that I shall yet find mercy at His hands.” He again assured her that “there is not in my heart one feeling of rebellion against the reproof given. Whenever you have any word of reproof or instruction to give, I hope you will each give it without sparing me.” With this degree of apprehension and uncertainty as 1870 drew to a close, the work on revising History of the Sabbath would not be completed any time soon.

Things fall apart in Battle Creek Part of the larger background to the allegations and levels of frustration apparently expressed in the now nonextant Ellen White letters to Andrews is to be found in a series of distressing developments in Battle Creek during the final three months of 1870. A number of key personnel in the publishing house all fell sick at the same time during autumn. In the emergency, James White, although at the edge of his own resources, felt obliged to fill the temporary vacancies and subsequently totally exhausted himself. This stress led to a second stroke. The problem began at the end of summer when, in the September 20 issue of the Review, White had told the scattered believers in Kansas that he was “too much worn” after the intense labor involved in eight end-onend camp meetings through both the Western and the Eastern states. He and Ellen had thus “finally decided” that they could not attend camp

meeting in Kansas that year. The meeting would have to be postponed to the following year. This was published in the same issue of the Review in which White had informed readers of the arrangements for Andrews’s urgent literary assignment revising his History of the Sabbath and urging church members not to sidetrack him.21 Other reasons the Whites gave for the postponement of the Kansas meeting included a lack of support from church members at the Michigan camp meeting for the initiative and the fact that Kansas was an expensive place to get to. Without adequate support, they simply could not go. While on the Ohio campground, however, James changed his mind. “The burden rolled upon us, and we have decided to hold camp-meetings in Indiana and Kansas in the month of October.” They were prepared to “make the sacrifice in our much-worn condition . . . for the good of perishing souls.” Later there were questions about this “duty.” Letters to their children indicate that the “impression of duty” was largely James’s conviction. Ellen felt obliged to acquiesce.22 In any case, the next issue of the Review carried last-minute announcements for the two additional meetings and an appeal to “wealthy brethren” to fund the venture.23 The five-day, “wearisome” journey to Kansas refreshed the couple, however, and they began the meetings in an ebullient mood. Although attendance was small, James felt that much good was accomplished, and on the spur of the moment, he undertook to formally organize the few scattered companies across Kansas and Missouri into a new conference. They felt the outcome was very positive, although the cost to their health was yet more exhaustion. In hindsight they felt assured that they had not been “mistaken in relation to our impressions of duty to hold this meeting.”24 The added drain on James’s health, however, proved the “impression of duty” to be a very costly one, although in the distressing events that followed it does not seem to have occurred to James to ask himself if he might have survived the difficulties better if he had stayed with his original decision not to go to Kansas and to postpone the trip for a

year. James and Ellen arrived back in Battle Creek on November 7 to find their magazine ministry falling apart. James’s reported sense of well-being on his return home rapidly evaporated.25 Much routine business had accumulated in his absence, but there was a bigger problem to face. Uriah Smith had been off work since the first week of October because of “bilious fever” and, on doctor’s orders, he was not to “resume editorial duties for some weeks.” Readers were asked to “please bear with any defects in the paper consequent upon Smith’s absence.”26 The assistant editor, William Gage, also responsible for editing the Health Reformer, had tried to fill the gap. Then a week later, the very efficient executive secretary of the publishing house, Adelia Van Horn, fell seriously ill, which put her completely out of action.27 Shortly afterward, Gage himself became ill after a poorly timed recreational visit to Chicago that exposed him to inclement weather. Goodloe Harper Bell, the editor of the Youth’s Instructor, absented himself at the same time, whether because of sickness or urgent family business in the North is not clear. Already carrying the load of president of the General Conference, James now found himself picking up the additional loads of the four who had been disabled. He had to rely for help on compositors and available foremen with literary skills. White’s appeal to Andrews to come and help failed. According to White, Andrews reported himself as also sick and unable to work. From what we know of his later December 21 letter, part of his reason may also have been because of Angeline’s precarious health condition. J. H. Waggoner also reported himself sick up in Maine.28 Willie White was sick and unable to help, and son Edson declined to help because relationships with his father were still very strained and he stubbornly felt the need to maintain a substantial personal distance. Ellen White herself was sick during these two months. James was truly on his own. Stressed beyond measure, James found himself working eighteen-hour days, six days a week.29 And even though Smith was back at his desk by

the end of November, James continued to push himself hard, staying at his post of duty until he, too, went down with a severe cold and a “painful infection of the lungs.”30 As the long, dark days of December closed in, he began to brood on the injustice of it all and became more and more puzzled and angry over what he saw as the strange course taken by colleagues who seemed to have just left him to it. They just did not seem to share his sense of duty.31 Nine days into the new year, James’s eightythree-year-old mother, Betsy, who had been living with them, died, and suddenly grief added itself to his enormous burden. Despite the mounting personal tensions, Andrews either came to Battle Creek to minister to his two grieving colleagues or he was already back in the city by early January 1871. He conducted the funeral services for Mother White and then stayed on to help get ready for the next General Conference session, which had been brought forward to deal with the escalating personnel crisis.32 James White acknowledged in the Review that he had “yielded to the temptation to labor until our present course is in direct violation of the clearest light. And with returning premonitions of paralysis we hasten to lay our burdens down.” The General Conference session would attempt to deal with the “proper distribution of labor.”33 Uncertainty and fearful apprehension was palpable as the thirty-three delegates gathered in the Battle Creek church on Tuesday morning, February 7. Andrews again offered the opening prayer and chaired the committee on resolutions. The first resolution to be considered tendered a vote of thanks to White for his labor and his carrying of “heavy burdens under the most unfavorable and trying circumstances.” The resolution also included a clause affirming that the delegates would “sustain him according to the best of our ability.” The difficulty delegates wrestled with repeatedly at this time was the oft-repeated statement from Ellen White’s vision of hope that she had seen at Andrews’s home in Rochester on Christmas Eve 1865. The vision specified that the Lord had “specially called” James White to

his position as the leader of the church and that he would be raised to health again in order to fill this role. This testimony shaped delegates’ thinking and their decision-making. No one wanted to appear as if they were against the testimonies or give the idea that they did not believe that White would be healed.34 Thus, though he was still in very poor health, he was reelected as president of the General Conference and, in addition, was “earnestly” invited “to continue to retain his oversight of the work of publication,” which meant retaining the role of president of the publishing association, although at the same time they requested him to take a furlough.35 He was also appointed as editor of the Review and the Health Reformer. Uriah Smith was demoted to assistant editor, and a young woman, Jenny Trembley, was appointed to assist him with the Reformer. White ended up with six appointments. He simply was not able to say no. A culture of expectation had developed among the leaders that if the delegates as a body spoke, the individual must respond favorably or he would be considered to be not just shirking duty but turning away from God. “We teach submission to the decisions of the body, and desire, while we can labor at all, to do the work put upon us by our people, as far as we are able to do it,” White explained to Review readers, echoing the universally held understanding.36 The prevailing theological convictions and understandings of the community had locked them into a system that was rapidly becoming dysfunctional. White ended up with more duties after the conference than he had before it—despite his failing health. He, too, believed that he had been called to this “special” role, and it shaped his sense of duty and his exercise of power that subtly contributed to the reasons why others found working with him at close quarters so difficult. Stress and the overload of responsibility on him continued to take its toll. Toward the end of the session of 1871, as he was returning home one evening, James suffered another minor but significant stroke and found himself having to grasp a fence to prevent himself from falling. The result this time was a partially paralyzed right arm, headaches, confusion, and

emotional imbalance. With a period of rest, however, he was able to moderate the results of the setback. Aware of the scarcity of skilled and spiritually committed businessmen in Battle Creek to help manage the growing institutions with their ever greater complexity and sophistication, the delegates gave much discussion to ways of inducing people they called “picked” men to relocate with their families to Battle Creek. Their intention was to assist James White. This initiative would preoccupy the brethren for the next year or two. An even greater utilization of the skills of young women in management was another initiative sparked by the human resource crisis in 1871.37 Women were appointed as General Conference treasurer, Michigan Conference secretary and treasurer, executive secretary for the publishing house, and as editors and assistant editors of church magazines. Uriah Smith quietly boasted, with some satisfaction, that twenty of the thirty-two employees at the publishing house were women.38 John Andrews, reappointed as a member of the powerful publications committee and as a member of the small General Conference Executive Committee, returned home to Rochester on March 1, but again it was only a short stay. He arrived home after a two-month absence to find himself having to deal with “some need of care for the family.” But another assignment from headquarters awaited him—deputizing for the Whites. He dutifully informed White that although he felt a “degree of weariness,” he would start out for appointments in Boston in the morning to fill speaking appointments on behalf of Ellen and James because their “feeble health” made it “not consistent” for them to “keep their commitments on this occasion.”39 Six weeks later, after further time in Rochester, he located himself for a more extended time at 65 Dorchester Street in South Boston, where he was finally able to pursue his research in early church history materials in local university libraries. But then as the urgent once again usurped the place of the important, Andrews found himself having to research and write at the request of the brethren on a topic which, while

critical to the defense of the church’s teaching on the universality of Sabbath observance, distracted him from revising his book. Out in California, health evangelism pioneer, Merritt Kellogg, with his newly minted MD degree, had been disturbed to read a newspaper report about a ship arriving in the recently acquired territory of Alaska and the ship’s crew becoming involved in a court case against their captain over wages, which involved a calculation of Sabbath days and how much they should be paid.40 For the first time, Kellogg became aware of the way a day moved across the globe and that it was not possible for all the citizens of the globe to celebrate a “definite day” at the same time. This so resoundingly unsettled his faith that he wrote an article to a first-day Adventist paper hostile to Sabbatarians and proposed the idea that a definite Sabbath day was no longer an obligation. Andrews was appealed to for answers to this “new” problem, and he wrote his first response on “The Definite Seventh Day,” published in the Review on February 14. The article helped stabilize Kellogg, but it raised a number of other complicated issues that needed further discussion. Over the next five months, Andrews wrote another closely reasoned and rather technical series of eight articles dealing with problems connected with the international date line, its location, and its implications for Sabbath observance. In order to anchor his argument for a definite Sabbath day, not just “a” Sabbath day, the location of the date line at the 180th meridian had to be the result of direct divine action somehow inherent in the act of Creation. Thus the articles abounded in technical arguments about timekeeping and the distinctive nature of the first day of Creation as opposed to subsequent days. They required careful disciplined reading, but judging from reader feedback, they were appreciated by some.41 Ellen White thought Andrews had become obsessive on the topic. By June, newly determined to progress on his Sabbath history revisions, he focused again on seeking supporting documentation both for the history revisions and for the additional volume on the church fathers that he had

envisaged. Uriah Smith joined him in early June to assist in the research.42 Maybe because Smith had been assigned two years previously to Greenville to help White for three months in the research and writing of his autobiographical Life Incidents, assigning him for three months to help Andrews could be seen as an attempt to be fair and equal in the use of resources. The fact that Smith was now only the assistant editor may have also made it easier to absent himself so he could undertake the role of research assistant. In reporting to Review readers after his thirteen weeks with Andrews, he would explain that what had been accomplished thus far was just the collection of materials. It was like the gathering of necessary construction materials before the erection of a building. At present, he reported, “While all has not been searched up that it is designed to procure, some valuable testimony has been found, which is well worth all the time and expense that would be involved in extensive research.” Smith had thoroughly enjoyed the diversion from the pressures of his editorial desk and had become strongly impressed by three things. “First, the extent of ground covered by the first edition of Bro. Andrews’ History. Secondly, the utter poverty of the evidence in behalf of Sunday. Thirdly, the vast amount, and contradictory nature, of the efforts put forth to sustain the first-day institution.”43 He was grateful for the opportunity to have been involved in the project. Both Smith and Andrews were obliged to put aside their research work at the end of July to take responsibilities on the camp meeting circuit again. Laying aside whatever hurt feelings he may have experienced, Andrews joined James and Ellen for the eastern camp meeting circuit, beginning with the New York Conference session in early August. He was able to avoid election as president of New York this time. The open-air preaching and increasingly large crowds at camp meetings required huge lung power and strenuous exertion, and it exhausted him.44 His pen had been busy too. In the Review in early August, Andrews began a series of fifteen articles

that ran through early 1872 in which he made a close examination of Thomas Preble’s book advocating the first-day Sabbath.45 Dealing with Preble’s arguments chapter by chapter in lengthy six- or seven-column pieces (6,000–8,000 words), he applied his scholarship not only to expose the poverty of Preble’s arguments but also to show the shoddy nature of his work and the blatant dishonesty of his use of sources both contemporary and ancient. Some of Andrews’s critics had alleged that he had not been “candid” in his use of historical sources in his first edition. Andrews made it clear that it was Preble who was the one who had not been candid and fair. Andrews not only exposed his accuser but, according to J. H. Waggoner, “fully vindicate[d] the correctness of his History.”46 Ellen White was not so sure that this was the best approach, however, and cautioned him that giving so much exposure to the arguments of their enemies might not be productive. Preble, she said, was “an unprincipled dishonest man” and those who knew him best did not have confidence in him. He was not even a worthy opponent. Ellen White went on to aver that when quoting Preble in order to answer his arguments, Andrews was in danger of suggesting or “presenting objections to thousands of minds that they have never thought of.” It would be better to ignore him. By the time she gave her counsel, however, the articles had been largely completed. But perhaps it was her counsel that put a stop to the series being put into pamphlet form, as James White had originally intended and as he had done with Andrews’s scholarly review of the Seventh Day Baptist author A. H. Lewis.47 At the end of September, he was able to return to Rochester for a brief rest and some harvesttime visits to his maternal uncle William and aunt Sarah Pottle. He enjoyed sharing with his relatives the produce of his extensive backyard orchard, and his relatives would return the favor. Pears were John and Angeline’s specialty.48

Increasing leadership tensions again During 1871, as Andrews endeavored to focus on his Sabbath research in

the East and his other Sabbath articles, back in Battle Creek, James White’s health continued to deteriorate. The increasing pressure of work following the General Conference session meant that White was not able to take up his editorial leadership of the Review until May 2. He had to let other duties go in order to eventually be able to return to the editor’s office, which he felt obligated to do.49 He complained that he still carried the load of two or three men, and another cycle of mania and depression loomed.50 Ellen worried that he had become “terribly discouraged and sad.” He had been “much depressed since you were here,” she reported to Edson after a tense visit in early May, when there had apparently been an unpleasant quarrel. The stressful relationship with Edson exacerbated James’s nervousness.51 In truth, James’s frequent columns in the Review reveal significant emotional seesawing during this period. On the campgrounds in the West, he was elated and happy in work, but then in July he was called back to Battle Creek when his father died. The loss added to his emotional burden.52 “I was struck with the appearance of Bro. White,” reported J. H. Waggoner when he returned to Battle Creek in early August 1871. “His careworn and emaciated countenance convinced me that he was near the point of entirely breaking down.” Waggoner shared with Review readers that he would be happy to relieve the elder if it was possible, but he thought White now seemed driven by his own sense of dogged duty.53 Later that month, White gave his own assessment, telling his Review readers that since the General Conference session in February he had experienced “increasing difficulty . . . , increasing nervousness, and an increasing pressure upon the spirits. We sleep imperfectly, and not more than one half as much as we should. We suffer much pain in the arm and hand that were paralyzed six years since. In consequence of severe brain labor, and nervous action, dyspepsia is returning, sleep is departing, and our right hand is decreasing in size and strength.” He lamented that some were now criticizing him in an “exacting style” because of his “hasty,

nervous movements, while pressed with toil and care.”54 In truth, however, White’s own criticism and public shaming of his colleagues through his “plain speaking” made it difficult for them to work with him. He had, for example, criticized Harriet publicly, and several other incidents illustrate the deteriorating relationships.55 On several occasions since the spate of sickness among the editorial staff, James had publicly criticized and shamed his colleagues, blaming them repeatedly for not coming to his aid. He alleged that they had been guilty of “deserting the work.” They had been “unfaithful” and “absent from duty” without due cause.56 During this same period he had repeatedly recounted the heroic effort he had made to rescue the institutions from financial difficulties in 1868 and each time excoriated those who had been the administrators at the time.57 Primarily he was aiming at Andrews and Smith, and readers of the Review knew it. The frequency with which he did this suggests an unhealthy need to build himself up because he thought no one else would, and he did it at the expense of colleagues who really wanted to help. Aware of the negative effect James was having on his colleagues, Ellen White, in early August 1871 during camp meeting in New Hampshire, wrote to Andrews, pleading that he not be intimidated by her husband or even perhaps by herself. “You shrink from running risks,” she observed, for “fear lest you shall make mistakes, and mismoves and then be blamed.” Andrews had earlier admitted as much to Ellen White. It was not hard to recall the repeated humiliating episodes of being blamed publicly by James in the Review. She urged him to overcome this fear, “move according to your best judgment, trusting the result with God. Someone must do this.”58 But self-confidence was not so easily rebuilt. She urged Andrews to “feel as strong an interest in the things relating to the cause and burden of the work at the Health Institute and the office of publication, as my husband, and feel that the work is yours.” She acknowledged that Andrews could not “do the work God has especially qualified my husband to do, neither

can he do the work God has especially qualified you to do.” But “together, united in harmonious labor,” they could “accomplish much.”59 For Andrews, however, working with James White was increasingly like working with a porcupine. Did he sense that even then James was sharpening his quills?

The problem between James and John In late August, after having gone back to Battle Creek, from New Hampshire, in a darkening mood, James wrote out a long letter addressed to Andrews and Littlejohn. He sent it to Ellen with a request that she read it aloud to the two men. The letter is no longer extant, but according to his wife, James’s purpose was “to publish the failings and errors of the responsible men.” We know a good deal about the bitter contents of James’s letter because of the detailed, heart-searching reply that Ellen sent back to him on September 2 from the Maine campground, where she was still working alongside the two intended recipients. Ellen reported that she had read and reread the letter before writing her frank but deeply caring reply. James White’s letter attacked his colleagues and dragged up once again the long-ago feud between John Andrews’s family and himself and the numerous disagreements since then. In reply, Ellen reminded him that Andrews and his wife had confessed and apologized for mistakes they had made and that “God had spoken pardon” and that they “should no more afflict their souls.” Neither should the matter anymore afflict James’s mind. “Brother John Andrews had felt deeply in regard to his past errors and had done all that he could do to undo the past. God had accepted these efforts and had given him an experience which was of great value to His people.”60 James’s old habit of carrying grudges and being unable to forgive the perceived offenses of the past were now seriously ruining his health, asserted his wife. He was becoming dysfunctional. Ellen White considered it unwarranted that years after James’s and

Andrews’s initial conflict, James was yet again pressuring Andrews to confess his faults. This desire to have him repeatedly “rehearsing” apologies in an effort to heal the breach was not right. It was damaging to Andrews and it “grieved the Spirit of God.”61 James’s inability to move beyond a perceived “breach” in relationships was truly problematic. “I greatly tremble for the direction your mind has taken to go back and call up the past,” she wrote, asserting that his imagination was “diseased.” Satan was using him, she said, “to not only injure and destroy Brother Andrews” but also “to ruin your own soul.” She could not “go one step” with him “in this direction.” “I dare not do it even for your love and confidence,” she asserted. Rather than do what he asked, Ellen suggested, “We will quietly step away from the work.” This was a solution she came back to two more times before she finished the three-page letter. She knew from what God had shown her, she asserted, that “Andrews was his chosen servant, to do a work others could not do,” and he had a “precious gift.” Why James wanted to “destroy the confidence of God’s people in Brother Andrews” and dig up “the dark past,” she could not understand. She had seen that her husband was “unforgiving to your brethren and your children.” Again, she asked in bewilderment, “What do you desire Brother Andrews to do?”62 She was distressed that Andrews and his colleagues had so frequently felt obliged to “sacrifice their own judgment to yours.” She protested that it had “made them weak men.” Submission had become subservience. It was not right. Andrews and Littlejohn were confident both in the cause and in the conviction that God was leading White, but if he continued like this, she noted, she could see that the conviction wouldn’t last. It was “the greatest wonder to her” that they had “not lost their love and interest” for James already. For all the towering strengths with which White was endowed—vision, rhetoric, creative writing, risk-taking entrepreneurship, determination, and insight into people—the inability to forgive others and trust them gave this giant large feet of clay.

Apparently, James and Ellen’s conversation over John Andrews was not new. “You have accused me repeatedly of having more sympathy for Brethren Waggoner and Andrews than for yourself,” she recounted. “I know that is not true. But why have you have felt this?” When he dredged up the past, his influence was calculated to “injure the faith” that his brethren had in Andrews and Waggoner. This was “hedging up their way.” How would you feel, she asked, if the situation were reversed—“you, who cannot bear the slightest censure”? No, she would not dare to read his letter to Andrews, she declared. She had “too much respect for her husband than to do this.” Then with deep compassion she pleaded, “If you will, with me, covenant to leave the things which are behind and take your hands off of Brother Andrews and Waggoner and leave them with a little spark of courage and of their manhood, I believe you will be free.” Suggesting again that perhaps it would be best if they should both “step quietly from the work,” she would be a “true and faithful wife” to him. “Oh, I entreat you to let everyone alone, but James White. He is all that you can handle at present.”63 Sensing that he was again descending deep into his mood disorder and “worrying himself out of the arms of Christ,” she assured him that she would come directly to Battle Creek and would be there before the weekend.64 The bleak prospects for James’s recovery, at times, plunged his wife into despair. At a low point just a few months later in California, when his temperament, exacerbated by a further stroke, again manifested its dark depressive side, Ellen White confided her own depression to her diary. On February 13, 1872, she wrote, “Today I am assailed with temptations and reflections the most saddening in regard to the future. My mind has been in great perplexity most of the time for two years. When will this end? I weep and pray alone and think I shall have freedom. Then as relief comes, my soul sinks in discouragement. I will look to God to help. He will not leave me. Oh, that I could lay off the armor and rest in the grave! I long for this rest.” These were not suicidal thoughts, but they were an expression of

emotional pain so deep and continuous that death seemed a welcome cure. The next day the prospects looked even darker still. “We have another beautiful day, but my mind is exceedingly troubled. I will not place upon my diary the thoughts and distress of mind I endure. I long for rest of spirit. Will it ever come?” What was so distressing to Ellen White that she could not even bring herself to express it to her diary? A separation from James? The possibility that he might become permanently mentally disabled or psychotic? Pulling out of the cause in order to care for him? Whatever it was, it seemed so dark she could not even confide it to her diary.65 And neither Andrews nor his colleagues knew how best to relate to these difficult circumstances. Meanwhile, in September 1871, at the Michigan camp meeting a special meeting was called to enable White to resign from his editorship and the presidency of the publishing work.66 But as Andrews had to later explain rather delicately to Review readers, when the meeting actually convened, a close study of the bylaws revealed that the use of such a meeting to replace the senior officer would be illegal. The plan was abandoned. They would have to wait until the regular meeting in December. The conclusion? “It is our duty,” explained Andrews, “to recognize the manifest call of our brother to the position which he occupies.” The conviction that somehow White needed to stay on as an apostle was deeply ingrained. “We believe as the result of long experience, that Bro. White should fill the position of general counselor and business agent in this work.”67 Were they not following the testimony in this? But how then to avoid involving him in “unremitting toil”?68 This time, a search committee was appointed to recruit helpers. Individuals such as H. W. Kellogg, Charles Russell, and Ira Abbey were named and formally invited to transfer to the city of Battle Creek. The role, however, was still only “to help sustain” the man whom they thought of as an apostle. Formal job descriptions hadn’t yet been thought of, and in the long term, even these chosen, or “picked,” men proved as problematic as Andrews’s earlier recruitment of Jotham Aldrich

had been. Working with this gifted, visionary, but controlling apostle was not easy. It was a conundrum difficult to solve. Would nature solve it for them? Traveling across to Boston during November for speaking appointments and now feeling brighter for a time, Ellen and James sought a consultation with the noted homoeopathist Dr. Dio Lewis about James’s condition. The consultation helped Ellen begin to understand more than she had before about problems of the brain and of the psychological aspects of James’s breakdown. This was “nothing more nor less than a mental infirmity,” she concluded after the consultation. She confided in her eighteen-year-old son, Willie, that she had come to see that his father had “been very nearly unbalanced in some directions. But we may save his brain from permanent disease and insanity by a judicious course.”69 She was hopeful that “he may yet recover or at least escape entire shipwreck.” James should have “had a change” earlier, and she blamed herself for delaying. “I failed to bring this about,” she noted to Willie. The community’s understanding of her 1865 vision about James’s restoration to the work seems to have impeded the work rather than helping it in this instance. But at the next General Conference session, things would have to be different. Ellen White was going to have to be a very patient wife and shepherd her husband as best she could during the next few years. The uncertainty of her domestic arrangements increased when, in an erratic move typical of his illness, James, at short notice, placed both their house in Iowa and their house in Battle Creek on the market. He proposed that “if we have a home at all at present, we think it should be on [beside] one of our railroads not far from our institutions at Battle Creek.”70 Much patience with James would be required. John Andrews was probably not aware of many of these delicate domestic issues in the Whites’ relationship or of the intense discussions that swirled around his own name in the White household. He left no record of such knowledge. In early December, however, it was his turn to

receive further rebuke. At a camp meeting in Vermont, Ellen reported having had a vision which led her to put on paper further criticisms of Andrews’s ministry and of his decision-making. When he read the criticisms or heard them read to him, he might well have wondered whether he could ever make a success of ministry. Just when this new document was actually written and sent to him is not stated. It may have been written out immediately after Ellen had her vision. Or it may have been given to him at the time of the special General Conference session called for early 1872 to sort out the deep and disruptive misunderstandings over leadership hovering over the denomination given James White’s fragile and declining health. Because the date of December 10, 1871, is identified within the document as the date Ellen White says she received her vision. It seems most appropriate to discuss the document here.71 Ellen White began the lengthy manuscript reporting that she had been shown that “Bro. Andrews is a strong man in some things, while in others he is weak.”72 She then critiqued his ministerial judgment in giving some workers too much attention in his attempt to mentor new ministers in Maine, and she cited as an example the time he had spent helping an Elder Luther Howard and Brother and Sister Hale of Maine. She acknowledged that Andrews thought he had been doing the right thing, but the result was that when James White was unwilling to give the men similar levels of attention, the ministers became dissatisfied and critical of James and Ellen. It was averred that the fault lay in Andrews for giving too much attention to these workers rather than in James, who gave less. She observed that in this way, Andrews frequently injured the ones he thought he was helping. This seems to again be a manifestation of the old problem of the potential for factionalism arising from the radical personality and temperamental differences between the two men that shaped their contrasting approaches to ministry. In Andrews’s approach to ministry in Maine, Ellen saw echoes of the

Rochester troubles in 1854 when, after Andrews’s course “had been questioned by my husband, he felt aggrieved,” and then “a large circle” of Andrews’s friends “thought Bro. White was severe and overbearing and they felt justified to array themselves against us, because so good a man as Bro. Andrews was abused by Bro. White.”73 Ellen White recounted how these troubles had eventually led to the Review office being moved to Battle Creek. Then in what must have been a painful rebuke to Andrews, she questioned his judgment in choosing to go back to Rochester to set up his home. She recalled the conflict he had had with James in 1861 over where he should base his ministry and Andrews’s strong desire to be near a library to work on his Sabbath history. Andrews had “presumed upon the mercy of God,” she said, in pleading with God to allow him to settle in Rochester, although later she acknowledged that “the Lord permitted him to stay, and yet it was not the pleasure of the Lord for him to remain.”74 The result had been that Andrews’s house had functioned as a hotel and he had been called upon for many duties by friends and church members, and his relationship with them had been too friendly. Members of the surrounding churches became old friends, and that made him less effective than if he had located among brethren who were strangers. “Bro. Andrews is beloved by them all. All are pleased with his society, and chat and have a social time together, and Bro. Andrews is not in their minds invested with the dignity his position gives him.”75 The most difficult criticism in the lengthy testimony, however, and that which cut most closely to his personality, concerned his scholarly temperament and his tendency to become obsessive when “the subject before him is the all-absorbing theme.” She cited his study of the Sabbath on a round world when he “could scarcely think or talk without dwelling on this subject.” The topic “needed to be canvassed,” she said, but “did not require so great thoroughness.” Andrews had been staying in their home at the time. She also noted that his long series of articles reviewing the Preble book had “wearied” some of the readers of the Review.76 Andrews’s

problem was that he knew “nothing about leaving off when all has been said that is required and that is profitable.” His brethren should help him see it.77 She criticized his scholarly habit of rising early in the morning to study (though she had applauded the pattern when he stayed in their home in Greenville) and his staying up late at night. Exhausting himself this way caused him to nod off in important meetings. Sleep would sometimes come upon him “like an armed man” in a meeting, she reported, and he was “utterly unable to do anything requiring mental exertion.” This inability to correctly prioritize things manifested itself in a number of ways and meant that others, like her husband, had to carry burdens that ought to have been more fairly shared.78 The testimony concluded with a statement that “he should bring out at once, the history of the Sabbath.” Getting the right balance on that project was going to be a challenge. Correcting longestablished habits and deeply embedded traits of personality and temperament would take discipline and time. What would have required even deeper wells of spiritual commitment and humility from the scholarevangelist would have been when the testimony manuscript or material from it was read to Andrews in front of his colleagues at the special meetings in Battle Creek. In another letter, apparently written around the same time, Ellen White again urged Andrews to seek for balance. His power to concentrate his mind on one subject “is well, in a degree,” but not all the time. And she again urged him to make his History of the Sabbath readable and not so deep that people would not be able to follow him. She acknowledged that he loved “just the kind of work you are doing now,” but he needed to work with haste. After all, Jesus had been able to accomplish “a great work” in only three years. Time in 1871 was also of the essence.79 At the General Conference session, Andrews witnessed the opening of the new extension to the publishing house that doubled its size and saw a new press commissioned that tripled printing capacity. Andrews also reported to delegates on his attendance at the Seventh Day Baptists’

conference meetings. His vision of the relationship between the “two bodies of Sabbath-keepers” was that they draw together “like two wings of the same army.”80 The more important issue for the session, however, was a change in leadership. Session delegates, after much discussion, elected George I. Butler from Iowa as the General Conference president, although he refused to accept it. What did it mean to be president when James White was still the de facto leader of the movement? Would it mean for Butler what it had meant for John Andrews four years previously—that he would be only an acting president expected to implement whatever White decided? Would it mean moving around the country with the Whites, functioning as their assistant? Would it mean that if he made or was seen to make errors of judgment, even when doing his best, he would be publicly and repeatedly rebuked afterward and not be allowed to forget the mistakes? These were serious questions for him and for the denomination. What did leadership in these circumstances actually mean? Butler reported that he returned home after the session “with the worst headache I have had for many months: for which I could ascribe no other cause than the perplexities of the past few weeks.”81 Butler held his ground over his refusal to accept the new role for several weeks despite intense pressure to accept. He based his stubborn refusal on the commonly held understanding of widely circulated testimonies which stated that James had been called to the “position” of leadership and that James must occupy it until God raised up someone else “to fill his place.” The only way that the community could know that God had raised up someone else was if the testimonies said so, argued Butler, a viewpoint shared by most of his colleagues. As Butler later reminded James, Ellen White had refused to say anything—even when Butler directly requested her counsel. “She will make me no reply.” Butler was prepared to stake his decision on the silence of the testimony rather than the united voted judgment of his brethren from ten conferences. “My decision is final,” he

declared. “Here I stand. I can do no other way.”82 He feared the criticism and the negative testimonies that would inevitably come along with the perplexities. And perplexities aplenty there were. They ranged from the lack of skilled foreign language writers to write or translate tracts for the burgeoning demand of foreign evangelistic materials to legal problems with land transactions and the increasing pressure for a school of some kind to prepare more skilled workers for the cause. By late February 1872, apparently after further discussions with Ellen and James, Butler was persuaded that he would not be going against the previous testimonies if he accepted the role.83 As it worked out, Butler was not as geographically tied to James White’s coattails as John Andrews had been. He found his own voice, with its “taking charge” tone, and moved a little more independently. His role was somewhat closer to being a real president than Andrews had ever been allowed to be.84 But what being a leader meant was still a problem and was soon to take on very large dimensions in the church. Four years later, Butler would resign in a dramatic confrontation with the Whites after feeling that he had been rebuked and forced to resign for actually trying to carry out what James had requested of him.85 This was not at all an easy period of transition for the young denomination.

Rochester calamity Following the General Conference session of early 1872 in Battle Creek, Andrews returned first to labor in the eastern states and then finally to his home at Rochester, to find only more perplexities, headaches, and heartache. As already noted, since the beginning of winter the previous year, Angeline had been quite feeble in health. Her visit to Dr. Jackson’s Dansville Institute to learn about his treatment regime had apparently helped some, for according to John, she had seemed “to be holding her own,” and they were hopeful of the future. Four months later on Saturday night, February 17, however, shortly after retiring, Angeline suffered a

terrible paralytic shock and, as Andrews later shared with Review readers, suffered “an almost utter prostration of body and mind.” Within a short time the prostration abated, but it left her with a partially paralyzed right side and an “entirely powerless” right arm. She also lost her speech except for just a few of the shortest words.86 Two weeks after the stroke, Andrews was able to report positively that Angeline was making good progress. She was able to walk without assistance, her speech was returning, and her right arm was showing signs of improvement. There had been many “most precious seasons” of prayer, with eleven-year-old Mary and fourteen-year-old Charles fervently joining in. Andrews was deeply thankful that through the experience his children had found a personal faith with Christ. As March weather stumbled fitfully toward spring, Angeline’s health continued to improve, her lost powers returned, and the stresses of life eased. Monday, March 18, marked the best day yet for her recovery. But then as the couple was preparing to go for a walk outside at 10:00 A.M. on Tuesday morning and John was helping her put on her cloak, her limbs gave way and, as John recalled, “she sank to the floor,” suffering a second, much more severe, shock, and “in an instant she became totally unconscious.” She lived for another five hours and then quietly slipped away without struggle. Nine days previously she had celebrated her forty-eighth birthday. Two days later in the parlor of their home, a colleague-pastor from the New York Conference conducted the simple funeral service, and the sorrowing family followed the casket to Mt. Hope Cemetery, where Angeline was laid beside their infant daughter Carrie. The family was devastated.87 James White, in Battle Creek, was too feeble to attend the funeral. Further minor strokes had put him in the health institute for several weeks, and again there were fears of total disability.88 There is no mention of other colleagues from Battle Creek who might have attended the funeral, and such attendance seems unlikely. Eighty-year-old patriarch Joseph Bates

had died on the very same day at the Battle Creek Health Institute, and the funerals overlapped. Large crowds attended the Battle Creek services for Bates, and his body was taken north to Monterey for burial.89 Neither were Angeline’s family members from Waukon able to attend the funeral, although they wrote warm, sympathetic letters, anxious that in the midst of the loss, Andrews should take care to look after his own heath.90 Church friends provided more proximate support and comfort. Andrews tells us that he could find no words to express the depth of his sorrow and anguish or “the bitterness of the cup” in the loss of his wife. Her excellent recovery had been taken as a signal answer to prayer, and then their hopes had shattered. The loss was just too difficult. “She faithfully shared my burdens, and that to an extent that was little known to others,” and “she had done the utmost in her power to help me to go out to labor in the cause of God and has never once complained when I have remained long absent.” This was not strictly true, as her diary from the Waukon years reveals, but the laments confided intimately to her diary were always accompanied by prayers to help her be able to make the sacrifice willingly. She believed wholeheartedly in her husband’s ministry. “During the entire period of our married life,” he reflected, “no unkind word ever passed between us, and no vexed feeling ever existed in our hearts.”91 If that was even only a mild hyperbole, it spoke volumes about their compatibility and the depth of respect and affection they had developed for each other in spite of the apprehensions that Ellen White had about the match at the beginning. Two weeks after the funeral, on a freezing cold Sabbath on March 30, at the church at Parma, New York, the distraught father baptized his two children, along with two other local young people. In a brief return of winter, deep snow covered the ground and a hole had to be cut in the ice for the baptism. But cold weather would not deter the sealing of such an important decision when it had been made. The tragedy was that their mother was not there to witness the commitment. Her death may even

have reinforced the sense of the uncertainty of life and the need for making the future life secure.92 Even as Andrews grieved, the relentless calls of ministry still needed to be attended to, and within a short time after the funeral, important official notices for which he was responsible were needed for the Review. Within six weeks he had placed his children in the care of friends and was back in Battle Creek for important committee consultations. A major new training school initiative was being proposed, and a general camp meeting had been called to discuss the matter. Because neither of the Whites was “in a proper position of health to take hold and lead out,” the camp meeting was postponed—first for two weeks and then, with some embarrassment, for three months until September. Meanwhile, unofficial, informal plans for the school had to be put in place for a June opening in rented premises because students were coming in from Switzerland. It was all rather messy.93 By the end of May, the call of book revisions and the care of his family took Andrews back east, but this time he went straight on to North Lancaster in Massachusetts, where he had arranged board for his little brood with the Harris family. From there he asked his uncle Edward in Rochester to serve as an agent and place his much-loved home on the market. In the short periods Andrews had been able to spend in Rochester, he had carefully cultivated his yard. It seemed as if he had created a miniature of the Whites’ Greenville homestead. Angeline and the children had helped him and cared for it during his many long absences. Ever concerned for detail, he explained to Edward that he had kept a book “in which nearly every tree that I have set out is named and described.” The lists included thirty-four apple trees, twenty-two pear trees, twelve peach trees, nine quinces, twelve cherries, twelve plums, and ninety or more grapevines. Besides this, there was a large supply of blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries, and “the best kind of red, white, and black currants.” Clearly the family had endeavored to eat healthfully.

There was also a henhouse, but he had not yet been able to put up a barn. But despite his investment, he could not go back now. He must sell. He trusted Edward, an attorney, to know what would be a good price.94 Whether the decision to move out of Rochester was prompted by the reservations Ellen White had expressed over his location, or whether it was now associated with too painful a memory, he does not say. Both reasons probably factored in, as well as the need to be nearer libraries in Boston. The fulfillment of his hope to issue a new expanded edition of his Sabbath history he would do from a place farther east. In North Lancaster, not far from the site where, a decade later, South Lancaster Academy would be built, Andrews found refuge with the Harris family. They had recently purchased a “large quaint old house” that, according to Ellen White, had previously been a tavern. It was set off with three acres and had a good, abundantly supplied well of soft water. Mrs. Harris, who had boys of her own, took “very special care” of Charles and Mary, Andrews reported gratefully to his uncle. There was an excellent school nearby and both children attended. So attractive and convenient was the location that the previous year even Ellen White had thought fleetingly of it as a possible place for her to stay while Willie went to school.95 For the next two years, Andrews and his family made the Harris home his base and used it as hideaway for writing as he tried to put behind him the tragic loss of his Angeline.

A real sabbatical at last As Goodloe Harper Bell launched a new school back in Battle Creek and James White exited Battle Creek for several months of rehabilitation with relatives in the Colorado mountains, Andrews focused his energies and attention on the materials collected the previous year, with the aim of finishing his revisions and writing his new book as soon as he could.96 As school moved into vacation time, Andrews spent some time each day homeschooling his children in their studies. As the summer wore on, he

took “much pains” to assist in their study “and also to try to keep them from being naughty”—a task in which he hoped to succeed. Was he now overcompensating for a previous lack in exercising parental responsibility? Andrews had arranged for his son Charles to spend time helping farmers each day with haying, and Mary “works some in housework.”97 He would occasionally take the children with him when he went to Boston each Friday for his Sabbath preaching appointments and when using the libraries and even occasionally farther afield if preaching duties required it. He still felt very broken up at the loss of Angeline and urged his uncle Edward to be sure to give care to Edward’s ailing wife Sarah. In mid-September 1872, Andrews reported to Review readers on his progress. “With the advice of those whose counsel I esteem,” he wrote, apparently alluding to the advice received from Ellen and James, he had “let other writing wait” and had zeroed in on his Sabbath history work. He had decided that the major focus of his time would be to further develop the section on the post-apostolic period. He had “carefully and faithfully” examined this period, and this was a critical area for seventh-day Sabbath apologetics, so he wanted to get it right even if it could only be accomplished with “much painful labor.”98 Andrews’s progress report in the Review reflects a behind-the-scenes discussion over what kind of books he should be producing. The tension between evangelism and scholarship lay behind the discussion. Both James and Ellen were concerned that the book be produced as a popular book, readable by an average man on the run. She had written to him perhaps sometime during 1872 (her manuscript is undated) using an agricultural metaphor, suggesting that he was in “danger” of “ploughing and planting the seed of truth so deep that the tender, precious blade will never find the surface.” Such labor would “be appreciated by only a few.” She thought that it would be a better goal to awaken a general interest. “Truth presented in an easy style, backed up with a few strong proofs, is better than to search and bring forth an overwhelming array of evidence.” This was

where the broad needs of the church lay, she stressed. Even if he could not achieve the “perfection you should desire” in the manuscript, “souls need the work now.” In fact, it “should have been out long ago,” she told him. James also publicly admonished him about the book and the need to keep it popular in style.99 Andrews did not disagree with this strategy. He had tried to address this need with the publishing, in 1870, of a smaller book of eleven sermons on the Sabbath that was designed for a popular audience. Those eleven chapters outlined both the biblical and secular history of the Sabbath, which covered, in reader-friendly summary form, the same content as the larger, more scholarly book. The 225-page volume also helped to bridge the gap until the more scholarly volume could be completed.100 But Andrews had the scholar’s bent. He also wanted to make sure that he got things exactly right, documenting his sources and making sure he was correctly interpreting the evidence and being thorough enough that critics could not say that he had overlooked this or that piece of evidence. Already critics had commented on the first edition, and he did not want other scholars to discredit this new edition and undermine his whole argument because he had made a careless citation or wrongly interpreted a source. Andrews’s particular gift as a scholar was to adduce as much evidence as could be had to reinforce his argument. In his mind he was writing for hostile critics and perhaps the scholars in academia, as well as for farmers and artisans. Ellen White was telling him to forget the critics. Even former Millerites should no longer be thought part of the target audience. “Go forward as though there were not such a people in existence,” she advised.101 This represented a major shift that was taking place in the mission-focus of the church, and it took some adjusting to in the preparation of evangelistic and apologetic resources. Achieving an appropriate balance in style and content was to be a challenge. But guided and perhaps goaded by the counsel he was receiving, he attempted to achieve a more popular style and a less weighty approach.

In November, Andrews gave a further report to the Review. He was sure that the work he was now preparing would “astonish many to see what dishonest use has been made” of the early church fathers in making them to support first-day worship. He reported that he had almost finished this part of the research but thought it would not be best to insert it into the new edition of Sabbath history because that work needed to be “in as condensed a form as possible.” He would therefore plan on an additional new book manuscript on the church fathers, which would be published separately. Andrews’s approach in this supplementary volume was to cite the fathers themselves, using their “exact words,” rather than citing secondary sources, historian against historian and theologian against theologian, on their understanding and use of the fathers. With this more “proper method,” the reader could have “the facts in full.” He hoped that the new book would be “found by no means dry, but of real interest to the common reader.”102 He added an apology that his workload had been so heavy he had not had time to write other articles, but he hoped to do so soon. The new book on the fathers saw the light of day in early February, with the lengthy title The Complete Testimony of the Fathers of the First Three Centuries Concerning the Sabbath and First-day. Resident editor Smith, in his lead editorial endorsement, noted foremost that the first three hundred years of the Christian era was “more important than any other [period] this side of the days of Christ,” and then observed that Andrews’s study was “a most triumphant showing that they [the church fathers of the period] did not regard Sunday as a divine institution.”103 Meanwhile, Smith considered it noteworthy enough to inform Review readers on December 10, 1872, that the manuscript for the biblical section of the revised volume had arrived at the publishing house and that the author was “sedulously” working on bringing the rest of it to a conclusion. George Amadon recorded that he commenced work on typesetting the revised manuscript on New Year’s Day.104 It took another ten months, with

many long nights, to check and recheck the sources for the entire History of the Sabbath to be completed. Andrews had felt himself pushed beyond measure to get it finished, and it was with a huge sense of relief at the end of October 1873 that he sent off the last chapter.105 As Andrews expressed it, readers now had in their possession “all of the facts concerning the Sabbath and first-day in the earliest ages.” He had considered every known reference to the two days and had discovered some new ones. The revised work was now truly comprehensive, and he considered it totally persuasive of the need to restore the Sabbath. The publication of the magisterial 528page volume was celebrated with numerous press notices within the church and beyond, and demand was strong right from the outset.106 Andrews’s magnum opus constituted the weightiest and most serious scholarly publication the church had yet produced. It forever established Andrews’s reputation as Adventism’s peerless champion of the seventhday Sabbath.107

1. The year 1872 witnessed membership growth from 4,801 to 5,875, a 27 percent increase in ordained ministers (40 to 51), and an 80 percent increase in the number of licensed ministers (46 to 83). “The Conference,” RH, Mar. 25, 1873, 116. 2. “Safe at Home,” RH, May 31, 1870, 188. 3. See for example, RH, June 14, 1870, 205, 206; RH, July 12, 1870, 28, 29; RH, June 6, 1871, 197. 4. God “gives admonition, and rebuke, and warning, that we may not go on in darkness to the Judgement. . . . Why not be thankful for reproof?” “Random thoughts,” RH, June 14, 1870, 205, 206. 5. “Meeting at Lancaster, N. Y.” RH, June 21, 1970, 6. 6. Official records have Erzberger’s name spelt variously as Ertzenberger, Erzenberger, and Erzberger. Erzberger was the usage among European Adventists and will be followed here. See Daniel Heinz, “Erzberger,” in the EGWEncycl., ed. Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 370. 7. “Communication from Br. Ertzenberger,” RH, July 26, 1870, 45. Erzberger reports that he “found at our Dear Bro. Andrews’ hearty welcome and open door and hearts.” 8. “Ninth Annual Report of the N. Y. and Pa. Conference,” RH, Aug. 23, 1870, 78. See also “Report of the N. Y. and PA. Conference,” RH, Oct. 12, 1869, 126. Ellen White was first granted ordination credentials in the Michigan Conference in 1871. “Michigan Conference,” RH, Feb. 14, 1871, 69. The following year, delegates voted that “credentials be renewed for the following

ministers,” and Ellen White was named among them. RH, Sept. 10, 1872, 102. 9. For example, the two men dialogued at length about the Sabbath doctrine and related theological issues, and Andrews became a resource for the young pastor. JE to JNA, Feb. 2, 1871, EGWE-GC. 10. “Meetings in Oneida, N. Y.,” RH, Oct. 11, 1870, 132. 11. “History of the Sabbath,” RH, Oct. 4, 1870, 128. 12. “Wanted,” RH, Sept. 20, 1870, 112. 13. Ibid. 14. “History of the Sabbath,” RH, Oct. 4, 1870, 128. 15. “Our Publications,” RH, Nov. 1, 1870, 156. 16. “Early Days of the Message in Europe,” RH, Mar. 28, 1829, 12. According to Kinne, Andrews was not drawing a salary at the time because he had gone back to Rochester to work on his History of the Sabbath. Andrews had earlier assisted Kinne by raising the three-hundred-dollar commutation payment when Kinne had been conscripted during the Civil War. 17. JNA to EGW, Dec. 21, 1870, EGWE-GC. This letter is a response to correspondence from Ellen White that Andrews says was written to him on December 16 and mailed on December 19. It arrived in Rochester on December 21 (“[It] has this hour come to hand.”) and so troubled Andrews that he immediately sat down and wrote a response. He explained that he had let James know that he had received Ellen’s earlier letter and testimony and had informed James that it was “his full purpose to regard your instruction and reproof.” James had not passed on the message. Acknowledging this as an “error,” Andrews now found himself needing to write “at once,” to Ellen White. The scathing nature of the letter from Battle Creek may be a reason for it not being extant. Tim Poirier, associate director of the White Estate, confirms that none of the letters Ellen White wrote to John Andrews between 1867 and 1872 are extant. Email to the author, July 11, 2016. During this period, there was considerable correspondence between Andrews and the Whites. It is curious that the letters have not survived. 18. Ibid. 19. Ibid. The number of specific corrections and clarifications in this letter, expressed with deep respect but also with a certain sense of concern for setting things right, may perhaps explain why the letters raising the complaints are no longer extant. 20. Ibid. 21. “Wanted,” RH, Sept. 20, 1870, 112. 22. “Our Journey,” RH, Sept. 3, 1872, 92, 93. James reported that “we could not harmonize our feelings.” This was until James had a “distinct sense of duty” from his own quasi-vision experience. He received an “impression” of some words spoken by the Holy Spirit that Colorado was their next destination. The couple then differed strongly over the route they should take. Ellen acquiesced and “yielded the point.” 23. “Western Camp-Meetings,” RH, Sept. 27, 1870, 120. See other notices on the same page. 24. “Western Tour,” RH, Nov. 8, 1870, 165. 25. “We return with fresh courage, freedom of spirit, renewed strength, and better health.” They felt better than when they had started out around the camp meetings back in May. “Home Again,” RH, Nov. 15, 1870, 176. The sense of well-being lasted perhaps two weeks. 26. “Home Again,” RH, Nov. 15, 1870, 176. See also RH, Oct. 18, 1870, 144; RH, Nov. 1, 1870,

160. Smith reported that his own illness had also been “brought on by overlabor.” During his convalescence, he had visited family members in the Northeast. RH, Dec. 13, 1870, 208. 27. “Notice,” RH, Nov. 8, 1870, 168. 28. “The Conference,” RH, Jan. 10, 1971, 32. 29. Sending out notices that magazine services needed to be temporarily interrupted or suspended does not seem to have been considered as an option. White lists the local employees he had to rely on in “The Conference,” RH, Jan. 10, 1871, 32. 30. “The Review and Herald,” RH, Dec. 6, 1870, 200. 31. Complaints and irritation course through his letters to family and in Review columns. See EGW to Edson and Emma White, Nov. 9, 27; Dec. 2, 1870, EGWE-GC. 32. “Obituary,” RH, Jan. 24, 1871, 47. 33. “The Conference,” RH, Jan. 10, 1971, 32. 34. “The Conference,” RH, Feb. 14, 1871, 68. 35. Ibid. 36. “The Future,” RH, Aug. 1, 1871, 56. 37. Since the last days of the Civil War, women had, of necessity, been drawn into the publishing house. Typesetting was being done mostly by “Christian girls,” and White had explained that “women will have to do many things which men have done.” JW, “The Youth’s Instructor,” YI, Aug. 1864, 64. 38. Ibid.; “Woman and Her Work,” RH, Mar. 7, 1871, 96. 39. JNA to JW and EGW, Mar. 1, 1871, EGWE-GC; “Visit to Boston,” RH, Mar. 21, 1871, 109. 40. Alaska was purchased from Russia by the United States in 1867. A detailed explanation of the time zone difficulty between the people of Alaska and the United States is given in “The Facts in the Case,” RH, Feb. 21, 1871, 76. 41. See RH, Feb. 14, 21, 1871; RH, Mar. 7, 1871; RH, Jun. 20, 27, 1871; RH, July 4, 11, 25, 1871. See also “Communication from Bro. M. G. Kellogg,” RH, Mar. 8, 1870, 120. 42. RH, June 13, 1871, 208. 43. “The Sabbath History,” RH, Sept. 26, 1871, 116. 44. EGW to JW, Aug. 27, 1871, EGWE-GC. 45. The series entitled “Examination of T. M. Preble’s First Day Sabbath” began Aug. 8, 1871, 71, and ran through with intermittent breaks until December 5, 1871, 194. RH, “Explanation,” Sept. 19, 1871, 112. 46. “Eld. Andrews’ Articles,” RH, Oct. 31, 1871, 158. 47. RH, Nov. 1, 1870, 156. Was this change of plans due to Ellen White’s counsel? 48. SPD, Sept. 26; Oct. 8, 24, 1871, MLCBU. The visits involved social chatting, sharing of religious journals and news, and, on occasion, the offering of transport to get John to town or to his travel connections. The Andrews family did not own a horse and carriage. 49. “Explanation,” RH, May 23, 1871, 184. He announced that he was giving up book sales and promotions and would let others do the magazine promotions at camp meetings. See “Western Camp-Meetings,” RH, May 23, 1871, 184. 50. “The Future,” RH, Aug. 1, 1871, 56. 51. EGW to JEW, May 6, 1871. See also EGW to JEW, June 16, 1871. Later in the year, James was

still in a harsh way laboring with Edson, criticizing him for losing five years of his life between ages sixteen and twenty-one. He could redeem the time if he would. He should consider himself about fifteen “and start in about there.” JW to Edson and Emma White, Dec. 11, 1871, EGWE-GC. 52. “At Home,” RH, July 18, 1871, 36. 53. “Explanation,” RH, Aug. 8, 1871, 64. 54. “An Explanation,” RH, Aug. 29, 1871, 88. 55. In a waspish comment, he noted that “the Battle Creek reporter” had been too hasty in getting news to her relatives in Waukon about a carpet being donated to Mrs. White. Mrs. White had refused to accept the carpet, thinking the gift was prompted by wrong motives. Everyone who knew of the incident would have known the unnamed “reporter” was Harriet Smith. The refusal of the carpet gift generated hurt feelings. Carpets had been given in good faith to others. HNSD, Nov. 29; Dec. 3, 1866, CAR. Uriah had to affirm the bona fide motives. 56. “Explanation,” RH, Mar. 21, 1871, 112; RH, “Future Labors,” Apr. 11, 1871, 136; RH, “An Explanation,” Aug. 29, 1871, 89. 57. In spite of his management success in book and magazine production, White could not find a way to successfully manage magazine subscriptions, and the publishing house carried increasing arrears in this area—up to ten thousand dollars by 1872. For White, this failing did not seem to take any shine off his evident success in other areas of the balance sheets. 58. EGW, Testimony, No. 21, 1872, 18, CAR. 59. Ibid., 20, 21. 60. EGW to JW, Sept. 2, 1871, EGWE-GC. The letter is written in Ellen White’s typical circular, stream-of-consciousness style. 61. One such extended confession by Andrews is found in “Statement of Wrongs in the Course of J. N. Andrews,” Heritage M-Film 52, White Estate Incoming Correspondence 2, CAR. The undated document has been variously dated by scholars as written in 1862, 1868, 1869, or 1873. The statement refers to Andrews’s inability to help James White at the time of Smith’s illness at the end of 1870, his misreading of the character of J. M. Aldrich in 1867–1868, and his lack of promptness in defending White against charges of covetousness. The faults described are mostly a lack of judgment or a result of having different priorities. The statement, which must have been humiliating to write, reads as an abject and craven apology for “carelessness, lack of consecration, lack of spirituality, and general failure to stand in the light of heaven,” which caused him “so to neglect my duty and so to fail in coming up to the mark that my course may be justly called cruel and highly censurable.” The issues it addresses, and the clear sense that its writing seemed to be required in order to mend the relationship, tells much. A date of mid-1872 or mid-1873, when reconciliation meetings were held, appears to be the most likely occasion for its composition. 62. EGW to JW, Sept. 2, 1871, EGWE-GC. 63. Ibid. 64. A year later in September 1872, Ellen White published an adaptation of this highly critical letter, pointing out the deeply entrenched weaknesses of her husband as part of the pamphlet Testimony, No. 21, Special, 109–119, CAR. The pamphlet adaptation was a more generalized statement of criticism about leadership relationships without reference to the damaging personal comments about her husband, nor did it have any mention of his name in the relevant paragraphs,

unlike her open use of names in her adaptation of the letters to Andrews and Waggoner. Only James himself, having read the confidential September 1871 personal letter, would have been able to parse the 1872 pamphlet version correctly and see that she was referring to him. He may have helped edit the material during their stay in Colorado in late summer 1872. Only in a few paragraphs at the end, entitled “Peculiar Trials,” does Ellen White venture into explicit public criticism of her husband’s besetting “infirmity” or sin of temperament: the habit of carrying grudges (114–119). White’s colleagues in leadership would, for the most part, have thought the testimony was simply part of the continuing defense of her husband’s leadership and a continuing criticism of themselves. The additional material in this very sensitive testimony about leadership was not included in the later revised edition of the Testimonies. See EGW, T (Mountain View, Cailf.: Pacific Press®, 1948), 3. 65. EGW, Diary, Feb. 13, 14, 1873, EGWE-GC. 66. “A Special Meeting,” RH, Aug. 29, 1871, 88. 67. The issue of “leadership” and how to cope with White’s strongly monarchical and autocratic style and provide a biblical mandate for it became a major issue for the church in the next two years. The monarchical style seemed necessary, but it led to other leaders being not just submissive but subservient. The tensions, false starts at resolution, and final resolutions are the subject of Kevin Burton’s well-researched “Centralized for Protection: George I. Butler and His Philosophy of OnePerson Leadership” (master’s thesis, Andrews University, 2015), CAR. 68. “The Burdens upon Bro. White,” RH, Sept. 19, 1871, 109. 69. EGW to WCW, Nov. 10, 1871, EGWE-GC. 70. “Eastern Tour,” RH, Nov. 14, 1871, 172. This travelogue article is an example of the many columns where White wears his heart on his sleeve and shares personal and intimate details with all using the Review somewhat as one would a personal Facebook page—without the photos. He cannot, however, resist a waspish comment (his besetting sin): “We decide to remain away as long as possible, and give others a chance to see how well they can manage in our absence.” 71. The letter begins, “I was shown, Dec. 10, 1871.” It is published in Testimony, No. 21, May 1872, 171–174. CAR. 72. Ibid., 171. 73. Ibid., 176. 74. Ibid., 182, 186. 75. Ibid., 187. 76. RH, Mar. 25, 1871, 120. See also JW to JNA, May 16, 1871, EGWE-GC. The resulting articles were, nevertheless, published as a pamphlet that was used as the standard work on the topic for many years afterward. 77. Testimony, No. 21, May 1872, 188, 189. 78. Ibid., 183. 79. EGW to JNA, Ltr 31, 1872, EGWE-GC. 80. “The Conference,” RH, Jan. 2, 1872, 20. 81. GIB to JW, Jan 2, 1872, EGWE-GC. 82. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Jan. 2, 1872, 21. GIB to JW, Jan. 24, 1872, EGWE-GC. 83. Burton, “Centralized Leadership,” 42. 84. RH, May 6, 1873, 163. GIB to JW, Jan. 2, 1872. “I have acted upon your suggestions.” See also

GIB to JW, Aug. 22, 1872, CAR. 85. GIB to JW, Mar. 29, 1875, EGWE-GC. The resignation was followed by a very spicy exchange of letters with White. “Much that I was blamed for was in things in which I supposed I was carrying out your plans as much as I ever supposed anything in my life.” Reminding White that he had tried to keep out of the office but had been “crowded in” by White and others, he had resisted because working with White was not easy and “because I knew it would end in trial. I am not disappointed that the trial has come. It did not come so quick as I expected.” At least he had lasted four years. 86. “The Sickness of Sister Andrews,” RH, Mar. 5, 1872, 92. 87. “Death of Sister Andrews,” RH, Apr. 16, 1872, 124. SPD, Mar. 15, 19, 23, 1872, MLCBU. Aunt Sarah had visited the family on Friday, March 15, and found Angeline “much better than I expected.” Her diary is more concerned with her own chronic illness at this time than the plight of her relative. 88. RH, Apr. 2, 1872, 86. 89. RH, Apr. 16, 1872, 140. 90. Sarah Andrews to JNA, Mar. 6, 1872; E A. Prentiss to ASA, Mar. 14, 1872; Almira Stevens to ASA, Feb. 20, 1872, CAR. 91. “Death of Sister Andrews,” RH, Apr. 16, 1872, 124. 92. The details are found in an untitled handwritten series of “Biographical Notes” on the life of Charles Andrews, CAR. 93. “Meeting of the Health Institute,” RH, Apr. 4 1872, 152; “General Camp-Meeting: New Arrangements,” RH, Apr. 30, 1872, 160. “Obituary,” RH, May 28, 1872, 191. 94. JNA to ELP, June 7, 1872, CAR. 95. JNA to ELP, June 19, 1872, CAR. EGW to JW, Aug. 27, 1871, EGWE-GC. Ellen White had shared a camp meeting tent with Mrs. Harris, and Willie had occupied one with the Harris boys at South Lancaster Camp in 1871. 96. Bell’s School as small as “a mustard seed” opened on June 3, with twelve young scholars. “The S. D. A. School,” RH, June 6, 1872, 204. 97. JNA to ELP, July 8, 24, 1872, CAR. 98. “My Work on the Sabbath,” RH, Sept. 17, 1872, 108; “Eleventh Annual Report . . .,” RH, Sept. 10, 1872, 102; “Michigan Conference,” RH, Sept. 10, 1872, 102. 99. EGW to JNA, Ltr 31, 1872, EGWE-GC. James White had publicly given his editorial advice through the pages of the Review and urged the importance of retaining a popular readership style. “Ministerial Labor,” RH, Oct. 1, 1872, 125. 100. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath and Law: Embracing an Outline of the Biblical and Secular History of the Sabbath For Six Thousand Years (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist, 1870), CAR. See also GWAD, Jan. 31, 1870. 101. EGW, “Counsel to J. N. Andrews,” 1872, EGWE-GC. This was also the basis of her critique of his detailed review of the Preble book, which he seems to have laid aside for the moment. 102. “The Fathers on the Sabbath Question,” RH, Nov. 29, 1872, 188. 103. “New and Important Work,” RH, Feb. 11, 1873, 72. 104. GWAD, Jan. 1, 1873, CAR. 105. JNA to Edward Pottle, Oct. 31, 1873, CAR.

106. “The Preparation of the Sabbath History,” RH, Dec. 2, 1873, 196; “History of the Sabbath,” RH, Dec. 2, 1873, 200; “The First-Day Sabbath vs. the History of the Sabbath,” RH, Dec. 9, 1873, 204, 205. 107. “History of the Sabbath,” RH, Jan. 6, 1874, 32.

Chapter Fifteen

Sabbath Historian and Theologian ohn Andrews’s several publications on the history of the Christian day of worship soon established him as a respected authority on the subject both within the Adventist Church and beyond it. Fellow Adventists came

J

to view him as “the foremost Sabbath theologian of his time,” impressed by the rigor and breadth of his work on the case for the seventh-day Sabbath.1 In this chapter we will depart again from the chronological approach to exploring Andrews’s life and adopt a thematic mode to survey, in a summative way, the significant contribution he made to Sabbath studies. This warrants a chapter of its own, for Andrews’s writing on the Sabbath was extensive. His major work, the History of the Sabbath, was viewed as particularly significant because of its timeliness. Seventh Day Baptists, for example, perceived it as helping to fill a large vacuum in the field. They welcomed the book because of its “historic argument” for the Sabbath. It “is of very great importance,” the Sabbath Recorder editorialized some two years after the first appearance of Andrews’s History of the Sabbath in 1862.2 “The masses do not understand how little proof there is in favor of Sunday as a Sabbath; nor the very questionable character of the writings from whence such proof is claimed to be drawn.” (Andrews had made the argument of fraud very strongly.) In spite of the fact that such historic argument for the Sabbath was “largely in favor of the truth as we hold it,” the editorial continued, for the past two hundred years “very little of permanent history has been written on either side” of the debate.

Seventh Day Baptists, during the two centuries that they had been established in America, had “produced only tract literature.” Such an approach was no longer adequate, the Recorder insisted. John Andrews’s history book was important—“a very valuable addition to the Sabbath literature of the present time,” and “although not exhaustive on every point,” it filled a large gap. The significance of Andrews’s work can also be judged by what it prompted others to do in research and writing about the Sabbath. Seventh Day Baptist reviewers of Andrews noted that, from their perspective, Andrews’s approach focused almost exclusively on history and had not dealt in any depth with the Sabbath from a systematic theology or philosophical perspective. “It suffers from not being in connection with a discussion of the doctrine,” observed the reviewer.3 Seventh Day Baptist leaders therefore resolved to address that need by producing a book by one of their own writers that would discuss the history but begin with “an exhaustive discussion” of the doctrine, “starting with ‘first principles’ and elaborating them to the end.”4 The task was assigned to itinerant pastor Abraham H. Lewis, who devoted six years to the project, and who, along the way, apparently formed a friendship with Andrews. His work was published in 1870 as The Sabbath and the Sunday.5 Lewis went on to become an editor, a professor at Alfred University for a time, and a prolific author on the Sabbath.6 Whereas Andrews based his Sabbath argument on a biblical justification of the perpetuity of the Ten Commandments, Lewis, when he would later begin to write, would ground his understanding of the perpetuity of the law more generally in rational and philosophical understandings. For Lewis, the law of God and the Sabbath were not binding simply because God spoke them, but God spoke the Ten Commandments because law was a philosophical and primary principle, eternally existent in the mind of God. God spoke the commandments because they were a necessity in an ordered universe. This argument was primarily aimed at fellow first-day Baptists

and other minorities who shared their Anabaptist heritage. The seventhday question was the single issue that differentiated the groups.7 If Seventh Day Baptists were influenced by his work, how did Andrews’s writing on the Sabbath shape his own church? In what way did Andrews contribute to the distinctive Seventh-day Adventist understanding of the Sabbath doctrine? We will first briefly explore, as it were, the biography of his major work, the History of the Sabbath, and then seek to understand his scholarly method and approach. Finally, the chapter will elaborate on his Sabbath theology, which, as numerous scholars have observed, became normative for the church.

A history of the History of the Sabbath Most of the major themes of John Andrews’s understanding of the Sabbath that he was to later expand on at length in his writings were expressed in embryonic form in the very first theological article he ever had published in the Review in November 1850.8 It was a tightly argued one-page piece, and he noted that “brevity” forbade him the opportunity to “give more lengthy notice” to key issues. There was much more to be said. Andrews’s writing on the Sabbath soon expanded. Most of it grew out of his preaching ministry and the encounters he had with new believers or from opposing first-day pastors who challenged his teaching. Sermons and faceto-face discussions led to formal articles, such as his two-part discussion on “The Perpetuity of the Law of God,” which appeared just two months after his first preaching tour.9 During early 1852, Andrews engaged in an extensive written debate over several months with O. R. L. Crozier about whether the Ten Commandment law had been abolished at the Cross.10 In another debate that year, Andrews engaged similarly with first-day minister H. E. Carver.11 The articles that developed out of these debates were subsequently repackaged as three thirty-two-page tracts. These were then further reworked in 1859 into a ninety-six-page booklet, which was to

serve as the forerunner of the much larger 1862 volume.12 Further sermons on the Sabbath theme that Andrews preached in Battle Creek during 1859 also found their way into a two-part tract published that year. These also helped provide basic textual material for his major work.13 While the front page date for John Andrews’s History of the Sabbath states the date of original publication as 1862, the book was actually available in October of 1861.14 Because of the perceived importance of the work to the mission of the church, publishing house staff had taken just four months to get the project completed—perhaps only a third of the time normally taken to get such a large book into print. It subsequently went through four editions and came to be regarded as an Adventist classic. It was used by every Adventist minister and studied in every Adventist ministerial preparation program for the next eighty years, and, as longtime church editor Raymond Cottrell observed, it clearly qualified its author for the honorary appellation of “Bible Scholar cum laude” among Adventist pioneers.15 In 1862, the first edition appeared as a 340-page hardcover book organized in two parts with seventeen chapters. When the book ran out of print within just four years, Andrews was reluctant, in 1866, to authorize further reprinting until he was able to revise and correct it. The second edition did not appear until 1873, the third in 1887, and the fourth in 1912. The latter two editions were issued after Andrews’s death. In the two posthumous editions, indexes both of authors and of Scripture were added to make the book more user-friendly, along with a twenty-one-page appendix providing a potted biography of the author and an extended description of the work of the Adventist Church. This appendix covered much the same material as Andrews had prepared for Abraham Lewis’s book on the Sabbath two decades earlier. The two-part structure of Andrews’s Sabbath history remained the same across each of its four editions, with part one comprising a 192-page section devoted to a discussion of the biblical history of the Sabbath. The content of this section remained unchanged across all editions, with only a

few changes being made in 1912, resulting in the addition of just two pages of further material. In part two of the book, which dealt with what Andrews called “secular history” (from post-apostolic times to the present day), Andrews’s content underwent major redevelopment as a result of further study, corrections, revisions, and further extension of the discussion. In the 1873 edition, this section more than doubled in size from the previous 148 pages to 320 pages, making a total book length of 512 pages. Andrews had spent huge amounts of time researching church history in libraries on the East Coast and felt that he had achieved major advances in assembling evidence to demonstrate that responsibility for the change in the Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday could be laid at the door of the papacy. In the 1887 posthumous edition, only minor changes were made, with the adding of five pages. In 1891, however, European church leader Louis R. Conradi undertook the translation of the book into German and, in the process, substantially modified it by using German original sources where Andrews had used English translations of the German sources. Conradi also introduced more contemporary German church history authorities in place of the English scholars Andrews had cited, and he expanded the scope of the book by adding seven new chapters discussing further detail about the Sabbath in Europe. In 1908, with the encouragement of the General Conference, Conradi then undertook what amounted to a significant rewrite of major sections of the English version to better align the two editions, and in 1912 a fourth revision was issued, with part two now expanded by a further eighty pages, making a mammoth book length of 599 pages. Conradi, whose name was now prominently included on the cover, had been able to access numerous libraries in Europe and had a much more ready facility with foreign languages than Andrews. His revisions were extensive. The number of chapters was expanded from twenty-seven to thirty, and the content of seventeen of the existing chapters was substantially realigned.16 The implications of the two-part structure of the book for the

development of both Andrews’s and the church’s understanding of the Sabbath and the issue of the change of the Sabbath to Sunday are important. For the most part, there was no change or further development in the understanding of the biblical history. His theology of the Sabbath remained static across decades. There was, however, significant growth in understanding the historical background to the change of the Sabbath and of the origins of Sunday worship. This development occurred because Andrews’s further study had focused on the immediate post-apostolic period. This was true also for Conradi. Beside his major History of the Sabbath, Andrews published several other books on Sabbath history and theology that made important contributions but are often overlooked. In early 1873, several months prior to the issuing of his revised History of the Sabbath, he published a 112page specialist documentary volume providing evidence for his claim that “the first-day Sabbath was absolutely unknown before the time of Constantine.” For this purpose he undertook “to give every testimony of every one of the fathers, prior to A.D. 325, who mentions either the Sabbath or the first day.” He did this so that the reader could have at hand the “entire testimony” of the fathers. Putting the material together had been a “great labor,” he noted, but he was sure it would be of “much profit to the candid reader,” and it would demonstrate beyond doubt that there was no early church warrant for a sacred Sunday.17 Andrews planned that the documentary source book would serve as a companion volume to his major work. Three years later while in Switzerland, he revised this particular work, correcting a few “minor errors,” none of which he considered important.18 The third significant volume in Andrews’s Sabbath corpus was a 168page book of ten sermons that he had published earlier in 1869 to cover the hiatus between when his History of the Sabbath went out of print and when his revised edition of 1873 was readied for publication. The Sermons

on the Sabbath and Law was enlarged and reissued in 1870, with an additional chapter addressing contemporary Sabbath critics.19 James White thought this particular volume was the best publication the denomination had, at the time, on the topic of the Sabbath. It was considered important and valuable enough to revise and reissue again posthumously in 1890, without the final added chapter. The revisers on this occasion noted that it still filled an important role “as an intermediate work between the large ‘History of the Sabbath’ and the small pamphlets.”20 In essence, Sermons was a brief outline of both biblical and secular history of the Sabbath, and it followed a similar pattern of thematic development—but this time in sermonic form. As might be expected, by presenting the material in this format, Andrews was able to have a more personal and spiritual appeal than in his other more academic writing. The format also enabled Andrews to be more theologically reflective than he was able to be in the strict historical analysis framework of his major work. This is illustrated, for example, in his first chapter, where he sets up his Sabbath theology within the framework of Creation. Andrews did not address, at any length, the prophetic and eschatological implications of the Sabbath either in his History or in his Sermons. This topic he took up in his book on the three angels of Revelation 14. This book is primarily concerned with a general exposition of the text of the Apocalypse, and it is here that Andrews clearly linked together his convictions about America and the two-horned beast (Revelation 13:11– 18) and the third angel’s message (Revelation 14:9–12). This important book also had its origin in Andrews’s sermons and had been first set up in pamphlet form in the 1850s. It was considered to be such a clear exposition that the booklet went through seven reprints.21

Andrews’s methodology as a scholar and theologian “I desire to promote the cause of truth without mingling with that effort one particle of party spirit. The truth will stand on its own merits,”

Andrews asserted to his fellow believers as he began to immerse himself in the research for his magnum opus on the Sabbath question. And to help ensure such fairness, he publicly sought “the assistance” of critics who believed in Sunday sacredness, those who were his “decided opponents.”22 As he explained further in his preface to his History, he had “attempted to ascertain the exact truth in the case by consulting the original authorities as far as it has been possible to gain access to them.”23 Furthermore, he pointed out, he had provided his references “so distinctly that they can be fully traced.”24 He felt he had “taken the utmost pains to get at the exact truth.” It was a labor that had involved him in careful and laborious reading of thousands of pages, though at times the result was not “a very great amount of matter” he could use in his reporting of the research. But he wanted his readers to be “in possession of all the facts.”25 His 1873 edition indexed citations from 241 authors of literary and historical sources. Facts mattered to Andrews, and he believed they could be discovered. His penchant for painstaking accuracy and thoroughness was well suited to his task. His object, he explained, was to provide a correct and complete history of the Sabbath. Intellectual honesty formed the bedrock of his approach, and this conflicted with what he believed he found in at least some of his sources. Andrews’s study led him to believe that “the history of the Sunday festival is marked by extraordinary frauds.” These frauds “stained” the record of the ancient Sabbath in post-apostolic times. He believed that with careful and conscientious scholarship, however, truth could be recovered.26 This was a foundational presupposition for him. Other presuppositions that shaped his study he seemed to be unaware of, but they framed his study, nevertheless. He accepted Scripture as inspired in the supreme sense of the word and was thoroughly acquainted with it. His purpose in Scripture study was to understand the text as accurately as possible in the sense intended by the writer. His presuppositional conviction about the unity of Scripture also allowed him to place heavy

reliance on the “analogy of Scripture” as a way of ascertaining Scripture’s meaning. At the same time, however, he was also concerned to clearly establish the context of a passage which, as Raymond Cottrell points out, protected him in the main from the pitfalls of proof-text exegesis based on simple verbal similarities between two passages of Scripture and thereby reading a text out of its context.27 In the exegesis of Scripture, Andrews’s scholarship gave careful attention to word usage, and he made extensive use of lexicographers, classical writers, and conservative but respected commentators.28 He was also familiar with the noncanonical books of the Old Testament, citing them at least fifteen times.29 Andrews’s acquaintance with the original languages of Scripture greatly facilitated his exegesis of the text, although, as contemporary scholars observe, this acquaintance was self-taught and the extent of his mastery of the languages is not clear. When referring to Hebrew and Greek word meanings, for example, his discussion is couched in terms of a reliance on secondary sources rather than on his own intimate acquaintance with the language. And as Cottrell also observes, Andrews’s tendency to rely on marginal readings of the KJV “was a characteristic procedure followed by those who have at best a limited acquaintance with the original languages.”30 Referring to marginal readings, for Andrews, however, may simply have been a way of connecting more readily to his lay readers who would thus be able to check things for themselves. On the other hand, his reliance on Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and the standard dictionary for some Bible word meanings may also suggest a limited acquaintance with the original languages. Cottrell cites several instances where a more thoroughgoing acquaintance with the original language would have been helpful in guiding Andrews to a better exegesis of the texts. Andrews’s challenge was also complicated by what Siegfried Roeske describes as an “exegetical literalism,” which sometimes led to an unusual interpretation, as in the case of his exegesis of the earliest Sabbath text in Scripture. When

Andrews read in his KJV that “God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work” (Genesis 2:3; emphasis added), he was apparently unaware that the word “had” was a supplied word not in the original Hebrew text and that the KJV translators had, on this occasion, failed to follow their usual procedure in notifying such words by italicizing them. Taking the KJV reading at face value, Andrews argued a fairly major point that God’s blessing and sanctifying of the Sabbath as a day to be observed in the future must have actually taken place on the first day of the second week of time because it could only have happened after God “had rested.” Cottrell, a Hebrew scholar, points out that the original language itself does not indicate one way or the other but that the context clearly implies that the blessing, resting, and setting apart was the activity of the seventh day. Other blind spots exposed by Andrews’s limited language skills related to his understanding of the concepts of Shabbat and Torah.31 Andrews’s strength was in his excellent command of English, clarity of style, and lucidity of thought. His logical, lawyerly mind was particularly adept at the careful analysis of his sources, and he honed his skills to exactness in this area. The same analytical skill greatly facilitated the clear and easy step-by-step development of the explanations of his subject matter. In many places his argument was carefully structured by a series of major points and a long series of subpoints, on occasion reaching down into further subpoints, as he does for his discussion of the Sabbath during the ministry of the apostles in chapter eleven of his History.32 His careful use of footnotes indicated his ability to subordinate less significant but supporting data to prevent interruption to the flow of his narrative or his discourse and, at the same time, showed respect for his more discriminating readers. The 200 pages of text in part one carried 376 footnotes, and there were 696 footnotes in part two. Although Andrews appeared to have avoided drawing on contemporary theological sources, he did draw on his Adventist colleagues’ theological writing and

occasionally Ellen White’s material. The careful form of his footnoting, however, clearly indicates that he was familiar with contemporary scholarly style and general scholarly work, at least in the field of church history.33

A theology of the Sabbath As noted earlier in this chapter, most of Andrews’s writing on the Sabbath question was derived from his sermons and the debates in which he engaged. While these debates added a certain vitality and a sharp focus to his own arguments in defense of the Sabbath and provided a springboard from which to address a larger audience, there was also a downside. The debating context, as Roeske observes, limited his creativity and tended to confine the scope of his writing to an agenda set by his opponents.34 Andrews’s writing and his theological contribution was almost entirely polemical. He wrote as a controversialist and apologist. He was not in the main an original thinker or a systematician, in the traditional sense, although, as we shall note, he did make original contributions and pushed beyond the understanding of the Sabbath he inherited from the Seventh Day Baptists. When it came to Sabbath theology, however, Andrews worked within the distinctive synthesis of the Sabbath, the sanctuary, and the end times that had been forged in the late 1840s by Joseph Bates and James White. His writing on the Sabbath was characterized by a strong emphasis on both law and eschatology. Andrews, as a theologian of the Sabbath, drew heavily from the arguments that Seventh Day Baptists had developed. He also replicated the important theological linkages that his two Adventist colleagues had seen. His distinctive contribution was to consolidate this synthesis, reinforcing it by strengthening and extending the arguments in support of the Sabbath, and he powerfully defended it with careful, logical, biblical, and historical arguments. His originality was not so much in theology, as both Johan Heinz and Siegfried Roeske have observed. His truly pioneering work, as Heinz has noted, was in his

“historical research on the Sabbath.”35 Seventh Day Baptists saw his research as ending a two-hundred-year drought in Sabbath studies. His impact as a theologian was that in both his History and his other Sabbath writings, he gave his fellow believers the sense that their biblical convictions about the Sabbath and its meaning for the end times were invincible. Thus his articulation of the doctrine of the Sabbath became normative for the church. His research was so thorough and his arguments so clear they were persuasive for nonbeliever inquirers, and thus his Sabbath writings served a powerful evangelistic purpose as well.

The perpetuity of the law John Andrews viewed the perpetuity of the law of God (the Decalogue) as the overarching framework within which to understand and interpret the Sabbath question. The Ten Commandments had never been abrogated. This was “the main point of issue”—the organizing principle around which his theology of the Sabbath was constructed.36 The fourth commandment could not state any more clearly that the seventh day was “holy time,” and it was holy because it had been “set aside” by God at the very beginning of time in order to commemorate Creation. Thus the doctrine of Creation carried special significance in Andrews’s theology. Andrews commenced his major study on the Sabbath with a reflection on Hebrews 11:3: “Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God.” This enabled him to theologize about the Sabbath as the great “bulwark against atheism.” The continuing obligation to observe Sabbath, in an exceedingly practical way, called for “one of the highest acts of faith.” Such an exercise of faith grasped “the existence of an uncreated Being who has called into existence, out of nothing, an infinite host of worlds.”37 The Genesis account of the seven-day week was critical to Andrews’s theology of the Sabbath. It was the central plank in his argument that the Sabbath could not be just one day in seven. God had added a day to the first six and then rested on it. This was the core of his

argument that the “definite” seventh day was to be celebrated ever afterward. The act of adding the rest day, Andrews asserted, “can never— except by sophistry—be made to relate to an indefinite or uncertain day.”38 Once God had rested and set it aside, the fact was as impossible to change as the fact that the animals were created on day six. Andrews was not a speculative theologian, but he ventured tentatively into that territory with a clear sense of awe in his consideration of the creative work of God. In both his book Sermons and in his History of the Sabbath, Andrews framed his Sabbath theology in the context of the seven-thousand-year theory of the great “week of time.” In his Sermons, he was much more specific and detailed in his explanation of the processes of Creation. He understood the Genesis record to mean that there was no primordial matter prior to Creation week. On the day before the creation of light on day 1 of Creation there was “blank nothing.” When God spoke the world into existence, “every element came into being which he purposed to use in framing the worlds.” Chaos was “the first result of the Creator’s work.”39 He did not reflect on the implications of this. In the 1890 posthumous revision of his Sermons, however, the editors abbreviated out the references to the idea that the seven-day Creation week also embraced the creation of the entire universe and its primordial matter. This perhaps reflected more the changing understanding of the editors and their church than it did of Andrews as the author.40 For Andrews, God’s activity during Creation week unalterably connected the Sabbath to the seventh day. It provided the basis for his understanding that God deserved loyalty, reverence, and worship—a response grounded in the creature-creator relationship. Sabbath observance expressed that loyalty, and thus loyalty and faithfulness became central tenets of the meaning of the Sabbath for Andrews. Sabbath observance expressed obedience to the Divine will—a will that was expressed in law. Furthermore, the Sabbath was eternal by nature because the law itself was eternal in nature, being an expression of the will of the eternal God. The

law, “embodying the moral perfection” of God, must, by nature, be “unchangeable and immutable like its author.”41 Andrews’s defense of the Sabbath and the Ten Commandment law therefore became one and the same. Obedience to the law comprised the heart of his Sabbath theology. Sabbath keeping was framed by law, defined by law, and required by law. The downside of defending the institution of the Sabbath almost exclusively in terms of law was that it inhibited further exploration of the broader theological depths of its meaning and the possibilities for it to enrich human experience. The defense of the Sabbath that Andrews constructed was framed against a religious world with three different perspectives on the Sabbath. There were those who, like himself, retained “the ancient seventh-day Sabbath” on the basis of the plain testimony of Scripture. Then there were those who, while adhering to the spirit of the fourth commandment, observed Sunday as a “first-day Sabbath” because they believed Jesus had changed the day and used the New Testament in support of this.42 The third group did not accept “holy time” at all because they believed that Christ’s death had abrogated the law of the old covenant and Sunday had since been introduced in the early church as a memorial of the Resurrection. Both of the latter positions were grounded in an understanding that God’s law was changeable. The major thrust of Andrews’s theology was that this law was absolutely not changeable. The Decalogue carried a perpetual and universal obligation, and the Sabbath was an inseparable part of that law. In arguing the case for the perpetuity of the law, Andrews maintained that if it had been abrogated by Christ’s death, then everyone could blamelessly violate its precepts and avoid its sentence. He saw this as the foundation of universalism and not at all in harmony with Scripture. Critics like O. R. L. Crozier might argue that the law had been reenacted in the New Testament under the new covenant but without the specific obligation of holy time. The requirements of Old Testament law had been

replaced in the teaching of Jesus by the two great broad principles enunciated in Matthew 22:37–40—love for God and love for others. Andrews, in direct contrast, argued that these two principles did not replace the Ten Commandments but rather that the ten grew out of the two and expressed, in practice, how the two were to be applied. Christ’s mission, seen in its totality, was to uphold the government of God and the law that expressed its core principles. The strongest argument for the perpetuity of the law, he argued, was the fundamental truth that redeeming mankind from the penalty of the broken law required the death of Jesus. Those who understood the New Testament to teach that the obligation to observe the seventh day as holy time had been abrogated did so, Andrews pointed out, because they equated the Ten Commandments as one and the same as the old covenant. This old covenant had been superseded by a new covenant—a covenant of grace as promised in Jeremiah 31. Andrews gave considerable discussion to this objection to the requirement of Sabbath keeping. He argued that a broader definition of covenant was needed to fully harmonize Scripture’s teaching on the two covenants. The covenant between God and humanity was not the actual Ten Commandment law itself. Rather, the covenant was a “mutual agreement,” and the Decalogue simply constituted the underlying terms of the agreement. This same law, therefore, should be seen as continuing the foundation for both the old and the new covenant, the difference being that rather than being written in stone, the law was now to be written in the heart of the believer in the process of sanctification.43 Andrews went beyond the Seventh Day Baptist conceptual framework of understanding the relationship of law and covenant to show how the old covenant and the earthly sanctuary pointed to greater spiritual realities of the new covenant in the context of Christ’s ministry in a heavenly sanctuary. The “Mediator of the new covenant lays down the immutability of the law of God, and solemnly enforces its observation as the condition of entering eternal life,” but the blood of Christ is the element that makes

the second covenant “so much more efficacious than the first.”44 This connection between the covenant and the sanctuary, in Andrews’s mind, doubly emphasized the perpetuity and the spiritual nature of the law. A true understanding of the heavenly sanctuary, he argued, brought to view the clear truth that the law which was the foundation of the old covenant was identical to the law of the new, as found in the ark of the covenant, located in the center of the Most Holy Place in the heavenly sanctuary.

Biblical arguments for the defense The task of defending the overarching theology of the perpetuity of the law and therefore also the Sabbath led Andrews into a detailed study of biblical history and took him onto numerous exegetical battlefields. He gave much time to developing and refining arguments to show that the Decalogue as the moral law was different in essence from the ceremonial law which foreshadowed the Cross and was no longer needed after Calvary. Andrews also drew sharp distinctions between the weekly Sabbath and the annual festival Sabbaths. The distinction for both of these pairs was a major interpretive key for Andrews in answering the objections to the Sabbath based on Colossians 2:14–17, which seemed to assert, on its surface, that “the written code” had been “nailed to the cross” and that, therefore, no one was to make an issue of conscience over “a Sabbath day.” Andrews also gave attention to arguing from Scripture that although the Decalogue was not given until the time of the Exodus, when the camp of Israel gathered around Mount Sinai, the seven-day week and its Sabbath obligation were nevertheless known during the previous patriarchal period. Although the biblical historical narrative may not mention Sabbath, he believed it was still practiced and taught. Andrews adopted and finessed the Seventh Day Baptist argument on this. He argued, for example, on the basis of Roman 5:13, 14, that the presence of death in the world meant that sin certainly existed and sin was only ever known in the context of lawbreaking. Working backward, he asserted, “Death is only the shadow

which sin casts,” but where there was the shadow there must be the reality. To nail this down, he paired (in a somewhat proof-text fashion) the assertion in 1 John 3:4 that “sin transgresseth the law” with Romans 4:15, “where no law is, there is no transgression.” He concluded that in the patriarchal age people must have known of the law of God implicitly. He buttressed this argument further by explaining the implications of the existence of the seven-day week. Time periods like the day of twenty-four hours, the monthly lunar cycle, and the 365-day year were all measured by naturally occurring phenomenon, such as the rotation of the planet and the motion of the moon or the sun. The cycle of the seven-day week, however, had no natural basis and was only a function of what he called the “sabbatic institution.” He saw this as very strong evidence for patriarchal acquaintance with law and Sabbath.45 The story of the giving of the manna recorded in Exodus 16 also figured prominently in Andrews’s theology. He argued that it was a vital link between the account of the Sabbath at Creation and the giving of the law at Sinai. It demonstrated incontrovertibly that the Sabbath was known before Sinai. Furthermore, the function of the day as a test of loyalty and obedience, he argued, clearly prefigured the eschatological, loyalty-test role of the Sabbath. Andrews’s writing on this theme in his Sermons is sharply polemical, reflecting the original context of his writing on the topic at the time of his debate with O. R. L. Crozier, where it figured large in his defense of the institution.46 The assertion that the seventh-day Sabbath was an institution just for the Jewish people carried significant weight for many Christians. If it were intended as a universal obligation, why would the God of the universe choose a small nation and just give it to them? Andrews’s dialectic on this theme dealt at some length with a discussion of the purpose of the election of Israel and then turned to an exegesis of passages, such as Isaiah 56 and 58—passages that supported his argument for the universal qualities of the law and the Sabbath. This provided a backdrop to his exposition on the

giving of the law at Sinai. He saw great significance in the record that “the Lawgiver should reserve the proclamation of such a law to himself; and that he should entrust to no created being, the writing of that law which should demand as its atonement the death of the Son of God.” Despite his careful thinking through the deeply spiritual and theological implications of the giving of the law at Sinai, Andrews was, nevertheless, peculiarly concrete in conceptualizing the processes involved. He saw the writing of the law on the tables of stone as an exact transcript, replicating the original law document that was lodged in the ark of the covenant in the sanctuary in heaven.47 A distinctive theological contribution that Andrews makes in his portrayal of the election of Israel and the giving of the law was to conceptualize the relationship as an espousal or marriage contract. The Sabbath in this context represented the signet or the seal of the marriage, “a golden link uniting the Creator and his worshippers.”48 In his understanding of the Sabbath doctrine in the New Testament, Andrews sees a distinctive restoration emphasis. Christ’s ministry is one of Sabbath reform. Andrews places his study of Jesus and the Sabbath in the framework of the seventy-week prophecy, thus subtly linking his theme to his larger eschatological perspective. The discussion of Jesus’ life and teaching on the Sabbath is thus framed within the context of the 2,300-day prophecy of Daniel 8 and Daniel 9.49 While his opponents want to argue that Christ came to do away with the law and the Sabbath by his death, Andrews turns the tables on the argument right at the outset and sets Jesus forth in a ministry of restoration, reclaiming the Sabbath from being burdened down with traditions and making it a symbol of healing and wholeness. In keeping with his larger theological “law” framework, Andrews observes that Jesus’ teaching was given to the correction of errors “by which Satan had utterly perverted [the Sabbath’s] design.”50 Why would Jesus attempt to reform an institution that will soon be discarded? The ministry of Jesus, in this way, is a model for his

contemporary Adventist believers, whose mission is to reclaim the Sabbath from the clutter of tradition. Andrews takes care to note also in the discussion of numerous New Testament passages that there is a lack of any textual evidence for a change in the Sabbath from the seventh day to the first day. The manner in which the Sabbath was originally instituted and the evidence of its unbroken presence in biblical history confirmed, for Andrews, its eternal nature, and this, in turn, provided the springboard for the lengthy pioneering study in part two of his book investigating the process of the change of the Sabbath in early Christian church history.51 For Andrews, the study became a quest to find ever clearer evidence that the Christian observance of Sunday, in fact, had a nonbiblical origin. Andrews developed the thesis that anti-Semitism and antinomianism were the chief motivating factors in the early church for the suppression of the Sabbath, that the church in Rome was particularly responsible, and that it was done deliberately. He felt that his many pages of meticulous research demonstrated two things conclusively. First, the years immediately following the apostles were marked by false teachings and apostasy and should not be regarded as authoritative. Second, some writings of the church fathers were corrupted or misrepresented by the Roman Church to uphold Sunday as the day of worship.52 In the 1912 edition, Louis R. Conradi altered Andrews’s thesis of causation and pointed to Gnosticism as an additional important factor driving the change in the second-century church. Many Adventist scholars have followed Andrews in the original approach, and others have been persuaded by Conradi’s argument, while still others more recently have also included an element of Mithraism among the pagan influences that lay behind the process of Sunday becoming a weekly festival.53 It was not until 1982 that a group of nineteen Adventist scholars, under the editorial leadership of Kenneth Strand of Andrews University, felt the need to update Andrews’s work. This volume, according to Strand, took into

account “a considerable amount of new information” that had come to light since Andrews’s era, and it also adopted a broader scope, looking at various theological perspectives.54 Work by Adventist scholar Herold Weiss has also recently documented a wider range of Sabbath practices during the intertestamental and early church periods than was understood by Andrews.55 From a practical theology perspective, as we have noted elsewhere, Andrews’s research and writing on the Sabbath helped keep the church together at critical periods and helped it to adapt to its expanding mission. His early study on the time of the commencement and ending of the Sabbath helped ensure that the young church kept the authority of Scripture at the center of its decision-making about disputed matters, even as the resolution of the dispute also united the church. His later lengthy study on the Sabbath in a round world also helped the church think through the practical difficulties of Sabbath keeping as the church became a global community observing Sabbath on either side of the international date line. Both aspects of his theology of the Sabbath—the time of the weekly Sabbath and his lengthy study arguing its ongoing validity—have had enduring influence in the life of the church. John Andrews’s convictions about the perpetuity of the law and the continuing obligation to observe Sabbath had been shaped by the Seventh Day Baptist pamphlets that had first introduced him to the Sabbath question in 1845. The same was true for Joseph Bates and James White. One popular Seventh Day Baptist tract entitled Elihu on the Sabbath was particularly influential. This engaging narrative presentation of the Sabbath question was popularized by James White and repeatedly reprinted for Adventists, even though, as C. Mervyn Maxwell notes, it omitted any reference to the distinctive Adventist eschatological themes associated with the Sabbath.56 Along with Andrews’s writings, the Elihu

tract did much to help shape Adventist theology of the Sabbath. Its major thrust was to blame Catholics for the change in day. In his History of the Sabbath and Sermons, Andrews emphasized, reinforced, and extended these shared themes, and he did not go much beyond them other than in very brief hints.57 When Andrews wrote for the Sabbath Recorder, as he occasionally did, he would speak of his own church’s indebtedness to Seventh Day Baptists.58 Also, when chapters of his History would be extracted for the Recorder, it would be the themes common between the two denominations that would be emphasized.59 On such occasions he would urge his Seventh Day Baptist friends to be more “aggressive” in their preaching of the Sabbath and remind Recorder readers that, in an important sense, they were the conscience of humanity on the issue.60 It was only in his publications on the three angels’ messages of Revelation 14:6–12 that Andrews would write at length on the prophetic aspects of the Sabbath. In this context, in books first developed from a set of articles in 1852–1853, he took the opportunity to emphasize the distinctive Sabbath and sanctuary synthesis achieved by Bates and White. Here he would set forth the eschatological context that gave the obligation for Sabbath observance such urgency and ultimacy. This dimension clearly distinguished Seventh Day Baptists from Seventh-day Adventists.61 When Abraham Lewis published his 268-page volume in 1870, he graciously invited Andrews to contribute a twenty-one-page chapter explaining the distinctive Seventh-day Adventist perspective on the Sabbath doctrine. Andrews provided a detailed account of his church’s encounter with the Sabbath and the movement’s subsequent growth and development.62 Then he used the occasion to highlight the distinctive Adventist contribution that integrated the Sabbath with the sanctuary and the imminent judgment to come. After narrating briefly the course of Millerism and the period of study that had followed the Great Disappointment of 1844, he explained that it was the “study of the heavenly sanctuary [that] opened to their [SDA] minds the Sabbath and the

law of God.” So the Advent movement led directly to the heavenly sanctuary; and with equal directness to the Sabbath of the fourth commandment. For it was seen that the heavenly tabernacle with its sacred vessels was the great original after which Moses copied in making the tabernacle and all the vessels of the ministry. . . . And so the heavenly sanctuary contains the ark. . . . And in that ark is the original of that law which the great Law-giver copied with his own finger for the ark of the earthly sanctuary. . . . And this great fact clearly indicates that the Ten Commandments constitute the moral law to which the atonement relates; that they are distinct from the law of types and shadow; that they are unchangeable in their character, and of perpetual obligation.63 Andrews, in common with his evangelistic colleagues, also taught the personal Christian character development dimensions of the Sabbath implicit in the eschatological setting. He seems not to have emphasized the concept of Sabbath loyalty being the actual “seal” of character perfection over the issue, as Joseph Bates did, although Andrews probably believed it. He preferred to stay with the new covenant language about the “law being written in the heart.”64 Nevertheless, Andrews took pains to stress the issue of Sabbath observance as an individual test of loyalty in his expositions on Revelation 13 and 14, where he interpreted the two-horned beast to be the United States and saw in the development of contemporary Sunday legislation a fulfillment of the prophecy. The enforcement of Sunday as the counterfeit Sabbath would be the expression of apostate power, and those who acknowledged and bowed to the authority behind such enforcement would receive the mark of the beast.65 For Andrews, linking Sabbath observance (as the vital evidence of upholding the law of God) with the imminence of the Advent and final judgment was a common

theme of his preaching, if not so much in his writing. In his more diplomatic explanation of this understanding of Scripture to Seventh Day Baptists, he would write, “According to the view of this people the commandments of God are to be vindicated in opposition to the claims of papal power in the closing period of human probation.”66 This eschatological dimension of Adventist teaching on the Sabbath gave the issue great urgency and persuasiveness, and it has often been identified as enabling the Seventh-day Adventist Church to be a much more dynamic and growing community of believers than their fellow travelers in the Seventh Day Baptist Church. The union of the Advent and the Sabbath in the setting of the everlasting gospel and the imminent hour of divine judgment has been called the “constitutive dynamic” of Seventh-day Adventist theology.67 Andrews made a large and long-lasting contribution to the theological and spiritual defense of this distinctive Adventist “present truth.” His focus on correcting wrong views of the Sabbath and its change, and his consequent emphasis on the perpetuity of the law, reinforced the teaching with foolproof arguments. The logical arguments carried great weight, and his spirit of aggressive warfare in defense of the Sabbath infected his Adventist readership. He was deeply valued by his colleagues, and as a scholar, he was trusted by his church. As Siegfried Roeske observes, however, his fervor and zeal for the Sabbath truth from this perspective tended to a narrowness of thought. Because he was so focused on what he and his fellow preachers perceived as the major weakness in the Christianity of his age (apostate worship on a false day of worship), “the relational side of his theology was under-stressed in favor of the dogmatic side.”68 His emphasis fell heavily on obedience to God and on making the law the authority in one’s life as the way to prepare for the Advent. Roeske observes that this tended to a kind of legalism. As has been observed in earlier chapters, Andrews was not a legalist in the strict sense because he did not believe that salvation could be merited by works. He did not

believe or teach that. Nevertheless, his emphasis on human effort and duty in the context of imminent judgment was so strong and dark that it overshadowed the need for dependence on Christ. His authoritarian approach could be understood as tending to lead away from a Christcentered theology. While he argued that the Sabbath was evidence of “living faith,” it was faith in the Creator rather than faith in the Redeemer.69 Thus this principal theologian of the Sabbath, as Roeske notes, “added to the influence of other church leaders in emphasizing duty and dogma.”70 His emphasis became a practical legalism as the Sabbath, for too many, deteriorated “into a works-righteousness device.”71 As Roeske notes, there are not many Adventist teachers today that choose to fight in Andrews’s armor when it comes to preaching and teaching on the Sabbath. As a number of Andrews’s students have noted, most of his writing and original theological thinking about the Sabbath occurred between 1850 and 1860. In the 1860s and early 1870s, he was absorbed in probing new territory in his historical research. After his departure for Europe, he produced no further creative boundary-pushing work other than perhaps a series of articles he wrote in the last year of his life on the great week of time. During his time in Europe, his efforts were entirely dedicated to translating theological materials he had already written and those of others, from English into French, for his magazine Les Signes des Temps. This meant he was largely unable to do new thinking and writing.72 It would be another two decades before preacher W. W. Prescott, following the historic Minneapolis Conference session, would begin to reexplore the theology of the Sabbath within a truly Christocentric framework. His sermon “Christ and the Sabbath” would help to provide a vital rebalancing of the contribution and emphasis of Andrews.73 Given Andrews’s intellectual honesty and his commitment to grow in learning, it may not be too much to imagine that, post-1888, his Sabbath theology might also have taken a more Christocentric turn rather than retaining its

legalistic bent, as it did for Uriah Smith, his brother-in-law. In more recent times, Adventist students of the Sabbath, such as Roy Branson, Sakae Kubo, and Sigve Tonstad, have enriched Adventist theology on the Sabbath as they have drawn attention to the ideas of Abraham Joshua Heschel, who sees the Sabbath as a “sanctuary in time.” Contemporary Adventist writers have also highlighted how the Sabbath resonates with profound social justice implications for the life of faith.74 Across the years, Andrews’s Sabbath theology has endured in important ways, and it has continued to inform his church. As Raymond Cottrell noted, his unusually perceptive insights into the meaning of Scripture helped elucidate sound biblical reasons for believing in the continuing obligation of the seventh-day Sabbath for Christian believers, and these reasons continue to be part of the Adventist Church’s defense of the Sabbath institution.75

1. Siegfried Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies of A. H. Lewis and J. N. Andrews” (PhD diss., Andrews University, 1997), 10. Roeske’s dissertation provides an insightful introduction to Andrews’s Sabbath theology. This chapter draws much from Roeske’s discussion. 2. “A New Book on the Sabbath,” Sabbath Recorder, July 7, 1864, 106. 3. Andrews’s volume does discuss Sabbath doctrine, but not from a philosophical perspective. 4. “A New Book on the Sabbath,” Sabbath Recorder, July 7, 1864, 106. The American Sabbath Tract Society resolved “to undertake such an enterprise if the means are furnished by the people.” Lewis was to begin his discussion with an a priori argument. Roeske provides a helpful overview of the extent of Lewis’s editorial contribution. See Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 51. 5. A. H. Lewis, The Sabbath and The Sunday: Argument and History (Alfred Center, N. Y.; American Sabbath Tract Society, 1870). 6. The friendship is reported by Sabbath Recorder editor Theodore Gardiner in acknowledging receipt of a further revision of Andrews’s book in 1912. Observing that Andrews had been a “forcible writer,” he noted that “the two men were friends and each proved helpful to the other in the writing of their books.” See “A Revised History of the Sabbath,” Sabbath Recorder, Aug. 19, 1912, 226, 267. 7. Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 66–68. 8. “Thoughts on the Sabbath,” RH, Nov. 1850, 10. 9. RH, Jan. 1851, 33–37; RH, Feb. 1851, 41–43.

10. Crozier had briefly been a Sabbatarian Adventist in 1845 but had then rejected the group. A total of nine articles, written as exchanges with Crozier, were published intermittently in the Review between Feb. 3, 1852, and Aug 5, 1852. David Schmidt provides a helpful analysis of this debate in “J. N. Andrews in Defense of the Sabbath” (unpublished term paper, Andrews University, 1978), CAR. 11. “Discourse With Brother Carver,” RH, Sept. 16, 1851, 28, 29. 12. JNA, Thoughts on the Sabbath and the Perpetuity of the Law of God (Paris, ME.: James White, 1851); JNA, The First Day of the Week Not the Sabbath of the Lord (Rochester, NY: Advent Review Office, 1855); JNA, History of the Sabbath (Rochester, NY: Advent Review Office, 1853). 13. The Sabbatic Institution and the Two Laws (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Review and Herald Office, 1860). 14. See “History of the Sabbath,” RH, Oct. 22, 1864, 168, where notice was given that the book had been “just issued.” 15. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 111. 16. Heinz, 132, 133. 17. JNA, The Complete Testimony of the Fathers of the First Three Centuries Concerning the Sabbath and First Day (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist, 1873), iii. 18. JNA, The Complete Testimony of the Fathers of the First Three Centuries Concerning the Sabbath and the First Day, 2nd ed. (Battle Creek: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist, 1876), iv. 19. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath and Law: Embracing an Outline of the Biblical and Secular History of the Sabbath for Six Thousand Years (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh-day Adventist, 1870). 20. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath (Oakland, CA: Pacific Press®, 1890), 3. The final chapter confuting particular critics of the Sabbath doctrine that had been added in the second edition of 1876 was felt not to be necessary in the 1890 edition. 21. JNA, The Three Angels of Revelation XIV, 6-12, Particularly the Third Angel’s Message and the Two Horned Beast (Rochester, NY. Advent Review Office, 1855). After the second edition the title was changed to The Three Messages of . . . . , rather than The Three Angels of . . . . 22. “New History of the Sabbath,” RH, Nov. 24, 1868, 252. 23. JNA, History of the Sabbath, iv. 24. Ibid., 15. 25. “The Preparation of the Sabbath History,” RH, Dec. 2, 1873, 196. The article is a lengthy explanation of Andrews’s methodology and a discussion of the kinds of sources he used. 26. Ibid. 27. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 113, 124. 28. For Part I of his study, he drew from commentators such as Luther, Calvin, Lange, Barnes, Kitto, and Clarke and from classical authors such as Philo and Josephus. He also cited Seventh Day Baptist works on the Sabbath. See JNA, History of the Sabbath, iv. See also the discussion in RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 114–116. 29. He cites I and II Maccabees, Ecclesiasticus, the Book of Jasher, and II Esdras.

30. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 119. 31. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 118–120. Cottrell suggests that if Andrews had been able to master a more in-depth understanding of the Hebrew words for “rest” and “law” (he took “law” [Torah] to refer almost exclusively to the Ten Commandments instead of “instruction”), he would have saved his church from much of the deserved “critical comment that evangelical Christians level at Seventh-day Adventists.” Ibid., 123. 32. The chapter has eight numbered sequences, with up to eleven subdivisions in each. One of the subdivisions has a further nine subpoints, and two of these subpoints have a further set of four and seven sub-subpoints. See RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 117. 33. Andrews did not cite Ellen White by name but referred to her as “one author.” Roeske suggests that Andrews’s sense of being part of a “called out” movement lay behind his reluctance to utilize other sources, and Cottrell further notes that modern biblical and historical studies were, at this time, only in embryonic form. Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 322; RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 116. 34. Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 173. 35. Heinz, 131. Cottrell confirms that his comparison of Andrews’s History of the Sabbath with Seventh Day Baptist literature supports this assessment. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 116. 36. JNA, “The Perpetuity of the Law,” RH, Jan. 1851, 33, 43. 37. “The world is full of atheism. The Sabbath is the grand bulwark against that fatal error. Its observance by the people of God is a solemn protest against atheism, and a public confession, by works corresponding to their faith, that they believe the record of the creation of the heavens and the earth. The atheist has no faith in the record of the creation.” JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath, 6. 38. JNA, History of the Sabbath, 10, 14, 16. 39. Ibid., 2. 40. See the discussion in Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 180. 41. JNA, Thoughts on the Sabbath, 17. 42. This Puritan argument for Sunday sacredness had been first proposed by Nicholas Bownde in his Sabbathum Veteris et Novi Testamenti (The True Doctrine of the Sabbath), 1595, and it became the springboard to Andrews’s extensive historical study of the post-apostolic change of the Sabbath. See JNA, History of the Sabbath, 476–483. 43. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath, 75, 83, 90. Andrews derived his definition of “covenant” from Webster’s dictionary. 44. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath, 94. See also JNA, History of the Sabbath, 166. See also Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 194–205. 45. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath, 56; JNA, History of the Sabbath, 30, 31. 46. “The Sabbath,” RH, May 6, 1852, 1–4; “The Sabbath,” RH, May 27, 1852, 9–13. 47. JNA, History of the Sabbath, 63. He does not reflect on the specific language of the transcript as Hebrew or something else. 48. JNA, History of the Sabbath, 43–45. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath, 87, speaks of the first covenant, making God, “the husband of his people.” 49. JNA, History of the Sabbath, 116, 117.

50. JNA, Sermons on the Sabbath, 110. 51. Andrews is rather eccentric in calling this period “secular” history rather than church history. JNA, History of the Sabbath, 193. 52. Ibid., 331. Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 259, 260. Heinz considers that Andrews used the argument of fraud so frequently that his approach might be called the “fraud-theory” of the change of the Sabbath. Heinz, 135. 53. Heinz, 138–142, has a helpful analysis of the various viewpoints. See also C. Mervyn Maxwell, “Joseph Bates and the SDA Sabbath Theology,” in The Sabbath in Scripture and History, ed. Kenneth A. Strand (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1982), 361. 54. Strand, The Sabbath in Scripture and History, 15. 55. Herold Weiss, A Day of Gladness: The Sabbath Among Jews and Christians in Antiquity (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 2003). 56. Maxwell, “Joseph Bates and the SDA Sabbath Theology,” 361. 57. He would allude to Christ’s ministry and the fulfillment of prophecy and to the role of the Sabbath in the prophetic climax of history in the last pages of the book. See JNA, History of the Sabbath, 116, 117, 508, 509. 58. “Letter from Switzerland,” Sabbath Recorder, Nov. 26, 1874. 59. The Sabbath Recorder ran a series of eight front-page articles on the Sabbath by John Andrews between May 14 and July 16, 1874. 60. “Letter from Switzerland,” Sabbath Recorder, Nov. 26, 1874. 61. RFC, “The Sabbath in the New World,” in The Sabbath in Scripture and History, ed., Kenneth A. Strand, 244–263, also has a helpful discussion of the differences between Seventh Day Baptists and Seventh-day Adventists. 62. Lewis, The Sabbath and the Sunday. The first third of the volume (1–83) addresses the doctrine of the Sabbath from a thematic and biblical perspective. Lewis observes that Andrews penned his chapter (237–258) during the winter of 1867–1868. See also “The Origin of Sabbath Keeping Among the Adventists,” Sabbath Recorder, Mar. 11, 1869, 42. 63. Lewis, The Sabbath and the Sunday, 243. 64. See Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 270–274. 65. JNA, The Three Angels of Revelation XIV, 108, 109. 66. Ibid., 246. 67. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 259. 68. Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 330. 69. JNA, History of the Sabbath, 12; Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 221–223. 70. Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 332. Roeske has an extended discussion on the tendency to use practical legalism in Andrews’s Sabbath theology. 71. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 259. 72. See the discussion in Roeske, “A Comparative Study of the Sabbath Theologies,” 169. The new six-part series entitled “The Great Week of Time: Or the Period of Seven Thousand Years Devoted to the Probation and the Judgement of Mankind,” appeared in the Review between July 17, 1883, and Aug. 21, 1883—just three months before he died.

73. W. W. Prescott, Christ and the Sabbath (Battle Creek, MI: International Religious Liberty Assn., 1893). 74. Roy Branson “The Sabbath in Modern Jewish Theology,” in The Sabbath in Scripture and History, ed. Kenneth A. Strand, 266–277; Sakae Kubo, God Meets Man: A Theology of the Sabbath and Second Advent (Nashville, TN: Southern Publishing, 1978). See also Sigve K. Tonstad, The Lost Meaning of the Seventh Day (Berrien Springs MI: Andrews University Press, 2009), and Walter E. Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance: Saying No to the Culture of 472Now (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014). 75. RFC, “The Theologian of the Sabbath,” 124–126. Cottrell lists five examples of his exegesis of Old Testament passages that continue to form part of the church’s biblical apologetic for the Sabbath.

Chapter Sixteen

Leadership Tensions Come To a Head

T

he crisis has come,” expostulated a deeply frustrated James White in

May of 1873 in a letter to his friend and ally Ira Abbey. His ally was the relatively new superintendent of the Battle Creek Health Institute. “My best efforts have been resisted,” White declared, complaining bitterly about his uncooperative colleagues—Andrews, Waggoner, Smith, and Butler. He felt he had more than done his duty to them and “those who have been affected by their influence at Battle Creek.” White was as frustrated as he had ever yet been. “Against my wishes I came from California [to attend the General Conference session in March],” he lamented, and he had expected “that these men would do me justice, would take their position and help me to fill mine.” But they had not done so, at least not in White’s view. In making the long journey, White felt that he had shown that he had been “willing to make any sacrifice.” He claimed dramatically that he had even “come near losing” his “life” in the process. The four men, however, seemed beyond understanding. “The history of the past ten weeks has proved to me that I may expect little or nothing from them. I have got through [with them],” he asserted heatedly, and he now felt “perfectly released.”1 James White was completely done with Andrews and his troublesome colleagues. At this moment, he was prepared to write them off. Ira Abbey, a businessman from Brookfield in upstate New York, had moved to Battle Creek a few months previously in response to the church’s

call for “picked men” to be sent to help run the institutions. He also happened to be the father of Ellen White’s best female friend and confidant, Lucinda Hall. Thus, James White felt he could let off steam with him. But Abbey thus found himself in an awkward and sensitive role in what had become an intensely factionalized inner leadership circle. What had brought about such heated emotions, and why would James White take such a hostile view of John Andrews and of his other closest working colleagues? We now take up the chronological narrative again, and as we noticed in chapter fourteen and earlier, tensions between Andrews and White had been building for some time. The conflict and tensions were perhaps inevitable, for to some degree they grew out of the increasing demands of a growing church. Differences emerged between the two leaders about what the priorities should be for mission given limited time and abilities of personnel. Tensions were exacerbated by uncertainties occasioned by James’s seriously declining health and the increasing frequency of his manic-depressive cycles. These were deeply spiritual men passionately devoted to the Advent cause, yet significant differences in their leadership styles and personality profiles seriously aggravated their relationship. And the tensions broadened to include more than just John Andrews. White was now offside with Waggoner, Smith, and Butler. In 1873, things came to a head. If the church was to hold together there was an urgent need for a serious effort at conflict resolution of some kind. While the weekly Review continued to convey a reasonably confident and glowing narrative of the movement’s development, those in the know and who could read between the lines saw that all was not well. They sensed the sharp tensions simmering beneath the surface. It is from the private correspondence and the diaries of the time that we learn greater detail about the behind-the-scenes drama, which involved several subplots and strong personalities in conflict over different perceptions of duty. Spiritually convicted leaders had experienced deeply wounded feelings

from repeated public shaming by White, and they struggled with the spiritual discipline of submission and feelings of distrust, suspicion, stubbornness, and alienation. At the core of the dissension lay the problem of public “rebuke,” “reproof,” and the question of authority and compliance. This backstory is important because it sets up the crucial context for the confusion evident in implementing John Andrews’s mission to Europe twelve months later. It helps, for example, to provide insight into the apprehension some leaders felt about whether Andrews was the right person to send overseas. The story also provides important insight into other major developments in the church and Andrews’s distinctive contribution to them during this highly significant, formative, and turbulent period. Andrews found himself at the heart of a severe leadership conflict that was difficult to resolve.

Growing pains cause leadership tension Delegates at the 1872 General Conference Session reported that they felt under much pressure because they had received many new calls for workers and ever louder appeals for funds to support them. Opportunities for mission in more distant states and calls from different ethnic groups were numerous. The 1873 General Conference Session felt the same pressure but even more keenly. Smith observed during the session that those “at last year’s Conference” would “remember the numerous openings . . . and the urgent calls from every quarter for light and help.” Butler concurred. “The calls for labor . . . were never so pressing before.” In fact, “how to meet this most pressing demand was the great perplexity of our Conference.” The growth opportunities involved complex questions such as the establishment of a school and the bedeviling question of where to find good translators to meet the demand for foreign language publications.2 A beginning had been made in meeting the evangelistic opportunities among different language groups when the Danish magazine Advent Tidende had been launched sixteen months earlier. John Matteson,

a Dane, and his Norwegian wife had been quite successful in their work with immigrant communities in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. Now there were calls for Swedish, French, and German literature and materials for the Sabbatarian Adventists in Switzerland. Besides these calls, new opportunities for evangelism had opened up in Oregon and in the Northwest Washington territory. The “saddest” thing about the 1873 General Conference Session, observed Butler, was “the fact, so plainly apparent, that our supply of efficient laborers was so utterly inadequate to meet the demand.”3 But there was something more damaging. During the early 1870s, several developments occurred which eventually led to a fullblown leadership crisis. Following the 1872 General Conference Session, Andrews and Butler both made urgent inquiries for potential translators, conducted interviews, tested actual translation abilities, and consulted with White in the process.4 Finding translators who understood the nuances of Adventist teaching sufficiently well and with the literary skills to produce tracts and pamphlets without embarrassing the church with infelicities of translation was a great challenge. Generating the right kind of short English language tracts suitable for translation was equally difficult and frustrating. Existing tracts were considered unsuitable. In an earlier attempt to move the business forward, the three members of the publications committee (White, Andrews, and Waggoner), during a camp meeting at South Lancaster in 1870, had agreed together to write up twelve new pamphlets. Two years passed, other duties crowded in, distressing family traumas occurred for both Andrews and Waggoner, and nothing had been done. The situation irritated White. He addressed the problem through public criticism in the Review, naming his two colleagues and using language tinged with sarcasm. The jibes heightened the tension and ill feelings among the leadership team. During late summer of 1872, after White retreated to the mountains of Colorado in a desperate effort to rehabilitate his health, he produced two of

the needed tract articles and felt he had kept his side of the agreement. In explaining his own delay, White publicly criticized Andrews in the Review for having Wolcott Littlejohn help him with evangelism in Oneida, thus depriving White of Littlejohn’s help just when he needed it. “In this we loved our neighbor better than ourself,” White observed, with the not so subtle innuendo that he was the more selfless one in this arrangement.5 In fact, the decision for Littlejohn to team up with Andrews in Oneida appears to have been a group leadership decision. In the same article, White rehearsed yet again his self-serving account of the alleged failures of his colleagues in abandoning him to carry the editorial overload at Battle Creek when Smith and Gage were sick at the end of 1870. This was an offense White still felt deeply about. It was a grudge he could not let go and which he felt increasingly bitter about. With a touch of sarcastic jealousy, White criticized Andrews and Smith for “enjoying seasons by themselves in the discussion of interesting topics, from which we were deprived by triple care and labor.”6 Rounding back to his discussion of the needed foreign language tracts, he publicly informed readers that his manuscripts were now ready and when his two colleagues Andrews and Waggoner found time they should review them and approve them for translation. Giving further vent to his frustration, White added that he now felt “just like pushing this work” and was not prepared to “wait longer.” In reviewing this “sad past,” he noted that he was not sure he would take on any more duties where the “unfaithfulness of others” was “liable to crush” him. This was a public scolding like no other. Next, in a more direct public rebuke of Andrews’s and Waggoner’s alleged laxity and wrong priorities, he wrote, “If it be said that the other members of the Board have been busy at other work, then we inquire, has not their work of reviewing, etc [an allusion to Andrews’s Sabbath history project] been almost infinitely of less importance than the preparation of these [foreign language tracts] works?”7 White was directly implying that if the two men were not so unfaithful they would have their priorities right.

The article was harsh and clearly conveyed a sense of superiority in spirituality, sacrifice, and judgment. In the same issue of the Review, White also obliquely criticized Andrews’s term as General Conference president (the “former administration” of the 1866–1868 period) as he lauded publicly the contribution of Adelia Van Horn. By her diligence this valuable assistant had helped him recover the financial health of the publishing house after Andrews had damaged it. This was a narrative White often repeated.8 During 1871, White’s words of rebuke and his rehearsals of the “unfaithfulness of others” and the “want of consecration” of his colleagues in not coming to his aid during the previous autumn had been referenced in the Review numerous times.9 In mid-1872, in an article explaining the need for a school, he once more publicly criticized Andrews and Smith for alleged previous failures, this time with the harshest of language he had used yet. He spoke of what, in his view, was the “shortsighted recklessness of inexperienced leaders at Battle Creek during the years of his sickness between 1866 and 1869.” The two men must have winced when they read this condemnation of what they believed had been their well-intentioned and prayerful efforts. White added that he would not offer “a single apology for our plainness of speech.”10 Ellen White had warned her husband about the danger of his habit of “pressing the thorn” to make people squirm, but at times it seems that James could not refrain from dipping his pen in acid.11 White’s frequent criticism, if expressed in a personal letter, would have been difficult enough, but when expressed publicly as this was, one could understand Andrews and his colleagues reacting negatively. The public rebukes were increasingly common. “It is the greatest wonder to me considering your feelings to them, that they have not resented your severe reflection upon them and lost their love and interest for you,” Ellen White had warned her husband in August of the previous year.12 By November 1872, she could have wondered further, as now Uriah Smith’s editorial judgment came in for sharp public rebuke by James.

In the previous issue of the Review, writing from his retreat in Colorado, White publicly excoriated a whole swathe of young ministers for shallow work and Smith’s poor judgment in putting reports from them in his Review. James said that they were “long reports about nothing in particular.” The editor of the Review should spare the feelings of his readers, White declaimed. In another paragraph of stinging complaint tinged with sarcasm, he scolded, “In the name of reason and religion we plead that the progress department be spared from the wordy, wishywashy, shallow matter with which it is sometimes threatened.”13 The giving of rebukes and reproofs, even “sharp” reproofs, of course had a solid and plain scriptural basis in the Pastoral Epistles (2 Timothy 4:2). Such correction was valued as an essential part of what Christian pastoral leadership involved in nineteenth-century New England. The culture of “plain speaking” and the characteristic reproving and rebuking of others in early Adventism was seen as evidence of vital spiritual life. “The love for plain testimony, and a desire to know our wrongs and put them away, is, to say the least, a very hopeful frame of mind to be in, if we would be used of the Lord in disseminating the light of truth,” wrote John Loughborough at this time. Such reproofs would bring forth “feeling confessions, and vows to do better in the future,” he noted, and such was the evidence of a good and profitable meeting.14 When, however, such rebuking extended from the moral and spiritual life in church settings to office and workplace contexts and became part and parcel of everyday interaction across the editorial desk or around the typesetting table or above the noisy chatter of the press, as noted in George W. Amadon’s diary, it was not so simple or spiritual. There, the “rebuking” seems to have been received more as the expression of an irascible and critical temperament. One only has to read the diaries of George Amadon, foreman at the Review and Herald during the 1870s, to see how frequently such sharp and painful exchanges occurred, how often James White roughly spoke his mind, and how often this resulted in hurt

feelings and deep spiritual discouragement. During some periods, workdays were worthy of note for Amadon because of the absence of scolding. And perhaps the problems were provoking. Employees were served notice of the discipline expected in the workplace on one occasion, when White put up the blunt notice “No Conversation!” in the editorial office.15 A six-day workweek with ten- to twelve-hour days, and often longer, being the norm, followed by a Sabbath routine involving four to six hours of intense meetings took its toll on personal relationships. With a work year that had no scheduled holidays, presses and workers toiled on through Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, always in the context of an intense sense of the imminence of the Advent. It all added up to stressed supervisors and a stressful work environment. As the publisher, White felt that, for financial reasons, he had to keep a very close eye on printing operations. Apprentices were, after all, still learning their trade. But his style was clearly that of a micromanager.16 He felt the need to be in charge of every detail. The publishing house was not the happiest of workplaces. The line between pastoral reprover and overstressed publisher often blurred. And when White’s rebukes of his colleagues became more frequent in open public settings and were tinged with sarcasm and not-soveiled put-downs, a subtle, long-term, corrosive impact ate away at relationships. As Ellen White observed on several occasions, this fed into a vicious circle. The more stressed James became, the more he rebuked and the more unwilling were his colleagues to take responsibility for fear of sharp reproof. This, in turn, placed a heavier load on White as the leader, which then produced more cutting rebukes. Ellen White knew that for the sake of the welfare and successful progress of the movement she had to support her gifted and highly motivated husband in spite of these weaknesses, and she spoke and wrote vigorously in his defense, basing her course of action and her counsel on numerous visions. Testimony, no. 21, for example, issued at this time, contained extensive counsel to Andrews about his weaknesses and to James White about his, and it stressed the

need for the two men to work together. Butler had also addressed the issue in April 1872, when he acknowledged to the church membership that the “shrinking from responsibility” was a “great danger” that threatened the prosperity of the cause. The “fear of being blamed” was palpable. Businessmen from afar did not want to come to Battle Creek and so “endanger their reputation” either.17

A delayed General Conference session and a fractured leadership team Reluctance to make important decisions in the church without having White involved as “leader” and thus ultimately responsible was a major reason why George Butler delayed the scheduling of the General Conference session-cum–camp meeting in 1872. Scheduled to be held in conjunction with the Michigan Conference session in summer, it had been hoped that leaders could use the occasion to take action to formalize the approval of an urgently needed new denominational school.18 Since the Whites in Colorado had not recovered enough to attend the session, even by September, the school had been started in June but only as an “experiment.” There were, however, two students already on their way from Europe coming to study in English. The school was urgently needed, and reputations were now at stake. At first, the school operated informally. General Conference President Butler wrote several articles explaining the need for a school, and he had addressed objections. He told Review readers candidly that he was “in hearty favor” of the school “when it could be established on a proper basis.” On the other hand, he said, “I have no wish or intention to act a leading part in establishing this school. I leave that to more experienced hands, to those who have gained the confidence of our people by faithful management of important matters in the past.”19 Although he was the president, he, along with others, did not want to face rebuke for making mistakes either. A false start had been made on a school two years

previously, and funds raised at that time had been spent inadvisably.20 Beginning an educational program was much more complex than starting a health institute. Such an enterprise reeked of danger. The birthing pangs involved in the establishment of the health institute had been intense and were accompanied by acrimonious accusations, injured feelings, a painful and acutely embarrassing stop-start expansion period, and ruined careers. And, as in the commencement of any institution, there were serious theological implications. Now in 1872, as pressure built for yet another institution with even more profound challenges to the “imminence” of the Advent, the theological issue raised its head again. “Some will feel much distressed at the prospect, thinking it is a denial of our faith in the soon coming of Christ and that it will all end in formality and spiritual death,” noted Butler.21 If a movement was thinking of building a training school for ministers it had to come to terms with the idea that the Advent was not going to happen now for maybe several years. Investing in a school projected the idea of an Advent some distance into the future. Starting a school was also thought to be a mark of apostasy on other grounds. There was “a feeling on the part of many of our people,” acknowledged Butler again, that establishing a school would be “an imitation of other denominations, and result in evil.”22 Thus Butler did not want this decision taken lightly—and especially not without James White present. Thus even into the next year, Butler delayed calling for the next General Conference session until he could be sure the Whites would be present. They were now out in California. There was yet another reason Butler delayed the convening of the 1873 General Conference Session until the Whites could come back to Battle Creek. During the latter part of 1872, Butler’s efforts to bring discipline to the publishing house staff, along with better working relationships, had run into difficulty. Right from the outset of his presidency, Butler had been sensitive to the need to closely follow any counsel from James White and to focus primarily on implementing the plans and projects that White had

suggested.23 His early letters to James repeatedly convey this attitude and requests for guidance. This had been particularly true as Butler tried to achieve efficiency and more discipline in the publishing house. Butler kept White informed of developments, and in one thirty-page letter explained, in detail, something of his efforts in October. The matter of the reform dress, for example, had become a matter of contention again, and Butler, following what he thought was James White’s direction, had insisted that the women working in the publishing house wear the short dress. Some resisted and “had acted pretty spunky about putting on the short dress,” Butler reported after implementing what he thought was White’s order. Then he tried to enjoin it upon the congregation as well.24 Butler had become convinced, it seems, that a more devout and obedient following of the testimonies on this and related health reform matters was the best way to achieve unity in the Battle Creek congregation. But instead of applauding, the Whites saw a lack of prudence and pastoral wisdom, as short dresses assumed the dimensions of “a test question” in the congregation and factionalism again broke out in the Battle Creek church.25 For his part, Butler felt that he had been doing what he was expected to do. The Whites saw only lack of discretion. The discontent in the church allied itself with passive resistance at the press from Smith, who was now smarting over White’s public criticism of him. Smith was clearly out of sympathy with his senior editor colleague and workplace boss. J. H. Waggoner was also out of sorts with the boss. Earlier in the year, Waggoner had launched a quiet, informal attempt to fill what he perceived as the vacancy in pastoral leadership in the Battle Creek church after James suffered further strokes and had been constrained to take time out for treatment at the health institute. He had assumed there would be no recovery. Waggoner had also been reproved. Now both he and Smith made common cause. Thus 1872 had limped into 1873 with a bruised and fractured leadership team. Butler continued to postpone the General Conference session. Finally in February, he could no longer delay

and issued the formal announcement for the session to convene on March 11. With the call went a strongly worded request to the Whites out in California. “We deem it of the utmost importance that Bro. and Sister White attend this meeting,” stated the executive committee in the Review. “We therefore invite and urge, in the strongest terms, their attendance . . . , if their health will permit them to do so.”26 In early March, John Andrews was called from South Lancaster to Battle Creek to meet with the executive committee for a week before the session. The nervous leadership team was grappling with the complex mechanics of setting up a legal educational society necessary to obtain the appropriate Michigan state license and develop an appropriate operating policy for the school. Andrews, as the most scholarly of the church leaders, although himself an autodidact, introduced the school topic to the session shortly after it began its proceedings. His task was to persuade delegates of the “imperative duty . . . to take immediate steps, for the formation of an Educational Society and the establishment of a denominational school.”27 In his statement on the rationale for a school, published as the lead editorial in the Review two weeks later, he located the necessity for the school clearly at the heart of the movement’s mission. “Men cannot teach the present truth without understanding many important facts in biblical knowledge, in history and in science.” There was not time to give what was usually termed a “finished education,” he argued, but at least a “sufficient” education could be given and the “keys of knowledge” placed in the hand of students to enable them to keep learning themselves. Addressing the implied challenge to imminence, Andrews acknowledged that time was short, but he was sure that the Lord was not going to just mysteriously furnish men who already had the necessary knowledge. It was incumbent upon the movement “to do what lies in our power” to train workers. Already the effort had been delayed too long. The broadening mission of the church now made such an enterprise essential. Already “men of other nationalities desire to be

instructed” concerning the Advent and the Sabbath. Some were already on the way to Battle Creek. Before the session concluded, Andrews was charged with preparing a major formal address for the next session on “The Proper Education of Our Youth.”28 As already noted, Andrews had arrived in Battle Creek several days before the meetings, at about the same time, in fact, that the Whites had arrived from California. John caught up with Ellen and James in a social visit to their home on Sunday evening two days before the conference started. Conversation between them seemed satisfactory, and they concluded the visit with a season of prayer. Some underlying tension may be deduced, however, from an observation in Ellen White’s diary entry for that day. She noted that she “felt a spirit of prayer for Brother Andrews.”29 The session began on Tuesday, March 11, and proceeded well. All the officers were returned, although Andrews was dropped from the executive committee. Readers of the formal Review reports would not have known that anything was amiss, but underneath, the simmering tensions were about to boil over. Contemporary correspondence and Ellen White’s diary relate the high drama as it unfolded.

Days of drama On a notably muddy Friday morning three days after the session commenced, John Andrews joined eight other delegates at the Whites’ home at 5:00 A.M. for early morning prayers, and the group breakfasted together, seemingly in a good spirit. Friday night, Ellen White preached and thought it was a profitable meeting, although the following day in her Sabbath forenoon sermon she considered “the air was very oppressive” and she had not experienced her “usual freedom.” On Sunday, both Andrews and Smith preached “with good effect.”30 But by Monday evening, the clouds began to roll in on Ellen White’s spirit. She reports that on that evening she “spoke to the people” and “felt a great pressure of darkness.” She “finally gained the victory and left the burden upon the

people.” Many came forward for prayers, and confessions were made.31 The following morning, Tuesday, March 18, at the annual meeting of the publishing association, extended time was required for the nominating committee process, but eventually James White was reelected as president. This time neither Andrews nor Waggoner was appointed to the publications committee. Something was amiss. During the afternoon session of the association, Ellen White noted in her diary that both James White and Andrews “confessed their wrongs and failures” in front of the eighty-six members present. She does not report what they confessed to, but if Andrews’s undated written statement from this period is any indication, he expressed his regret for his part in not coming to help White in the emergency of late 1870, although his statement also explains the circumstances and the reasons why he was not actually in a position to help.32 What James confessed is not reported by his wife either, but if his confession in Testimony, no. 21, which reports an earlier attempt at reconciliation between the men, is any indication, he was willing to acknowledge his wrong feelings toward his colleagues but not any wrong behavior. “He did not and could not say that their course had been right for God had reproved them.”33 And that seems to be the core of the problem. James felt he could not ever admit to wrong behavior.34 Ellen White noted that things were very stilted. “There seemed to be but little freedom in the meeting.” But before the meeting concluded, Andrews, White, and Smith had all been reelected as the editorial team. Waggoner, who had lost the confidence both of the Whites and of Butler over his challenge to White’s leadership role twelve months earlier, was dropped from the team. The next day, a cold and blustery Wednesday, Ellen White related that she called to see Uriah and Harriet Smith at their house and found Andrews also there. She found herself playing a mediator role between the two estranged men and her husband. She wanted to talk with them “to learn the true state of their feelings.” They conversed a long time, and

Ellen White observed later, “I cannot feel that they are in rebellion.” She reported this assessment to James. “I communicated to my husband a more favorable state of things than I had anticipated.” James, however, was not convinced that Uriah and Harriet were “in union” with him or in sympathy with his program and his leadership.35 According to his wife, James “felt that he must have the victory,” by which it seems he meant that, like Andrews, Smith would have to personally apologize for the 1870 episode, confess his wrong, and submit. The conflict between James and Smith had evidently become very personal. In later consultation with Butler and Haskell, again in Smith’s home, the tension was so great that Ellen felt she could not even pray.36 The following day, a Thursday, Ellen, still playing the mediator, went again to Smith’s home to see if he would apologize. In a disappointing reversal, Smith now stated to her that it was James that should be apologizing and confessing. Smith was “dissatisfied with some things in my husband’s letters; some expressions he thinks too severe,” she recorded in her diary. She noted that she had related this matter to her husband and, consequently, a further meeting convened in the church. This was getting difficult. At the follow-up church meeting, both Waggoner and Andrews confessed again, while “Uriah read a letter,” which Ellen White felt “was uncalled for.” It “made no concessions.” Smith was becoming very stubborn. Ellen reports that she “talked at length in regard to the course pursued in letting murmurings arise in regard to my husband,” but a “sadness rested upon us all as the meeting closed.”37 According to George Amadon, the “long hard” meeting had continued for five and a half hours, from 2:00 P.M. to 7:30 P.M. It had been “a hard day.”38 Ellen White felt that, for the sake of the cause, she had to support her husband. If Waggoner and Andrews were willing to submit for the sake of unity, why could Smith not do the same? The challenge was how to unify the fractured leadership team. Ellen White had seen in vision that James and Smith were meant to

work in a partnership. They were both to be “pillars” in the publishing work. The next day, Friday, March 21, there were further visits with Smith to see if he would submit, but his spirit was in fact hardening. James White became depressed as the stress increased over the confrontation. Later that day at a publishing board meeting held in the church, the previously settled editorial arrangements came badly unstuck as controversy erupted when the board revisited the election of officers and editors. The question of whether James White should be the publishing house president was debated vigorously, with some ministers arguing strenuously that he should be because the testimonies had said so. Ellen White observes that there was “some difference in understanding the testimonies,” but she did not offer to clarify what they meant or what she had said.39 James White now declined to be president, and his wife sustained him in his unwillingness to take the role for fear his health would totally collapse. Had the personal conflict with Smith become something White could not live with? Amadon’s diary records that after working six hours at the press that Friday morning, he then attended the fateful association meeting in the afternoon. His daily entry read simply, “Sorrowful times now.”40 In spite of the high drama, White was apparently able to preach with freedom in the church the following day. The stress and anxiety of the personal conflict, however, took an awful toll on his health. Andrews stayed on in Battle Creek another week until the end of the month, attending meetings and working in the publishing office on book manuscript issues. He spent Thursday evening, March 27, with the Whites and then stayed overnight. On Sabbath evening, he again visited James and Ellen, this time in the company of Stephen Haskell. Relationships between the two men seem to have been firmly restored, and Andrews had found a way to cope with the ongoing work tensions. Perhaps being out of Battle Creek also helped. On Monday, March 31, he left the west end and traveled back to be with his children, who were still staying in the Harris

home in North Lancaster.41 He was anxious to get back to finalizing the referencing work on his Sabbath history, a task that would still consume much time during the remainder of the year. For Uriah Smith, escaping the pressure was not so easy.

The editor dismissed During the two or three days before Andrews left Battle Creek, Ellen White saw her husband improve and reported to a friend that he was “cheerful and happy. All depression is gone.” She noted further, “No one can do the work here but my husband. He knows just how to take hold in the office and set things in order. All respect his judgement.” She noted that he had refused to accept the leadership of the publishing association but feared that he would eventually have “to fill his position” because no one else would “consent to take the office.”42 This seems to have been but a hopeful glimpse taken during a brief lull in the storm, for tensions remained high in the publishing office. George Amadon commented in his diary on Sunday, March 30, that at the 7:30 A.M. staff worship that day there had been “pretty plain talk at prayers.” Even though he was not the formal president, “Bro. White hit me right and left. I think I was some at fault though perhaps not hardly as much as he thought. . . . May the Lord guide me.”43 The new vice president, Harmon Lindsay, was introduced, and James White attempted anew to reorganize work assignments and impose tighter discipline. This led to sharp words and a misunderstanding with Amadon, who then refused to report to work for several days until, in a reconciliation session with both James and Ellen, James “explained some things [which] he said Sunday morning, which shows that I had a wrong idea.” Amadon came back to work. As April began, tensions continued to simmer in the publishing house, and James White again began to feel stressed.44 Three days later on Tuesday, April 22, he suffered his fourth stroke, which again partially

disabled his arm.45 Arrangements were made again for him to take an apartment at the health institute, where he could get treatment. The increasing alarm of the couple about James’s deteriorating health reflected itself in their response to the developments. James was anointed three times before the end of the month, once for his head, another for a bowel complaint, and a third time for his weak arm. Yet he continued to suffer headaches, feel nervous and feeble, and had difficulty sleeping. Anxiety brooded heavily, but earnest seasons of prayer in garden groves as April ended assured the couple that James would be restored and that there would still be a place in the work for him. “There seem to be so few who know how to bear the burdens of work.” James really was needed, noted Ellen White in her last diary entry for the month. The couple resolved that they must spend another summer in Colorado. The fourth stroke again posed a deep spiritual crisis for James, and he told church members on Sabbath in early May that he considered it somewhat of a judgment, “the rod of God,” upon him. He blamed himself for feeling that his trials were “not just” and that he had “talked over his troubles and trials altogether too much.”46 But he could not extract himself from the task of trying to “set things in order” in the office, and things became even more tangled. This time he and George Butler quarreled over the way to solve the personnel issues. Again, he lost sleep, had to call in the doctor for treatments, and his emotional health dipped severely.47 Butler and James White resolved their differences with sessions of confession and some weeping, and Ellen White wrote more testimonies to try to help Uriah Smith once again come to a cordial harmonious working relationship with James. Her effort for Smith failed. He resisted even after Butler also labored with him. He still did not believe he should confess or apologize. This now put him out of sympathy not only with James but also with the testimonies because they took the side of James. “The crisis has come,” fumed James White to the director of the health institute on May 12. He feared there would be another wide and damaging schism in the

church as sympathizers from churches in the Michigan Conference took sides with Smith and Waggoner against White. On Thursday, May 15, with the conflict at an impasse and after several lengthy discussions and a meeting with the larger church, the trustees resolved the problem by discharging Smith from his editorial position “until things assumed a very different shape.”48 “This is a dark day in the Calendar,” confided Amadon to his diary. “Oh my Lord, what shall be the end of these wonders?”49 On the following Sabbath, the Whites returned from out of town, and a long, public Sabbath afternoon meeting was held with the editor, in which Ellen White read a testimony to Smith in front of the whole church. She outlined his faults. “His sense of wrong” was “not acute,” she concluded in the definitive tone of her prophetic voice, with its heightened sense of right and wrong. She lamented Smith’s unwillingness to impose a more austere and spiritual work culture in the office and reproved him for his unwillingness to adopt a submissive spirit toward her husband and herself.50 In her diary that night, she observed that he had been “summoned by all the efforts that could be made for him” and that his “true position” was now before the people. Then noting the problem that lay at the core of the conflict, she commented that “proof was produced from the Bible that God would have reproof to exist in the church.”51 The question that troubled Smith, however, was not whether reproof was needed but whether it had to come so frequently and so bluntly and why only from her husband? For Smith, this was not a matter of whether he was loyal or not. After all, on two recent occasions he had given large blocks of his time to vigorously defending the Whites and their work and their reputations in print in major pamphlets. For Smith, the question was how much of her husband’s reproof was of the scriptural kind and how much of it came from his peculiar provincial Maine temperament? The stress of the conflict with Smith and, in a less intense way, with Andrews and Waggoner and now with Butler was, to a significant degree,

generated by White’s ill health. In spiral fashion, the tension, however, in turn, contributed to further decline in James’s health. Two days before the confrontation that brought about Smith’s discharge, James White suffered a further “shock of paralysis,” this time more mild, but the effects were now alarmingly cumulative.52 The combination of collapsing health and increasing frequency of mood swings provoked a spiritual crisis for Ellen White, putting her “in great perplexity of mind.” Again, she could not even divulge her depressing thoughts to her diary. “I dare not trace the conflicting feelings that agitate my mind.” Sabbath, May 31, was “the saddest day I have ever experienced,” she noted.53 Ellen White began to form a sense of duty that she should go out to preach alone if she must, and the Iowa camp meeting was calling. This might be the beginning of a separate ministry. James should completely withdraw from the work and, as able, accompany her in ministry. It is clear that the couple had a significant disagreement over this matter, and the next day she also had a “painful interview” with the brethren at the office. “I felt compelled to express my true convictions,” she recorded in her diary. She was determined that the only “position” James should now occupy was that of an unofficial, informal advisor, “a counselor,” not as formal president either of the General Conference or the publishing work. But what did that actually mean? There had been discussions, but no clear conclusions. “How much was comprehended in being a counselor?” was the question she asked herself in her diary. However defined, it must insist that James “shun many burdens that he too readily accepted.”54 She reported that “I stated to the brethren that I must go to bear my testimony to the Iowa camp meeting. My husband said that he should go with me.” Relationships were tense in their home the next day when Ellen “decided” that she was going to camp and “made preparations accordingly.” She also noted, in rather stiff language, that that morning she and her husband “had a very pleasant interview.” She noted later, “We decided to renew our covenant with God and with each other, to be a help and blessing to each

other, to show greater respect and love for each other” and to “never weaken each other’s hands.”55 But from this period on, rocky episodes would become more frequent in their relationship. The Whites’ marriage did not descend into civil war, as it did for her literary contemporary Julia Ward Howe and her tightly controlling physician husband Dr. Hal Howe. The Whites’ prayer partnership prevented that. But the description of the Howe marriage as “the fusion of two elbowed lives” might be seen to aptly describe James and Ellen’s relationship at this stage in their marriage.56 As they left for Iowa, however, the unresolved question of what being a “counselor” meant continued to hang in the air over Andrews and Butler, over Battle Creek, and throughout the church. It would not be resolved until late November. In the meantime, Smith’s discharge from his editorial role was so sensitive it was not ever reported in the Review. His name was simply dropped from the magazine’s masthead on May 27 without explanation, and the editorial page over the next few weeks was filled up with material from John Andrews’s Sabbath history articles and reprints of James White’s sermons from 1869.57 Ironically, Smith continued to serve as secretary of the General Conference alongside George Butler even after being dropped as editor, although because he was no longer employed, his ministerial license was not renewed at the Michigan Conference session four months later.58 The fact that his church administrative role had not been affected by his discharge from the Review seems to confirm that his conflict with White was, in a large degree, personal and had to do with immediate work relationships in the Review office, although of course it was also linked to the tensions with the larger group of four. In a short editorial observation two weeks later, White noted that although he had been driven to “sadness and despondency” over matters in Battle Creek, six “valuable” new men had come from other states to help run the institutions, and he reassured readers that “the cause at headquarters was being established on a permanent basis.”59 To solve the immediate problem of how to keep the magazine going while Smith was banished

from the office, it seems that J. H. Waggoner was temporarily drawn back into the role of desk editor, even though he, too, had been dropped earlier from the editorial team because he had fallen out of favor.60

Andrews on the leadership crisis In the tense weeks that followed his return to the East, Andrews editorialized several times on the intractable leadership conflict without ever specifically mentioning it. In an early piece intended to reassure readers who might have observed the absence of his brother-in-law’s name from the magazine’s masthead, he alluded obliquely to the crisis in an editorial note stating that for many years “he had shared in the joys and sorrows of this work” and had “much opportunity to learn its nature, its character.” His careful research of the doctrines of the movement assured him, however, that they were sustained by the Bible. The movement would indeed survive. Lessons of “submission,” he observed, were “learned in affliction rather than in circumstances which are agreeable to ourselves.”61 Andrews followed this up with a piece on patience, which stressed that the virtue needed for the present time was “the patience of the saints” and emphasized that even when humiliations and vexations were experienced it was not good to murmur or rebel against those “who occasion us these sorrows.”62 He addressed himself even as he spoke to the church. In August, he defended the role of the Spirit of prophecy in the church in one article and in another addressed a question raised by a reader about conflict between Paul and Peter in the early church. In mid-September, in a more explicit lead editorial, Andrews addressed the leadership issue head-on, arguing that no cause could prosper without “order and rule.” This editorial reflected on the meaning of Hebrews 13:17, which admonished “obey them that have the rule over you.” Andrews used the piece to explain what he saw as the reality of the leadership situation as it was then being practiced in the Advent movement. Just as in the first-century apostolic church both “gifts” and

“officers” existed, so these two functions had been placed in the Advent movement, and along with these “a measure of authority adequate to the task.” This authority should be “properly recognized.” Whether he had Smith in mind or himself and his colleagues, he asserted that these words of Scripture were “a standing rebuke to those rebellious spirits who refuse all subordination and who say ‘our lips are our own; who is lord over us.’ ” It was “in the highest degree reasonable,” he asserted, that, along with the appropriate authority, those chosen to lead “should have clearer and juster [sic] ideas by far of the steps that should be taken.” Conversely, it should be an “honor” to “be the helpers of such,” and no disgrace to be “more ready to receive counsel than to give it ourselves.” If this seemed to be verging on danger in attributing too much to a leader, he suggested that the safeguard against such a danger was simply to look to see where God was working. The implication was that God was working in James and Ellen White.63 Andrews’s editorial was written against a background of numerous other articles by both James White and George Butler all highlighting the crisis in leadership in discreet and covert ways—but each steadily laying down the intellectual and conceptual foundation on which the church could build toward a resolution.64 In late August, after some weeks of reflection in his mountain hideaway in Colorado, White published a breathtaking analysis of the new mission opportunities that lay before the church. He was still a true visionary leader, though now in an unofficial, informal role. As the de facto leader, he could not help but dream, plan, and set agendas for others. Typical of his approach, he was very specific in the details about how he thought the steps should be implemented and outlined plans that ranged from sending Andrews to Europe, entering the Northwest Washington Territory, establishing a theological school, and building a new publishing house on the West Coast, to numerous other finely granulated plans about printing plates and new typesetting arrangements.65 He followed this up with further articles making “a solemn appeal” and

endorsing his wife’s testimonies published at the same time, which highlighted Laodicean attitudes in the church. He also defended the necessity of his “straight testimony.”66 George Butler, as the formal, official president, reassured the Review readership that things were not falling apart and called for an end to the murmuring and complaining against the Whites because it was really murmuring against God.67 Butler also found himself endorsing James White’s growth program even as he became increasingly aware that, as president, he would be the one expected to implement it, and knowing, as he later observed, that White’s plans “laid out before us an immense amount of work.” Butler “seemed to be in harmony” with the idea of a “worldwide work,” and he had made up his mind that God had put the plans into White’s mind and that he should therefore labor to implement them.68 James, although now just a “counselor” still exercised influence in the church as if he were still the president. The tone of his writings carried the authority of a person still very much in charge. The loss of Smith, the risk to church unity, and the problem of how to relate to this ailing, but strong-minded, “plain speaking” church leader posed a serious problem for George Butler, John Andrews, and their colleagues.69

The leadership controversy and a “resolution” Ever since 1860, John Andrews had grappled with the “plain speaking” and authoritarian aspects of White’s leadership style and had resolved in his own mind that the best way to relate to the phenomenon was to think of James White as a New Testament “apostle.”70 Doing so provided a conceptual framework that enabled him personally to cope with the inevitable bruises involved in working closely with White. It also gave him a credible rationale for yielding his own judgment. During the turbulent summer of 1873, as George Butler made his way around ten or twelve state camp meetings in the absence of the Whites, he also repeatedly addressed the urgent need for church unity, order, and submission, and he

gave much attention and thought to the specific leadership issue. In the process, he developed and refined a sermon on the topic that he thought could help solve the problem and reduce the ugly tensions. By October, Butler had developed the sermon into a formal public position statement he entitled “Leadership.” This sermon was not designed primarily to set out Butler’s own philosophy and theology of church leadership but rather to explain and justify the “quasi-monarchical” order that had already been established under White and which Butler was trying to understand.71 This is an important perspective. In leadership theory terms, Butler had observed the phenomenon of leadership as it was actually practiced by James White and then, like Andrews before him, attempted to develop a theoretical model to explain the phenomenon and to provide a theological rationale for it. In essence, Butler followed Andrews’s “apostle” model. This theological rationale justified James’s sharp leadership style and legitimized the autocratic phenomenon as it was “perceived” and actually experienced. Butler was trying to describe a leadership reality. The model outlined in Butler’s document provided a way for White’s associates to relate to White’s leadership style and to try and minimize the conflict inherent in it. Andrews would have heard Butler on this theme at the camp meetings he attended with him in New York and throughout New England. Butler had given his talks on leadership at the closing camp meeting of the season at Battle Creek in early September. His efforts complimented the publication and distribution of Testimony, no. 23, with its Laodicean message call and a “solemn appeal” article published by James. Combined together, these resulted in a major breakthrough. Delegates at the session passed resolutions pledging commitment to accept “the position which Brother White is called of God to occupy in this work” and stating that they now saw their faultfinding against White as “grievous sins against God.” In the light of the model Butler had now publicly articulated, Uriah Smith wrote a letter of apology to the Whites, which they received on

Sabbath, September 13. “He confesses his wrong course the few months past,” noted Ellen White in her diary that evening. “If the scales are falling from his eyes, we praise God.”72 The tide was turning. Andrews had attended the Michigan camp meeting and had then gone on to officially represent the Adventist Church at the four-day Seventh Day Baptist General Conference session in Rhode Island. He had felt extremely pressured because, as well as the additional duties as one of the two functioning editors of the Review, he was working through the proofs and finalizing matters for the last chapter of his History of the Sabbath and had not had time to even correspond properly with his family or see to the sale of his Rochester property. “I have been so much driven that even working far into the night has not enabled me to keep up with my work,” he reported to his uncle Edward.73 On the last day of October 1873, just hours after he had “finished up” his book, Andrews received an urgent telegram calling him immediately to Battle Creek. Apparently, at James and Ellen White’s suggestion, Butler had issued a short-notice call for the General Conference session to be convened on November 14–18, several months early.74 In justifying the “hurried and out of season” call, Butler cited the need for a decision on the advisability of Andrews going to Europe, the pressing need for a proper legal basis for the denominational school, and the broad sweep of plans earlier outlined by White in the Review. But this was largely spin—these issues could have waited. What Butler did not mention in the Review but which was clearly on his mind among the “momentous questions to be considered” was how to reconcile the leadership conflict and resolve the Uriah Smith question now that the editor had had a change of heart.75 The primary reason for the session was to resolve the leadership crisis. “I think the matter of sufficient importance to warrant me as President of the General Conference to summon all four of you together to see if something could not be done to get this hindrance out of the way,” he wrote to James White privately on October 23, when White was debating whether to

attend or not. As it eventuated, the call for the session had been so hastily made that only nine formal delegates responded to the initial roll call of delegates when the session opened on Friday. None at all came from Michigan, the closest conference, which may indicate something of the residual ill feelings among the Michigan churches over Smith’s discharge. At its first session, the body took action to empower Butler to appoint further delegates from among other attendees to make it appear as a more representative body. He proceeded to appoint another twelve, largely drawn from people already resident in Battle Creek, and he assigned them in such a way as to ensure Michigan representation and to legitimize the presence of another four-state conferences. Clearly Butler considered the stakes to be very high at this session. Andrews arrived in Battle Creek on Wednesday, November 5, and occupied the headquarters’ church pulpit on Sabbath, November 8. The Whites, after changing their minds about not attending after departing for California, arrived in town two days later on Monday, November 10. That same evening, according to Amadon, the five senior leaders met together to begin trying to resolve their differences. Another meeting was convened the following day, this time with Ellen White, who noted in her diary: “In the evening the brethren met at our house—Brethren Waggoner, Smith and Andrews and Butler. We had very profitable talk of our present state and the importance of perfect union in our labors. Talked over past matters of differences with great profit. We had a good season of prayer.” At some time during these meetings of the inner circle, Butler apparently read his sermon-essay on leadership, which assigned a special role to James White as leader. Andrews, Smith, and Waggoner were prepared to endorse the document, accepting it as the basis for their working relationship. Their signatures were appended under the statement, “We heartily concur in the sentiment of this essay,” and it was dated November 14, 1873. In the leadup to the meetings, Waggoner had also written a defense of the need for a

strong “ruler” leadership in the Review and conceded that the church needed such authority. The church was “not republican.” “Ruling, then is an official duty in the Church of God,” he wrote, citing 1 Timothy 5:17, and even though “the democratic spirit of this age will not submit to such an order” (it would not work as a model for local government), he now felt that it was necessary for the church.76 Butler must have been pleased with the progress. During Sabbath social meetings, personal testimonies were given and confessions offered and the spirit of unity continued to build. On Saturday evening, Butler took time to read his essay in full, including its practical application section. On Monday, the annual session of the publishing association was convened and further confessions were made. Ellen White noted, “My husband talked very plainly. Brother Smith heartily responded and confessions were made by many which brought freedom into the meeting. My husband seemed quite free. We can see there is some progress to the light. We praise God for any advance.” The publishing association stockholders then proceeded to elect James White both as president of the association and as editor of the Review before adjourning to the call of the chair. It was not until ten days later that White reconvened the stockholders, who then reelected John Andrews and added Uriah Smith again as additional editors for the Review.77 At the evening meeting on Sunday, November 14, the delegates took a highly unusual decision that marked a significant milestone in the denomination’s short history. They voted to officially endorse the statement on leadership that Butler had read on Saturday night and which had been distributed in hard copy to the delegates. The resolution included an expression of “full purpose of heart faithfully to regard these principles, and we invite all our brethren to unite with us in this action.”78 It was as Butler had hinted, a “momentous question,” for it confirmed the quasimonarchical leadership pattern that White had imposed and gave White extraordinary powers. The essay discussed the nature of authority

structures in the Christian church and argued that the role of “apostle” was the highest position; higher than the other gifts and offices. Obedience and submission was to be rendered to such as who occupied this office. Among the duties associated with this office was that of exhorting, reproving, and rebuking sin, even rebuking “sharply” (Titus 1:13). In the Old Testament, the model leader was Moses, who also had experienced his people murmuring against him. The essay then focused on James White, who had “exerted a leading influence” since the beginning of the work, and it quoted Ellen White in defense of this. “I was shown his position to the people of God was similar, in some respects, to that of Moses.” Butler also cited Ellen White in support of his argument, noting her statements that her husband had been given “especial qualifications, natural ability, and he selected him, and gave him an experience, to lead out his people in the advance work.”79 Of more profound significance, however, were the working arrangements that flowed from this theological rationale. Butler spelled out nine duties that the agreement imposed and which the signatories committed “to faithfully regard.” They included a recognition that the appointment of White by God was “suitable, otherwise God would not have made it.” It was assumed that such a person would inevitably do right and, therefore, it was possible to work in harmony with him. He should be regarded “with love and respect,” and associates should “cheerfully carry into effect his plans” for the cause. His associates would “give his [James White’s] judgement the preference” and “put aside a spirit of murmuring and complaint,” listening to his reproof “candidly and bear it with meekness.” Agreement meant a willingness to “assist in counsel and action to the best of our ability” and to “frown down in ourselves or in others a spirit of criticism.” Finally, noted Butler, the voted assent to the leadership statement meant that associates would “cheerfully admit his authority to reprove and rebuke according to the light God has given him, and we claim no right to call his exercise of it in question.” Any other

understanding “virtually destroys his right altogether.” This sounded very much like absolute authority, and Butler found himself explaining rather lamely in conclusion that this was not the same as “popery” or “surrendering our right of private judgement.” Butler’s perception was that this was, in fact, a description of how things actually worked in practice in the church. He was simply setting it down on paper so there could be an understanding and an agreement about it. The troubles of the past had arisen from “a neglect of some of these principles.” General Ulysses S. Grant had won the Civil War on these principles, and, he pointed out, they would provide “real union” among Adventism’s “leading men.”80 To make sure that they were implementing the leadership statement correctly and were getting the hierarchy straight, White was also formally appointed “pastor” of the Battle Creek congregation, the first time that such a resident pastoral role had been made in the church and in spite of the fact that for most of the time hereafter, White would actually be out of town in California.81 Somehow the idea of a headquarters church “pastor” anchored the spiritual dimension of the apostleship. For the moment, the document worked. After all, it pretty much described the present reality. It gave a framework within which to be able to accept White’s dominant style in leadership and to be able to live with his sharp tongue. White would receive the respect and privileges due to the “apostle” called by God. The editorial page in the Review immediately following the session ran with prominent editorial columns written by each of the four associate leaders publicly affirming the value of the session and their commitment to work in unity within the framework of the document. “Probably there has never been a time,” asserted Andrews in the lead piece, “when such perfect unanimity of feeling and of judgment has existed as at the present time.” There was now a “true blending of spirit and union of heart,” added Smith. Butler confidently declared, “Never were the principles so plainly seen before, upon which true union must be founded.”82 Andrews believed that this approach, modeled on the apostles,

would save the leadership group from alienation and working at “cross purposes.” The document outlined a process that called for delegates to recognize what God was doing and His “raising up” of special leaders. But to officially recognize whom it was that God was raising up was still a key problem, of course. Some had been inclined to see God’s hand at work on one, some on another, and yet others on themselves. Now it became clear. God had raised up James White as the leader, and as Andrews expressed it, his colleagues had been “clearly taught our duty toward those whom he has appointed.” In Andrews’s view, the model also elevated the role of Ellen White in the church. As he sought to explain how the model should work, he noted “that the gifts of the Spirit of God are of the highest importance in the Christian church; for these will clearly determine the persons whom God chooses to fill the places of greatest responsibility in his work.”83 In effect, Ellen White would designate the person. She would be the kingmaker. In this case, James White was the person. The voting of delegates was a mere formality. Andrews, like Butler, was describing what he saw as actual practice. Butler was hugely relieved at the outcome. He had approached the conference with dread and a deep sense of foreboding. It had been a period of “embarrassment and perplexity” which did not “especially appear on the surface,” but he was glad after it was over that the Lord had guided them through “in safety and granted us prosperity.”84 Initially, neither Ellen White nor James White would see anything wrong with the newly articulated leadership policy. Only in later reflections on the essay did James realize there was a distinctive downside built into it. It ultimately made him responsible for every decision, and this resulted in increasing the load of responsibility on him, not reducing it.85 He also eventually came to see that, in fact, the policy dangerously undermined the “right of private judgement.” This, as Butler acknowledged years later, was, in fact, the very practical problem with White’s leadership as Andrews and his colleagues actually continued to

experience it. In 1914, Butler recalled that “some thought he [James] assumed prerogatives that did not properly belong to him, which infringed on their right of private judgement.” He also noted that one of the benefits of the essay was that it functioned somewhat as a mirror and “it made him [White] more cautious in his methods and treatment of some of his brethren.”86 But this growth on James’s part took time. In the months that followed the Whites’ return to California in late December, Andrews wrote regularly and deferentially (every two weeks) to White explaining his movements, reporting on his work, and seeking counsel as to his plans. Butler did the same. The cumulative effects of James White’s four strokes, however, continued to impair his health and exacerbated the oscillation between his emotional highs and lows. His acerbic moods grew very dark at times, and his paranoia and impulse to control the work and the activities of others, including his wife, worsened through early 1874, with frequent disagreements and sharp exchanges. Then, just as Julia Ward Howe had found necessary in Boston, Ellen White firmly asserted her independent judgment and sense of duty and stepped aside from the tight control of her husband in order to exercise her own ministry, particularly when it came to her preaching around the camp meetings.87 She left James in California in mid-1874 and traveled back east with son Willie and began to find her own way in her ministry.88 A revealing and troubling letter from James White to Butler at this time indicates that in spite of the efforts of his colleagues to treat him deferentially and respectfully, White had not personally been able to build at all upon the reconciliations achieved in November. His descent into another jaundice of the spirit occurred again as he continued to hold tightly to his perceived grievances with Andrews, Smith, and Waggoner. He was not in a good place psychologically. “My position and relation to the cause is a riddle to myself,” he wrote to Butler with much lament and self-pity. He continued to blame Andrews and Waggoner, who had “created difficulties” that had “ruined” him. Satan had succeeded and “laid plans

adroitly” for Andrews, Waggoner, Smith, and Gage to “crush me.” He felt that Andrews and Waggoner had been “watching” him with “a spirit to find fault.” He despised this, and he now feared that he was doing exactly the same toward Butler. He was sorry, he told Butler, “that you are compelled to fill the place God designed that I should occupy.” Clearly, White was grieving both the loss of his health and the loss of his formal leadership role. He related that, at times, he hoped that God would restore him “to the position He designed that I should fill,” but then “the feeling rushes over me that it is impossible.” But he did glimpse at times “a better day” when “Andrews, Waggoner, White, and Smith shall stand in the light, and in the strength of God,—send forth from their warm, yet renewed brain a flood of light. O my soul, what emotions well up in thee, as I trace these lines, and my hand shakes, and my sight is blinded with weeping.” This was a deeply disordered mood. But the weeping passed as he wrote, describing how “a heavy calm comes over me. I shall see my way out. And I think I might help others.”89 At this time the problem was clearly with James, not his colleagues. At this same time, White also published a series of articles in his new West Coast Signs of the Times that sought to negate or at least correct the theoretical flaws he saw in the influential leadership essay. These, however, were not widely read elsewhere in the church, and Ellen White was unhappy with him for taking issue with Butler over the matter.90 The document for Ellen White had achieved reconciliation, and that should not be squandered. While the inner four found the model practicable, because it described reality, Wolcott Littlejohn objected vehemently, arguing that the idea of James White being “a second Moses” was “not only erroneous but pernicious in the extreme.”91 In spite of Ellen White’s remonstrance and counsel, he felt he needed to take a principled stand over the issue if the document was not going to be rescinded. He consequently withdrew from the ministry and removed his membership from the church.92 Ellen White, in response to Littlejohn’s stout objections, felt that, on balance at

this time, the danger to the church was to be found in too much independence rather than too much submissiveness, and she defended the document.93 The evidence indicates that time would straighten them all out. Eventually, the General Conference found the leadership theory of Butler not appropriate at all for building an enduring church organization, and after first attempting to revise it in 1875, delegates abandoned it altogether in 1877, with much recrimination of its author.94 Describing reality could be a dangerous occupation.

Europe undecided and postponed If the hastily called November 1873 General Conference Session had temporarily resolved the leadership tensions for Andrews, it had not been able to come to terms with resolving the question of whether he should be sent to work in Europe or not. Butler, in his call for the conference, had acknowledged that “there has been considerable said in the Review in regard to Bro. J. N. Andrews going to Switzerland this season to look after the wants of the cause there, to attend to the extension of missionary operations in Europe, and to qualify himself by an understanding of the French and German tongues to aid in the preparation of works in those languages.”95 The “considerable” discussion referenced by Butler referred to remarks made on several occasions by James White as he looked strategically to the future. In fact, White had been quite specific and outspoken in his ideas about what Andrews should do if and when he got to Europe. Rather disparagingly, in his “plain speaking” fashion, White had written that pastoral concerns should not be a priority. Andrews should not go “expecting to spend his time attending to the local embarrassments and difficulties of our brethren in Switzerland; but to hush them into silence upon these little local and personal matters and call their minds to the great truths for our time.”96 While this patronizing approach may have seemed good mission strategy, saying so in public may not have been. The fact

that the Swiss believers (other than their two leaders) did not read the English language Review probably avoided large injury to their feelings. The leading elder of the Swiss Sabbath keepers, Albert Vuilleumier, reported in the same issue of the Review that the work was growing steadily in Switzerland and further abroad. New contacts had recently been made in Italy and in France.97 It was a time of opportunity. Many church leaders firmly believed that Providence was opening doors in Europe. White had also noted that a fund of two thousand dollars was already available to fund the missionary venture. But the discussion thus far was just discussion—just James White and Andrews’s dream. There needed to be a formal action. For this reason, Butler argued, “the matter should properly come before our General Conference that they may decide whether it [Andrews’s mission] be advisable or not.”98 It made good sense that Andrews was the minister/evangelist most eminently suited for such a role. Right from the beginning of contact with the Swiss brethren, he had been the one to correspond with them concerning their inquiries. Given the ethical sensitivities surrounding the birth of the little Advent congregation in Neuchatel arising from misunderstanding over founder Michael Czechowski’s formal status, Andrews’s gentle and diplomatic temperament might seem better suited to nuanced and carefully crafted expression.99 Furthermore, the situation in Neuchatel had become financially complicated, with disputes arising over the ownership of their meeting place, and Andrews was familiar with these details. Both Andrews and White had become involved as agents for the sale of their high-quality Swiss watches in an effort to assist the believers through their financial difficulties, although these efforts had failed.100 Another plus was that Andrews had bonded well with James Erzberger, the Swiss German pastor, and purportedly had a strong competence in reading both French and German, even if his speaking of the languages was limited. But would the church send Andrews? Andrews had held off telling his uncle Edward about the possibility of

his going to Europe until late November 1873, when he finally mentioned that there had been “for some months past some talk of sending me to Switzerland for a few years. I have considered it as only talk which might end in nothing,” he continued, and explained that he had thought “I would say nothing of it till I was more certain that something would come of it.” Apparently, there had been at least some further discussion at the General Conference session, for he felt able to inform his uncle at the end of November that “it now seems probable that I may go, though it is not yet wholly determined.”101 Andrews explained that if he should go he would take the children with him. In fact, Andrews’s mission assignment would not be finally determined for another nine months, and in the interim he found himself not quite sure what to do or think, and he experienced a further spiritual crisis of self-doubt. Selling his house in Rochester at this time was also a major impediment to any specific planning for his future. The economic depression had slowed the housing market severely. But if he was not to go to Europe, what was to be his work? Had the fallout from the conflicts with White so damaged him that there was no further place for him in the cause? Such thoughts appear to have occasionally troubled him.

1. JW to Ira Abbey, May 12, 1873, EGWE-GC. 2. “The Conference,” RH, Mar. 3, 1873, 116. 3. Ibid. 4. GIB to JW, Dec. 26, 1873; JNA to JW, Jan. 7, 1873 [1874], CAR. This important January letter from Andrews to White is dated in the original as Jan. 7, 1873. Its content, however, clearly reflects discussions in a Butler letter of December 26, 1873, and alludes to the movements of both White and Andrews in late 1873. It appears that Andrews may have inadvertently inscribed 1873 as a habit from the previous year. It should be dated 1874. 5. “Publications in Other Languages,” RH, Nov. 12, 1872, 173. Commitments had been made on short notice to run further evangelistic meetings in Oneida to meet an apparent good opportunity, and Littlejohn had been assigned by group consensus to Andrews as an assistant. White later complained that, consequently, he “had suffered greatly for want of Littlejohn’s help.” The decision does not appear to have been Andrews’s decision.

6. Ibid. Andrews, offended by such allegations, had earlier protested these misperceptions in his December 27, 1871, letter to Ellen White. 7. Ibid. 8. “Adelia P. Van Horn,” RH, Nov. 12, 1872, 176. At the annual Review and Herald Publishing Association board meeting in June 1870, for example, White had obliquely criticized his associates for this episode by saying “it would not help the friends of the cause generally for us to point out the causes of failure” during 1868, “while it might injure the feelings of those who were in the fault [Andrews, Smith, and Aldrich], should we do it.” He said he would “leave it in the past,” but, of course, by talking about it he had already dredged up the alleged failures again. “The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association,” RH, June 14, 1870, 205. 9. See, for example, “The Future,” RH, Jan. 10, 1871, 32; “The Conference,” RH, Feb. 14, 1871, 68; “Camp-Meetings,” RH, Mar. 21, 1871, 112; “Western Camp-Meetings,” RH, May 2, 1871, 160. 10. “Denominational School,” RH, Aug. 6, 1872, 61. 11. EGW, Testimony, no. 21 (Special), 1872, 110, CAR. 12. EGW to JW, Sept. 2, 1871, EGWE-GC. 13. “What We See in the Review,” RH, Nov. 5, 1872, 164. 14. “California,” RH, Mar. 4, 1873, 94. 15. The “no conversation” notices were put up on January 24. The diary contains expressions such as, “Not scolded much [today].” (Jan 31); “Haven’t been reproved by Bro. White but twice. God knows.” (Feb. 7); “Seemed to be much tried with me today. Accused me of ‘yelping’ when I spoke to Bro. Miller.” (Feb. 8); “Bro. White seems cheerful. . . . Hands off some today.” (Mar. 3), 1870, GWAD, CAR. 16. When he was in Colorado in summer 1873, his instruction to publishing house trustees about the role of his new vice president, Harmon Lindsay, was that he hoped to “hear from him as often as three times per week, and oftener if necessary.” At the same time, “I shall be glad to hear from editors, foremen and heads of other departments at any time, but the general business of the office must come to me though Brother Lindsay.” JW to Trustees, July 6, 1873, EGWE-GC. 17. “Avoiding Responsibility,” RH, Apr. 30, 1872, 156. 18. RH, Apr. 30, 1872, 160. The decision was difficult. “The matter caused us great perplexity.” 19. “Difficulties Considered,” RH, July 30, 1872, 53. 20. James White recounts the difficulties in “Denominational School,” RH, Aug. 6, 1872, 60. 21. “The SDA School,” RH, June 4, 1872, 196. 22. “Difficulties Considered,” RH, July 30, 1872, 53. 23. GIB to JW, Jan. 2, 1872; Aug. 22, 1872, CAR. “I have acted upon your suggestions,” is a common sentiment of the correspondence. 24. GIB to JW, Oct. 15, 1872, 20, CAR. 25. The short dress issue had been simmering again for some time since the establishment of the Dress Reform Association in March. “Dress Reform Convention,” RH, Mar. 5, 1872, 93. There was a strong sentiment for regimentation to achieve uniformity. 26. “A Special Request,” RH, Feb. 18, 1873, 80. 27. “Proceedings . . .,” RH, Mar. 11, 1873, 108. 28. Ibid.; “Anniversary Sermons for our Next Conference,” RH, Apr. 1, 1873, 128.

29. EGW, Diary, MS 5, Mar. 9, 1873, EGWE-GC. 30. EGW, Diary, MS 3, Mar. 14, 15, 16, 1873, EGWE-GC. 31. EGW, Diary, Mar. 17, 26, 1873, EGWE-GC 32. JNA, “Statement of Wrongs,” 1872, EGWE-GC. 33. EGW, Testimony, no. 21, 1872, 194. 34. Ibid. 35. EGW, Diary, MS 5, Mar. 19, 1873, EGWE-GC. 36. Ibid. It is not clear whether the offense Smith gave during the Aldrich problem might also still be unresolved. 37. EGW, Diary, Mar. 20, 1873, EGWE-GC 38. GWAD, Mar. 20, 1873, CAR. 39. EGW, Diary, MS 5, Mar. 21, 1873, EGWE-GC. 40. GWAD, Mar. 21. 1873, CAR. 41. EGW, Diary, Mar. 27–31, 1873, EGWE-GC; GWAD, Mar. 31, 1873, CAR. 42. EGW to Brother and Sister Stockton, Mar. 28, 1873, EGWE-GC. 43. GWAD, Mar. 30, 1873, CAR. 44. “Some sharp cutting words from Bro. White. Lord open my eyes. It is a fearful time,” observed Amadon after a thirteen-hour work day in early April. GWAD, Apr. 3, 1873, CAR. 45. Details here are drawn from GWAD, Apr. 20, 1873. CAR and EGW Diary Apr. 19–30, 1873. EGWE-GC. 46. EGW, Diary, May 3, 1873, EGWE-GC. See also May 4. 47. Amadon reported the same endeavor as “some plain talk at prayers this morning form Bro. W reflecting on me, as well as others.” GWAD, May 4, 1873, CAR. Kevin Burton, “Centralized for Protection: George I. Butler and His Philosophy of One-Person Leadership” (master’s thesis, Andrews University, 2015), 55, discusses these perplexities. 48. The Whites, who were absent from Battle Creek that day, were informed by letter. Harmon Lindsay to Bro. & Sister White, May 15, 1873, EGWE-GC. 49. GWAD, May 15, 1873, CAR. 50. EGW to US, May 14, 1873, EGWE-GC. 51. EGW, Diary, May 17, 1873, EGWE-GC. 52. EGW, Diary, May 13, 1873, EGWE-GC. Compare EGW, Diary, MS 7, May 23, 25, 26, 28, 29, 1873. EGWE-GC. 53. EGW, Diary, May 31, 1873. EGWE-GC. 54. EGW, Diary, June 2, 1873, EGWE-GC. 55. EGW, Diary, June 4, 1873, EGWE-GC. 56. Elaine Showalter, The Civil Wars of Julia Ward Howe (New York: Simon and Shuster, 2016), 10. 57. “Testimony of the Fathers.” RH, May 27, 1875, 188. See also RH, June 3, 1873, 196; RH, 10, 1873, 204. The first real reference to Smith’s missing name (without mentioning the name) came in a hard-hitting narrative from White’s perspective lamenting his ill health and deep discouragement occasioned by “those who should have stood more faithfully and closely with us during the period of our labors and care.” He complained that he had done his “last duty to them,” adding that “one

had resisted our efforts.” But he hoped that God would “bring them all out to the clear light” and that they might yet “stand together.” “The Permanency of the Cause,” RH, July 8, 1873, 29. 58. “Business Proceedings . . . ,” RH, Nov. 25, 1873, 190. “Michigan Conference of S. D. Adventists,” RH, Oct. 16, 1873, 110. At the next Michigan session, however, Smith was recommended by the conference for ordination. “Michigan Conference,” RH, 25, 1874, 79. 59. “Cause at Battle Creek,” RH, June 3, 1873, 196. The fact that public discussion even ventured to use the word “permanency” is an indication of the degree of risk the conflict carried in regard to its durability and stability. 60. Waggoner answered correspondents and seems to have coordinated the publishing of announcements and day-to-day matters. See, for example, “On Questions,” RH, Aug. 19, 1873, 80. 61. “The Cause of Present Truth,” RH, June 21, 1873, 12, 13. 62. “The Patience of the Saints,” RH, July 15, 1873, 36. 63. “Duty Toward Those That Have the Rule,” RH, Sept. 16, 1873, 108. 64. Burton, “Centralized for Protection,” 59–62. 65. “Progress of the Cause,” RH, Aug. 26, 1873, 84. 66. “An Ernest Appeal,” RH, Sept. 2, 1873, 92; “The Laodicean Church,” RH, Sept. 16, 1873, 109; “Camp-Meeting Season,” RH, Oct. 21, 1873, 148. 67. “The Permanency of the Cause,” RH, July 22, 1873, 44. 68. “Testimony No 23, and Bro. White’s Address,” RH, Nov. 4, 1873, 164. 69. Butler, reflecting on the episode years later, recalled that Smith “made no complaint himself” but that “we all felt badly as to the condition of things and as President of the General Conference I confess my mind was greatly exercised over the situation.” GIB to CCC, Sept. 14, 1914, EGWEGC. 70. JNA to JW, Feb. 2, 1862, CAR. 71. Kevin Burton also argues this perspective in “Centralized for Protection.” This perspective disagrees with George Knight and others who suggest that the article primarily reflected Butler’s personal philosophy. As Burton points out, however, Butler himself later asserted that he drew up the statement to reflect the situation as he was experiencing it. GIB to CCC, Sept. 14, 1914, EGWEGC. Although it is a perspective colored by later disillusionment, Dudley Canright’s assessment may carry some weight in that it echoes the experience of Butler and others. “Whatever vote was asked by Elder White, we all voted it unanimously, I with the rest.” As he encountered it, “the will of Elder White carried everything.” Dudley Canright, Seventh-day Adventism Renounced (Chicago: Fleming H. Revell, 1889), 41. 72. EGW, Diary, MS 10, Sept. 13, 1873, EGWE-GC. The letter of confession is not extant. 73. JNA to Edward Pottle, Oct. 31, 1873, CAR. He had also complained of the pressure in letters to his uncle on August 11 and 26, 1873, CAR. 74. “The General Conference,” RH, Nov. 4, 1873, 164; EGW, Diary, MS 10, Oct. 23, 1873, EGWE-GC. The Whites were still debating between themselves whether they should attend or simply go directly to California. Ellen White was apprehensive about James’s erratic health and was more inclined to attend by herself. Even as late as November 1, the Whites were sending telegrams that only Ellen White would attend. James would not. See GWAD, Nov. 1, 1873, CAR. 75. “The General Conference,” RH, Nov. 4, 1873, 164. A lengthy meeting was held with Smith, the

General Conference Committee, and the “picked men” on Wednesday, November 5, and Amadon noted in his diary the next day that Smith was “not doing well.” GWAD, Nov. 4, 5, 1873, CAR. 76. “A Great Wrong,” RH, Nov. 11, 1873, 172. 77. “S.D.A. Publishing Association,” RH, Dec. 9, 1873, 207. Whether the delay was occasioned by a simple lack of time or to give more time for hurt feelings to mend is not explained. 78. “Business Proceedings . . . ,” RH, Nov. 25, 1873, 190. The vote was significant enough for George Amadon to report participating in it in his diary. “Voted in favor of the position on leadership.” GWAD, Nov. 17, 1873, CAR. 79. “Leadership,” RH, Nov. 18, 1873, 189, 190. The edition published in the Review does not contain the practical implications section. 80. Burton provides a detailed discussion of the theological principles and their implications. 81. “Meetings at Battle Creek . . . ,” RH, Dec. 2, 1873, 196. Burton, “Centralized for Protection,” 131. 82. “The General Conference,” RH, Nov. 25, 1873, 188. 83. “Unity of Action,” RH, Dec. 2, 1873, 196. 84. “Battle Creek and Wisconsin,” RH, Jan. 13, 1874, 38. “Many perplexing questions have been settled satisfactorily during the last few weeks at Battle Creek. We go out to labor with hope and courage.” 85. GIB to CCC, Sept. 25, 1914, CAR. 86. Ibid. Amadon’s diary for December 1873 gives evidence that White’s sharp reproofs in the publishing office had not lessened in frequency or severity. This occurred even as Amadon continued his thirteen- to fourteen-hour days and kept the presses running right through the Christmas season, with no break for Christmas Day or New Year’s Day. See entries for Dec. 7, 8, 9, 11, 25, 1873; Jan. 1, 1874, CAR. 87. EGW to JW, July 2, 1874, EGWE-GC. “We so long to see you elevated above the trials which have had such a depressing influence upon your life, to discourage and poison the happiness of your life. . . . You blame others for your state of mind. . . . It is your brooding over troubles, magnifying them and making them real, which has caused the sadness of your life.” She asserted that she “must be free to follow the leadings of the Spirit of God and go at His bidding,” and stated that she would not “allow feelings of guilt and distress to destroy my usefulness when I know that I have tried to do my duty. To the best of my knowledge in the fear of God.” Andrews would have understood that sentiment. 88. While there are undoubtedly stark differences between the two couples, there are, nevertheless, illuminating parallels in some of the marital tensions and tendency to control characteristic of both James and Julia’s husband, Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe. 89. JW to GIB, July 13, 1874, CAR. 90. “Leadership,” ST, June 4, 1874, 4; ST, July 9, 1874, 28. 91. WHL to EGW, Oct. 26, 1874, EGWE-GC. Littlejohn explained to Ellen White that he had observed at some conferences “the great majority present[,] instead of engaging devoutly in this work [of earnest prayer] were seeking simply to get some clue to the mind or wishes of Bro. W in order that they might carry them out to the fullest extent without stoping [sic] to discuss the soundness of his plans, or the estemation [sic] in which God might hold them.”

92. See Burton, “Centralized for Protection,” 142–146, for a fuller discussion of Littlejohn’s objections. 93. EGW to WHL, Nov. 4, 11, 1874; Dec. 24, 1874, EGWE-GC. 94. Burton, “Centralized for Protection,” 158–171. As George Knight points out, in the late 1880s, Butler found himself in deep trouble in trying to be too autocratic a leader in his efforts to save the church from the perceived errors of A. T. Jones and E. J. Waggoner. His autocratic leadership style at that time may have been as much a modeling of White’s style as an expression of his own temperament. Ellen White also cautioned Haskell about not modeling his leadership on her husband. Reading too much of Butler’s 1888 leadership style backward into the 1873 document overlooks the 1873 context. 95. “The General Conference,” RH, Nov. 4, 1873, 164. 96. “Progress of the Cause,” RH, Aug. 26, 1873, 84. 97. “Switzerland,” RH, Aug. 26, 1873, 86. 98. “The General Conference,” RH, Nov. 4, 1873, 164. 99. Seventh-day Adventist minister and former Catholic priest Michael B. Czechowski, frustrated at not receiving Adventist sponsorship and help in sending him to Europe, had gone under the auspices of a first-day Adventist organization. Once in Europe, he had continued to preach Seventhday Adventist teachings and had raised a Sabbath observing congregation. When his sponsors found out they disconnected with him, and the congregation learned only afterward about Seventh-day Adventists. 100. “Swiss Watches,” RH, Jan. 3, 1871, 24. He had received a case of 122 watches to sell, priced between fifteen dollars and thirty dollars each. 101. JNA to Edward Pottle, Nov. 26, 1873, CAR.

Chapter Seventeen

Missionary Candidate—or Not? riah Smith settled back into his editorial office in December 1873 with a new sense of optimism. The tempest at the recent General Conference session had blown itself out, and the following five intense

U

weeks of planning and reconstructing relationships had done much to set the church right side up again. Leadership was clearly energized by the new sense of harmony and the widening opportunities for mission on every hand. Smith saw a great “forward movement” about to happen. The Review and church leadership reverberated with the new energy and spirit. As the year ended, Smith reported seven exciting signs of progress and prosperity for the cause. A newly installed “top class” expensive press churned out printed matter at a rate never before seen. (There were now three steam presses at work.) A new Swedish language missionary journal was being shaped up, and plans were in hand for German and French versions as well. On top of that, a new English language magazine, The True Missionary, was to be published immediately. There was now “no embarrassment for want of means,” even though this state of affairs certainly would not last long. For now, the health institute was selfsufficient and expanding rapidly. The new educational enterprise was finally coming together, and funds were in hand (or at least promised) for that. Best of all, according to Smith, there was a “union of spirit” such as had never existed before.1 Acknowledging in a personal note to James White a month later that he had been a “fool and slow of heart to believe,” Smith felt he was “better prepared now to appreciate your position, and

labors, and assist you in the work, than ever before.”2 In somber contrast, Andrews left Battle Creek at the end of 1873 feeling exhausted and apprehensive yet grateful that the tense leadership struggles had been resolved. Although James White had again noted in the Review that “Bro. Andrews is expected to go to Europe soon,” things were not so simple. Delegates at the session, sensing the Whites’ reluctance to be precise on the issue, had been hesitant to make just such a decision, biding their time instead.3 Andrews felt rather beaten up. “There has never been a series of meetings at Battle Creek, which I have attended, which have been equal to these,” he told Review readers in an editorial in early January. He was glad for the “great faithfulness and plainness” of speech from the Whites, which had led him to feel “like consecrating my all to God in a far more perfect manner than ever before.” He was praying that God would “qualify” him for a part in the work. For now, however, he was returning “again to Massachusetts to labor in every way that the hand of God may indicate.” He knew “something of sorrow,” he observed obliquely, but his “courage” was good.4 At least he was still one of the Review editors. That much was clear. Andrews carried back to Lancaster a sober awareness that the confessions he felt he had been obliged to make to establish peace and the public humiliation he had endured had seriously damaged his credibility and trustworthiness as a minister and leader in the cause. They had also damaged his self-esteem. His mentors appeared to have significant doubts about his fitness for the work. Back in the Northeast, he continued to be a successful revivalist Advent preacher and he baptized numerous converts. He also took satisfaction in completing his magnum opus. The apprehensions about whether he was suited for the work in Switzerland, however, troubled him. And for all his protestations, his courage was not really that strong. In his first letter to James White after the conference, he reported on his activities in a depressed tone. He had had no success in selling his

Rochester house, had been unsuccessful in finding French language translators, and it was raining hard. He had been trying to write articles for the paper, and it had been “a great privilege” to see his children again. White had written to assign him more articles. “Just as far as possible I will faithfully fill out the programme assigned me in your circular,” he wrote. His “heart was encouraged to hope in God,” he said, and he concluded, “I believe that I can yet be of some use in His cause, and I will try with all my soul.”5 He was clearly feeling deeply hurt. Articles on the Sabbath, the sanctuary, and the immortality of the soul flowed from his scholarly pen during January. He explained to White, I am “using all the time I can get, besides visiting from house to house, in writing for the paper.” He also felt the need to engage with T. M. Preble, correcting misquotations of his History and exposing Preble’s poor scholarship.6 A favorable review of his History of the Sabbath by the Seventh Day Baptists in their Sabbath Recorder lightened the New Year a little. “Eld. Andrews has shown great patience, energy and perseverance as well as skill, learning and judgement . . . nor has he wanted candor or courage in the presentation of the facts,” wrote a reviewer in the Sabbath Recorder who was sure the book would “become a standard work.” The Recorder “earnestly” wished for it “a wide circulation.”7 News from James White of an apparently generous financial reimbursement for Andrews’s labors on the book also brightened the winter. “I thank you for what you have allowed me on the Sabbath History. It helps me wonderfully,” Andrews replied.8 Andrews’s surprise at the size of the gratuity seems to suggest that it depended fairly largely on White’s good will as president of the publishing association rather than on any established royalty advance formula. At the end of January, Ellen White sent a letter to Andrews containing reproof, but reproof for what we do not know. The letter is not now extant. Andrews said he was thankful for it, however, because it also contained “great encouragement.” The letter had apparently talked about “ground

which I have lost,” and he acknowledged in his reply that he would not disagree with her view of his case. “I do not feel that I am filling the place that is assigned me in the work of God as I ought to be able to fill it.”9 Andrews’s letter of reply offers helpful insight into his spiritual dilemma and his ability to reflect on his troubled experience at this difficult period of transition. His response highlights the conflicting demands he was expected to meet. The discipline of spiritual submission was not an easy one for him to master or even to understand at times. He did not like that it destroyed his sense of self-confidence. “The thing in which I have found myself weakened, and which it is not easy to rise above is that in a considerable number of things in which I supposed that I had light from God in answer to prayer I have found that I was mistaken and in fault. The humiliation of confessing this has not been the thing in which my trouble has consisted, but it has come in the effect that this has had upon me with reference to taking hold on God. Also in losing confidence in myself.” Andrews acknowledged that it was difficult for him to “adequately set forth these points,” and he suggested to Ellen White that he was “glad that you do not know them by experience.” He thought that “these things have not come in the case of others” as they had with him, and he was glad they had not. Being involved in such trouble “by my own errors” had been “deep and agonizing” and had “well-nigh destroyed my usefulness for some considerable time past.” He felt, however, that he was “in communion with God,” that he was “encouraged to take hold of God,” and that God was helping him out. He had thus begun to make initial preparations for the European venture. He alluded to Ellen White’s conversation with him in Battle Creek prior to her departure for California in which she had apparently indicated that he should “shape” his affairs for leaving the country. This important letter from Andrews also provides a key to understanding why the decision to send Andrews to Europe was so drawn out. “I understood it to be the judgment of the Conference,” he explained,

“that I should be proved for a time before sending me to Europe; or rather that I should show that I was again made strong in God before being sent on that work. I thought this alright.” But the doubt about him hurt, particularly given that he, as the others in the leadership quartet, was struggling to make sense of a very difficult set of relationships with a leader who had a very complex temperament. Yet he was “earnestly seeking God” and could “truly say” that God was helping him.10 He was also trying to sell his Rochester house because he wished to “have everything squared up,” by which he meant he wished to be able to repay all his debts before he left the country. “I must do this in order to go as a free man,” he concluded.

Taking leave—tentatively By late February, Andrews was making good progress in getting through his assigned writing tasks for James White and was “closing up” all his “matters” in Lancaster “just as fast as possible.” Wherever he might end up, it seems that he did not anticipate returning to the Northeast. He was thinking of a possible spring departure for Europe, though he was evidently still not sure if Europe was to be in his future. “I will be ready very shortly to go to Europe,” he wrote to James, “unless you think I should not go.”11 Doing what James thought to be the best thing seemed to be all-important. By mid-March, Andrews was on his way to Battle Creek and had stopped off in Rochester in order to make further efforts to sell his house. There was no progress on this front, and he was still in limbo about his next assignment. “I will strive hard to fill the place which I ought to fill,” he wrote submissively to James White. “I have been at work very closely, to close up all my matters in Lancaster so as to leave the country if thought best.” He hoped to sell his house and “then I will go or stay as shall be thought best.” Apparently, his children were still in Lancaster. The tone of his letters at this period suggest that the uncertainty surrounding his work

was wearing thin. At Battle Creek, he planned “to try to find with [the] brethren there, how to help the best way.”12 He was trying hard not to feel demoralized. Figuring that he should plan in hope of an eventual departure to Europe, Andrews had tentatively scheduled a short visit back to Waukon for himself and his children “to take leave” of his mother and other family members. Soon after his arrival at Battle Creek, however, he received word that Martha, his brother William’s wife, was near death, having given premature birth to three boys, all of whom had died at birth. Andrews left for Waukon in haste to see Martha before she might slip away. Fortunately, she survived.13 But his leave was spoiled further by extra writing projects that needed attention. While at Battle Creek on his way to Waukon, Andrews had learned that first-day Adventist minister Miles Grant out in California had made a sharp personal attack on Ellen White. Andrews and Waggoner were immediately enlisted to write up a defense. This they completed before Andrews left town.14 Now while Andrews was at Waukon, additional writing tasks were asked of him for a “trial volume”—a new publishing project that would provide an extended compendium of Adventist teaching and would also serve to promote the Review with a view to increase subscriptions. Andrews’s plans for what today would be called preembarkation leave evaporated. “I will wholly change my plan of action,” Andrews responded submissively to Ellen White, adding, “I have a good room here by myself and intend to give my time to that work [writing] the few days I am here.”15 There would be little time for enjoying the company of relatives, although his children enjoyed seeing their cousins and aunts and uncles.16 Andrews’s planning, however, was becoming increasingly up in the air, so to speak, and he sought for clarity. Should he be more assertive? “I will now be ready to start for Europe so [as] soon as I have got the matter selected and arranged for the trial volume and that written which I must write.” He had determined that if he could not sell his house,

he would mortgage it and then rent it. Guilt and apprehension still clouded his experience, however. “I regret my failures and mistakes very much. But with God’s help I will do my best to redeem the past,” he wrote, asking that he be included in Ellen White’s prayers and that if she had further counsel or reproof he would be thankful to receive it.17 Selling his Rochester house was an important issue for Andrews. If he went to Europe, he wanted to go as a “free man.” What that meant was that he would be able to go free of debt and financial obligations. His sense of integrity would not allow him to simply walk away from these. Many of his obligations arose from pledges he had made as a church leader to support the appeals for church development, the school enterprise, the health institute, publishing developments, and the many calls for the needy. Leaders in meetings where such calls were made were expected to set an example by their giving, and often the pressure to give was great. Sometimes it appears that he had borrowed from friends and supporters of his ministry in order to honor the pledges he had made. Andrews may also have felt the need to repay some of the money given on occasion as advances to support his ministry expenses. His conscience would not let him leave the country while still carrying these obligations.18 He needed a good price for his house, and it bothered him that it would not sell. The recession of 1873 had totally spoiled the housing market. Mortgaging and renting the property would solve part of his problem, but it would mean he would still have a large debt around his neck, even though it might be to a bank and would be backed up by the property. That wasn’t a fixed value. It was a second-best option. By April 7, Andrews was back in Battle Creek but was still not sure whether he would be going to Europe. He continued to work on substantial articles for the Review, and he used his time in Battle Creek to finish writing the materials for the subscriber’s trial volume. He had also gone to great lengths to provide a detailed accounting of the seven hundred dollars he had been entrusted with to purchase books for the History of the

Sabbath project. Book titles and receipts had been carefully filed “so that it can be seen that I have given the figures correctly.” The books were now in the Review office. In giving an account of himself to the Whites, Andrews noted that he had completed everything he could think of except selling his house. Andrews’s letters at this time suggest that the forty-two-year-old scholar-preacher had been somewhat cowed and was living under a vague cloud of suspicion, unsure of what else he could do to please his superiors. “If I could rehearse to you all my matters, I think you would see that I have made much effort to get things closed up as fully as I have. I have made an earnest effort at any rate.” If God would help him to dispose of the Rochester house, he would be “able to start for Europe at once. This is all that hinders me now.”19 He felt a strong need to talk in person with the Whites when they returned to Battle Creek, but they had now delayed their return. He therefore informed them that he was leaving for Rochester, and if successful in finding a buyer for his house, “I shall start for Europe at once if there is no light to the contrary.” But he was still not sure. “I can say truly,” he wrote, “that next to the blessing of God I desire that of you both. I cannot go unless I can feel that God order it.” Like George Butler, who did not want to take on the General Conference presidency unless God sent a specific direction through Ellen White in a vision like the one she had had about her husband’s position in leadership, Andrews also wanted a direct word from Ellen White in vision that God was sending him to Europe. He ended the letter with a postscript: “Do not suffer me to go to Europe unless you think it is on the whole best.” Who was going to give the final word determining whether Andrews should go? The General Conference or the Whites? Andrews desperately wanted to see the Whites again and noted in a postscript that he would return to Battle Creek to see them if they came.20 Andrews apparently did not get his much-desired direct word from Ellen White. May passed, and the Whites stayed in California, busy with many new

enterprises. It seemed that the Whites would not even come back east for the camp meeting season. James White informed Review readers that “local duties on the Pacific Coast compel us to decline the invitations of the General Conference Committee.”21 But for Andrews, things were now becoming difficult and embarrassing. At the end of May, the Seventh Day Baptist minister in London, William Jones, announced in the denomination’s Sabbath Recorder that Andrews was “about to join the mission in Switzerland, and from thence he will help forward the work in Central Europe.” Jones’s article was very complimentary about Adventists and their Sabbath message, and it was republished in the Review in June.22 The world was learning about Andrews’s mission, but the General Conference still could not decide. Part of the trouble behind the indecision concerning Andrews’s appointment may have related to James White’s own continuing health difficulties and the troubles this was causing in the White household. James White’s repeated strokes had exacerbated his bipolar mood swings, his irascibility, and his tendency to dominate church decision-making, including his wife’s undertakings and how she should go about her work of ministry. Correspondence between the couple during this period indicate a marriage in distress. One example of a particular point of disagreement flared up between them in late spring 1874. It concerned whether the couple should participate back east in the regular summer camp meetings. Ellen thought it necessary to go. James did not. Eventually, in an effort to resolve the disagreement, ease the tension between them, and enable both of them to pursue their strongly-held personal convictions of their ministries, Ellen White left California and embarked on the camp meeting circuit independently of her husband. She took for protective company, their twenty-year-old son, Willie. James did not like this at all but had to reconcile himself to the situation. When Ellen arrived at the camp meeting in Wisconsin she wrote to her husband: “I have no doubts in regard to my duty. I have had a spirit of

freedom.” She reported that the meetings were going well, she was well cared for, and that there was “no hard spirit to resist” her testimony. She encouraged James, “Do not allow your mind to dwell upon unpleasant things.” She said she felt sorry for him in his affliction and meant to help him where she could, “but don’t let the enemy make you think only of my deficiencies which are, you think, so apparent, for in trying to fix me over you may destroy my usefulness, my freedom, and bring me into a position of restraint, of embarrassment, that will unfit me for the work of God.”23 Was Ellen White experiencing James as Andrews had experienced him? Ten days later, after she had attended four camp meetings and had arrived at Battle Creek, she wrote James again, trying to encourage him to rise above his disheartening trials which “have had such a depressing influence upon your life, to discourage and poison the happiness of your life.” When he was depressed, she wrote, “No shadow can be darker than the one you cast.” Just as long as he kept blaming others for his trials, he would stay in his “state of turmoil and darkness.” When you “accuse me of causing the trials of your life,” she continued, “you deceive your own soul.” It was his “brooding” that was the trouble. John Andrews had felt these chill draughts as well. Ellen asserted to James, “I must be free from the censures you have felt free to express to me.”24 She was determined to work “apart” from him if at times she must. James White’s negative assessment of John Andrews during this low period of depression may have made it difficult for other church leaders to make a clear and reassuring decision to approve Andrews leaving for Europe. In mid-July, in a revealing letter, James White wrote to George Butler that he acknowledged that he was in a dark place both emotionally and spiritually in his relationships to his colleagues. His mood disorder had taken him to the bottom again. “My position and relation to the cause is a riddle to myself,” he wrote. He lamented that Butler was “compelled to fill the place God designed that I should occupy” as president, but he had no doubt that God would “restore” him to the position. Had not God told them

all the position was his? The trouble was, he asserted, that Satan had affected such men as “Andrews and Waggoner and others,” and they had created “the difficulties that would have ruined me.” “Satan has laid his plans adroitly, and has succeeded with Andrews” and his colleagues, and they had been “run into the dark,” which “brought crushing burdens on me, which in my weakness and folly I let crush me.” The mists of paranoia clouded his perception, and he still could not leave aside his grudges. Other people, he claimed, were the cause of his suffering, not his own temperament and leadership style. White’s letter reveals a soul in deep anguish, at home and alone. “I believe, Lord, help thou mine unbelief.” At his low times, James forgot the repeated times of affirmation of his leadership and fixated on why he was not better appreciated by his colleagues. “I do have a glimpse of a better day when Andrews, Waggoner, White and Smith shall stand in the light, and in the strength of God send forth from their warm, yet renewed brain a flood of light.” He was overwhelmed by the emotion of it all. “Even as I trace these lines,” he told Butler, his hand shook and “my sight is blinded with weeping.”25 James was in deep trouble. Meanwhile, by the end of April, Andrews had resolved that “in the absence of any light to the contrary,” he would start for Europe as soon as he had sold his house.26 It appears that he considered it might be necessary for him to just go without formal support from the church. Would he go like Michael Czechowski had gone? Unable to sell his house, he held back on departure, and July found him still in Rochester engaging through the Review once more with his nemesis, T. M. Preble, over Sabbath history issues.27 And still he waited. Early August found him attending the General Conference session held in conjunction with the Michigan camp meeting, and there he was able to visit again with the Whites.

Making the decision Announced at short notice, only two weeks prior to it being convened, the

combined Michigan camp meeting and the 1874 General Conference Session did not draw as many participants as hoped. Only 60 percent of the Michigan churches were able to send delegates. For the General Conference meetings, only thirteen delegates presented their credentials, so that, again, as the meetings started, an extra six delegates were designated from among general participants already on the ground and pressed into service. Among the last minute additions was farmer William P. Andrews, John Andrews’s younger brother from Iowa. Approximately thirteen hundred campers attended the eleven days of meetings. They heard James White preach six times and Andrews, Butler, and Ellen White five times each, with a lesser contribution from Stephen Haskell. James White, rising above his debilitating dark mood, had eventually decided to come east, and his health again enjoyed an upswing. He was still able to preach well. “Never, we believe, did he [White] make better points, or present the great truths of this message with more clearness and force,” observed Smith. Not surprisingly, White was elected again as General Conference president and president of the publishing association, and George Butler, feeling chastened, was happy to be released back to Iowa. Smith and Andrews were reelected as editors, along with James. Five days after the session commenced, in fact, on the very last evening session of the conference, delegates at last took formal action on the sending out of their first overseas missionary. Late in the evening, after delegates had taken up consideration of the interests of the Swiss mission, outgoing president Butler recommended that the Conference “take some action in the matter, especially in consideration that Eld. J. N. Andrews is about to take his departure to engage in the cause in Switzerland.” His implied question was, would the church really let Andrews go on his own? Butler, who had already seen his older sister Anne leave on an unsponsored mission to Europe, did not think it right that Andrews, also his relative, should be left to swing in the breeze of uncertainty any longer. This was, however, uncharted territory for the delegates in terms of how

best to proceed. There was uncertainty about what kind of action was actually needed. Perhaps some wondered if it was even still the best thing to do at the time. Why was there nothing from the visions? The historic, precedent-setting development was finally launched with a session resolution that instructed the executive committee to take action. “Resolved: That the General Conference feeling the same interest in the Swiss Mission that has been expressed in former sessions, instruct the Executive Committee to send Eld. J. N. Andrews to Switzerland as soon as practicable.”28 The church had crossed its Rubicon. Before the month was out, James White was writing expansively about the new sense of a worldwide mission and now also ambitiously proposed a candidate for mission service in England. “Have we a better man than J. N. Loughborough” for that assignment? asked White.29 That was too much for the church to chew on right then, but the thought lingered. The decision on Andrews was truly a landmark. Thousands of enabling actions by the church would eventually ensue as generations of future missionaries, inspired by the example of John Andrews, would follow in his footsteps. The tiny church he had joined and helped recover from disappointment in New England, he had faithfully helped to nurture as it spread across the Midwest. He believed it was now heeding the call of Providence to expand beyond its land of birth, and Andrews also strongly sensed that conviction and calling. But it would not be plain sailing. The long procrastination and indecision about Andrews would carry a heavy penalty that would later cost the church dearly. The delay in sending Andrews allowed an economic situation to develop which led to decisions being taken by the leading Sabbath keepers in Switzerland that Andrews was unable to reverse once he finally arrived in the field. On his arrival he discovered that he had come too late. Could an earlier arrival have provided time for appropriate pastoral counsel and spiritual care that would have averted a financial problem he faced right at the outset? The business decision made by key families in Neuchatel just days before his

arrival deprived his mission of important financial resources and personnel.30 The unfortunate delay helped set him up with intractable problems and outcomes. But at the time of his departure, this was the unknown future. Andrews felt strongly that Providence had opened doors, and he was prepared to walk through them—even if they opened slowly. In the six weeks that followed the General Conference session, in a fever of activity and preparation, Andrews attended the New England camp meeting at South Lancaster in late August and the Maine camp meeting in Skowhegan in early September, with Butler and Ellen White. John Andrews was helping with the preaching at the meetings because James White was detained at Battle Creek “to look after a hundred and one matters which have been managed poorly at our institutions in my absence.”31 At the conclusion of camp meeting, the group traveled to Boston en route to the New York camp meeting at Kirkville. In Boston, at a Tuesday evening prayer meeting, Andrews had a personal conversation with Ellen White, who feared it might be their last ever, and she did not want to think about it. Ever the faithful defender of Ellen White, late that night, Andrews wrote out for her a two-page personal testimony for publication responding to Miles Grant’s criticisms. The document assured the reader that Ellen White had not personally been involved in fanaticism in Maine in the early days of her ministry, as Grant had alleged.32 Early the next morning, Andrews left the document and departed. Ellen White’s stoical observation to her husband indicated more depth of affection for Andrews than perhaps she cared to admit. She noted that “he left Brother Stratton’s before I was up in the morning. I had no opportunity to bid him good-by and I did not care to say good-by. We may never, never meet again.”33 Her fears were unfounded, but their next meeting, four years in the future, would nevertheless be shrouded in sadness. With the camp meetings behind him, John Andrews collected his children from South Lancaster and joined up with Adémar Vuilleumier, a

Swiss Sabbath keeper from Neuchatel in Switzerland who had been studying English at Battle Creek. Together on Tuesday afternoon, September 15, they boarded the Cunard steamship Atlas in New York bound for Liverpool and Europe.34 Butler’s farewell notice in the Review enthusiastically noted that the departure “of one of our leading men, as a missionary to the old world” was “an event . . . of great interest” in the progress of the cause, and he expected that it would “open the way for the progress of the work in all directions.” Andrews would be greatly missed, “especially at our large gatherings,” noted Butler as he sought the prayers of the brethren on his behalf. Reassuring his readers, Butler noted that at the recent camps, Andrews had had a “special freedom from the Lord,” and he had not heard him speak with such “clearness and freedom for years in the past.” In fact, on the last Sunday of camp meeting, Butler had heard Andrews preach to a huge public congregation on the subject of the Sabbath, and Andrews had excelled himself. It was clear to Butler that the Lord was “qualifying him [Andrews] for his work.” His affirmation appeared to be tailored to vague lingering ambiguities about the scholar. Butler rejoiced that God was “preparing his servant for the great work before him.” He wanted to make clear to any who doubted, the confidence the church placed in Andrews was justified.35 James White used Andrews’s departure as an occasion to call for more young men and women to attend the Battle Creek school for training, “for the world must be warned of its coming doom in an intelligent manner.” He noted that Elder Andrews had “nobly defended the truth from his very youth” and that as he departed for Europe, he left behind “the results of a quarter of a century of toil in the cause of present truth.” Applauding Andrews’s spirit of sacrifice, he observed that while he was taking sixteenyear-old Charlie and thirteen-year-old Mary, he was leaving “nearly half of his family behind in the silent grave.” He sought blessings on the family, with a wish that God would give them “the hearts of the people

and great success in their mission.”36 The eleven-day crossing to Liverpool in England was rough enough for the travelers to be sick all the second day and helpless the third. Andrews had been asked by the ship’s captain to preach for the Sunday service, however, and by that time he had found his stride again. Once they found their sea legs, Andrews reported that “they enjoyed the pitching of the sea.” The Atlas docked in Liverpool near midnight on Saturday, September 26. Despite the late hour, Andrews had to write his mother a short letter assuring her of their safe arrival and some details about the voyage. “I write first of all to you,” he wrote. It was a short note, he told her, for there were many others he had to inform before he slept. He planned to go to London on Monday.37 The note he sent to the Review apparently never did get to Battle Creek.38 Sunday in Liverpool enabled the family to attend a Baptist church to hear a leading Baptist preacher, Hugh Stowell Brown. Andrews clearly wanted to develop a sense of the religious world in England. He noted in his report for the Review that the chapel reminded him of Henry Ward Beecher’s Brooklyn, New York, church, suggesting that he was personally familiar with that religious scene as well.39 Andrews’s interest in hearing preachers beyond Adventism was an extension of his interest in reading authors beyond Adventism, and his visit to England on this occasion and on later occasions during the coming years enabled him to hear some of his favorite writers speak. During his first visit to London, he took the opportunity to hear the well-known, antiCatholic Irish author and preacher John Cumming at his Covent Garden church. Cumming had “a world-wide reputation as a preacher of the near advent of Christ.”40 Both Andrews and Ellen White had his books in their libraries. Andrews was impressed by this man of “remarkable ability,” who was able to attract many from the upper classes and the nobility. He figured that what made Cumming’s doctrine so attractive was his idea that

a premillennial Advent would usher in an age of unprecedented evangelism and not the end of all things. Andrews also made sure he heard the famous Baptist preacher Charles Spurgeon on this occasion, and he would do so again on later visits.41 He would listen appreciatively but also critically. When it came to promoting the matter of the seventh-day Sabbath, however, and finding allies for this cause, Andrews was prepared—as Harry Leonard has observed—to be quite fully ecumenical.42 He had responded warmly to the Seventh Day Baptist guest delegate, L. C. Rogers, at the Adventist General Conference session in Battle Creek just two months previously. Andrews had publicly affirmed the visiting delegate’s expression of “good feeling and unity” between the two groups and endorsed his intention to work for a “closer union of labor and love.”43 It is no surprise then to learn that Andrews had carefully planned in advance to link up in London with William Jones, the Seventh Day Baptist pastor, who cared for the famous Mill Yard church— the oldest seventh-day observing church anywhere, according to Andrews. Andrews saw Seventh Day Baptists not as religious competitors but as partners in a common cause, and he had become acquainted with William Jones at least through correspondence. It seems as if he had not personally met Jones previously. Jones would not have been in attendance at the church’s General Conference sessions when Andrews had attended as a delegate or when he had labored in the Seventh Day Baptist stronghold in Alfred Center, New York.44 Nevertheless, Jones and his wife hosted the Andrews family and their Swiss compatriot during their sixteen-day stopover on their way through England to Switzerland. Jones apparently found economical accommodations for them in a hotel near to the parsonage at the Mill Yard church, just to the Northwest of Central London. On later occasions, Andrews was to stay at the parsonage itself. The two American expatriate pastors bonded, forming a firm and lasting friendship. Andrews was anxious to learn about the historic Sabbath sites in

London and elsewhere. During the period 1600–1750, an extensive network of Sabbatarian congregations had established themselves in England and Wales, largely among Baptist believers, despite opposition to their dissenting movement from established religious authorities. Bryan Ball, in his comprehensive study of the movement, suggests that there had been over sixty such companies or churches, but most had since died out.45 Some Sabbatarian preachers had been imprisoned for their dissent, and some had been martyred for the Sabbath cause. Andrews provides only a very brief discussion of Sabbath keepers in England in chapter 26 of his History of the Sabbath, but he was aware of and cited Seventh Day Baptist histories. Whether he was aware that the radical antimonarchist political views of some of the martyred Sabbath keepers also provided an important part of the explanation for their deaths is not clear.46 Jones gave his visitors a four-day midweek walking tour of the important Sabbath sites in and around central London. Visiting marketplaces where Sabbath observers had given their lives for their faith moved Andrews deeply, as did the opportunity to retrace the path that one early Sabbath preacher had trod to imprisonment in the Newgate jail. He had studied this history for many years, and now to visit the places where the events took place helped to reaffirm his own commitment to the law of God and to faithfulness in duty. On Sabbath afternoon, Andrews preached at the Mill Yard church (its congregation was no more than a handful) and then united with the congregation in the celebration of Communion.47 Two months later, Jones would be published in the Review with a lengthy annotated travel guide to the Sabbath sites. His commentary gently corrected some of the information that Andrews had earlier provided in his narrative. The sites were “now invested with a new interest to us,” wrote Review editor Smith, and the kind reception Jones had given to “our missionary” had “endeared Bro. Jones to the Seventh-day Adventists of America.”48 Before departing from America, Andrews had done his homework

trying to ascertain what interests there might be in the Sabbath cause in Great Britain. He had collected names from friends and had also apparently combed the Review and Health Reformer subscription lists for the names of possible interests, and he planned to follow these up during his visit if he could. His visit to England would not be just a tourist stop along the way. Every moment was going to count toward mission. On arrival, therefore, and after confirming arrangements with Jones, Andrews sent out invitations to “all known friends” of the Sabbath in Ireland and Scotland to attend a Sabbath conference to be convened in Glasgow. This was truly a joint evangelistic effort on the part of the two missionaries. So warm were relationships between the two Sabbath-keeping denominations in their promotion of the Sabbath cause at this time that there was an agreement that they would avoid proselytism between them and would not evangelize in each other’s territory if there happened to already be a Sabbath keeping congregation established there.49 This was probably one of the contributing reasons why Seventh-day Adventists began their English mission in Southampton rather than in London. Andrews was delighted sometime later to hear that the Seventh Day Baptists were sending “one of their most efficient ministers” to care for and grow the little group in Glasgow.50 On Monday the pair traveled 120 miles or so west out to Tewksbury, a medieval market town in the picturesque Cotswold’s, to meet with a tiny company of Sabbath keepers in the nearby hamlet of Anton.51 Then they caught an overnight train, traveling on a third-class ticket (a small compartment with wooden benches) from Cheltenham to Glasgow (300 miles), where on Thursday, October 8, they met with six Sabbath keepers who at some expense had traveled in from Scotland and Ireland. The numbers were disappointing, but nevertheless the commitment to Sabbath was strong, and a covenant was established among the local residents in the group to continue meeting every Sabbath evening on a regular basis in Glasgow.52 In each place, Andrews enthused his listeners with reports on

the progress of the Sabbath cause in America as the two men shared their hopes for what they believed could be achieved for the Sabbath in Great Britain. Andrews later related that he experienced “painful disappointment” at the response he received from the other contacts he had attempted to make in England. One Methodist minister whom Andrews held high hopes for and who had been receiving the Review simply refused to return enquiries.53 The cool response was a harbinger of things to come. Although Andrews’s mission visit to England on this occasion was only two weeks, it was long enough to pose for him the complexities and ambiguities of mission finance. It also introduced him to the inadequacies of the church’s policies on mission finance. This was completely new territory for the church and its first missionary. Gaps were to be expected. For Andrews, they were costly. The general undergirding mission finance policy held that local fields should pay for mission. Self-funding and selfsustaining was the rule—a goal to be achieved as soon as possible. But how was this to work in new territories? England, as yet, had no believers. Who was to fund his postage, his follow-up with contacts, his travel to meet with Sabbath keepers, and his accommodations along the way? Conscientious to a fault about the use of church money and particularly funds designated as mission funds for “Europe,” Andrews found himself paying all his own expenses in this endeavor of chasing up evangelistic interests. Then there were larger questions. If the General Conference was going to pay at least for his own direct, port-to-port expense, who should pay for his children’s travel to their mission assignment? And who should pay for the transport of his library? Again, the new missionary found himself having to fund these expenses from his own capital reserves. The questions about defining and locating financial responsibility always seemed to have gray areas, as now when he was in England and when he returned later, and then when he was elsewhere within Switzerland and beyond. Did such expenses rightly belong to the brethren in Switzerland, to his sponsors in

Battle Creek, or to himself? Andrews did not go to his mission assignment with any assurance of a basic salary—even for his continuing role as one of the editors of the Review. It seems that he would have to rely entirely for personal support on contributions from the Swiss believers for his stipend or salary. That could prove risky. Arrangements about finance across a range of activities would eventually give deep trouble, embarrass the new missionary, lead to misunderstanding, drive him into circumstances of poverty, and consequently almost completely deplete his private resources. But at this stage he had personal resources to call on, and whatever lasting contribution to the Sabbath cause in England that Andrews was able to make, his own generosity funded the effort. Returning to London on Friday, Andrews spent another Sabbath at the Mill Yard church, where the congregation heard the author of the acclaimed History of the Sabbath speak to them twice. On October 12, the following Monday, the family set out to Neuchatel via Dieppe and Paris, where they would make their way to their intended new home on the shores of Lake Neuchatel, nestled among the Swiss mountains. Andrews left behind in London a friend and colleague with whom he would again find lodging on future visits. He would stay with Jones again for several days at the end of 1875, when he visited London to purchase printing equipment and meet new incoming missionaries. He would also spend considerable time with the Jones family when, on his arrival back from the US in July 1879, he fell ill in their home after he had disembarked from his second transatlantic crossing to the old world. Jones would help his American brother in facilitating extensive business contacts for purchasing the printing equipment, and Jones’s wife would provide intensive nursing care for the ailing traveler. In the other direction, Andrews would provide endorsements in the Review for Jones’s new Sabbath outreach publication, the quarterly Sabbath Memorial, for which Andrews occasionally wrote articles. Jones’s paper was occasionally cited in the Review, and Andrews sought supporting donations for it and encouraged Adventists to take out

subscriptions.54 He felt confident that there would be Sabbath keepers in America who would “esteem it a privilege to aid Bro. Jones in this work.”55 He believed that Adventists should gladly see the little Seventh Day Baptist churches in England strengthened. Later, when tensions developed in America between Adventists and Seventh Day Baptists because of evangelistic activities that overlapped in a particular territory, Andrews argued strenuously that “there should not be strife between us; for we are brethren.” The “kindly feeling” between the two bodies “should continue and grow deeper,” he stressed.56 As a token of their friendship, the two would gift each other with books. For example, ten weeks after Andrews arrived in Neuchatel, he received the gift of a newly republished classic biography on the Emperor Constantine by the fourth-century Eusebius of Caesaria. William Jones’s inscription to Andrews on the flyleaf read: “To the Rev. J. N. Andrews, Neuchatel, Switzerland from his Bro in Christ, William Mead Jones, Mill Yard, London, 15th Dec 1874.”57 The two men clearly enjoyed a mutual interest in church history. Another volume on Christian discipleship was also a gift, this time from one H. B. Vane, but passed on through Jones. Its flyleaf inscription reads: “Presented to Bro J. N. Andrews from H. B. Vane: Left in my care for the Rev J. N. Andrews on Sabbath 15th 1879. Wm Jones.” Whatever hopes Andrews had for the development of the Sabbath cause in England, he was not able to personally contribute to their fulfillment in any substantial way. As Harry Leonard observes in his careful review of Andrews’s role in the establishment of Adventism in Great Britain, Andrews could be considered as “the father of the English Mission.” He was the first Adventist worker to visit the country and to write of its challenges and opportunities. His role, however, was limited. During his nine-year mission to continental Europe, Andrews was able to spend only twenty-nine weeks in England, but for many of those weeks, notes Leonard ruefully, he was there “because he was too ill to leave.”58

Nevertheless, Andrews’s reports in the Review after his first visit and his enthusiastic support for the sending of additional missionaries helped the English mission to gain a foothold. He thought that James White’s suggestion of sending the experienced John Loughborough would be an “excellent choice,” although he argued that Loughborough would also need the help of a younger worker.59 As it eventuated, Loughborough was not to arrive in England until three years later, at the end of 1877. In the meantime, Andrews would find more than enough challenge on the continent to stretch his skills in ministry.

Across the channel When Andrews stepped off the channel ferry at Dieppe in France to make his way to Paris and then on to the picturesque medieval city of Neuchatel in the West of Switzerland, he was not the first preacher of Seventh-day Adventist teachings to arrive in Europe. Ten years earlier, in the summer of 1864, former Polish priest Michael Czechowski had found his way first to Italy and then into the French part of Switzerland. Working under the auspices of the first-day Advent movement, he nevertheless quietly taught seventh-day Sabbatarianism wherever he went. He had taken with him Anne Butler, elder sister to George Butler, as his secretary. In spite of opposition from the national churches, as a European national returning to the continent, this charismatic and engaging preacher attracted followers who were persuaded of his truths. By 1866, there were about six small companies of Sabbath keeping Adventists that had been established in villages and towns clustered around the northern shore of Lake Neuchatel, with a larger congregation planted in 1867 at Tramelan in the Jura Mountains. In 1868, with the support of his Swiss Sabbatarians, now numbering about fifty, Czechowski was able to establish a printing business in the village of Cornaux near the northern end of Lake Neuchatel, and from there he produced a weekly paper called L’Evangile Eternel. It ran for one hundred issues between June 1866 and December

1868, when it collapsed financially. As a number of scholars have observed, official Adventism has, at times, found it difficult to acknowledge the pioneering work of Czechowski because of the embarrassment and difficulty his ministry later caused for the church.60 Clearly, however, he was a pioneer, an irregular and independent, charismatic maverick missionary who transplanted Adventism to Europe. This well-educated former Polish priest exhibited outstanding courage and a willingness to endure hardship and sacrifice in order to share his convictions about the Sabbath and the Advent hope. This impressed his hearers, although, over time, they were less impressed with his management and organizational abilities. Good judgment on sensitive issues was not one of Czechowski’s strengths. The printing business went bankrupt when Czechowski was unable to repay borrowed funds, and the collapse of the enterprise caused painful losses to a number of the Sabbatarian families. Hard feelings developed and a sense of disillusionment grew when the ambiguity and duplicity of his relationship to his sponsors was discovered. About the time that the printing enterprise ran into trouble, Anne Butler died. According to Andrews, Anne had apparently been a stabilizing influence on Czechowski. She was buried in Tramelan. Matters became worse around this time when Czechowski’s first-day Adventist backers in America, learning of his Sabbatarian preaching, discontinued their sponsorship. Subsequently, in early 1869, Czechowski left Switzerland and abandoned his wife and children, presumably to the care of his converts. He went to eastern Europe, where he continued to try and establish Sabbath groups in Hungary and in Romania. Today, the Seventh-day Adventist church in Pitesti, Romania, traces its roots to the evangelism of this brave maverick missionary. In 1873, Czechowski had tried to sort out his financial debts through correspondence that he initiated with the General Conference. He requested that the General Conference assume responsibility for the publishing plant. He had come to feel that the Battle Creek leaders had

annexed his whole mission enterprise after Albert Vuilleumier of Tramelan had contacted them following his earlier departure. The General Conference would have helped pay the obligation on the indebted publishing business if Czechowski would have signed it over to the ownership of the Swiss brethren. He was unwilling to do so. Disagreement then turned to bitterness on the part of the now itinerant preacher, while disillusionment deepened on the part of his former Swiss converts as they became caught up in the painful financial debacle. To make matters more complicated, during the twelve months immediately prior to Andrews’s arrival, dark rumors began to circulate about Czechowski’s illicit relationship with his new secretary, Wilhelmina Schirmer. This not only further embarrassed the believers but scandalized their neighbors.61 As Andrews later, with great reluctance, explained to the readership of his Signes des Temps and the Review, the well-intentioned and gifted preacher had incurred debts that he could not repay, and his creditors assumed he had been sent by the Seventh-day Adventist Church. His behavior thus “brought disgrace on God’s work” and “caused the world to speak bitterly against SDA’s.”62 The towns and villages that would become the focal points for Andrews’s ministry during his first eighteen months in Switzerland were scattered within a radius of approximately twenty-five miles of Neuchatel. The city itself had a population of approximately fifteen thousand, who were mostly French speaking. What interested Andrews about the beautiful lakeside city not far from France was its role in the sixteenth century Reformation. It had been the location where the fiery French preacher William Farel had preached Luther’s message of justification by faith in the open air. After a break with Jean Calvin, Farel had retired to Neuchatel and died there. A large statue in the city commemorated his life and work. Roads and train tracks wound their way steeply out of Neuchatel and up through the folds and along the ridges of the foothills of the Jura Mountain

range into the wild and hilly country to the North. At an elevation of three thousand feet, these hills were not as mountainous as those in the South of Switzerland. The soil in this region was not well suited to farming. Beginning in the 1600s, farmers had been persuaded to make a shift to watchmaking, and by the time of Andrews’s arrival in the 1870s, towns such as Locle and Le Chaux-de-Fonds, where a number of his church members lived and worked, had become the heartland of the celebrated Swiss watchmaking industry. Today, Le Chaux-de-Fonds is still considered the world capital of watchmaking. It was among these artisans and craftsmen that Czechowski had found a hearing, and the cottageindustry nature of their work made it somewhat easier for them to observe the seventh day as their Sabbath. Whether Andrews fully realized beforehand that he was arriving into the midst of a mini hornet’s nest is not clear, but he soon learned. He may have been prepped a little by the correspondence with Czechowski twelve months previously. But he was clearly not prepared for the discovery as to how far relationships among the brethren in Switzerland had soured and how much their spiritual ardor had cooled. He would eventually face huge pastoral challenges that would cause him deep emotional pain. But this was still unknown and lay before him as he overnighted on October 14 in Paris at the Hotel de Belgique, situated conveniently between the Paris Saint-Lazare railway station and the famous hilltop church of Mont Martre. The next afternoon, the family caught the train for the twenty-hour trip to Neuchatel.63

1. “Unmistakable Indications,” RH, Dec. 30, 1873, 21; “Our Publications,” RH, Mar. 17, 1874, 112. 2. US to JW, Jan. 27, 1874, EGWE-GC. 3. “The Cause at Battle Creek,” RH, Dec. 30, 1874, 20. 4. “Visit at Battle Creek,” RH, Jan. 6, 1874, 28. 5. JNA to JW, Jan. 7, 1874, EGWE-GC. 6. “Elder Preble on the Thirteenth Chapter of the Sabbath History,” RH, Jan. 6, 1874, 28; “The

History of the Sabbath, Chapter 15—How Impeached.” RH, Feb. 10, 1874, 68. 7. “History of the Sabbath,” RH, Jan. 27, 1874, citing the Sabbath Recorder, Dec. 3, 1873. 8. JNA to JW, Jan. 13, 1874, EGWE-GC. 9. JNA to EGW, Feb. 6, 1874, EGWE-GC. 10. Ibid. 11. JNA to ELP, Feb. 11, 1874, CAR; JNA to JW, Feb. 24, 1874, EGWE-GC. 12. JNA to JW, Mar. 12, 1874, EGWE-GC. 13. JNA to ELP, Mar. 16, 1874, CAR. 14. The response was published as a four-page “Extra” for the Review on April 14, 1874. It contained historical narratives, testimonials, and closely reasoned arguments replying to Grant. 15. JNA to EGW, Mar. 23, 1874, EGWE-GC. 16. JNA to ELP, Mar. 16, 1874, CAR. 17. JNA to EGW, Mar. 23, 1874, EGWE-GC. 18. For example, in January 1874 he had visited Otis Nichols of Boston, whom he found in financial difficulty because some of Nichols’s investments in railway bonds had failed. “This time I succeeded in leaving with him a few dollars, and I mean as soon as possible to pay him all that they have ever given [me].” JNA to JW, Jan. 26, 1874, EGWE-GC. 19. JNA to JW and EGW, Apr. 21, 1874, EGWE-GC. 20. Ibid. 21. “The Camp-Meetings,” RH, May 26, 1874, 188. 22. “Seventh-Day Baptists and Seventh-Day Adventists,” RH, June 9, 1874, 205. 23. EGW to JW, June 21, 1874, EGWE-GC. The tensions and conflict in the Whites’ marriage during the mid-1870s resulted in a time of separation where each followed their own sense of duty in ministry. A helpful and sensitive discussion of the tensions from a contextualized psychological approach can be found in Demóstenes Neves Da Silva and Gerson Rodrigues, “The Conjugal Experience of James and Ellen White: Meanings Built by the Couple,” Andrews University Seminary Studies (AUSS) 54, no. 2 (2016): 259–298. 24. EGW to JW, July 2, 3, 1874, EGWE-GC. 25. JW to GIB, July 13, 1874, EGWE-GC. 26. JNA to JW and EGW, Apr. 21, 1874, EGWE-GC. 27. “An Apology,” RH, July 21, 1874, 47. 28. “Proceedings of the Thirteenth Annual Meeting . . . ,” RH, Aug. 18, 1874, 75. 29. “A World-wide Mission,” RH, Aug. 25, 1874, 76. 30. JNA to “The General Conference Committee,” June–July, 1875, EGWE-GC. This letter does not indicate what month it was written, but internal evidence suggests a midyear period after May (a budget item for the month of May is reported) and before the yet undeclared date for the next General Conference session, which eventually convened in August. 31. “Note,” RH, Sept. 9, 1874, 94. The explanation of White’s absence is explained in a thinskinned retaliatory reply in the Review to Butler. White felt he had been criticized by Butler for not attending, and his reply was a direct rebuke to Butler and other brethren who had encouraged him to attend the camps. “I must, in these matters, be allowed to follow my own judgment, illuminated, I humbly hope, by the Spirit of God.”

32. JNA, “Testimony of Bro. Andrews,” DF 719, Sept. 1874, EGWE-GC. 33. EGW to JW, Sept. 10, 1874, EGWE-GC. 34. “Our Embarkation,” RH, Sept. 22, 1874, 112. 35. “Missionary to Europe,” RH, Sept. 15, 1874, 100. 36. “The Cause of Present Truth,” Sept. 15, 1874, 100. 37. JNA to “My Very Dear Mother,” Sept. 26, 1874, CAR. 38. Two months later, Andrews, anxious to cover his tracks, assured his readers that he had indeed sent prompt notice of his arrival to the Review but that it had gone astray. RH, Nov. 24, 1874, 172. 39. “Report From London,” RH, Oct. 27, 1874, 142. 40. “Dr. Cumming of London,” RH, Dec. 22, 1874, 205. Cumming was one of the most virulently anti-Catholic preachers of his day and adopted a premillennial historicist eschatology, teaching at one time that the Advent would occur sometime between 1848 and 1867. Andrews was not overly impressed with the strength of Cumming’s voice but admired its “remarkable sweetness.” 41. See Andrews’s later report on Spurgeon’s sermon in Sabbath Memorial, Apr. 1878, 73–75; JNA to ELP, Jan. 15, 1878, CAR. 42. Harry Leonard provides a helpful discussion of Andrews’s relationships with the Seventh Day Baptists in his study, “Andrews and the Mission to Britain,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 232, 233. 43. “Proceedings . . . ,” RH, Aug. 25, 1874, 75. See also “The Seventh-Day Baptists,” RH, Oct. 27, 1874, 141, for the Seventh Day Baptist account. 44. Jones had previously been a first-day Baptist missionary in Haiti before he converted to seventh-day Sabbatarianism and subsequently linked up with the Seventh Day Baptists. He had married the daughter of the previous pastor of the Mill Yard church, W. H. Black, and had taken up his London pastorate about one year prior to Andrews’s visit. Details concerning the London visit are drawn from Andrews’s accounts in the Review. “Report From London,” RH, Oct. 27, 1874, 142; “The Sabbath Cause in Great Britain,” RH, Nov. 3, 1874, 74. 45. Bryan Ball, Seventh-day Men: Sabbatarians and Sabbatarianism in England and Wales, 1600– 1800 (Cambridge: James Clarke and Company, 2009), 2. 46. Ball provides a helpful account of the history of the Mill Yard church and also of the “Fifth Monarchy” political views that men such as John James became involved with. The execution of James, for example, whose head was severed and placed on a fence outside his church, was because of his political stance as a Fifth Monarchy man—a movement that advocated the violent overthrow of the government in anticipation of the fulfillment of the prophecies of Daniel. Ibid., 77–101. 47. “Report from London,” RH, Oct. 27, 1874, 142. 48. “Interesting Letter from London,” RH, Dec. 22, 1874, 206; “Sabbatarian Landmarks in London,” RH, Jan. 1, 1875, 5. 49. Adventist leadership wished to “so far as practicable cooperate with them in leading men to the conscientious observance of the commandments of God.” “Business Proceedings . . .” RH, Nov. 25, 1873, 190. Seventh-day Adventists agreed to avoid laboring where Seventh Day Baptist churches were already established. See “The Two Bodies,” RH, Oct. 15, 1876, 116. 50. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 15, 1875, 124. Four paragraphs of Andrews’s report in the Review about his warm relationships with the Seventh Day Baptists were republished the next

week, clipped for publication in The Sabbath Recorder, Apr. 22, 1875. 51. Either the Review or Andrews misspelled the place name as “Notton.” “The Sabbath Cause in Great Britain,” RH, Nov. 3, 1874, 74. 52. “Sabbath-keepers in Scotland,” RH, Jan 1, 1875, 6. The report was drawn from a letter from one of the Scottish sisters to an Adventist Vigilant Society member in New England. Andrews was happy that a Seventh Day Baptist pastor was being assigned. 53. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 15, 1875, 124. 54. See, for example, Andrews report on a Spurgeon sermon in Sabbath Memorial, Apr. 1878, 73– 75. See also “The Work of Elder Wm. M. Jones,” RH, Dec. 15, 1875, 197. 55. “The Sabbath in England,” RH, Dec. 31, 1874, 92. 56. “Seventeenth Annual Session of the General Conference of S. D. Adventists,” RH, Oct. 24, 1878, 129; Leonard, J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, 237. 57. The book is still in the J. N. Andrews Library collection at Collonges. Eusebius of Caesarea, The Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine: From a.d. 306 to a.d. 337 (London: Samuel Bagster and Sons, 1845). The flyleaf also has the date of January 1, 1875. 58. Leonard, J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, 250. Leonard’s study provides thorough documentation of the development of the mission in England during Andrews’s years in Europe. 59. “Have we a better man than Loughborough?” asked White publicly in the Review. “A World Wide Mission,” RH, Aug. 25, 1874, 76. See also “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 15, 124, 125. 60. See, for example, Daniel Heinz, “The Development of Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Dynamic in Europe: Assessing the Contributions of Michael B. Czechowski, John N. Andrews and Ludwig R. Conradi,” in Parochialism, Pluralism, and Contextualization: Challenges to Adventist Mission in Europe (19th–21st Centuries), ed. David J. B. Trim and Daniel Heinz (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2010), 51–62. See also Bert Beach, “M. B. Czechowski—Trailblazer for the J. N. Andrews Central European Mission,” in Michael Belina Czechowski: 1818–1876, ed. Rajmund Dabrowski (Warsaw: Znaki Csasu Publishing House, 1979), 406–451. G. I. Butler offered a cautiously positive assessment in the short-lived True Missionary, Mar. 1874, 21. “In spite of all these [his] defeats and discouragements, a good work was accomplished.” 61. Former converts who had been in touch with the preacher reported that Czechowski later married Schirmer (without the benefit of divorce from his first wife), to provide a protective relationship for the arrival of their first child. A second child arrived later. Adémar Vuilleumier to G. I Butler, Oct. 20, 1873. Hard evidence is sketchy, but the circulating reports were credible enough to create a hostile environment in the communities to which Andrews came to minister. Beach, “M. B. Czechowski,” 440–442. 62. JNA to “Brethren,” Aug. 29, 1875. See also Les Signes des Temps, Jan. 1880, 340. 63. “The Sabbath in Great Britain,” RH, Nov. 3, 1874, 74.

Chapter Eighteen

A Rookie Missionary in Neuchatel: 1874–1876

W

aiting to greet the American missionary family at the Neuchatel

railway station late Thursday morning on October 16, 1874, were two members of the family of Andrews’s traveling partner, Adémar Vuilleumier. Thirty-nine-year-old watchmaker, Albert Vuilleumier, was the respected senior elder of the church at Tramelon and uncle to Adémar. The other greeter was Lukas, Albert’s younger brother and Adémar’s father. Adémar had been away two years, having left Neuchatel in June 1872, to study English and to learn the ways and means of tent evangelism in America.1 The brothers would play significant roles as Andrews joined their community. The new arrivals were taken to the large four-story home jointly occupied by the Vuilleumier brothers on an inner-city block close to one of the markets where William Farel had preached. Andrews and his two children occupied a set of rooms on the upper floors, and initially, at least, they shared in the family meals. Whether the family owned the whole building or just apartments within it is not clear, but they were all soon to move to another location. On their first Sabbath in Switzerland, the church members who assembled in the Vuilleumier home for worship were few in number. Having to speak publicly through a translator for the first time, Andrews quickly found himself adopting the narrative mode rather than his usual didactic doctrinal and expository mode. Stories work better with

translators whose grasp of English is still developing. His talk related the history of the Advent movement, with a focus on the work of Joseph Bates and James and Ellen White. The following Thursday was the thirtieth anniversary of the Great Disappointment of 1844, which drew from Andrews—in his upper room apartment—reflections on his life-changing experience when, as a teenager in a farmhouse in far-off Maine, he had waited expectantly for the return of Jesus. He wrote of the importance of the Adventist message, with its insights about the sanctuary, the Ten Commandments, and “the preparation we must make to stand in the Judgement.” His location now, however, as he looked out over the city, impressed on him the “immense magnitude and vast importance” of the work God had entrusted to the movement and the urgency with which the message needed to be given. “Our time to work is short,” he concluded. It was hard to believe that thirty years had already gone since “the memorable tenth day of the seventh month. Our time for labor will soon be past.”2 Urgency was paramount for Andrews. A strong sense of imminence defined the contours of his ministry as sharply as it did for James and Ellen White. But while James could steam ahead autocratically, establishing new journals on the West Coast of America on his own dime, and then shoulder them off to the local conference, as he was just then in the process of doing, in Switzerland it was different. In Switzerland, Andrews was to find that people moved more slowly and there were barriers to such rapid and seemingly high-handed risk-taking. His patience with the slowness was to stretch thin at times, and the request for more patience was to become a central petition in his prayer life. Two weeks later on Sunday, November 1, Andrews met with a more representative group of church members who came together in Neuchatel from companies in six different locations for a business meeting to discuss the way forward. Andrews provided a comprehensive report of the discussions in an editorial column, establishing a pattern of “editorial

correspondence” that he would faithfully keep up during the next twelve months or more. He understood the importance of keeping his American readers informed if he was going to rely on them for essential funding. In the day-long Sunday meeting, Andrews recounted again some of the history of the movement in America and the urgency and importance of the work. He suggested several plans of action he had given thought to. He then invited suggestions from the conference participants on “the best methods” they thought would be appropriate “by which we may reach the people of this country.” In what may have sounded a little heavy-handed, he noted that the American leaders had hopes for the cause in Europe and “expected the brethren here to manifest the spirit of labor and sacrifice to help themselves.” He urged them “not to disappoint these hopes by the response which their works should make.” Could he have been more diplomatic? The brethren expressed gratitude for the help sent from America and a willingness to cooperate. They agreed to meet again in a fortnight, twenty-six miles away up in the hills at Le Locle, to take more formal action. This was progress. It was a laborious meeting because Andrews had to work through an interpreter all day—communicating in both directions. But he affirmed that the meeting had encouraged him. Then as if he was reassuring himself and his readers and not perhaps noting that his inside voice was inadvertently revealing a hint of surprise, he added, “There are true-hearted brethren in Switzerland.”3 Was he meaning not all were truehearted? At the important follow-up meeting in Le Locle in mid-November, Andrews spoke three times on the three angels’ messages to a wider range of representatives from among the Swiss Sabbath keepers. On the following Sunday, he was able to put in place the first building blocks of an edifice for cooperation in mission. Attendees elected an oversight committee, with Albert Vuilleumier as chair and a teacher by the name of Jules Dietchy as secretary. According to the standard American conference plan, there would also be an executive committee of three. The organized

Swiss mission was in process of birth. In considering what should be their first mission priorities, delegates agreed on the pressing need for tract literature. Two thousand francs were pledged as capital for this task, with eighteen hundred being contributed immediately (5.1 francs equaled a dollar). They would first print tracts that had already been translated in America, while local workers would translate new, more contextually appropriate tracts. Churches would pay for such tracts they might use as work steadily progressed on translating more.4 What made Andrews’s initial reports to the Review so exciting for the church in America was the news that he had received “authentic information” from acquaintances in the vicinity of Neuchatel telling of other groups of Sabbath keepers in Russia. Even more encouraging than the news from Russia was his November 3 report, which told of intelligence received about yet another group of Sabbath keepers much closer. This group of about forty Sabbath keepers lived near Elberfeld in Prussia, about 250 miles north of Neuchatel. They had already been in contact with the Swiss believers and were requesting a visit at some early opportunity. This news was “received with joy” by James White and his colleagues in leadership, leading him to publicly affirm that “Bro. Andrews has the fullest sympathy of his brethren in America.”5 Were there still lingering doubts? While the initial published reports were in large measure glowing reports of progress and potential, they did not thereby omit reference to some of the problem issues that had arisen early and which had given Andrews considerable pain and distress. These problems involved the difficulty of operating effectively in a foreign language and the unavailability of much-hoped-for personnel to help in mission. These problems had serious implications for the development of a successful mission strategy. Behind these concerns was a problem that Andrews could not discuss openly in the Review. He found it necessary to communicate with the General Conference committee about it in a

confidential way. Coloring and shaping these early dilemmas was the serious culture shock that Andrews experienced, although he did not know to call it that. Andrews’s responses to his disorientation sharpened the problem of cultural differences in the practice of ministry and led to a general resistance to things American on the part of the Swiss. The problems soon merged into a complex and knotty tangle that caused Andrews to lose much sleep and suffer deep anguish during his first few weeks in Switzerland.

Language difficulties John Andrews had long had an interest in foreign languages. He was familiar enough with the biblical languages, such as Hebrew and Greek, and with Latin as to be able to cite them regularly in his scholarly work. Furthermore, his personal library was well stocked with reference tools for numerous languages, Latin histories, and theological titles, although many of the titles in his library appear to have had little or no use. As Pietro Copiz points out, however, in his perceptive analysis of Andrews’s linguistic skills, at least the “acquisition” of such volumes “discloses the orientation of the owner’s mind.”6 By the time he arrived in Switzerland, Andrews had a reasonable proficiency in reading French. “I have for years as I have had opportunity read French works with some degree of satisfaction as I have sought to gain information not otherwise to be found,” he informed Review readers in one of his earliest reports home.7 He had also enjoyed reading his New Testament in French. But reading French and speaking it or hearing it colloquially are quite different things, as Andrews learned, apparently to his surprise, soon after his arrival. His inability to be fluent in spoken French was a major disadvantage and a significant hindrance to his work. He found it unsettling to be dependent on translators when he spoke to his church groups. What was even more problematic was that he could not feel part of his community or talk to people easily on the street or tune into their social conversations to know

what they were talking about, and he certainly did not have the confidence nor the skill to give a formal public address or preach in French. This severely restricted his options for evangelism. Nevertheless, when he met someone in the neighborhood or in the city who could speak English, he was very ready to engage with them about his faith, health reform, or whatever grew out of the occasion. Such was the example he cited when he told Review readers that he had met an English-speaking Swiss passenger on a lake ferry who was carrying a copy of the Health Reformer. Andrews had a lengthy conversation about health reform.8 But he could not do this in French. As Andrews tried to explain to Review readers, he found conversational French very difficult, at least as it was spoken in his new locality. To his ear, syllables ran together and sounds blended and merged at a speed that left him stranded and feeling helpless and chagrined.9 Andrews was by now forty-five years of age and well past the optimum time for language learning. As those who have tried to learn a foreign language in their mature years know, the difficult challenge of training the ear to hear the nuances of sounds and then to shape mouth and tongue to replicate those same sounds can knock an immense hole in one’s self-esteem. In many ways, the mature adult experiences the pain of returning to childhood to learn how to talk in just the simplest of words and phrases. The brain simply refuses to cooperate. For an older person, the brain is not nearly so pliant and ready to absorb the new learning as it is for a child or younger person. Andrews experienced this reality with pain and embarrassment. What complicated the process was the difficulty of persuading his new brethren to speak slowly enough and clearly enough for him to follow them. He reported that they were, in fact, not very good conversationalists, and when they did speak it was in “a very low indistinct tone.”10 Nor were his hosts in Neuchatel well enough acquainted with the grammar of their own language to be able to give him helpful instruction. The emotional stress occasioned by this difficulty was acute, and he referred to “the pain”

frequently in his correspondence and Review reports.11 He figured, however, that there was no other way but to persevere. He felt it was “absolutely necessary” for him to achieve mastery. He must learn to speak in French and to be able to write competently if he was to succeed. The pressure was huge, and he reported that he “toiled early and late.”12 It was not “simply a painstaking labor but one of real pain.”13 He was not just trying to win sympathy, as some in America thought. There was a very real emotional cost. As one who had largely taught himself, he became convinced that the way to develop mastery was to focus on grammar, and if he could get a correct idea of the structure of the language, speaking it would flow more readily. Learning to speak French proficiently thus became a priority during his first year in Neuchatel, and he devoted enormous amounts of time to the effort. “I have gone through Otto’s grammar four times and have pretty thoroughly mastered all its teaching, yet I speak French with difficulty,” he reported in mid-1875.14 He had taken lessons with his children at the Roulet boarding school near the Neuchatel railway station. He had sought lessons where possible from some of his converts, and he attended the national church on Sunday to hear sermons in French, but it was slow progress and it frustrated him. His age worked against him. His friend, William Jones, had reported that before the end of 1874, Andrews had so sufficiently mastered spoken French that he preached his three sermons at Le Locle in French.15 This is clearly a misunderstanding on the part of Jones given what we know from other evidence that we have for his lack of proficiency. But perhaps his hearers extended very much grace in the light of his attempts. This was still the status sixteen months later, according to Daniel Bourdeau, who joined Andrews in January 1876. He thought “it would mar the work for him [Andrews] to undertake to talk the French in new fields, though he can do it to believers, who would make allowance for his errors.”16 Andrews was not willing to brave speaking evangelistically to a public audience, according to Jennie Ings, until three

years later, when he felt obliged to stand in for another expatriate preacher or face the collapse of a whole program.17 Mary and Charles picked up the language much more quickly than their father. Their youthfulness helped and they were able to take extended formal lessons with a church member in a nearby village. Andrews could not find a consistent teacher and struggled on. In an effort to create a total immersion environment for themselves, they resolved sometime early in 1875 not to use English in their home. Then on Christmas Eve in December 1876, with yet stronger resolve to hasten the desired absolute mastery, the family entered into a formally signed covenant with each other that they would not use English within the family until they had thoroughly mastered French, although they would also encourage exchanges in German, which they were also trying to learn by his time.18 As 1876 progressed and more inquiries came for materials in Italian, Andrews attempted to develop a reasonable level of reading skill in that language as well. Through dint of extreme discipline, by the middle of 1876, Andrews’s written skills were at a level that he could, with reasonable competence, correct mistakes in written French manuscript copy so that, with assistance, he could function as an editor. But even then it was slow, laborious work. And the fact that he had to spend so much time in developing this competence earned him armchair criticism from church leadership in America. From Andrews’s perspective, there seemed to be no other alternative. To some degree, suggests Copiz, in Adventist historiography, Andrews’s linguistic skills have achieved a “legendary” status. The reality was something considerably less though still admirable. Andrews eventually developed the ability to read Scripture in seven languages and to communicate in French “at an acceptable level,” both spoken and in correspondence, in private and in public.19 It seems, however, that he never developed competence enough for him to actually think formally in

French. Most, if not all, of his formal articles and editorials, it seems, were written in English and then translated. He was competent enough, by dint of hard work, to critique and edit the translations. We shall have occasion to revisit Andrews’s linguistic skills in the next chapter in considering the development of Les Signes des Temps, but for now it is important to explore why learning the French language became such a priority for Andrews. Andrews’s initial strategic approach to his mission in Europe involved reliance on national helpers who would give their full time to working with him, serving as evangelistic associates and as translators. When it came to this work, Andrews was apparently counting on the availability of the elder of the church, Albert Vuilleumier, and his younger relative, Adémar, together with the Swiss German Jacob Erzberger. Erzberger had returned to Switzerland twelve months previously. To Andrews’s dismay, this plan quickly fell apart. As he explained confidentially to members of the General Conference committee eight or nine months after his arrival in Neuchatel, he had arrived in Switzerland too late to prevent the leading Swiss Vuilleumier family from entering with other church members into a major industrial initiative to expand their watchmaking business. They had invested more than fifty thousand francs in a large three-story stone house and stable, with an attached vineyard of two acres, and with an additional borrowed ten thousand francs had turned an associated winery building into a watchmaking factory. They had no more than 30 percent of the needed capital from their own funds, and they used these for the deposit, borrowing funds from other church members to make up the difference for the purchase. This completely tied up church members’ assets—“nearly all the money in the hands of our brethren”—that Andrews had hoped to leverage for the undertaking of mission, publishing, and other evangelistic enterprises. The large undertaking absorbed the energy and the time of

Albert Vuilleumier and created financial stress for everyone around the Sabbath-keeping community, as the families struggled to make the new business venture a success. Andrews was sure that Albert Vuilleumier should have been devoting himself to ministry, not running a watch factory and overseeing a vineyard. Furthermore, Andrews felt familiar enough with the implications of the severe economic depression that had begun the previous year (what became the “Long Depression”) and the changing technology in watchmaking taking place in America to know that the new enterprise could not be made to work successfully. He told them that, in his opinion, their business decision was not a good one. He foresaw bankruptcy at the end of the road.20 Because agreements had been entered into but final papers had not been signed, Andrews tried to intervene. “I tried to get them out of it on the ground that they could not raise the money. . . . But I could not move them,” he later recounted.21 He had arrived in Switzerland just a few months too late. And the cost was great. Five years later, as predicted by Andrews, the watchmaking enterprise ended in bankruptcy. The result, reported Andrews, was that “the brother whose [ministerial] gift would have been so valuable to me as a helper in the cause of God has lost five years’ time and a large sum of money.”22 In the meantime, however, the abortive undertaking severely limited the ability of other church members to support the general mission work, thus obliging Andrews repeatedly to go cap in hand to the General Conference for funding, a “situation” that “has been in the highest degree painful to me,” he noted. Andrews’s lack of ability to develop an adequately selfsupported mission seriously dented his credibility with Battle Creek leaders, ready as ever to second-guess his decision-making. And there was a very high personal cost to Andrews for, rightly or wrongly, it led him to skimp on his own expenses in food and lodging in order to make ends meet, with dire consequences to his health. Andrews’s attempt to intervene in the Vuilleumier family’s business

plans so soon after his arrival in their midst and his efforts to persuade the Swiss Sabbath keepers to abandon their watchmaking business decision, created huge tensions and misunderstandings. These actions seriously crippled his influence with them for a long period afterward.23 Whether a different outcome would have been achieved if Andrews had taken time to establish a trusting and respected pastoral relationship with them before intervening is impossible to know. But it seems reasonable to assume that there may have been a greater chance that the fateful decision could have been successfully averted if he had been on the scene earlier. As it happened, relationships became very strained because Adémar, whom Andrews was reliant on for translation of his concerns to the visionary entrepreneurs, sided with his relatives, disagreed with Andrews publicly, and mistranslated him. “Adémar had no heart to help me and protested to my face that I was mistaken,” he observed to his colleagues in Battle Creek. He explained further, “I could not tell how he represented my words to these brethren but I soon found that I had given offense.” On later reflection, Andrews was inclined to explain that his inability to exercise much influence with the group was also because they had become somewhat jaded as a result of their previous difficult financial experiences with Czechowski and were thus suspicious of the counsel of foreigners. When he tried to portray the problem as a spiritual problem, the result of “the backslidden condition of the Sabbath-keepers,” he found that he had given even greater offense and that “no one took greater offense than Adémar,” his translator. This was a major misstep that was to be further complicated by other cultural insensitivities we will enlarge on below. In the meantime, another delicate personnel crisis confronted the newly arrived missionary in the person of James Erzberger. The Swiss-German Erzberger, who had, for a time, been mentored by Andrews at his home in Rochester, New York, in 1873, and who had then been ordained at a camp meeting in Massachusetts, had undertaken his visit to America sponsored by the Swiss Sabbath keepers. According to

Andrews, they “had expended considerable money” on his education. After his study, he had come back to labor among them and engage in evangelism. Andrews discovered, much to his chagrin, that the young preacher had fallen out with the Swiss Sabbath keepers, had become discouraged, left ministry, and had moved 126 kilometers east to Basel, on the German border. Andrews is discreet about the problem Erzberger had fallen into, but his case was “very unfortunate and very difficult to help.” As Andrews saw it, not only was the confidence of the brethren in him destroyed, but he had their ill will, and they felt very decided to let him entirely alone. Erzberger was as unyielding as the watchmakers, leading Andrews to observe that “the firmness of Europeans is not controlled by reason as often as I wish it was; so it is in many cases of nothing but obstinacy.”24 The new missionary began to reel from his culture shock. To his Review readers, Andrews attempted to explain the problem in more spiritual terms, although he would gladly have been “excused from speaking” of it at all, if he could. But he could not gloss over the situation. “Satan had gained advantage” over the brother and “he forgot his dependence on God,” which had caused him “to disregard the counsel of his brethren.” As a consequence, he had “sustained much loss himself, and has been a grief to his brethren.” Erzberger had come to see Andrews at the November 1 meeting at Neuchatel, and their meeting “was not without pain.”25 For the next “many weeks,” Andrews worked intensively with Erzberger, visiting Basel repeatedly in an effort to reclaim him for ministry. He had “wholly despaired of success,” but then eventually, at the turn of the year, “there came a great break.” Erzberger “took such action as the Spirit of God signally witnessed to and such as gave him the confidence and the affections of every one” back in the hills above Lake Neuchatel. Andrews, who had been greatly discouraged, felt that this was “a first special token” of God’s mercy, and a very great mercy it was.26 The turnaround came just in time, for developments in Germany were

demanding attention, and Andrews would very soon need a good Germanspeaking pastor-evangelist. Furthermore, Andrews desperately needed some indication of God’s blessing and signs of success to counter the frustration and deep discouragements he was experiencing in Neuchatel.

Plain speaking and culture shock If Andrews had been able to benefit from attending a mission institute prior to his departure from America, he perhaps would have avoided some of the hazards of cross-cultural communication and culture shock that confront new missionaries. Such sensitizing and training considered essential for missionaries today, however, were still one hundred years in the future. The University in Berrien Springs, Michigan, that now honors Andrews’s memory specializes in such training. But for Andrews in 1874, it was inevitable that this transplanted New Englander would be ensnared by at least some of the pitfalls new missionaries encounter when they leave their own culture to share the gospel in a new one. Andrews would have to learn the hard way—and he did. The first hazard grew out of Andrews’s assumption that because he counseled something as a desired course of action, such counsel would of course be accepted. He was from church headquarters, with the endorsement of the brethren, and had had long experience in the church. And that was how things happened in America. It did not happen that way in Switzerland. We have no extant contemporary records telling us how the Europeans themselves perceived these interactions with Andrews at the start of his mission service, but we do have two lengthy documents recording Andrews’s perception of how they felt and his insightful selfcritical reflections on how he felt and acted. The documents cite numerous quotations from his Swiss brethren and give insight into the deep frustration he experienced. The honeymoon phase of his entry into the new culture had been extremely short. The frustration stage would be long.27 The documents offer a valuable detailed account of Andrews’s baptism by

fire in Switzerland. “Here,” in Switzerland, Andrews confided in the first of the lengthy letters written for the committee in Battle Creek, his counsel would be “heard respectfully, but most likely without producing the slightest change. Very possibly it will be said that ‘we cannot think this is so,’ or ‘we are obliged to act as the custom is.’ ”28 Andrews acknowledged that he wanted to change things and to do so quickly. “I tried prudently, but faithfully to change or correct various things,” he reported, “but found it was like ploughing upon a rock. I grieved those that I tried to correct, but produced no change.” Faced with this resistance, Andrews unwittingly stepped even deeper into the quagmire of cross-cultural misunderstanding. He construed the resistance as evidence of “backsliding” and spiritual declension. He thought he understood their situation and that, to a large extent, it was “the natural result of the unfortunate things they have had to encounter” as the fallout from Czechowski’s misdeeds among them. He saw them as being in “a very low state as to the spirit of the work,” with “no burden upon their souls.” But it was still what in America was called “backsliding,” and this condition he knew called for a particular kind of medicine. Andrews thus drew upon the tried and true resources of his New England heritage of “plain speaking.” He found to his loss, however, that in this place “the work of reproof was quite unknown, and wholly misunderstood.” In fact, it gave offense. Writing to James and Ellen White three and a half years later and looking back on his experience, he observed, Europeans were “little acquainted with reproofs or anything of the kind.” Rather, “what I said by way of reproving faults was taken as though prompted by ill will and fault finding on my part.” No one “was in sympathy with my testimony,” he lamented. “It was plain that those who heard felt as though they had been personally ill-used.”29 What made the process worse for Andrews was that he was dependent upon Adémar Vuilleumier to translate these confrontational messages. His translator became uncomfortable, embarrassed, and took offense himself.

Relationships broke down with the young man, who was meant to serve as Andrews’s evangelistic assistant. After some effort on Andrews’s part, Adémar was persuaded to run a series of meetings in a village a few miles away. But he concealed the fact that he belonged to the “Sabbathists,” as the church members were called, and after three weeks, when the villagers eventually found out, they threatened that if he came back they would whip him. He did not go back. Although Andrews thought he was trying to be sympathetic in his advice to Adémar on how to be successful in ministry, he urged upon him the need to “be converted,” and if he could not “throw his whole soul into the work of God he should go back to watchmaking.” Andrews found that “the brethren have not been accustomed to this plain dealing.” He felt that he could “do nothing for him because he treats my advice as of no consequence.”30 As a result, Andrews reported in June 1875, “I had not influence to constrain them to act upon my counsel.” He felt “wholly unable to help them.” Although he suffered much emotional distress, he resolved that he would “in these things say but little more till God in his providence should give me greater influence.” As he noted later, he was coming to terms with the fact that in Europe, “custom and tradition are all-powerful,” even among Sabbath keepers. “The difficulties in the way of the work,” he observed, “cannot be fully realized in America.”31 He was not a little discouraged. He could not even “make them [the brethren] realize that they ought to help me learn French.” It was an exceedingly difficult start, and it was not until the middle of 1875 that Andrews felt he detected a softening of attitudes and a slow regaining of his credibility and influence.32 Andrews’s culture shock also complicated his life in other areas. Just ten days after his arrival, Andrews’s reports to the Review indicated the extent of his discombobulation. His conversation on the lake ferry with the English-speaking Swiss subscriber to the Health Reformer confirmed his sense that maintaining his strict health reform regime was going to be very difficult to achieve in Europe. Graham flour was hard to obtain. Bakers did

not know how to bake it. Stoves in the houses were not the kind you could use for such baking, the water was not safe, and the free use of table wine in Adventist homes was a problem that he could not come to terms with. Early exchanges over this particular issue deepened the difficulties, but he was hopeful, over time, things would change.33 “If these were Americans, I could with God’s blessing change their course of life very soon, but it is not thus with Europeans.”34 Some weeks later, around the beginning of 1875, the three families living together moved to the newly purchased premises. While only a few minutes out of the city in the suburb of La Coudre and situated only a fiveminute walk from the lake, the relocation nevertheless involved a major upheaval. Albert Vuilleumier described the place as “very pleasant, surrounded by fruit trees and a little vineyard.”35 But while they apparently had more room, much still stayed the same. “The odor of the stables and of the privy is overwhelming at times,” Andrews observed to the Whites sometime later. He seemed to perceive that what he said about “unhygienic habits and evil ways” was taken by his Swiss hearers as “due not to the force of the truth but to American prejudices.”36 But he could not help himself. He read local French newspapers but had not formed a high opinion of them.37 The feeling of being isolated from familiar events was also part of his disorientation. His reactionary criticizing of the culture in the Review did not help build good relationships. It is clear that Andrews developed a negative view of European society, with its domination by national or established churches and its general antinomianism. “The condition of Europe is deplorable,” he wrote, complaining of widespread drunkenness, among other things.38 Such an assessment was not much different from what he had written and what the Review regularly published about American society, all of which was seen simply as a sign of the end of time. Nevertheless, expressing such views about a host society when one was a guest in that society created unnecessary barriers and made it more difficult for him to gain a hearing.

Swiss nationals might be excused criticizing themselves, but Americans criticizing them did not go over well. He tried to assure himself and his readers that “our friends here are anxious to walk in the light of truth, and are desirous to know the best way in everything.” Of course, in his mind, his way was the best way. But not everyone was so anxious or so convinced of what the “best” was. It took many months for Andrews to move through the classic stages of culture shock, from frustration to adjustment to acceptance, although, some things, like the wine drinking, he was never able to accept. He soon became aware of his plight. “I have said such plain things on foolish and evil customs here as almost to sour my best friends.” He thought God would eventually open their eyes.39 But he, too, was in need of eyes being opened. Slowly, with the passage of time, he won back his ability to influence again, and his new family came to accept and trust him. Two years later in early 1877, when asked to write an article for the Health Reformer, Andrews was much more sensitive about criticizing his host country. What he had written about customs, he said, needed “to be guarded a little,” particularly about the people of Suisse. “I have no disposition to disparage Switzerland,” he explained. “God in his mercy has given me a field of labor in Europe. I accept it gratefully and mean to labor in it with diligence till the Master returns.”40 He had made an important transition. And in the meantime, he was glad for those friends in America who thought to send him newspapers so he could keep in touch with local American politics and world affairs. The adjustment process was made exceedingly painful for Andrews, it seems, because he came to Europe with a deep sense of personal inadequacy and anxiety. His correspondence is notable for the frequency with which he expresses anxiety about making mistakes. The circumstances of his being sent to Europe, with the long delay and indecision that preceded his coming, as well as the strung out process of his having to prove himself, corroded his self-confidence. This, and the

sense of having been accused of many mistakes arising from the tensions and public criticism by James White, caused him to be deeply anxious about being second-guessed by the brethren in America concerning his decision-making. Did Adémar Vuilleumier’s reticence to place full confidence in the American missionary also perhaps arise from his exposure to the humiliation of Andrews and the confessions he was obliged to make in order to bring about a reconciliation of the conflict with White and his colleagues over the leadership issue at the General Conference session in 1873? As a young, impressionable delegate, Vuilleumier had been a witness of these scenes. Frequently in Andrews’s correspondence, he returned to the theme of being fearful of making “mistakes.” He seems to have been intimidated by James White, perhaps with good reason. At this time, White could be almost cavalier about his penchant for being harsh.41 In mid-1875, as he pondered mission strategy, given the unexpected extreme limitations of finance and personnel, Andrews suggested his growing conviction that a magazine in French was going to be essential, but he was still apprehensive. “I hope that I have been able thus far to avoid extremes and shun bad mistakes,” he wrote in the Review.42 He knew that the brethren in America were “watching with prayerful interest” the progress of his work, and he felt it necessary to reassure them that he was “at work, as wisely as I know how, and to the full extent of my strength.”43 At the end of 1876, he expressed apprehension about not wanting to err. “I pray I may not be left to make bad mistakes in His [God’s] work,” he wrote to James White. “Have all patience with me that you can.”44 Two months later he acknowledged, “I have done wrong in this [allowing himself to get so run-down he caught pneumonia],” and he pled with White not to censure him too sharply. The letter breathes anxiety and apprehension over the use of mission money.45 Ten months later he confided to Lucinda Hall, “Perhaps it will appear that I have committed errors in my work here, but I have at least tried to do my utmost.”46 These

are just a few examples of many expressions of his anxiety and apprehension. John Andrews felt as if he was on trial and that the brethren were watching his every move. It is clear that he was fearful of being exposed in the Review again. Anxiety about embarrassing the Battle Creek leaders and the church by making mistakes, or by his poor judgment calls, clouded many of his days and gave him a large measure of uncertainty in his work. All he could say was that he was doing his very best. And with Andrews, his sense of duty would not allow him to do any less. He had certainly worked hard to reclaim Erzberger at the end of 1874. He had made no mistakes there.

Mission to Germany Andrews’s New Year’s Day report to the Review at the beginning of 1875 looked out on to a year of much challenge. He had hoped to focus totally on learning French, but “circumstances seem to compel a different course,” he noted. It seemed that Providence was indicating a journey to what was then Prussia might be necessary. The group of Sabbath keepers in Elberfeld, whom Erzberger had learned about from a wandering beggar in Basel, had responded to correspondence at just about the same time that Andrews arrived in Neuchatel. They were now calling “earnestly for help” and had extended an invitation to both Andrews and Erzberger to visit them.47 Andrews poured heart and soul into bringing about a reconciliation between Erzberger and the Swiss Sabbath keepers. By the end of January, at another general meeting of all the believers at Chaux-de-Fonds, he had “every fault corrected according to the instruction of the New Testament.” Fellowship among the men had been restored. Andrews felt good about this because it meant that Erzberger could accompany him to Germany “with the full approval of all the Sabbath-keepers in Switzerland and with the blessing of God.” They began their journey north early the next morning, Monday, February 1.48 Although the town was only 250 miles away, it took them three and a

half days to get there. Elberfeld was an industrial city of about seventy thousand people and the language was High German, no English or French. Andrews was exceedingly glad for his translator, who was comfortable in the language. Initial visits with the leadership were characterized by caution, suspicion, and wariness, but after a full first day of Sabbath worship together, barriers began to break down and a warm fellowship established when a large number of the forty-four baptized believers were able to attend. The following week was spent visiting members in their homes, and the prospects for Erzberger to stay on and continue laboring among the group looked good.49 Andrews intended to spend only two weeks with him, but as things developed, he felt that Providence had so shaped circumstances he remained for five weeks. They had taken care to follow local regulations, which required them to submit their passports to obtain permission to remain in the region and then also to obtain permission to speak to the Prussian people. Preaching without such permission would be a violation of the law—regulations, he noted, that seemed very unreasonable to an American.50 But he complied, and he kept Review readers informed on the exciting developments with regular lengthy letters to Uriah Smith, who considered them important enough to use them in his main editorial column in the Review. The group calling themselves getauft Christen-Gemeinde (baptized Christian Church) had been started some twenty-five years earlier under the leadership of J. H. Lindermann, a silk weaver. Many of his followers came from the ranks of other industrious fellow silk weavers who conducted their weaving as cottage industries and thus found it easier to become seventh-day Sabbath observers. They were not wealthy but comfortable. They believed in the Advent and had given up the use of tobacco. Many were strongly pacifist.51 They existed in small companies around the Wuppertal region, with some in Gladbach in the west and some across the border in the Netherlands.52 Adventist archivist Baldur Pfeiffer

reports that early records of the group indicate that there were also strong familial ties and social contacts among them, in addition to their common industry that tied them to the spiritual leadership of Lindermann.53 Andrews and Erzberger traveled to Gladbach to try and contact these groups and advertised their presence in the region as they went. In meeting with the groups, the issues they found they needed to address included such concerns as the proper time for Sabbath observance. They also addressed the matter of Systematic Benevolence and spiritual gifts, but these did not seem to be major obstacles.54 As Andrews reported matters to the General Conference committee later, however, there were unpleasant moments. At the time of Andrews’s visit, the aged patriarch, Lindemann, in Andrews’s view, demonstrated some “peculiarities” that seemed to suggest he was beginning to experience senility, a “second childhood.” Andrews’s leadership clearly posed a threat to the older man, who feared he was losing control of his community. This led Andrews to shape his discourses so as “to open his eyes to his faults.” “God helped me,” he reported, “and the old man was cut to the heart and several times with tears broke all down and humbled himself before all his brethren.”55 Plain speech seemed to be effective on this occasion, although not for long. Lindermann soon put up stronger resistance. Pfeiffer suggests that Andrews’s judgment of the aging leader may have been too quick, harsh, and shortsighted. It seems he was unaware that Lindermann had once before lost many of his flock to a rival leader and perhaps had reason to be defensive.56 If Andrews had not been so rushed, there may have been a better chance of a happier outcome for Lindermann, as Pfeiffer suggests.57 During the weeks spent in gospel labor in this part of Germany, Andrews was exposed to the difficulties of European evangelism firsthand and to a further dose of culture shock. The men labored long and hard, often speaking at least once a day and often two or three times, with much visiting in between and keeping up correspondence that arose from their advertising.58 Andrews did much of the speaking, with Erzberger

translating. This reestablished a warm rapport between the two men. Hiring halls for public meetings was very expensive, three times the cost compared to the United States. In the town of Hilden, near Dusseldorf, for example, the only place the men were able to secure a hall was on the second story of a hotel. It was only after Andrews arrived to speak that he discovered that the customary arrangements with this hall (as with many others) included the provision of jugs or glasses of beer for the guests attending the meeting. These came from a well-stocked table stretched right across the back of the hall. Matches were also provided for those who desired to smoke. The audience was comprised of well-dressed, respectable, and intelligent people who listened intently, their eyes never leaving the speaker, and they stood respectfully and motionless for the closing prayer. Andrews thought he had been able to preach on Adventist distinctives with great freedom, even if members of the audience smoked and had their glasses replenished all the way through his sermon. He defended the event in the Review, saying that a “poor hall was better than no hall.” The next night the meeting was held in a private home, and the guests stubbed out their cigarettes before they came inside.59 But finding halls at reasonable cost was a continuing problem. As a result of their extended public evangelistic endeavors in the area and their work among existing Sabbath keepers, Andrews and Erzberger were able to attract some of Lindermann’s followers and sufficient new converts to be able to establish a new church under Seventh-day Adventist auspices. After Andrews returned to Neuchatel, however, Lindermann began to feel dispossessed, as he saw the work “pass out of his hands,” as Andrews expressed it. He thus began to give Erzberger “much trouble” and “much pain.” Soon, members of the former church became alienated from each other.60 In the weeks that followed, Erzberger struggled to hold on to his new community but slowly managed to broaden and stabilize it. Back in Neuchatel, Andrews found himself writing lengthy “letters of counsel every few days” to help mentor Erzberger through the crisis.

Meanwhile, the young German preacher, enthused by Andrews’s modeling of evangelism, broadened out into new towns such as Vohwinkle and Solingen, encountering opposition from the national church but also finding new self-generated groups of Sabbath keepers, such as the company of eight in a town forty miles north of where he was working.61 Erzberger visited them during the summer and found them keeping Sabbath from sunset to sunset, believing in the Second Advent, believer’s baptism, and abstaining from tobacco. From them he also learned that there were even larger numbers of Sabbath keepers farther east in Prussia. This was fertile ground for church building, and Erzberger labored successfully to embrace these Sabbath-keeping believers from German pietistic backgrounds into his own growing community. James White’s observation on the news of these different groups of Sabbath keepers in Germany and in Russia was to notice that they all seemed to have emerged within the time of the 1844 movement, not centuries before and that there was prophetic significance to their emergence and discovery.62 Daniel Heinz has observed that the circumstances of the birth of Sabbatarian Adventism in Germany, arising independently, as it initially did under Lindermann, and then enlarged through the support of other sui-generis pietistic groups nurtured by Erzberger, has given “a certain autonomy in German Adventism” that still continues to this day.63 The initial congregation established by Andrews and Erzberger has endured through the years as the first organized Seventh-day Adventist church in Germany. When Andrews returned to Switzerland after five weeks of visiting and preaching, he felt that Erzberger had won sufficient confidence among his new congregation that they would be able to sustain his work financially, and they did.64 Even more encouraging was their willingness and their ability to meet all the expenses involved in getting the two preachers to Germany in the first place and then supporting them while they were there, even underwriting the journey out to Gladbach, on the border. The Germans would refund to the Swiss brethren all the money advanced to

Andrews to enable him to make the trip. This encouraged Andrews immensely.65 Andrews had to return to Germany for another three weeks to assist his young protégé through another minicrisis in March, the following year, but the Seventh-day Adventist church in Germany, with its fifty or so believers, was firmly and surely on its way. Andrews wished it could be just as encouraging in Switzerland, but the barriers to growth there still made him anxious.

Rethinking strategy for mission On his return to Neuchatel, Andrews absorbed himself in local evangelism and, of course, focused much of his time on learning French. He invested considerable time studying with a German Methodist lay minister and his wife and rejoiced in the baptism of this couple in late July in a beautiful spot at the north end of Lake Neuchatel. This convert was already getting involved in preaching. Six others were baptized with them. The church in Neuchatel was beginning to grow. Aside from his French language study, Andrews was also absorbed in the large correspondence that grew out of a lengthy series of advertisements he had placed in several prominent newspapers. He had embarked on this strategy at his own personal expense and with independent funds he had secured from America. He did this because, for some reason, such advertising was seen as evangelistic activity beyond the purview of the Swiss brethren. The advertisements announced Andrews’s presence in Switzerland, explained his beliefs concerning the Sabbath, and sought expressions of interest in discussion of the subject. He also gave his correspondence address. This was a strategy that William Jones had employed in England, and it had produced numerous opportunities for contacting people, although they were widely scattered. Andrews copied the strategy, and it also produced good results for him from a wide range of readers. Letters came in from Holland, parts of Switzerland, from Italy,

and elsewhere. Replying to the correspondence inquiries, however, was laborious work involving both English and translated responses, and it highlighted the increasing need for tracts and other published materials. Andrews soon ran out of all the books he had brought with him. There was an urgent need to reprint tracts that had been translated in America. The correspondence strategy also involved visitation, and Andrews made several visits to Geneva, 126 kilometers away, to follow up inquiries. He had great hopes for an educated scholarly couple in this city, for he thought they would be an asset to his proposed publishing work, but the interest cooled after a time, and the couple would not make a commitment.66 Andrews was also anxious about visiting Sabbath keeper Caterina Revel, who had been converted during Czechowski’s ministry in the remote mountain village of Torre Pellice, southwest of Turin in the north of Italy. It was a French-speaking area (near the border with France) and Sister Revel’s son was training locally for ministry. Mrs. Revel wrote of the possibilities of wider evangelism in her area, but Andrews was reluctant to undertake the large expense of such a trip unless he could take someone with him as a translator, spend several weeks there (as he had done in Germany), and leave the worker in the area to follow up interests. But without the Vuilleumier men there was no one he could identify who would meet the need. And besides, he understood that the expenses of such a trip would have to come as an advance from the Swiss brethren or be taken on as his own personal responsibility. There were not funds either from Switzerland or from the General Conference for such an expanded mission as yet. Of necessity, therefore, he felt that he had to postpone exploring the opportunity in Italy.67 Andrews’s experience with Erzberger convinced him of the value of national workers who could readily speak the local language and engage in evangelism, and he appealed through the Review for immigrant ministerevangelists in America to consider returning as national evangelists to their

homelands.68 The appeal was a cautious one and, of course, prospective candidates would need to take advice from “our wisest counselors” before considering such a move. John G. Matteson, working among the Scandinavians in Wisconsin and Minnesota, was one such possibility. His decision to consider returning to work in Scandinavia seems to have developed out of this appeal. In mid-1875, Andrews reviewed his experience thus far and the mission situation around him as he pondered future strategies. He was aware that the General Conference session was going to soon occur and that delegates would be reacting to his steady stream of reports in the Review. He knew that they would be expecting recommendations from him. Andrews reflected on the situation in Switzerland, the opportunities in countries beyond, and the practical difficulties inhibiting public evangelism. In Europe, one could not simply put up an evangelistic tent as one could so easily do in America. He thought about the critical limitations imposed by a lack of personnel with appropriate linguistic skills and became increasingly convinced that the most effective way forward given the unique set of circumstances now prevailing would be to establish a regular evangelistic publication in French. He thought it could be quarterly or bimonthly. Either would work. But his Swiss brethren argued strongly that to have credibility and be effective, such a journal would have to be issued monthly. They spoke on the basis of difficult previous experiences, and Andrews respected their judgment.69 A journal in French would have the widest readership of any of the languages in Europe. “We must have as soon as possible a paper in the French language. I cannot by any words that I can use express the intense desire of my heart to see this as an accomplished fact. Though means will be required for this work, this is the smallest difficulty in the way. It must be published in correct French: not nearly such French as can be understood, but in such [French] as shall not expose the truth to derision from its awkward construction.”70 To have credibility, such a paper would have to read

differently from that of a term paper written by a student, with all the hallmarks of stilted and irregular expressions that would surely signal that French was the author’s second language. He knew that neither White nor Smith would let such English copy pass in the pages of the Review. “The day which witnesses the publication of a paper in French in behalf of the cause of truth will mark a new era here,” he urged.71 Andrews was not yet ready to start, but the mission needed to work toward that goal. He felt that these circumstances made it all the more important for him to master French to such an extent that he could safely oversee such a project. Andrews had recommended such a strategy earlier in his letter to the General Conference committee, but now his public appeal for such a paper was published in the same Review that carried a report of the General Conference session action of August 15, 1875. The action went further than just authorizing a magazine. So impressed were delegates at Andrews’s reports of “the springing up of the principles of this message in different parts of the world, almost without the aid of the living preacher,” they were sure this was the work of “the hand of God,” and they were ready to authorize a larger initiative. “Resolved: That we recommend the Executive Committee to take immediate steps to establish a printing office in Europe, to issue periodicals and publications in the French and German languages.”72 The production of materials in languages other than French was also envisioned. At the same session, in response to the news from Europe, the General Conference committee was restructured to be more representative of the broadening mission. James White would be the president and Uriah Smith the secretary, but the three-man executive committee would now be comprised of White, John Loughborough of California, and John Andrews of Neuchatel. “Pray for the Committee that they may have wisdom and strength to properly manage this now rapidly advancing cause,” wrote Uriah Smith as he introduced the new arrangement. The committee would have to do its work by correspondence, and an assessment on how effective that would be would

have to wait. But the initiative clearly revealed the excitement at the widening horizon of the church and highlighted John Andrews’s role in that widening. In Switzerland, Andrews gave himself with even more diligence to the mastery of French and to the preparation of more tracts using a local printer. He also began to plan for a magazine. As summer morphed into autumn in Neuchatel, Andrews reported the recent death in Neuchatel of the eldest son of Czechowski, who had set up a successful printing business in the city. The son had not been religious in any way and had left a widow and child. But the event brought up again the old discussions of the calamities and troubles Czechowski had caused among them, and Andrews passed on to his colleagues the news that had gone around the town that, in addition to losing a son, the old preacher had lost the sight of an eye, was losing his hearing, and was suffering badly.73 Apparently, he was now in Vienna. The event understandably resurrected memories of past hurts and again opened old wounds for many of the Swiss Sabbath keepers. In the Review, Andrews publicly lamented the spiritual state of his flock of seventy to one hundred parishioners. They were “good, sensible, kind, true-hearted Christian Sabbath-keepers,” he noted, but they were in great need of a “thorough conversion.” There was a lack of “real missionary spirit.” He could understand their sense of burnout from their unfortunate experiences with Czechowski, he said, and he understood “the burden” of each one’s “own affairs upon his hands,” but he deeply lamented that there were none among them able to give themselves fully to missionary work. Besides this, there was certainly none among them yet who might be competent to help with a French-language paper.74 How the Swiss members felt about this very public discussion of his assessment of his congregation’s spiritual life can probably be imagined if “reproof” and “plain speaking” were not part of their cultural heritage. It was probably a good thing that most of them did not read English or the Review. The situation clearly discouraged Andrews, and he pled “with tears” for workers to come even from America to help lift the

burden.75 James White, reacting to what he saw as a rather amazing sequence of events in Germany and encouraged by the news of progress, albeit more slowly in Switzerland, responded with an editorial in the Review that named Daniel T. Bourdeau, a French Canadian pastor working among French immigrants in Illinois, as a possible mission appointee. James publicly encouraged him to go and join Andrews.76 The editorial cited Andrews’s expression of confidence in Providence: “God has gone out before us. It is most certainly a call for us to follow.” White then expressed his own sense of gratitude and wonder at Providence. The latter half of the editorial, however, reflects a substantial measure of irritation with Andrews’s recent repeated reference to the want of means. Some underlying leadership tensions about finance and budgets lay in the background. Perhaps White felt publicly chided that he had not been as financially supportive of Andrews as he should have been. The editorial did not reflect much sympathy or perhaps even much understanding of the financial dilemmas Andrews faced. “There is a sum of nearly $3,000 in the mission treasury at the disposal of the General Conference Committee,” White stated forthrightly. “Eld. Andrews is one of that committee. We need not say,” he stated pointedly and defensively, that “when he [Andrews] needs means for his own personal wants, or to publish, he has only to send his order to the Review and Herald, Battle Creek, Mich., and the required sums will be immediately forwarded. We make this statement for the benefit of those of limited circumstances who have had their sympathies greatly moved by Eld. A’s, frequent allusions to means in his reports.”77 It is clear that White took offense at Andrews’s apparent appeals direct to the field for means. Only White could do that. Later in 1876, Andrews responded that though it might appear as though he was calling too loudly for money, he had “not written a word to anyone in America concerning money.”78 From Andrews’s perspective, however, things did not work quite as simply as just making a request for funds

when the previous amount had been expended. He felt much ambiguity and apprehension about having to ask for money. Finance would continue to be a major source of aggravation and distress as he endeavored to meet the demands of mission in the specific context of his work in Switzerland. And he continued to feel that it was easier to draw on his own resources than somehow justify his drawing on the General Conference or forever explaining why there was not enough being given by the Swiss brethren. It was complicated. The editorial also implied a perhaps not-so-subtle rebuke to Andrews that he was giving more concern and anxiety to the problems and needs of the individuals in his congregation than was wise and good. White obliquely criticized Andrews’s pastoral concern for the dilemmas of his Swiss church members as being overdramatic and misplaced. “Our ministers should not be burdened with individual cases of members,” he admonished. Ministers should “avoid unnecessary burdens.”79 Andrews wondered how he could not be concerned for his church members. Was White just engaging in armchair criticism, or were the differences in ministerial priorities more serious? In any event, the discussion seemed to be getting close to resolving such leadership disputes through the columns of the Review. Andrews’s anxieties about being publicly chastised for making mistakes were not unfounded. In a subtle way, White also suggested that perhaps it would be good if he came to Europe to see things for himself. Providing an unintended insight into his transactional style of leadership, White observed that Jacob Erzberger had had a “free ticket at our table and in our home during nine months when he was in America, and we feel that we have some claims on him as an interpreter for the French and the German, should God send us to Europe.” The president, it seems, was not very subtly angling for an invitation. Andrews understood clearly. He was grateful that Bourdeau was being sent, and he welcomed the Whites whenever they wanted to come. “Most sincerely do I thank Bro. White for the intimation that after a little while he may come also. May he find a good work in France,

Switzerland and Germany, yes and in other countries of Europe also.” Andrews could not, of course, guarantee this would be the case, but, he assured White, “we will spare no effort to have it thus.”80 As it turned out, White never made it to Europe. His health and the dismal state of church finances did not allow it. Perhaps church politics also proved a barrier. Andrews had reason to feel blessed at the end of his first year in Switzerland, however, as he met with the Sabbath-keeping representatives for their second general business meeting at Le Locle on December 12, 1875. There were now seventy-five Sabbath keepers in the country, with a considerable number of Sabbath-keeping children. The committee had printed five tracts on various topics, with a print run of three thousand on each and ten thousand copies of one larger tract on the Sabbath. A review of printing quality of one of the tracts led to a decision to seek better quality printers in Basel for further work. What Andrews felt best about was the formation of a Tract and Missionary Society after the pattern of arrangements in America. The American model for evangelism seemed at least worth a try. Systematic Benevolence also showed responsible expenditures, and the balances were satisfactory, although there was room for income improvement in this area. Andrews hoped for better things in order to support the forthcoming magazine endeavor. The credentials of Andrews and Erzberger were renewed, and five lay licenses approved.81 The system was beginning to work, and that, too, was reassuring progress.

The coming of Titus It took a very short time indeed for Daniel Bourdeau to uproot his family from Illinois, finalize preparations, and head to Switzerland to join Andrews. Bourdeau had been working in Illinois since June and had baptized more than twenty French immigrants. As soon as the family heard of the need for them in Europe, Bourdeau announced in the Review a fund for evangelism in France, visited relatives in Vermont, and made arrangements for the transatlantic crossing. Two weeks after advertising

the sale of their house in the Review, they embarked on Christmas Day in New York, sailing for Le Havre in France.82 Andrews and Bourdeau were quite well acquainted with each other from occasions when their paths had previously come together in ministry. Bourdeau came from Vermont and had ministered for lengthy periods in that state and in eastern Canada, just across the border. Andrews had often attended Vermont camp meetings and had, on occasion, found accommodation in the Bourdeau home. As he thought about it initially, Andrews suggested that probably, for the most part, the two men could work in separate fields, “perhaps quite remote from each other,” but they would be “within supporting distance” to be able “to render much help to each other.” Bourdeau would be like “the coming of Titus,” Andrews told Review readers.83 As it happened, the arrival of Daniel Bourdeau in Europe would be a very mixed blessing, seriously complicating Andrews’s life. But only time would tell this. The arrival of Bourdeau with wife, Marion, and several young children in the second week of January 1876 necessitated, first of all, a change of location for the Andrews family. Accommodations with the Vuilleumier brothers at their struggling factory compound in La Coudre were already crowded, and so it was thought best for the two expatriate families to find shared accommodations elsewhere. They found friends willing to share accommodations with them up in the Jura Mountains, twenty-five kilometers from Neuchatel in the little mountainside town of Le Locle, the birthplace of watchmaking and now a World Heritage listed site.84 This was to be but a temporary lodging, however, for further relocation was anticipated. Andrews planned for them to work together at first and then, after a few months, to separate to different territories. As the new family settled in, the two preachers spent the first three weeks visiting the scattered members of the Sabbath-keeping community so that Bourdeau could become acquainted with them. According to Bourdeau, the Swiss church members appreciated hearing of the progress among the French communities in the United States. Bourdeau thought he

had achieved particular success when he was able to have the Swiss believers follow the American pattern of worship, including the giving of distinctive testimony in a “social meeting”—something quite culturally foreign to the Swiss. “We almost fancied ourselves in a spirited social meeting in America,” he reported. Some began offering their testimonies as brief fervent prayers or praise. He was hopeful that, in time, “this important branch of divine worship would assume its proper shape.” He meant, of course, that he hoped it would follow the American style. Possibly on Andrews’s advice, Bourdeau took care, however, to avoid falling into the trap that Andrews had fallen into in his first weeks. He reported that he “had no word of reproof for them” on the subject of wine consumption. Time and the Spirit of God would care for that problem.85 Visiting finished, the two men proceeded with dispatch to the task of writing up tracts, with Bourdeau translating them into French.86 The first major project was Andrews’s 64-page Three Messages booklet, which he had specially adapted for a European audience. Bourdeau’s task was to translate it. The next project was James White’s sixty-four-page tract on Matthew 24 and then some pamphlets by Ellen White, particularly those dealing with practical topics and health reform.87 Before serious progress had been made on the advanced tract work, however, Andrews received a distress call from Erzberger in Germany and found it necessary to spend the next three weeks at Elberfeld with his German protégé. A dispute had broken out among the Sabbath keepers in Elberfeld over whether at the Second Advent the saints would be gathered in the New Jerusalem or the old Jerusalem and whether there would be salvation for the Jewish people. Andrews found himself having to take impromptu meetings and enter into lengthy discussions on complex issues of prophetic interpretation. They thought at the end they might lose some dissenting folk, but it seems that most had been satisfied with Andrews’s answers and that they would stay in fellowship. And Andrews found that he now had quite an amount of material for a new pamphlet that he suspected was

going to be needed in Germany. Erzberger had enjoyed particular success in establishing a church of sixteen “good, substantial, intelligent Christian Sabbath-keepers” in Solingen. There was also a company in Essen and at other places. Andrews was able to visit them all, participating in a baptism of three new candidates in Solingen, as well as witnessing baptisms elsewhere.88 He was delighted with Erzberger’s progress. Hopefully, he remembered to bring back some German bread for his children. While he was away, Mary had written requesting him to do so. “Our’s [sic] is awful sour,” she had written. They had but one loaf of bread left, which she guessed would last a week.89 While Andrews was in Germany, an opportunity had opened up for Bourdeau to conduct public meetings in their mountain town of Le Locle. During the previous year, the circulation of books and printed tracts had slowly generated interest among the public. Responding to the interest, Bourdeau advertised the meetings by distributing handbills and subsequently drew a surprisingly good audience. His meetings resulted in twelve people deciding to keep the Sabbath, and before long there were sixteen people. The important strategic role of circulating literature around the town was not lost on the two missionaries, and it strongly reinforced their sense of need for a regular paper and a printing press.90 After a long, somewhat discouraging sixteen months for Andrews, these meetings constituted a significant breakthrough. Among the new converts, he noted with marked enthusiasm, was “a gentleman who has stood high as a teacher” in the town. Reputedly he was “well educated in the French and German languages.” Thirty-three-year-old Louis Aufranc was a leading layman of the local national church, enjoyed good health, and was “in the prime of life.” Unusually, but perhaps to indicate that Adventism appealed to the educated class, and to evidence that his conversion was genuine, the correspondence concerning his resignation from his teaching post and from his former church were prominently featured in the Review.91 Andrews had hopes that Aufranc would be of great assistance in their new

venture. The new convert was willing to relocate and join the two evangelists in their proposed new base in Basel, a border city seventy-five miles away to the northeast. Earlier in February, the two missionaries had decided that, sometime in the near future, they should relocate their endeavors from their temporary accommodations in Le Locle to a more permanent site. This shift was to mark an important new phase of development in the church’s mission in Europe. But why had the town of Basel become attractive as the new center for Adventist mission?

1. RH, July 2, 1872, 24. Adémar Vuilleumier’s late-June arrival in Battle Creek was noted with the observation that he “gave good promise of making rapid advancement in learning our language,” and that one of the objects of his visit was to “become more fully acquainted with the truth.” He had attended the 1873 General Conference Session as a delegate. RH, Nov. 25, 1873, 190. 2. “Our Work,” RH, Dec. 15, 1874, 196. 3. “Meeting of Sabbath-Keepers in Neuchatel,” RH, Nov. 24, 1874, 172. 4. “Meetings at Locle, Switzerland,” RH, Dec. 15, 1874, 196. 5. “Sabbath Keepers in Prussia,” RH, Nov. 24, 1874, 172; “This Week’s Paper,” RH, Nov. 24, 1874, 176. 6. Pietro Copiz, “The Linguist,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 165. Copiz was a professor in the modern language department at Andrews University at the time he wrote the analysis. He later served as education director for the Euro-Africa Division of the church headquartered in Bern. 7. “Our Arrival in Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 17, 1874, 166. 8. “The Health Reformer in Neuchatel,” RH, Nov. 17, 1874, 164. 9. “Our Arrival in Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 17, 1874, 166. 10. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 11. “Our Arrival in Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 17, 1874, 166. 12. “The Work in Europe,” RH, Jan. 28, 1875, 36. 13. “The Work in Europe,” RH, Aug. 26, 1875, 60. 14. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 15. “Sabbath Items,” RH, Feb. 2, 1875, 44. 16. DTB to JW and EGW, Mar. 23, 1876, EGWE-GC. 17. JI to EGW and JW, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. “He had to speak in French to the people for the first time.” The occasion was in Morges when his colleague Daniel Bourdeau had been called away to Alsace on an emergency. 18. “Elder J. N. Andrews,” RH, May 11, 1944, 11. The anecdote is related by Andrews’s physician

grandson and namesake, Dr. John Andrews. 19. Copiz, “The Linguist,” 180, 181. 20. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. He had become familiar with the industry through selling quantities of watches in America for the Swiss believers. See RH, Jan. 3, 1871, 24; “The Swiss Watches,” RH, Jan 14, 1873, 40. 21. JNA, An incomplete letter written to an anticipated Committee of Review, Dec. 29, 1879, EGWE-GC. This letter relates essentially the same story Andrews tells in the 1875 report but in an abbreviated form. 22. Ibid. 23. It is possible that the offense Andrews gave by his unsuccessful intervention was still a matter of spiritual concern that was resolved only in the last months of Andrews’s life. “There is reason to hope,” he wrote just a few months before his premature death in 1883, that his old Swiss friends would “fully put away the old difficulties. This takes an immense load off from my heart.” “Omens for Good,” RH, Jan. 2, 1878, 9. It could also possibly be that the offense related to the problem of wine drinking, which he had also tried to address in a heavy-handed way. 24. Ibid. 25. “Meeting of Sabbath-keepers in Neuchatel,” RH, Nov. 24, 1874, 172. 26. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 27. Sociologists suggest that there are at least four phases to the culture shock people experience when entering a new culture. These phases include honeymoon, frustration, adjustment, and acceptance. See John Macionis and Linda Gerber, Sociology, 7th Canadian ed. (Toronto: Pearson Canada, 2010), 54. 28. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 29. JNA to JW and EGW, June 8, 187[5], EGWE-GC. This letter has been filed as June 8, 1878, but several lines of internal evidence suggest that it should be dated 1875. 30. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 31. “The Work in Europe,” RH, Jan. 28, 1875, 36. 32. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875. EGWE-GC. 33. To be polite, Andrews had consumed wine at the first few meals but then had declined. Wine consumption among the leadership and the membership would still be the practice nine years later. JVD, Oct. 25, 1883, AHAF. 34. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 35. AV to WCW, Jan. 11, 1875, EGWE-GC. 36. JNA to JW and EGW, June 8, 1878, EGWE-GC. 37. “The Cause in Europe Onward,” RH, Feb. 25, 1875, 70. 38. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, June 24, 1875, 204. 39. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 40. JNA to JW, Feb. 8, 1877, EGWE-GC. 41. Write wrote to his publishing associates in California in mid-1875, for example, “Now, you may, all of you, have a fit at my plain talk, and do as a thousand others have done, cry out harshness, hardship? But this I am learning to take with a smile and go right along in the path of my duty. It is time for me to speak plainly and act promptly.” JW to WCW et al., Aug. 1, 1875, EGWE-

GC. 42. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, June 24, 1875, 204. 43. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Aug. 26, 1875, 60. 44. JNA to JW, Dec. 10, 1876, EGWE-GC. 45. JNA to JW, Feb. 6, 1877, EGWE-GC. 46. JNA to LH, Oct. 3, 1877, EGWE-GC. 47. “The Work in Europe,” RH, Jan. 28, 1875, 36. 48. “The Cause in Europe Onward,” RH, Feb. 25, 1875, 70. 49. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Mar. 4, 1875, 76. 50. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 8, 1875, 116. 51. The prospect of the imminent outbreak of war in Europe over disputes involving rebellious territories of the failing Ottoman Empire and the active military buildup this involved made this topic of particular relevance. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 29, 1875, 140. The Review carried numerous reports on the military situation in Europe during this period. See, for example, “European Armies,” RH, May 20, 1875, 165. 52. Andrews had heard of the groups in Holland from William Jones in London. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 1, 1875, 108. 53. Baldur Pfeiffer provides a helpful overview of the history of the Lindermann group in “The Pioneer to Germany,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, 261–271. 54. Ibid. 55. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 56. Pfeiffer, “The Pioneer to Germany,” 269. 57. Ibid. 58. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 1, 1875, 108, describes the typical pattern of labor. 59. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Mar. 18, 1875, 93. 60. Ibid. 61. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Oct. 14, 1875, 116. 62. “The Great Work,” RH, Oct. 28, 1874, 132. 63. Daniel Heinz, “The Development of Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Dynamic in Europe: Assessing the Contributions of Michael B. Czechowski, John N. Andrews and Ludwig R. Conradi” in Parochialism, Pluralism, and Contextualization: Challenges to Adventist Mission in Europe (19th–21st Centuries), ed. David J. B. Trim and Daniel Heinz (New York: Peter Lang, 2010), 133. Heinz suggests further resources on the Lindemann movement in footnote 7 of his study. 64. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 1, 1875, 108. 65. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 8, 1875, 116. 66. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, June 24, 1875, 204. 67. JNA to the General Conference Committee, [June] 1875, EGWE-GC. 68. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Apr. 15, 1875, 124. 69. “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 2, 1876, 70. “The friends here think that it will greatly injure the influence of the paper” if published less than “at least once a month.” See also “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Dec. 7, 1876, 182. 70. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Aug. 26, 1875, 60.71. Ibid.

71. Ibid. 72. Ibid., 59. 73. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Sept. 23, 1875, 92. 74. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Oct. 14, 1875, 116. 75. Ibid. 76. “The Great Work,” RH, Oct. 28, 1875, 132. 77. Ibid. 78. JNA to JW, Sept. 11, 1876, EGWE-GC. 79. Ibid. 80. “Grateful Acknowledgement,” RH, Dec. 9, 1875, 181. 81. “General Business Meeting in Switzerland,” RH, Jan. 24, 1876, 30. 82. “Residence for Sale,” RH, Dec. 9, 1875, 184; “Leaving for Europe,” RH, Dec. 23, 1875, 197. 83. “Grateful Acknowledgement,” RH, Dec. 9, 1875, 181. 84. “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 2, 1876, 70. 85. “Encouraging Prospects in Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 16, 1875, 86. 86. The details are narrated in “From Bro. Bourdeau,” RH, Jan. 27, 1875, 29 and “Arrival of Bro. Bourdeau,” RH, Feb. 10, 1875, 44. 87. “Encouraging Prospects in Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 16, 1875, 86. 88. “Germany and Switzerland,” RH, May 25, 1875, 164. Erzberger later reported a total of fifteen new baptisms. “Germany,” RH, July 6, 1876, 14. 89. Mary Andrews to “Dear Father,” Mar. 8, 1876, CAR. Mary also mentioned that the Bourdeau baby was turning into a “hibou” at night [a mythical owl creature], keeping them awake. 90. “Germany and Switzerland,” RH, May 25, 1875, 164. 91. “Conference Address,” RH, Apr. 27, 1875, 132.

Chapter Nineteen

From Basel to the World: 1876– 1877

A

s John Andrews and Daniel Bourdeau sat down together on a cold

February day in their crowded temporary accommodations in Le Locle, they had an important decision to make about where they should live and work. Present circumstances were quite unsatisfactory. As they studied the map of Europe in front of them, it seemed that Basel was the logical place. For Andrews, the city was a little like Tarsus, where Barnabus had gone to try and rescue Paul from obscurity. Andrews had visited the city a number of times in his effort to reclaim Erzberger and had arranged some printing of tracts there in order to get a better quality finish. But more important than that, Basel was the largest city in Switzerland at the time. It was geographically central to Europe and was located on the intersecting border of both Germany and France. No city would be “so advantageous with respect to avoiding national jealousies.” It would also avoid the situation where other developing work in other countries would think of it as just the “Swiss Office.” All this, Andrews reported to Review readers.1 A visit to the city had confirmed its desirability. The two men located a house and a hall that they could hire for an evangelistic campaign, and they were able to locate good printers for their tracts at good prices. The missionaries came back and consulted with their executive committee colleagues, who responded enthusiastically to the idea with a formal endorsement.2 Andrews did not specifically suggest setting up a printing

office, but he had talked about printing tracts and the possibility of publishing a paper. The suggestion of a printing office was implicit. The General Conference Executive Committee would later publicly criticize the choice of a city location, imagining that a small country village somewhere would have been better suited and more economical. They remembered only the early days in Battle Creek in 1854, and perhaps forgot about Rochester, New York.3 But Andrews was beginning to understand that Europe was not America, and access to good printing was only available in developed urban areas. What Andrews did not share with the Review but explained confidentially to others was that the missionaries also needed to find a new place to start where the negative impact of Czechowski’s reputation was not so severe and where it did not continually dog them, besmirching the church’s name and making their attempts at getting converts over the line more difficult. “Elder Czechowski has made havoc in contracting debts and conducting himself improperly with a young woman in nearly every important place,” was how Bourdeau expressed it to James White in late March 1876. Even in Basel they could not completely escape the association. They had only just heard that Czechowski had died of cancer, “bereft of his reason in a hospital in Vienna, Austria.” Tragically, the irregular pioneer was neither mourned nor honored for all the good that he had accomplished.4 His choices in later life made it difficult for him to be appreciated, and it would take time for the negative associations to fade. Three years later in 1879, though it distressed him to do so, Andrews still felt it necessary to issue a carefully worded public disclaimer in his journal, distancing the present work of the church from the work of the maverick first missionary.5

A Titus with mixed blessings In mid-April, Andrews and his two children packed their meager belongings and moved into a rented twelve-room, three-story inner-city

terrace home at 68 Müllerweg in Basel. From the roof the family could look out on all three countries: France, Germany, and Switzerland. The Bourdeau family joined them two weeks later. Bourdeau tarried in Le Locle to conclude a third short series of evangelistic meetings and to care for baptisms. Initial planning had envisaged that after the families had settled in, an early public evangelism campaign would be conducted in the new location, even as they prepared materials for the launch of their monthly magazine in June. In the lead-up to the midyear launch, Andrews hoped to make more rapid progress on his French, benefitting from personalized lessons from Louis Aufranc, who had been given rooms on the third floor of their house. Aufranc received free board in exchange for agreed translation and language instruction services. Andrews could not afford a salary for the new convert, who could no longer accept employment at a public school because classes had to be taught on Sabbath. He gained an income, however, from giving private language lessons elsewhere in the city. As the new team settled in, the working relationship with professor Aufranc developed well, and he became a valued contributor. With the highly strung Daniel Bourdeau, it was not quite so easy, and tensions between the hyperactive French Canadian and Andrews, the stolid New Englander, soon developed. The underdeveloped state of church policies on mission finance provided the rub. It became difficult to access mission funds in America to pay bills in Basel on time. Furthermore, it did not help that uncertainty prevailed about which funds should be used for which expenses, and Andrews developed a hypersensitivity to avoid criticism over which funds could be appropriately used. Because Bourdeau was a native French speaker, right from the beginning, he thought of himself as somewhat better adapted than Andrews for mission in this part of Europe.6 The tone of Bourdeau’s numerous reports to the Review conveys a not-so-subtle sense that he felt that he was the one to set the agenda in the French arena. Apparently,

Smith had noticed this tone, along with a dramatic element in his writing and perhaps an overweening sense of importance. He noted in an aside to Willie White that he had found it necessary “to strike out two-thirds of all of his [Bourdeau’s] reports” before publishing them.7 In March, apparently without Andrews’s knowledge, Bourdeau took the initiative in raising the problem issue of finance with James White. He told White that financial tensions—what Bourdeau called “the money question”—had intruded between the two men and had complicated early relationships as they tried to juggle shared living expenses through times of scarcity. Extended absences (in Andrews’s case) and the irregular flow of official funds from America in the early months meant that Andrews had to rely on Bourdeau’s own personal source of funding for financial survival (possibly when he had to go to Germany in March). Bourdeau reported to White that he was presently living off his own “summer earnings” from the previous year in Illinois and would further rely on payments yet to come from Vermont. His unspoken question was, where were the funds from America? “I have barely means to take me to Basel,” he complained, “as I have supported myself and Eld. A’s family for three months, not because Eld. A. was not willing to draw from his own reserved fund in America, but he expected something from the [GC] European fund.”8 Bourdeau had suggested to Andrews that the European fund might not be forthcoming perhaps because there were more urgent needs in California, where the Whites were located! Thus Andrews eventually sent for more of his own personal funds. Bourdeau asked White that he not be understood as “tattling or begging.” He had written, he said, “not to be forward” but because he believed Andrews was “too delicate” in seeking funds. “If I deserve censure I am willing to receive it,” he concluded.9 The letter clearly irritated White, who replied both through a Review column and in correspondence. But Andrews’s problems with Bourdeau went deeper than finance and the substantial amounts it cost to sustain his family from the limited mission funds. Six months later Andrews found it necessary

himself to write to James White about the problems. According to Andrews, Bourdeau had arrived in Neuchatel a sick, exhausted man with a “diseased imagination.” He was so hyperactive and so full of ideas Andrews could not keep him from constantly talking. “His coming made the study of French an impossibility,” lamented Andrews, adding he “made my situation painful.” Andrews wished that Bourdeau hadn’t been allowed to rush his preparation to go overseas. It would have been better for leadership to have retained him in America for two or three months so that he could have regained his health before leaving for Europe. But of course, he was there now.10 There were no personal difficulties between the men, Andrews stressed, but they could not agree on strategy. Andrews felt reluctant writing to White about it, although White had soon discerned the situation himself from Bourdeau’s own letters.11 According to Andrews, Bourdeau felt he “must act quite independently.” For example, shortly after his arrival in Basel, he heard that one of his church members from Illinois was making a visit to Ban de la Roche, seventy-five miles north of Basel in the Alsace region of southern France. Bourdeau pressed for release, and Andrews grudgingly allowed him to go to visit if he agreed only to make the visit one of inspection. Bourdeau ignored the advice and stayed on to evangelize, returning to Basel two weeks later “in a state of extreme exhaustion.” He had become involved in what he called “conversations” (he was legally not allowed to preach). Bourdeau insisted that Andrews go back with him to Ban de la Roche to help him get a state license that would give him permission to preach in Alsace. Andrews again reluctantly agreed. They spent several days chasing unsuccessfully through the bureaucracies in Strasbourg and other nearby municipalities for the necessary permission. No official was willing to sign off for them, and Andrews returned to Basel frustrated.12 Consequently, plans for the public campaign in Basel were abandoned, and Andrew’s French lessons with Aufranc were further curtailed, as Bourdeau became more deeply involved

in the covert evangelistic activity in Alsace. Andrews was to learn very quickly how difficult and complicated his colleague would be to work with and how much the difficulty would eventually undermine his own necessarily limited effectiveness because he lacked proficient French. During two further extended visits to Alsace, again against Andrews’s counsel, fierce opposition to Bourdeau’s presence in the town erupted. The opposition was partly fueled by a thirty-five-page malicious letter sent to local clergy from disaffected French immigrant converts in America.13 Andrews did not know what to do with his colleague. “I have never found myself in so perplexing circumstances in some respects as I do now find myself in the management of his case,” Andrews later lamented to White. He had “natural peculiarities of . . . great independence, great zeal, much self-confidence and a strong will.” He was “liable to say and to do things that are rash and unwise and no amount of counsel can help this.” When Bourdeau returned in June from his third visit to southern France, Andrews could clearly see he was “a sick man” in “extreme exhaustion.” He feared that he had developed “settled consumption of the lungs.” Andrews was at his “wits end to know what to do with him and for him.” He did not think his attitudes arose from “wickedness, but from a condition of the brain caused by disease.”14 He would not be counseled. While he had been away, of course, Andrews and his own two children carried the burden of care for Bourdeau’s wife and the smaller ones, whom Andrews suggests were quite undisciplined. Marion Bourdeau was rather oblivious to things at this stage, according to Andrews, and did not seem to sense that her husband was any different from “his natural condition.” Andrews worried for Bourdeau’s safety in France because of his rashness and lack of caution and judgment. He found it exceedingly difficult to write such a frank, confidential letter to White about their colleague and tried to do it “carefully and tenderly as though I were to have the statement read by the angels of God.”15 The confidential letter, and others before it, produced a strong response

from James White, and on this occasion, Andrews, for once, was glad for the “plain talk” that White was so very good at. As James White explained it in an aside to his son Willie, he had found it necessary to give Bourdeau “a course of the sprouts” [a euphemism for a verbal “thrashing”] for his “childishness,” even as he also appeared to chide Andrews (to diplomatically keep the counsel balanced) over his approach to financial management and its complications.16 Bourdeau returned from the Alsace troubles in late May and stayed in Basel until they had worked through the first three issues of the new magazine. In August, Bourdeau at last received from Strasburg the necessary permissions to preach in Alsace.17 By mid-September, his health was much better and, according to Andrews, the trouble with his lungs seemed to have “mostly disappeared.” He insisted on going to southern France again, and Andrews felt powerless to persuade him otherwise. This time he took his family. Andrews purchased the furniture from Bourdeau’s Basel apartment so that he would have funds to help him set up in his new field of labor. But evangelism in France was not easy. After a few sermons on subjects that did not give offense, Bourdeau commenced, as Andrews reported it, “a mild lesson on the Law and the Sabbath.” At that point “every man of them turned against him—and every door was shut and every friend among the people with scarce an exception became an enemy.”18 Andrews did not think Bourdeau should return to Basel, however, and told him “by all means” to stay and try to consolidate what interests he had developed. Perhaps it was better for Andrews’s own sanity that the preacher work away from Basel. The difficulties in Alsace reinforced again the necessity of having a paper and tracts which could circulate beyond the solid barriers put up to preaching. But even for these, the foreigners needed a stamp from the government on each item in order to distribute them or they would be fined heavily.19 Even Bourdeau’s license had limited usefulness, as he discovered when he moved to Barcelone in southern France and then on to

nearby Valence, where he eventually established a congregation of about twenty Sabbath keepers. The license was only valid for a specified region or town, and repeatedly he had to seek new permissions.20 After White’s chastising letters, Bourdeau apparently became more amenable to counsel, and after further letters in mid-1876, he became more amenable still. Andrews visited Bourdeau in Valence in September 1877, and after “much prayerful consideration,” persuaded the family to move back to Switzerland and locate at Morges, a French-speaking town on Lake Geneva between Geneva and Lausanne. Here, they both agreed, the work should be easier. At least it would be simpler for Andrews to visit and assist.21 Bourdeau continued to meet with uneven success even in Morges and again later at Biel, just north of Neuchatel, because there were still great difficulties over securing halls for public meetings. Occasional riots, protesting mobs of youths and villagers, and continuing sickness added to the stress on his family.22 Andrews made it his business to assist Bourdeau, sometimes for several weeks at a time, in these various efforts. The Bourdeau family lost an infant, and Marion became seriously ill because of mental stress and worry over the safety and well-being of her husband in his public work. In the absence of others able to help, Andrews found himself having to spend considerable time caring for her. The coming of Titus had been a mixed blessing. Eventually, by the end of 1878, Andrews felt he had no other option but to recommend that Bourdeau return permanently to the United States. Bourdeau’s ministry had helped to open new territory and had built a foundation for future growth, but the charge against Andrews’s emotional, physical, and financial resources had been too high. Other national language speakers encountered less difficult circumstances. As Andrews was sorting out the difficulties with Bourdeau in mid-1876, John G. Matteson embarked on the opening of a mission to Denmark and the other countries of Scandinavia.23 While he faced some of the same

hostilities and prejudices as Bourdeau faced in France, the regulation of religious liberty was relatively more relaxed in Scandinavia, and he enjoyed evangelistic success more rapidly. That Matteson was a returning national rather than an expatriate helped make his mission more effective. What also helped was that, as already noted, a monthly magazine for Danish readers had been published by the Battle Creek publishing office. For some time it had been sent to many addresses in Scandinavia. Matteson built on this platform. The lesson was not lost on Andrews. The need for such a magazine for the French-speaking world became more obvious and urgent than ever.

Birthing a missionary journal Looked at from the perspective of available literary personnel, technical expertise, and financial resources, the idea of birthing a new evangelistic journal in 1876 to extend the mission of the church in Europe could be considered a hazardous and unwise or untimely venture. It could appear to be even a less effective strategy than other available options. Andrews and his colleagues, however, had considered alternatives and the great difficulty of implementing them. They believed devoutly that they were seeing providential openings and that God was leading them forward into launching a journal. They were convinced that it was the most effective way of overcoming the difficulties and obstacles and unique European regulations and cultural parameters that hedged up the way against traditional evangelistic outreach as it had been successfully practiced in America. Back home, one could very easily put up a tent or get access at no cost to a local schoolroom or town meeting hall for long stretches of time. Europe, in this matter, was profoundly different, and Andrews recognized it. After much reflection and prayer, he believed that developing a magazine was simply the best and perhaps the only way forward, given the circumstances. But given the limitations of personnel and finance, it was to be an exceedingly stressful and costly venture;

something Andrews could not clearly see at the beginning of his work in Europe. Though others would later criticize him, he viewed it as venturing out in faith, following Providence as closely as he thought he could observe it. Though it would keep him from public speaking campaigns more than he would have wished—and he would be criticized harshly for this—he did not see any other option, given his circumstances.24 While Bourdeau was caught up in his frustrating outreach up in Ban de le Roche, Andrews worked with Aufranc in preparing manuscripts and checking translations for the first issue of what would be called Les Signes Des Temps. It was modeled on James White’s new missionary magazine venture launched in July 1874 in California. They were aiming for publication in June, and Andrews had carefully accumulated in his budget sufficient funds for nine monthly issues.25 He hoped that by that time subscription payments would begin to flow in and the magazine could become self-sustaining, perhaps with some support from the local Swiss brethren who had encouraged him and insisted on the need for such an evangelistic tool. When Bourdeau returned from Alsace, he belatedly joined the effort of writing and translating. Getting manuscripts into a French language form and style that was more than just minimally acceptable proved a huge and highly stressful challenge for Andrews, who was, even at this stage, still working on his mastery of French grammar. Even when the manuscript copy was in hand, getting the type set accurately with the appropriate “spacing,” and then having the dummies proofed properly involved endless shuffling back and forth to the printshop. Andrews valued Aufranc’s expertise enormously but found that when it came to proofreading, even he had his limitations, and his eye sometimes saw what he thought he saw not actually what the copy said. Andrews found that while he could not do without Aufranc’s assistance, ultimately his own eyes had to be the final arbiter, and that involved a heavy, anxious burden. Last-minute counsel from James White in America required that they use a

larger size paper to match the format of the Review and Herald rather than the smaller European standard size they had planned on. This delayed things further while they waited for the larger sheets of paper.26 The publication of the first issue was thus postponed to July. Unfortunately, the larger size paper also limited the number of printers to those who had the kind of presses that could handle this paper, and that made a quality appearance hard to maintain.27 Decision-making from a distance was not always helpful. As they marked time waiting for the paper, Andrews shared his heart with Willie White, whom he now expected before long to come and help. “I have found it so much [a] greater task to master French so as to use it correctly than I supposed I should find it that my pain in this work has known no bounds,” he acknowledged. He did not know why he found it so hard, other than that Satan had hindered him in his learning. His “slow progress” and the inability to speak fluently ate at his self-esteem. “I think that sometimes I prove much more stupid in the attempt than others would have proved,” he observed. This was a feeling later missionaries who would follow in his steps would identify with. It bothered him so much it colored everything. Thus far he had “seen nothing but extreme anxiety in Europe,” and he worried now about how his paper would be viewed. But he had done his best. “May God accept it and may it be a blessing to the people of God,” he concluded prayerfully.28 Fifteen months earlier, James White had expressed public skepticism about delaying things until they were perfect. “Should Br. A. wait for this work to be done up to his standard of thoroughness, loss might be sustained.” He publicly reminded Andrews that God had accepted their “imperfect work” when they started “twenty-five years hence”—he was thinking of Andrews’s kitchen table in 1850 in Paris Hill. It was better to do the best that could be done than to wait. Andrews understood, but he also knew that printing copy in French was rather more demanding, with its five accent marks such as umlauts, acutes, graves, circumflexes, and

cedillas. These needed to be accurate for the copy to have credibility or even to make sense. This White did not seem to understand. And getting the correct accent marks for proper pronunciation was in addition to getting the grammar correct. Andrews knew that achieving an elegant, appealing style of writing was, at this stage, unattainable, though desirable. Producing attractive, clean sheets of print without the errant stains and marks of messy presswork was an additional burden, but he could live with stray marks if the copy did not invite ridicule. Few in Battle Creek really understood the complexity of things as they confronted Andrews in this new venture. Uriah Smith welcomed the birth of the new paper in August, noting that it would “mark a new era in the European mission,” and with its “choicest matter,” he was sure it would also “give new life to the mission among the French” in America.29 James White added his endorsement a week later, commending its overall “beautiful appearance” which does “credit to the conductor,” “our able and prudent missionary.”30 He noted that its format and style was the same as the Review and the Californian Signs. He now saw the papers as a fleet. Bernard Sauvagnat, onetime editor of the evangelistic paper he inherited from Andrews, observes in his insightful Centennial Conference study of Les Signes des Temps that Andrews’s first issue clearly demonstrated its linkage to its American heritage, even though the names of the Swiss brethren Albert Vuilleumier and J. E. Dietschy, along with Andrews himself, were named as the publishing committee. “The layout in four columns reflected American rather than Swiss practice,” and the reproduction of an untranslated (to save the expense of a new plate) prophetic chart on page five indicated its foreign origin.31 The editorial masthead featured the names of Andrews, Uriah Smith, and James White as editors, even though all three editorials had been penned by Andrews. The editorials explained the nature and purpose of the paper and the beliefs and activities of Seventh-day Adventists and of Seventh Day Baptists.

Eschatology as an urgent matter was the major focus (as might be expected from the journal title), and the Sabbath was a prominent feature, with a two-column piece authored by the recently converted Louis Aufranc. Other articles featured discussion of eschatology (the millennium) and the biblical prophecies of the end time, which were translations of pieces by James White and Uriah Smith. A devotional article introduced Ellen White as an author, and practical religion articles by Haskell and Butler focused on generosity and temperance. Over half of the material in the paper had to be translated, and the Adventist themes and idioms contextualized if possible. Sauvagnat could not detect any grammatical mistakes in Andrews’s writing, although one minor blemish could be discerned in the piece by Bourdeau. In Sauvagnat’s view, the paper appeared well-designed and almost entirely error-free. That was just as Andrews had hoped. Proofreading of the eight pages of copy each month required especial care, as Andrews later explained to Ellen White. Galley proofs would be read by both Charles and Mary and then passed to Louis Aufranc. He would read them and pass them to Andrews. The printer would then make the corrections. The revised galley proofs would be compared with the hand corrections in the originals. Then each person in the team would read the revised galley proof copy again for further corrections. Andrews thought that people would think he was being too fussy, but he explained that experience had taught him that he “dare not do less.”32 French, with its complex diacritical marks and ligatures, was an exacting language. Beginning with the second issue, a series of articles began to appear, such as a thirty-two-part series by Aufranc and a fifty-three-part series on the book of Daniel by Uriah Smith. Other series included some by D. M. Canright, James White, another fifty-six-part series on the book of Revelation by Smith, and a series by G. H. Bell. All these articles involved a great deal of translation work. Also, beginning with the second issue, Andrews featured a column, “Progrès de la cause,” highlighting news from the Adventist world—it was an important way of building a sense of

identity with the wider denomination. This was also a column through which Andrews could function as a pastor, building a sense of community among his readers. Other columns, such as one dealing with world news with a prophetic slant and “Résponses aux questions,” or “Correspondence,” filled the balance of the eight-page paper. The format changed in 1880 to a smaller sixteen-page form, providing about 12.5 percent more space. The discerning reader, suggests Sauvagnat, would have detected the editor to be a native English speaker because of his consistent use of English area measurements and occasional improper idiomatic expression and an American predilection for certain tenses. But it still read as good French. The magazine was designed for a biblically literate readership and reflected the strong anti-Catholic bias of the editor and his colleagues. Could the magazine have been more effective in breaking down prejudice if it had been less polemical? wonders Sauvagnat. Perhaps. But would it then have been accepted as authentically Adventist by its Adventist readers? And might it have thereby lost important support from its sponsors? Andrews modeled his paper on what he knew and what he had helped to produce elsewhere, the Review and the Californian Signs of the Times. He drew much of his material from these, simply translating it for the local setting. There appears to have been little originality other than in Andrews’s own creative writing expressed in editorials, article series, notes on church affairs, or in his comments on certain current events he considered as les signes des temps.33 During the eight years of Andrews’s editorship across one hundred issues of the paper, Andrews penned (by one estimate) 480 articles, and by another 550—depending on whether one counts unsigned pieces. By any estimation, it was a major accomplishment. The journal continues to herald its themes down to the present day.34 The first volume of Les Signe des Temps came from the press with a print run of two hundred to meet the needs of a smallish circulation list.

Initially, distribution by hand helped the magazine get off the ground, as friends urged the paper upon friends, relatives, and neighbors.35 By the time Andrews was printing issue number five, however, the mail circulation list had grown to four hundred, and it continued to slowly expand.36 The Andrews family dedicated one full day each month to getting the paper in the mail. Charles would fold, Mary would wrap, and their father would write the address labels.37 This was the kitchen table in Paris Hill déjà vu. Managing the circulation was not without its problems. The regulations of the mail system in Switzerland meant that subscription costs could not be charged when the paper was sent through the mail, unless the recipient was prepared to accept the paper as a subscription. This status was established only after a sequence of editions of the paper had been sent and accepted by the addressee. Then, the local post office would itself do the collecting of the subscription cost, take a percentage for its own expenses, and forward the balance to the issuing office of publication. This was not only cumbersome but it meant that early costs for all subscriptions had to be absorbed by the publisher, and gratis subscriptions were difficult to manage. But circulation was regulated by the laws in Europe, and though such might be difficult for church elders back in Battle Creek to understand and difficult for Andrews to work with because of the financial burden, nevertheless, that’s the way things were.38 Costs were a constant source of tension and discomfort for Andrews as publisher.

Preaching by steam: A press for the paper? In March 1875, responding to Andrews’s recent report about the possibilities of his mission involving publishing tracts and a paper from the geographical heart of Europe, James White editorialized in the Review on the power of “preaching by steam.” The “advancing cause in Europe demands that there should be an Office of publication in Switzerland, as suggested in a recent report from our worthy missionary, Eld. J. N.

Andrews,” he asserted, attributing to Andrews something he had not yet argued for. “We highly approve the measure, and venture the statement that there is not time to be lost.” In fact, argued White, “The work in Europe will amount to but little until our brethren there commence preaching by steam.”39 When White was taken with an idea, nothing could stop him. If he could run ahead of the brethren and start Pacific Press out of his own pocketbook and then pass it over to the church, could he not do the same now? This just might be a little more complicated, but at least he could enthuse others. At a special General Conference session in Battle Creek at the end of March, called to consider the rapidly opening opportunities in Europe and elsewhere, “a large part of the time . . . was occupied in considering how best to raise means for this and other enterprises.” Whether a press was what was needed was apparently not debated. It was just assumed that that was what was needed if there was to be a paper. White’s entrepreneurial vision saw a publishing house in Basel supplying the needs of a whole range of languages and countries, even reaching down to Australia via England. Delegates simply assumed the “pressing need just now of about $10,000 to establish a press in Europe.” They authorized the executive committee to “immediately proceed to raise that amount in the manner they may find best.” Delegates voted the vision, and James White immediately proceeded to launch a new fund-raising program for the European press.40 In May, James published a short list of names of donors, including himself, who would contribute one hundred dollars each toward the establishment of such a press. During the next twelve months, the same list was published repeatedly, with additional donors’ names added each time until, in mid-1876, the target had been reached.41 Away from his official editorial desk, White would privately assert that he had no confidence at all that either Andrews or Bourdeau would actually succeed in this matter of printing. They would “make a fool of it if they should try,” he remarked dismissively to Willie.42

White planned that Willie would soon go across to Europe to educate printers, learn the language, and run the printing office. It would be easy and could not help but be a success with an entrepreneurial White in charge, was the sense of his communication to Willie. However, things did not turn out that way. Andrews had to start up the paper himself and take on the publishing of tracts through a local printer on his own, and he did make a success of it, although at great cost to his health. When it later came to setting up the actual printing office with their own equipment inside his home in Basel, Andrews was assisted by a printer from Battle Creek, William Ings, who helped with the technical aspects. But initially, even this was not a press. It simply prepared copy and set up type for the press operators. Limited though this “printing office” was, it streamlined the publishing of Les Signes des Temps. Only after both James White’s and Andrews’s deaths would the full-scale publishing house of their dreams be established in Basel. Along the way, finance would be the biggest obstacle of all.

Starting a new enterprise in financial “hard times” The year 1876 was not the most advantageous of times to begin a publishing enterprise in a new mission field. The worldwide economic depression that began in 1873 with the collapse of banks on Wall Street was aggravated by President Ulysses Grant’s decision to return the country to gold as the standard for its currency. The slump was still in full swing.43 These economic circumstances demand attention because they had a severe impact on the church and on Andrews’s mission. Known as the “Long Depression,” the collapse did not end until at least 1879, and by some measures it lasted long beyond that. In the United States, between 1873 and 1879, eighteen thousand businesses went bankrupt, including eighty-nine railroads, ten state governments, and hundreds of banks.44 By 1876, the depression was emptying domestic household budgets as never before. Discretionary spending evaporated, and maintaining small

businesses grew extremely hazardous. James White felt compelled to address the “hard times” in two editorials appealing for church members to honor pledges and to continue their magazine subscriptions and their patronage of the publishing houses.45 Although he was diplomatic in his expression, he also publicly proposed a salary reduction for ministers and church workers of up to 25 percent. As it turned out, the publishing board adopted a 17 percent salary reduction in September 1877, while the General Conference, with an empty treasury, found it could not continue to pay several of its ministers, such as John Corliss, E. H. Lane, and A. C. Bourdeau, and had to lay them off or pass them on to other employers who had more funding.46 Entrepreneurs like White had to be exceptionally nimble and became preoccupied with markets as a result of the need to juggle rapidly fluctuating gold specie against unstable greenback notes as banks continued to collapse, closing up credit and putting people out of work. Unemployment soared, which restricted the giving capacity of church members across all of the conferences. The impact was widespread. If there were “extreme hard times” in America, “they are equally hard here” in Europe, observed Andrews.47 His Swiss brethren felt the extreme pressure on their watchmaking businesses, which were particularly susceptible to economic disorders like this.48 The 1876 General Conference Session, starkly confronted as it was by the needs of Andrews’s mission to Europe, became a landmark conference for church finance. The impact of the deepening economic depression and the opening up of so many opportunities for mission demonstrated the inadequacy of the old property-ownership basis of the Systematic Benevolence approach to church funding. The economic dilemma led the church to new theological insights and produced a shift in its doctrinal position on stewardship. Delegates at the 1876 General Conference Session made the historic decision to discard their previous understanding that tithing was part of the ceremonial law and adopted a new system based on tithing, which could be universally applied for all church

members. A promotional and educational program was planned for church members.49 Two years later in 1878, the General Conference determined that 10 percent of all conference tithe should be forwarded to the central office to sustain its own operations. New church institutions were hit particularly hard by the depression, and the church soon found itself with a series of crises that created great stresses for leadership and made the funding of the European mission a sensitive issue. The new Battle Creek College, established in 1874, just after the economic collapse, was by 1876 deeply in debt because wellintentioned donors could not pay their pledges, despite repeated appeals and badgering from James White, who served as the president of the Seventh-day Adventist Educational Society that managed the enterprise.50 The Review and Herald Publishing Association had loaned ten thousand dollars as start-up money to the new school, and it took as collateral the pledged donations, which now were proving rather worthless. The publishing association then had to continue granting loans to the college for operating because tuition income did not cover expenses. By 1876, the publishing association could not comfortably continue its own operations on its diminishing working capital because subscribers could not pay their subscriptions. The business carried up to ten thousand dollars in uncollected bills. As the publishing president, White found himself obligated to place the institution under a heavy load of debt, with the only strategy open to him being to take loans from East Coast banks on high interest.51 At one point, managers even utilized surplus factory space in the publishing house for a subsidiary knitting business in a desperate attempt to generate income. The health institute, beginning to thrive under John H. Kellogg’s energetic leadership, had also just taken on a major new development just before the crash. Considered as essential by leadership when undertaken, in light of the continuing depression, it looked to James White to be wildly extravagant. On the West Coast, the new publishing house being managed by Edson

White—whom his father had introduced to the business—also struggled economically. The struggle was made more difficult by Edson’s rash decisions. Both founding donors and subscribers were unable to pay their commitments. James White, already in poor health, again suffered another partial stroke as his temperament and temper were stretched to the limit with the stress of it all. Edson’s poor management decisions had increased the losses on the new plant and imperiled its survivability. Ellen White saw bankruptcy threatening.52 Edson either withdrew himself or was ejected from leadership, and there were heated quarrels between father and son. As a result, a major rift developed in the family between James and Ellen, who sided with Edson. Rifts also developed between Edson and Willie, who became the favored assistant to his father and mother. “Edson will have to bear all the blame of leaving the office and exposing a breach in the family before the jealous ones in California,” James fulminated to Willie at the height of the tensions. He could “never balm that matter with Edson,” he fumed. Whatever offence this referred to, “it was a cruel thing.”53 James was unrepentant when church members in California began to blame him for getting them into such a deep and tangled financial mess. “I have no apologies or confessions to make for my general course in California,” he asserted to Willie in defense of himself.54 James needed to have “things go very much as I say,” however, and he was sure that “everything I touch seems to prosper . . . as long as I trust in God.”55 It was during this troubled time that James and Ellen chose to live and work apart for extended periods of time, as their marriage suffered the fallout of the stress. Two large church building projects further complicated the situation in late-1877 and mid-1878, as the depression deepened. James White had enthusiastically endorsed and encouraged leadership to undertake the two expensive church building projects: a new church building in Oakland near the West Coast publishing house and the three-thousand-capacity Dime Tabernacle in Battle Creek. The latter was designed to accommodate

increasing numbers of college students in the town, visiting patients from the expanding clientele of the health institute, and large congregations associated with General Conference sessions. It was a project well beyond the abilities of the local congregation, and thus the General Conference became involved, taking it out of their hands.56 Given the deepening economic crisis, the projects were later considered unwise, undertaken too hastily, and the church placed at risk. As blame began to be cast, James White became defensive. Ill-timed business decisions had always been other people’s fault. But he was beginning to lose his touch, and his judgment was beginning to fade. In the Review the dire economic situation was linked with the drumbeat of a relentless military buildup by the great European powers developing enormous armies. As they threatened each other in the struggle to obtain slices of Turkey’s territory carved out of the collapsing Ottoman Empire (Turkey became known as the “Sick man of the East”), Uriah Smith interpreted such events on the front page of the Review as a sure sign of the impending “time of trouble.” The battle of Armageddon no longer loomed just beyond the horizon but sat visibly on it. The high sense of eschatological imminence generated by this reading of the prophecies of Daniel 11, at times, became fever pitch.57 James White sought to lower the temperature in November by challenging Uriah Smith in a Sabbath morning sermon and suggested an alternative, less imminent interpretation of the prophecies. This brought a rebuke from his wife, Ellen, who protested that he should not engage in such public debate. But James felt that the extreme emphasis on imminence was damaging the fund-raising for his institutions. (An overemphasis on Armageddon did not fit with the need to build buildings.)58 The “Eastern Question” topic, with its emphasis on the fall of Turkey, made for good evangelistic flyers in Europe, however, and Bourdeau used it as his opening night address for his campaign in Morges.59 Domestic finances for the White family were difficult to manage for

James and Willie during these fevered times. The frequent letters between Willie and James are preoccupied with financial matters discussed at manic pitch and the need for James to get access to money—often urgently.60 James was forced to shuffle and juggle his own highly complex personal finances in order to meet pledges for various projects, and inevitably there were misunderstandings. For example, he threatened, in high dudgeon at one point, to withdraw pledges he had made to the Oakland church. There were, however, still substantial amounts that he felt he could spend on portrait photographs of himself and Ellen that he planned to distribute among his friends in church leadership for public relations purposes.61 One set was to be sent to Andrews “to show in Europe to those who enquire for us.”62 The tangled financial dealings and tensions are reflected in the sharp and caustic correspondence from James throughout this period and reveal the high toll that the situation exacted on relationships. When, for example, a promised article from Andrews on the three angels’ messages did not turn up on time as promised, James instructed Willie not to wait and to “write him [Andrews] a sharp letter.”63 The stresses stretched even James’s legendary entrepreneurial skills and management capacity to a breaking point. Andrews’s articles had, in fact, been sent earlier but had been lost in the mail. Across in Europe, on the margins of the church’s financial whirlwind, John Andrews struggled to manage his own domestic finances and meet the relentless demands of a new project that was almost consuming him. He was unable to rely on limited local Systematic Benevolence from the Swiss brethren, given the depressed circumstances and “distressed condition” of their businesses. It was difficult to cope with the erratic money flow from Battle Creek, based on a system of “spend and claim” reimbursements. Andrews felt that he was constantly having to beg for money and document and justify every minor expense. This proved stressful for John Andrews and his new printing office. In September, he explained what had been done with a previous sum of one thousand

dollars, worrying to James White that he was calling “too loudly for money.” He had studied “the sharpest kind of economy in all our affairs, but we are now the same as destitute,” he stated frankly. “I would try and get along without asking for money for some time to come were it not that we have a paper on our hands,” he added ruefully. In the past eight months, both he and Bourdeau had used what they had of their own means “cheerfully,” but now Bourdeau would need assistance in his evangelism in France.64 In November, Andrews acknowledged the receipt of five hundred dollars and sought further advice. However economical he was, he declared, “the publication of tracts and of the Signs does eat up money.” Feeling awkward because he had already received “considerable money” from America, he wondered if White thought he should curtail activities and desist from publishing tracts at least and sustain themselves on whatever they could find locally, especially “in view of the burdens that have to be sustained in America.” If so, he would reduce the scope of his mission and devote his strength to “keep alive our paper.”65 White replied publicly through a Review column in January that he feared the two brethren were “doing injustice to themselves” with their “extreme industry and economy,” and he urged Andrews to continue with what he was doing and “send his orders for money in season” and to “avail himself of all the benefits within his reach to extend the work in Europe.” That system was clearly not working. Making ends meet was a constant challenge, and Andrews began to reduce his household budget to poverty level in order to live within his means.

Illness and a reevaluation of strategy In December 1876, the missionary pastors in Europe gathered for their second annual meeting at La Coudre with their Swiss brethren from area congregations to assess the progress of their work. Although Andrews had been battling a period of mild early-winter illness, he persevered in leading

out in the meetings. The delegates were exceedingly encouraged by the progress in Germany, where within twelve months Erzberger had been able to become more than self-sustaining, an accomplishment James White applauded enthusiastically.66 Serious consideration was given to launching a German magazine to parallel the French one; a plan that White also endorsed with enthusiasm. Reality showed, however, that such an initiative was too impractical and visionary at this stage. In the French-speaking areas, while progress could be seen, it was slow and certainly nowhere near self-sustaining. Andrews and Bourdeau would need continuing help from America.67 Returning from the meetings and realizing that his earlier letters and financial reports had not yet arrived in Battle Creek, Andrews wrote again, saying he had advised Bourdeau to care for his own expenses.68 (Andrews had not seen his reports published in the Review, and White appeared ignorant of his earlier expense lists that would justify further remittances.) In early January, severe cold weather, contagion, and a run-down immune system conspired against the missionary. The severe bout of pneumonia that set upon Andrews on Sabbath morning, January 13, almost took his life. Though his health reform principles inclined him to refuse to take any medicine, he consented to call “one of the best physicians in the city.” The doctor attended to him seven times during the crisis. At his lowest point, during an extended spasm of coughing that he could not control, he feared that he would choke to death. During several days of delirium, days that were “blank in my memory,” he reported, he was not at all aware that Albert Vuilleumier had come from Neuchatel to pray for him. Two weeks later, Andrews began to recover but was not back into full harness for another six weeks, with magazine copy way behind schedule. It took many weeks after that to get his magazine back on track, but he did.69 He was not one to excuse himself from a duty. He emerged from the ordeal, however, chastened but grateful that he had survived Satan’s “deadly assault” on him, and he interpreted the illness as a lesson, assured

that God was fitting him “to do his work in a better manner.”70 An extract from one of his letters reporting on the illness appeared in the Review in the third week of February, although by that time the missionary was well on his way back to full strength again.71 But the episode had frightened his colleagues in Battle Creek. Looking around for something to blame for the episode, other than the fact that contagion permeated the community, Andrews identified what he supposed might be the cause. He recalled that when the doctor had first checked his lungs and saw his skeletonlike chest he was heard to express, “This man is almost starved to death.” Andrews acknowledged that he had been cutting corners on food intake for himself and his family, although it was out of necessity, he noted. He could see no other way to make ends meet. “I have felt constrained to use great economy in the matter of our food,” he explained to White later in what he hoped would be a strictly confidential letter. The family had been trying to live on a two-meal-a-day, vegetarian, “health reform plan,” and that was difficult in Europe even when money was available. When money dried up it was still more difficult. “We have lived upon baker’s [white] bread, graham pudding, potatoes and occasionally a cabbage. We have bought milk and butter sufficient for the cooking. We have used almost no fruit at all. We bought a few cherries and a very few grapes; and perhaps have laid out one dollar and a half in apples.” The apples were tasteless, and purchasing more fruit was simply beyond their means.72 In the same letter, Andrews also acknowledged that their cook was “about the poorest cook that I ever had knowledge of.” She was apparently an eighteen-year-old orphan girl who had lost her job when she became a Sabbath keeper and Andrews had offered to provide accommodations for her if she would do the housekeeping and cooking. That had not worked out successfully. Andrews pled with White not to censure him “sharply,” for he had “confessed” to God and family, and now to White, recognizing he had not acted wisely. But when faced with the difficult choice of paying

for house rent, paper for the magazine, tracts, fuel, essential help for Bourdeau’s family, and food for himself, when the money did not go far enough and when he could not borrow from anyone, the budget for the food was the easiest to trim back on—only temporarily of course. More revealingly, Andrews confessed that he was frightened. “I have feared that the brethren in America would think that our mission would cost more than it came to.” He was in a no-win situation. What did Andrews learn from this near encounter with death? In the future, he confessed to White, he would not trim the food budget. He would try and employ Louis Aufranc for a greater share of his time to reduce the pressure on himself. But there was one solution that he thought only James White could solve for him. Grant him a set salary! As things were in Switzerland, he had “no way of earning money.” When money was sent from America for “the publication of the paper,” he explained, he regarded it as “very sacred money.” Taking it to use for his personal expenses made him feel “as David did in eating the shewbread”—allowed only in extreme necessity. He thus felt guilty when, from time to time, he had been forced to use money intended for publishing work on his own expenses. He argued that this policy placed him “in a false position and one that is very painful.” He did not want to have to decide himself what proportion of the funds was personal for food, fuel, clothes, and so on, and what proportion was for publishing. Would it not be much better for the General Conference to designate what was his “pay”? He did not want a large sum, just give him whatever was thought proper and then allow him “to have one quarter of a year’s pay in advance.” Remittances and the mail system thus far had been too unreliable for the “spend and claim” system to work properly. If a salary plan could be implemented, it would “place him on his feet,” meaning it would enable him to plan, and he would be free from “embarrassment.” He did not want to suggest that he was blaming anyone else for his predicament and accepted that the “fault” was perhaps his own sensitivity about these things, but it was an awareness of

the super-high expectations placed upon him by the whole church that further heightened his anxiety. Once he had commenced the paper, he explained, “My anxiety to make it worthy of so sacred a cause, has been inexpressible.”73 He pled that “prompt action” be taken on this. Why Andrews had to send all his correspondence on finance to James White and not to the General Conference treasurer is curious. It would seem that the treasurer could have been instructed to work on a policy basis in processing accounts and money orders according to a preestablished arrangement. That this did not happen reflects not only the lack of a policy framework in these areas, but it perhaps also pointed to the micromanagement style of leadership at work. The church was still a long way from working with annual budgets (not started until 1895). James White held tight control in the area of finance and tended to meticulously monitor church monies not only as a function of his business temperament but also because the flow of church funding was still so heavily dependent on his own personal fund-raising ability and his entrepreneurial spirit. For whatever reason, the brethren in Battle Creek decided that they could not comply with Andrews’s suggested revised compensation arrangements. White’s letter of reply on the matter is not extant. Perhaps the leaders feared losing control of expenses, or perhaps they saw danger in creating a sense of dependency on the General Conference on the part of the Swiss brethren. At any rate, instead of granting Andrews’s request for a more regular salary plan, they forwarded a money order to cover the expenses Andrews had already incurred. With it they sent additional privately donated monies for Andrews’s personal expenses—somewhat to his embarrassment, perhaps because he felt ashamed of needing such help. Three months later, Andrews found himself backing up and explaining that he had “no disposition to find fault with the existing arrangement.” He would therefore live with “the matter as it is,” without a regular salary, and he would continue to give a good account of the means used. He stated that he looked forward to the arrival of Willie White and his wife to take

over the printing side of his work.74 For twelve months the ten-thousanddollar fund for the European press very slowly continued to attract pledges at one hundred dollars per time. By the end of April 1877, the fund needed only five further donors to achieve its goal.75 Willie White, when he came, would have funds to work with to build the visionary publishing house.

Why not the “American model” for mission? Andrews’s illness and the related developments led to a critical reevaluation of his mission strategy by the General Conference committee comprised of White, Stephen Haskell, and Dudley Canright, although the report they issued in the Review seems to have been largely the handiwork of James.76 “We are becoming terribly anxious about the mission in Europe,” the report read.77 It was not a ringing vote of confidence in John Andrews—and again, it was a very public statement. The committee appeared to have become worried primarily about the slow progress being made in the French language arena and by the fact that Andrews was being tied up so tightly in editorial work and routine magazine production processes. Why was he doing this rather than being out running evangelistic campaigns, which was where his skills also lay? They were also disturbed by the level of investment that the European mission was requiring and that it was not becoming self-sustaining quickly enough. They had been pained to learn, for example, that Charles and Mary had been kept from their school studies to do such work as folding papers. From afar this might have looked terrible, worse than it actually was. The General Conference committee’s responsibility was “to give that form to the work that will best advance and build up the cause.” This was the committee’s justification for the sharp public criticisms the report proceeded to offer. The criticisms were the kind of second-guessing—the public airing of Andrews’s “mistakes” in the Review—that he had experienced before and feared so much, even as he took on the project of the mission to Europe. According to his Battle Creek critics, he should

have started in a village somewhere, not in a city like Basel. The church in America had begun “humbly” in villages and at much less cost. Furthermore, Andrews should not have started with a monthly paper. A paper four or six times a year would have been better rather than shutting himself wholly up to printing. He should have been content to leave the translation and printing “imperfectly done” and not worry about mistakes. Moreover, Bourdeau should not have gone to France. He should have stayed in Switzerland to get the work on to a self-sustaining basis more quickly. The workers in Europe had “a model” to follow, claimed the committee: it was the way the church had developed successfully in America. It was a policy that had “secured growing strength and numbers and means to the cause at every step.” Why did the missionaries not follow it? “The work in Europe, in order to prosper, must copy after the American model.”78 Andrews must have winced when he read the copy of the report in the Review and absorbed its tone, knowing also that the whole church was reading it too. (It was sent to Andrews as “a circular letter” afterwards.) He could have been excused, perhaps, for feeling somewhat abused. He replied promptly to the report and with vigor. He acknowledged that the committee’s ideals were valid, such as “the necessity of preaching as well as printing.” That was “true and right,” and it was Andrews’s intention to do so. In fact, he had been doing it for some time now.79 But this time the missionary editor pushed back hard against the criticisms. “There are difficulties in my way of which you can have little idea till you visit Europe,” he replied to his armchair critics, who would claim to know better about things from the other side of an ocean. While respectful and still conveying a submissive tone, he asserted, “Our situation in Switzerland has been very different from what you suppose. It has been almost wholly different from what I expected to find.” He recounted the rationale for the monthly editions of the magazine and gave the reasons for special concern when it came to insisting on linguistic precision in

publication. He needed to guard against “ridiculousness” in print. Did they really want to “ruin” the paper and their own reputation? The paper was being regularly read by “well-educated people.” He could move back out to a village if they insisted, but if left to his local judgment of the situation, he would need to get as “clear a light as I thought I had with respect to moving to Basel” in the first place, he asserted. He had seen the clear leading and providence of God in this, but maybe he had erred on the matter if they said so. He thought not. Erich Baumgartner has critiqued Andrews’s approach to the European mission because the missionary thought “the only way to establish the work in Europe was to copy the model of the church in America.” It is true that, initially, Andrews struggled with culture shock and the idea that the American way was the best way. But he worked through that problem. The focus he gave to the magazine was not because he thought it was the only way and that this was how it was done in America. The decision to focus on publishing was taken because of his own limitations with the language, the nonavailability of national helpers, and the cultural barriers to public evangelism. It seemed the best given the circumstances he found himself in. In fact, he was criticized by the General Conference because he did not follow the American model.80 Two months later, Andrews was even more assertive in his pushback. In order to be able to publish a paper in Europe using commercial presses, the missionaries were “absolutely obliged to live in a city.”81 Furthermore, he was not even sure it was such a good idea to bring back Bourdeau from France, given that he had now made a breakthrough and had won some valuable converts. He would do it if they said so, but he begged for “a little time for reflection.” He was sorry now that he had related some of the humorous cultural particulars about daily life around him and in his house, such as the Swiss custom of infrequent clothes washing. Such anecdotes apparently were “not understood.” It seems that they only “made me appear in an unfavorable light,” and he thus had resolved to desist of

speaking of such things. The thrust of Andrews’s reply to his critics was that he was doing absolutely the very best he could, given the less-than-ideal financial circumstances, lack of personnel, and a very different culture. He was stretching himself thin (literally!) to meet the expectations of his brethren and his expectations of himself. On the same day that he replied personally to White, he also wrote a public defense of his work for the Review. He did not take issue with the specific criticisms on mission strategy to avoid appearing as if he was taking a polemical or adversarial stance. But he did explain what he was doing and why. He spoke of the situation where if a foreigner tries to speak conversationally in French, they are readily pardoned for mistakes, but they are “not pardoned if he writes for the public.”82 He stated that since the paper had been able to establish its pattern and had survived for twelve months, he would, with careful planning, be able to spend several days each week in preaching. But the reality was that producing Les Signes des Temps was not quite the same as producing the California Signs or the Review, which could be managed somewhat remotely, thus opening up the way for field preaching. “I must beg the friends in America to have all patience possible,” he wrote. “You justly look for progress in the work in Europe. Your anxiety that we who are here should accomplish something for the cause of God is great, I know; but if you knew our anxiety, you would be satisfied that we are not in ease in Zion.” A day later he sent a further reply to White, giving more detail on Bourdeau’s health complexities and expressing a pastoral concern, wondering if he should immediately pass on the cutting and highly critical “circular letter” to Bourdeau. He knew its effect would be “such as you can hardly imagine.” It would send him “almost crazy for many days.” Emotionally, Bourdeau was “an extremely feeble man,” reported Andrews. He would wait until he heard from White further concerning his wishes on this. If White gave the go ahead, he would deliver it. “I will never turn

aside from [delivering] any blow you feel called to strike.” Andrews remembered that he had been accused by White in an earlier period of his ministry of siding with those whom White reproved. “God forbid that I should be guilty of the faults of the past in shielding the erring from reproof,” he wrote apprehensively.83

The mission extends to Italy What Andrews readily agreed with in White’s committee report was the need to visit Dr. Ribton, an Irish physician living in Naples, Italy, “without delay.” It had been a priority on his list for some time, he explained, but the lack of budget and the press of editorial duties had, for almost six months, kept it as a lesser priority. When the Review arrived with its instructions, he had already had in hand almost completed plans for such a journey.84 Herbert Ribton came from an aristocratic family and had graduated from the University of Dublin. He had a number of foreign languages at his command and had gone to live in Italy many years previously because of the healthful climate.85 His wife suffered ill health. He had become acquainted with Adventists by a remarkable circuitous route that started with his reading a thirdhand copy of the Health Reformer. The medical friend who had passed the copy on, a Dr. Zimple of Naples, had written to the magazine. Seeing his name in the Reformer, William Jones of London’s Mill Yard Seventh Day Baptist church sent Zimple some Sabbath reading materials, which, like the health magazine he enjoyed, he also passed on to Ribton. Herbert Ribton then wrote Jones in great interest, and Jones sent him more materials and a copy of Andrews’s History of the Sabbath. Ribton initiated correspondence with Andrews, who over six months or so sent him Les Signes des Temps, Smith’s tracts on Daniel and Revelation, and a host of other things. He had also sent him “many letters the best that I knew how.”86 Originally of Anglican background, Ribton had been involved with both Methodist and Baptist congregations during

his time in Naples. Now he had become a Seventh-day Adventist, though he had never met one, and wanted to become a missionary for the cause. He had already won some converts, one of whom was a commercial traveler friend, a Brother Bertola in Alexandria, Egypt. In July, Andrews set out for Naples. He now had the travel authorization of the General Conference committee in hand—although not yet any additional cash in hand for the journey. On the way he called in to visit with Bourdeau and his congregation of twenty to help with his evangelism in Valence in southern France. Again, he made sure he traveled third-class —“a hard way to travel,” but done “to save expense.” He found the fortyfive-year-old Herbert Ribton “a man of choice spirit” and one who “truly fears God.” “Brother Ribton is a Seventh-day Adventist, and [n]o mistake,” he informed James White in a private letter. He had spent much time studying with the doctor thoroughly, indoctrinating him in the tenets of the faith, and ended up staying on two weeks longer than originally planned in order to get his small group operating in a local hall with outreach meetings. It was a hostile environment for Adventist evangelism and Catholic neighbors caused trouble and interrupted meetings when they were attempted at home, but Ribton was determined. And so was Andrews, who went to some lengths to visit the numerous recipients of his church paper in Naples.87 On Thursday, August 2, at Puteoli on the bay of Naples, just where the apostle Paul had landed, Andrews baptized the good Irish doctor and four other new Sabbath keepers in the sea.88 Andrews hoped someone would volunteer to join Ribton in Naples, for there were many English-speaking families there. This was truly an exciting development, and the news reverberated around the Adventist world, although it took repeated reports to Battle Creek from Andrews to get the word out. His reports kept getting lost in the mail, delaying important information and causing much inconvenience, frustration, and the extra work of rewriting reports. On August 8, he wrote again from Naples because money had again become thin. The resultant delays in having

sufficient funds transmitted added heavy layers of stress to Andrews’s life.89 On the way home to Basel, Andrews called in to visit Mrs. Revel in Torre Pellice, forty-five miles from Turin. Here he spent three days with the first Adventist Sabbath keeper in Italy, visiting with her neighbors, friends, and former Sabbath keeping pastor, Elder Ferroris. Andrews admired Sister Revel’s strength and faithfulness during many years of private Sabbath keeping and learned that her son was training for the ministry in a local Waldensian seminary, which was Presbyterian in doctrine. Andrews also took delight in the scenery around the Revel home. He had never seen “a more beautiful valley” than this Waldensian stronghold and was convinced it had much potential for further evangelism. The following weekend found the missionary back in Valence participating in a baptism with Bourdeau. This time they had to find a quiet spot on the Rhone River a mile away from the city “with some degree of caution” so that their meeting would not be broken up by the police. They baptized eight new Sabbath keepers. Among the new converts were well-educated people, notably this time a Sister Gabert and her two daughters, who were high school teachers. They would bring much strength to the development of the growing church. During this visit, as noted previously, Andrews persuaded Bourdeau to move back to French Switzerland, where they thought conditions for evangelism would be more favorable. Andrews helped in the relocation and wanted James White to know that he had settled the family in a “village” of about three thousand. They had found accommodations at reasonable rent but had to pay in advance. By September 18, Andrews was back in Basel in time to get out the next issue of the paper, but he was again losing sleep worrying about finances. His July and August letters had either not arrived in Battle Creek, or something else was wrong. He had to write again seeking funds, assuring

White that he was doing his very best to be frugal. He said that he believed that the emerging church in Europe would soon be able to “take off this burden from the American brethren.” Andrews badly wanted this to happen because it would also relieve him from “the pain of being obliged to tax their [American] generosity.” Money really worried him now. The burden is so heavy, he wrote, “I cannot sleep but part of the nights.” If White thought it “proper,” would he send five hundred dollars or one thousand dollars “immediately”? He prayed God to grant “that I may soon say you need send us no more.”90 “We have had to labor under very great disadvantages of which our brethren in America can have no adequate idea,” he wrote more assertively in late November. Progress had been made, however, and they were in a condition that made it much easier to keep up the paper, and he would be able to spend more time assisting Bourdeau in his evangelism and in preaching around the churches.91

Trouble at headquarters During these months, part of Andrews’s trouble with communication resulting in the lack of timely remittance of funding related not just to errant mail but to serious problems back at headquarters. General Conference personnel were, of course, also itinerant, and letters sometimes took time to catch up with them. During the summer of 1877, however, James White had also been working at manic pace, busily juggling church and publishing association accounts trying to make ends meet. He was also trading paper to make money on the side and trying to launch multiple publishing and entrepreneurial enterprises, both church and private.92 Stress levels were never low, but they were now creeping up again as in Battle Creek White could not keep himself out of being involved in management affairs. On August 9, as Andrews was visiting Sister Revel in Torres Pellice, White’s health became so poor he had to cancel camp meeting appointments. Nine days later he had another serious collapse, and

doctors worked feverishly at the sanitarium to try and prevent another stroke. As a result, White spent several days in the hospital. Very weak and still with some “confusion of brain,” he pushed himself to keep appointments at camp meetings in the East. It was a highly taxing time for both of the Whites, who were now traveling together again. A day of fasting and prayer for White’s “very feeble condition” was again called in all the churches.93 Like Andrews, James White also looked for possible causes of his near-death encounter. At a prayer meeting at Stephen Haskell’s home in South Lancaster following the camp meeting, Ellen White reported a scene of deep conviction and high spiritual emotion with much weeping and shouting. James White was in a reflective mood, recalled Ellen later in her diary. “Father made some remarks [on] when he thought he had not viewed matters always in the right light. In much care and in the many burdens, he has become unsympathizing and too severe. He felt deeply humbled in view of his own weakness and his mistakes.” White was then anointed with oil, and there was much loud praising of God. Ellen White took from the events in Haskell’s home an assurance that James would not die but live to praise God. And he did, even though he recovered slowly. James White’s health returned, partially, leaving him with a seriously diminished capacity. Along the way, the church’s senior leader experienced much “depression of spirits,” particularly in the weeks that followed.94 The weeks turned into months that eventually involved another troubled retreat, this time to Healdsburg, California. Ellen concluded soberly that her husband had indeed suffered yet another “stroke of paralysis.” The task of caring for him alone and managing his highly erratic behavior arising from the stroke, further complicated by an outbreak of severe peripheral neuropathy, almost drove her to distraction.95 It was another difficult period of transition for the church as White found it difficult to achieve his goal of “growing old gracefully” and letting go of the many details of church oversight.

Although James was able to attend the General Conference session in Battle Creek in late September 1877, he moved into the session slowly and other leaders, such as Haskell and Smith, were deputized in his place in chairing early sessions. White’s leadership in major policy initiatives and discussions diminished as Haskell and Canright and the other committee members moved into the breach and began to exercise more influence. Out of deference to his role as “counselor,” however, delegates again felt obliged to reelect him to the majority of leadership positions. A notable decision of this conference was the complete repeal of the problematic philosophy and policy statement on leadership that had caused so much tension and upheaval in 1873. This important action enabled the immediate welcome of W. H. Littlejohn back into membership and into the ranks of the ministry. Littlejohn, who had withdrawn his participation in the movement over the quasi-monarchical, one-man-rule philosophy of the leadership document, explained that the rescinding of the document “had cleared away the difficulties that stood in the way of his active cooperation with the body for the past four years.”96 Another notable development at this conference with implications for Andrews’s mission in Europe was the increasing role being given to the twenty-three-year-old son of Ellen and James, William (Willie) C. White. Married to Mary Kelsey in February eight months earlier, Willie White had been released from the presidency at the fledgling Pacific Press at that time so that he could attend Battle Creek College to complete an education. His goal: to learn French and German and then go to join Andrews at the end the year. Andrews was preparing for this arrival gladly, thinking that Willie would come and look after the practical side of setting up of an in-house printing operation. As it turned out, however, with a scarcity of administrative personnel available, and with the elder White beginning to ail quickly, the youthful W. C. White was called into leadership roles at Battle Creek. Even though he was still a student, he was elected to the college’s board of trustees and appointed as a director of the

health institute. At the year-end session, he was elected as vice president of the publishing association. This was to enable him to act in his father’s place.97 It was a remarkably rapid rise to power in the church. One wonders how many saw it as creeping nepotism. In many other arenas, W. C. White began to deputize for his father. As 1878 began to unfold, with James White becoming increasingly dysfunctional, W. C. White became the chief person Andrews corresponded with concerning issues of mission and the publishing work. Another notable development at the autumn session that would impact Andrews’s work in a major way in the coming year was the emphasis that the session gave to its resolution to “pledge ourselves anew to sustain our beloved brother, Elder J. N. Andrews, and his fellow-laborers in the work there.” The delegates resolved to send him “additional helpers as soon as in our power.”98 Whether the hedged or conditional nature of the pledge (“as soon as in our power”) related to the present incapacity to financially support new helpers or to the problem of finding suitable helpers was not clear in the action. Perhaps the intended ambiguity of the action was meant to refer to W. C. White’s anticipated imminent departure to join Andrews in Europe. Andrews did not have long to wait for things to become clear. More help was on the way. But as in the case of Bourdeau, was it the kind of help he really needed or could use?

1. “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 2, 1876, 70. 2. Ibid. 3. “Our European Missions,” RH, June 7, 1877, 180. 4. DTB to JW and EGW, Mar. 23, 1875. EGWE-GC. 5. JNA to US, Dec. 25, 1879, CAR. The manuscript was entitled “Address to the Public.” 6. “Encouraging Prospects in Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 16, 1876, 86. 7. JW to WCW, Apr. 12, 1876, EGWE-GC. 8. DTB to JW and EGW, Mar. 23, 1875, EGWE-GC. A fund raised specifically for Europe and held in Battle Creek. 9. Ibid.

10. JNA to JW, June 19, 1877, EGWE-GC. 11. JNA to JW, June 19 and 20, 1877, EGWE-GC. 12. “Switzerland,” RH, June 22, 1876, 196, 197. 13. “The Work in Alsace, Germany, Formerly a Part of France,” RH, June 8, 1876, 181. 14. JNA to JW, June 4, 1876, EGWE-GC. 15. Ibid. 16. JW to WCW, Apr. 12, 1876, EGWE-GC. “Sprouts” here refers to a bunch of prickly sticks. 17. “Switzerland, Alsace, and France,” RH, Aug. 24, 1876, 69. 18. JNA to JW, Dec. 10, 1876, EGWE-GC; “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 23, 1876, 164. 19. “From Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 9, 1876, 150; “Southern France,” RH, Dec. 14, 1876, 190. 20. “Southern France,” RH, Mar. 1, 1877, 70; “Southern France,” RH, Nov. 2, 1876, 141; “From Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 9, 1876, 150. 21. “Northern Italy,” RH, Sept. 20, 1877, 100; “Southern Switzerland,” RH, Oct. 4, 1877, 140. 22. Bourdeau provided detailed running reports on these evangelistic activities. See, for example, “Southern France,” RH, Dec. 14, 1876, 190. 23. “Missionary Tour to Denmark and Norway,” RH, May 31, 1877, 172. 24. “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Dec. 7, 1876, 182. Andrews hoped in late 1876 that circumstances would change to allow him more freedom to preach, and they did a little—but not much. 25. DTB to JW & EGW, Mar. 23, 1876, EGWE-GC. 26. The size of the sheets would later be abandoned for a more European format. 27. “Our New Paper,” RH, July 20, 1876, 29; “Report from Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 23, 1876, 164. 28. JNA to WCW, June 19, 1876, EGWE-GC. 29. “The European Paper,” RH, Aug. 3, 1876, 48. 30. “Les Signes des Temps,” RH, Aug. 10, 1876, 56. 31. Bernard Sauvagnat, “The Missionary Editor,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 287. Sauvagnat’s article provides the basis for the following discussion of the content of Les Signes des Temps. 32. JNA to EGW, May 26, 1877, EGWE-GC. 33. Jean Vuilleumier observes in his diary that these pieces gave a certain dynamic quality to the paper and carried the personal stamp of the editor. JVD, May 23, 1883, AHAF. 34. Sauvagnat, “The Missionary Editor,” 302. 35. “Our French Paper,” RH, June 29, 1876, 4. 36. “Report From Switzerland,” RH, Nov. 23, 1876, 164. 37. JNA to EGW, May 26, 1877, EGWE-GC. 38. JNA to JW, Nov. 10, 1876, EGWE-GC. 39. “Preaching by Steam,” RH, Mar. 30, 1876, 100. 40. “Special Session of the General Conference,” RH, April 6, 1876, 108. 41. “European Press Fund,” RH, Sept. 9, 1876, 76. The fund began with eight subscribers and took twelve months to reach its target of one hundred subscribers on October 25, 1877, see “European Press,” RH, Oct. 25, 1877, 136. The growing list was published twenty-six times. 42. JW to WCW, Apr. 12, 1875, EGWE-GC. In his illuminating study of James White, Gerald

Wheeler seems to misunderstand the scope of the dismissive remark about Andrews “making a fool of it.” The remark refers specifically to the running of the yet-to-be-established printing office in Basel, not the general Europe-wide mission work as a whole, as Wheeler seems to infer. Gerald Wheeler, James White: Innovator and Overcomer (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2003), 198. 43. In an attempt to correct the economic crisis, Grant worsened it. For a helpful analysis of the impact of the Long Depression, see Ron Chernow, Grant (New York: Penguin Press, 2017), 776– 783. 44. Wikipedia, s.v., “Long Depression,” updated September 16, 2018, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_Depression. 45. “Hard Times,” RH, July 27, 1876, 36; RH, Aug. 3, 1876, 44. Willie White followed up with a third editorial on the same theme. RH, Apr. 4, 1878, 112. 46. “Eighteenth Annual Session,” RH, Oct. 4, 1877, 106; RH Supplement, Oct. 26, 1876. The General Conference took on debt to keep up the salaries of J. H. Waggoner and Isaac Van Horn. The ministers made redundant found work with other conferences. In 1879 James White was still trying to persuade his son, W. C. White, in Battle Creek and other employees at the Pacific Press to take a pay cut down to ten dollars per week to set an example in the face of threatening bankruptcy. JW to WCW and HWK, Jan. 15, 1879, EGWE-GC. 47. JNA to JW, Sept. 6, 1876, EGWE-GC. 48. Bourdeau reported that the “troubles in France [and] the Turco-Russian war” brought further “stagnation” to their economy in late 1877. “Switzerland, and Alsace, Germany,” RH, Nov. 15, 1877, 158. 49. “Special Session of the General Conference,” RH, Apr. 6, 1876, 108. 50. “Battle Creek College,” RH Supplement, Oct. 26, 1876, 1. 51. “Home Again,” RH, June 13, 1878, 188; EGW to JEW, Aug. 10, 1876, EGWE-GC. 52. “Conference Address,” RH, Oct. 19, 1876, 121–123; JW to WCW and HWK, Jan. 15, 1878, EGWE-GC. 53. JW to WCW, May 7, 1876, EGWE-GC. The rift was as serious as it had ever been, and it had been rocky in the past. As result of the quarrel, White wrote, “If mother would not always blame me when Edson abuses me . . . I think I could consent to live in the same State where Edson may reside. But until I see a radical change in both Edson and mother, I do not expect to go to California. . . . So mother will probably go to California with her friends in the fall, and I go to Texas.” See also EGW to JEW, July 30, 1876, EGWE-GC. 54. JW to WCW, May 7, 1876, EGWE-GC. White’s complicated financial dealings in California and his perceived boasting about what he had done are discussed in J. N. Loughborough’s lengthy “Conference Address,” RH, Oct. 19, 1876, 121–123. Loughborough’s report needs to be read in the context of James’s correspondence with his son Willie, which shows how the perception of boasting might have developed. James claimed to be the only one who could help California. 55. JW to WCW, July 21, Aug. 1, 1875, EGWE-GC. 56. “Dime Tabernacle,” RH, July 25, 1878, 36; “Matters and Things,” RH, Aug. 2, 1877, 44; “The Conference,” Mar. 7, 1878, 76. 57. See, for example, “The Eastern War,” RH, Apr. 26, 1877, 129; “Last Day Tokens: Preparing

For War,” RH, Mar. 23, 1876, 89; “Expectation of a Great War,” RH, Aug. 10, 1876, 51; “The Indebtedness of Europe,” RH, Aug. 17, 1876, 57; “The War in the East,” RH, May 3, 1877, 144. 58. The challenge to Smith also found its way into the Review. “Unfulfilled Prophecy,” RH, Nov. 29, 1877, 172. See also, ALW, Ellen G. White: The Lonely Years 1876–1891 (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1984), 96, 97. 59. “Southern Switzerland,” RH, Dec. 13, 1877, 190. 60. JW to WCW, Oct. 13, 1876, EGWE-GC. “I must have money,” repeated four times. JW to WCW, [Undated], and also Oct. 16, 1876. 61. JW to EGW, Apr. 7, 1876, EGWE-GC. The portraits had been taken apparently with the intention of illustrating the forthcoming Life Sketches. JW to EGW, Apr. 18, 1876, EGWE-GC. 62. JW to EGW, Apr. 18, 1876, EGWE-GC. 63. JW to WCW, Undated, EGWE-GC. Internal evidence, such as the discussion of the “Three Angels” articles and printing paper sales, suggests a date of June 1876. 64. JNA to JW, Sept. 9, 1876, EGWE-GC. 65. JNA to JW, Nov. 10, 1876, EGWE-GC. 66. “Dangers and Duties,” RH, Jan. 25, 1877, 28, 29. White thought the news would surprise “stingy American Christians.” 67. “General Business Meeting at La Coudre, Switzerland,” RH, Jan. 25, 1877, 30. “Dangers and Duties,” RH, Jan. 25, 1877, 28, 29. 68. JNA to JW, Dec. 10, 1877, EGWE-GC. 69. JNA to JW, June 22, 1877, EGWE-GC. 70. JNA to JW, Feb. 6, 1877, EGWE-GC. Andrews was still too weak to write and from his sickbed dictated the letter to eighteen-year-old Charles, who scribed it out in his perfect copperplate style. 71. “Sickness of Elder Andrews,” RH, Feb. 22, 1877, 60. 72. Some details of his account of their circumstances come from a follow-up letter he dictated two days later. Ironically, at this same time he had been asked to write out a testimonial piece on health reform for the Health Reformer journal that White was trying to rejuvenate. JNA to JW, Feb. 8, 1876, EGWE-GC. 73. Ibid. 74. JNA to JW, May 26, 1877, EGWE-GC. 75. “European Press,” RH, Apr. 19, 1877, 128. 76. It was to James alone that Andrews addressed his reply. 77. “Our European Missions,” RH, June 7, 1877, 180, 181. 78. Ibid. While speaking of Andrews as “our beloved brother,” the general tone reflected in the report’s exaggerated expressions and comparisons indicate frustration and a lack of confidence in Andrews’s decision-making. For example, the report made such arguments as: James White could have started the Review in Boston or New York, but he didn’t—he went to a village. Was the report largely the work of James White himself? The report feared that Andrews would too easily place means in the hands of “utter strangers” on the basis of “mere correspondence.” The target was men such as Dr. Ribton of Naples, Italy, for example, whom the brethren had not been able to meet in person. It had apparently been forgotten that Andrews had spent a month in Ribton’s home and had baptized him.

79. JNA to JW, June 19, 1877, EGWE-GC. He had appointments for preaching up in Tramelan and Locle that very weekend. JNA to JW, June 22, 1877, EGWE-GC. 80. Erich Baumgartner, “Charisma and Contextualization: Leadership Lessons From the Emerging Adventist Church in Central Europe, 1864-1914” in Parochialism, Pluralism, and Contextualization: Challenges to Adventist Mission in Europe (19th–21st Centuries), eds. David J. B. Trim and Daniel Heinz (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2010), 67. Daniel Heinz also critiques Andrews for “overemphasizing the publishing work” and prematurely adopting “the American model of literature evangelism.” This critique could be more nuanced in light of the economic circumstances facing Andrews on his arrival in Switzerland, as narrated earlier in this study, and given Andrews’s limitations as an expatriate. Both Matteson and Conradi were returning nationals for whom culture and language were not barriers, and Conradi found success in working with German immigrant communities in different countries, which minimized cultural barriers. This strategy was not available to Andrews. See Daniel Heinz, “The Development of Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Dynamic in Europe: Assessing the Contributions of Michael B. Czechowski, John N. Andrews, and Ludwig R. Conradi,” Parochialism, Pluralism, and Contextualization, 55. See also Gilbert M. Valentine, “J. N. Andrews and the ‘Success’ of the European Mission,” (paper presented at the Third International Symposium, Contours of Adventism, Theologische Hochschule, Friedensau Germany), April 23–26, 2018. 81. “Our Situation and Prospects,” RH, Nov. 22, 1877, 64. 82. “Our Work in Europe,” RH, July 12, 1877, 20. 83. JNA to JW, June 20, 1877, EGWE-GC. 84. “Visit to Naples,” RH, Aug. 9, 1877, 52. 85. Details in this sketch are drawn from Ribton’s introduction of himself in the Review, “A Sketch of the Life of Dr. Ribton,” RH, Oct. 18, 1877, 122, 123, and JNA to JW, June 19, 1877, EGWE-GC. 86. JNA to JW, June 22, 1877, EGWE-GC. 87. More details of this incident are given in “Naples, Italy,” RH, Oct. 11, 1877, 116. 88. “Naples, Italy,” RH, Sept. 9, 1877, 92. 89. JNA to JW, Sept. 18, 1877, EGWE-GC. 90. Ibid. 91. “Our Situation and Prospects,” RH, Nov. 22, 1876, 164. 92. JW to WCW, Aug. 11, 1877, EGWE-GC, gives an idea of the complexity of these numerous private dealings. 93. “A Day of Fasting and Prayer,” RH, Sept. 6, 1877, 188. 94. His quarrels with Ellen during the previous summer troubled him much, and he thought he “had committed great sin that the Lord can hardly forgive.” EGW to WCW and WM, Sept. 3, 1877, EGWE-GC. 95. “A Day of Fasting and Prayer,” RH, Sept. 6, 1877, 88. Details are related in a series of letters, EGW to JEW and EW, Aug. 31, Sept. 7, 28, 1877; EGW to WCW and MW, Sept. 3, 1877; EGW to MW, Nov. 1, 1877; EGW to LH, Dec. 6, 1877, EGWE-GC. Repeated removing of his socks to check the temperature of his feet, continuous running of his hands under cold water, causing ugly skin problems, sleeping in a tent in the backyard, and compulsive driving through the countryside added to the frequent episodes of moroseness and irritability. At times he seemed to his wife “like

an insane man.” 96. “Sixteenth Annual Session of the S. D. Adventist Publishing Association,” RH, Oct. 4, 1877, 106. 97. Ibid., 105, 106. Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon, eds., EGWEncycl. (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 564. 98. Ibid., 105.

Chapter Twenty

A Calamitous Year and Its Aftermath: 1878–1879

T

he mission in Europe clearly needed help. Andrews was in trouble.

He needed money and people—the right kind of people. But who could go? Not W. C. White, it seems. It had become clear to the brethren that, given James White’s failing health and the perilous state of church finances, it would not be productive to send Willie and Mary White—at least, not just yet. They were more important to the work in the United States. The search turned to look for someone else who might be available. William Ings had been born in England in 1835 but raised in America. He had become a Seventh-day Adventist in Iowa through the ministry of George Butler. He had then moved to Battle Creek in 1866, where he developed his financial and organizing skills as a publishing house shipping clerk. In October 1877, Ings was promoted to be treasurer of the Review and Herald Publishing Association. His wife, Jennie, a recent German immigrant, set type for the church’s Danish and German publications. She had become a good friend of Ellen White.1 Shortly after the General Conference session, someone suggested the Ings might help. Church officials moved quickly to formally invite the couple to go to Europe to join Andrews. They could take with them twenty-five-year-old English-born Maude Sisley, one of the composers from the Review office. No one, unfortunately, had consulted with Andrews on any of this. He found out about the news in a private letter from his brother-in-law, Uriah Smith. Jennie later related to Ellen White that Haskell and Canright, now

the ranking officers on the executive committee had become convinced that unless the Ingses moved with dispatch, “Andrews would collapse under his burdens” and “might be lost to the cause.”2 The couple had thus sold up quickly. By the time they reached South Lancaster on the way to embarkation at Boston, however, Haskell and Canright had received a forwarded plaintiff letter of protest and enquiry Andrews had written to W. C. White.3 What was he going to do with the Ingses when they arrived if they could not speak French or German? He feared to be “overwhelmed with English” again. His family was trying desperately to shut it out of the house so that they could immerse themselves in French. And who was going to pay the Ingses? Would not their arrival only add to the burden of expense? Without language skills, would they not make it more difficult for him to leave the burden of proofreading with others so that he could go and preach? “He needed money more than anything,” Jennie later told Ellen White. At the time, he was in debt for four issues of the paper simply because remittances had not arrived, and the family was living “with poverty.” Where in the world was the wisdom in this plan? This was clearly the message Andrews’s letter conveyed. There were other concerns too. Andrews suspected that the Ingses were not the kind of people who could cope with the reduced and very basic lifestyle his family had been forced to adopt. He really needed a German printer and someone who could preach in German. He thought perhaps he could absorb the skilled Maude as a printer if she would be happy to be a printer in charge of things rather than being just a typesetter. What he would do with Jennie, however, he did not know, unless she wanted to keep house for them. (He apparently did not know of her typesetting experience.) And without anything for William to do, Andrews thought that he would only get discouraged and perhaps make trouble. Would the brethren think again about the wisdom of this hasty move, he asked? “I ask you to weigh this matter well.”4 Fearful that his protests might be misunderstood, Andrews begged the

Ingses, as good friends, not to take offense. It was really “only a question of time and whether it is advisable now,” he explained diplomatically.5 Fearing that his questions were too late to change things because they may have left already, he gave advice on which hotel to use in Liverpool, the best way to get to London, and thence to Paris and on to Basel. After an anxious night of disturbed sleep, he wrote again the following day, worried that his earlier letter “would be wrongly understood” and cause “trial,” and he tried to soften his objections. He was “extremely anxious for the honor of the cause of truth that our publishing work shall not break down for want of means,” and he hoped to be pardoned for calling attention to the matter of money. He noted that he was, at present, “without means,” and had been “for some time.” His last two formal requests to Elder White had produced nothing, and he figured the mail may have gotten lost again. He feared the closure of his paper, not knowing about James White’s new incapacity. Then, clearly indicating the deep spiritual convictions that motivated him and his expectation that others would see things in the same light as he did, he concluded, “They must not take offense at what I have written, and they will not if they only rightly understand it. And here I commit the matter to God.”6 According to Jennie Ings, writing after her arrival in Basel, both Haskell and Canright were somewhat embarrassed at misreading the situation in Basel and regretted their hasty action. Nonetheless, they still urged the Ingses to go. “We had sold out” and “my husband’s place was [already] filled by another at B. C.” The couple concluded that “for the good of the cause and to save ourselves from ridicule, we had better come even if we only remained during the winter.” Besides, Maude Sisley had needed accompanying.7 Andrews apparently did not know of or understand this background. He subsequently assumed that the visit had a more sinister purpose. Word apparently reached Andrews before the new missionaries departed, and he was able to be on hand, himself, to cheerfully greet them

on their arrival in early December. Resolved to graciously accept the situation of their coming, he met them in England to help them through France. In London he stayed again with his friend William Jones of the Mill Yard church when the party was delayed a few days, which allowed him to hear Spurgeon again and this time also Dean Stanley of Westminster Abbey. Stanley preached effectively on the judgment, noted Andrews approvingly.8 Working his way through a winter “pea-souper fog,” he also spent time with Jones hunting up printing equipment, which he planned to purchase and take back to Basel. This plan was frustrated when William Ings arrived without any money in hand and the purchases had to be delayed.9 By the end of December, Andrews had the newcomers in Basel, settling in to the house they shared at 68 Müllerweg. The first letter that Andrews wrote to W. C. White after the Ingses’ arrival on January 2 was consumed with financial matters and details of the process of setting up the printing office. He discussed in detail his use of means in the mission. Andrews was corresponding now primarily with W. C. White because James White was so ill and quite unable to function as the executive. In early February, James wrote Willie, expressing sorrow that “Bro. Andrews had suffered for want of cash,” and he expressed hope that “those at Battle Creek will not wait for me [to authorize further funds].” He endorsed the advice that his son was giving to Andrews concerning his monthly paper and the printing enterprise they were setting up. He concluded with encouragement for Willie to “do the best you can and may God help you.”10 W. C. White was deputizing for his father.

Audit or not? As already noted, Andrews suspected that at least one of the reasons, perhaps even the major reason, that William Ings had come to Europe was to check out his finances and report back to the General Conference. He concluded that the leaders distrusted his judgment, and he was being audited as a prelude to curtailing his magazine. In his January letter to

W. C. White, he took a contrite stance and conceded that in light of the collapse of the logistical help he had been counting on from Daniel Bourdeau, perhaps it may have been better to delay the start of the paper for six months. Commencing it in July had swamped him with toil and drudgery. But this was the only thing he would concede. He was absolutely sure that to make Les Signes into an irregular publication or to suspend it would “kill the influence of our paper.” He asserted vigorously yet again, “The effect in Europe would be far more deleterious than in America.” But he recognized that the decision was “in the hands of the brethren” in America. They could decide. He had done his best. Then, so that his correspondent would know that he knew, he affirmed to Willie that Ings “will as soon as possible take a complete account of everything and make full report to you.” Even if Battle Creek did not want to call it an audit, Andrews still knew what it was. He also wanted Willie to know that he should quickly send another five hundred dollars. Bourdeau needed help—his wife was very ill. Dr. Herbert Ribton needed Italian tracts and some rent money for his hall. “Alas my poverty,” Andrews lamented. “You will think me of the family of the house leech,” he noted bitterly, “but I don’t beg for myself.” He reported with some desperation that he had “used more than half of what money I sold for in Rochester.” He said that White should send the five hundred dollars mission money previously requested and noted, with a sense of having had his integrity injured, “Brother Ings will be here to see how it is appropriated.”11 A week later Andrews wrote again, this time to James, saying that he did not think it was the right moment to launch a German paper “because Providence has not given us any one capable of taking the responsibility of the work of translation.” Neither of the Ingses could help with that. Thus, as far as Andrews could see, it would have to wait. But he acknowledged that he would not be the one to make a decision on that. That would be James White’s decision. As to whether there should be tracts printed for Ribton, Andrews thought there were arguments for and against such a

plan, and he set them out. Again, he noted with deference that that too would be White’s decision. “Nothing will be entered upon till you approve,” he wrote. And with regard to whether a quantity of German type should be purchased for their printing office, he would also leave that to White. Andrews had little doubt “that you will say that the type should be bought,” he noted, and he was willing to take the responsibility himself, but he did not think he should. “It is due you to have the decision of all these questions.”12 A subtle note of injury can be detected in these responses. For self-protection, Andrews backed out again, not wanting to be second-guessed and doubted when it came to the decisions he made. It was safer that way. This letter clearly indicates that Andrews has further lost his confidence. Working with White tended to that result. It was a flaw, too, in Andrews, that, after so many decades, he had not figured out how to work with White’s distinctive personality or at least develop a thick skin toward it. But there was good news to share on the situation in Switzerland. Andrews had heard in January that Albert Vuilleumier was planning to sell a portion of his land, and he hoped at long last that this might free the elder up for public evangelistic work. Andrews prayed that it would. Out in California, James White recognized that he had injured the feelings of his missionary friends and that perhaps he had damaged the confidence of the church in them by his public criticism of the year before. Or perhaps word had gotten out that the General Conference had sent an auditor to Europe to check on them. In an editorial, he tried to undo some of the damage and to assure Andrews, and his fellows, of the church’s support. “It is right that they should feel that they have the moral support of their American brethren,” he editorialized. “Full and frank expression of our confidence and love has been made and still should be. We know these men.” He added, “Our assurances of the confidence of the whole American army of brethren can hardly be stronger than they have been.” On the other hand, he noted, “These dear brethren should rest in Christ,

and in the confidence of their brethren. They feel deeply, and must guard against over-sensitiveness. And in order to succeed in this they [the missionaries] must have confidence in their brethren.” White seems to have read correctly the sense of annoyance, resistance, and even righteous indignation in Andrews’s vigorous response to the General Conference committee’s doubts and “great concern.” Did he also sense the glimmer of disdain expressed for the armchair critics? Coping with such open criticism as had been offered in the Review was difficult. Coping with second-guessing of decisions from the other side of the ocean in a completely different world was easier said than done.13 And Andrews had found Europe to be very different. Could there not be a different way for the elder to offer advice? Andrews was sure that White would think differently if only he could experience the culture and the frustration for himself. This broadening out into worldwide mission clearly presented a steep learning curve for the church and for its leaders. Ings’s initial reports back to headquarters were favorable. Louis Aufranc was “a man of worth,” and Mary and Charles “honor their father” and had made “good advancement.” Basel was a good location. Andrews’s health had not been very good, but he was “feeling better now.”14 By the end of January, Ings was ready to offer headquarters further assessment now from the perspective of his publishing house experience. He saw the lack of means Andrews faced and admitted, “We are at our wit’s end how to get along.” There would not be a big demand for the sale of publications until they had people ready to go colporteuring. Finding such was difficult. But with “devoted missionaries and preachers that have the language, there would eventually be demand,” and Andrews had already been stirring the brethren on that, Ings reported—but to mixed effect. Ings had looked around for more economical places to rent but had found none, although he learned that somehow Haskell had been able to get the rent reduced on their present property from $280 per year to $240 per year. He did not like it at all though that “the privies are in the house, and no waterworks to

cleanse them.”15 This reflected his own culture shock. Ings also figured that Willie would need German more than French when he came, and so advised him. In mid-February, Ings was ready to send a third report to Willie White. This time he began with an analysis of the relationship between the two missionaries in the field and reminded White of his prior assurance of confidentiality. “When I was at B. C. you promised what I wrote should not be made known to others. Now please keep the above to yourself.” This was highly sensitive information. Ings reported that Sister Bourdeau was dangerously sick with heart disease and had been confined to her bed for two months.16 Andrews had visited several times to help Bourdeau run his meetings and provide support for the family. Then Ings observed, “Brother Andrews keeps himself unfit for active labor most of the time in worrying about her and Bro. B. He thinks that Bro. B. has a diseased mind and he [Bourdeau] gives Bro. A. much trouble. They cannot work together and when they are separate, Bro. B[’s] letters keep him [Andrews] in a stew most of the time. Their natures seem to be opposite. . . . I doubt whether anything can be done for them.” Ings thought that God would have “to show up the matter soon for I know something must be done that the cause be not hindered.”17 Ings himself was not at all sympathetic to the Bourdeaus’ situation and refused to allow Jennie to go down and care for the ailing missionary wife when Bourdeau requested help. Andrews had to explain to Bourdeau that he had tried to persuade Mrs. Ings to go and help, but her husband would not allow her to go. Ings did not think it would do any good. Andrews felt “deeply pained” to have to tell this to Bourdeau, who was convinced his wife was dying, but he did not know what else to do. Andrews ended up making the 140-mile (204 km) journey three times himself in response to urgent telegrams and many distressing letters. He had made these “long visits” to try and minister to the distressed family.18 He later related that the situation with Sister Bourdeau had thrown a “very great burden” on

him and that this had hindered his work very much. But he was a pastor, and he also knew what it was to lose a spouse. He seems to have intuitively understood what it meant for a family to be in distress in a foreign culture. The Ingses did not. By early March, Sister Bourdeau seems to have passed through the crisis, and Andrews gladly noted that there were brighter prospects ahead.19 Other aspects that Ings reported about Andrews’s operation in Basel included suggestions as to where he thought things could be done in a better way. Jennie had worked with Mary and the sixteen-year-old orphan house girl to help them cook better, keep a more tidy house, and use their time more wisely. The Ingses had also located a stove that could be used to bake things and thus save money. The house originally had three stoves, none of which could be used for baking. Ings felt he could better organize the work on the tracts and save the equivalent of some board money. He felt, however, that the best remedy for most of his concerns was for Willie White himself to come in and take charge of the technical side of typesetting and the printing process. But White should be prepared to stay in Europe. And when he came, advised Ings, he should, above all, “have authority to act.” Ings clearly sensed Andrews’s difficult and ambiguous position of not having authority and constantly having to beg for money. Being a man of practical skills, Ings was able to help Andrews set up the equipment for typesetting and composing in one of the large rooms in their shared house. He constructed some of the tables and six typesetting stands for the workers and installed a proof press. All of this would help the process of printing tracts and enable the monthly magazine to be more economical. Maude Sisley took on the role of foreman, and the process was working well.20 Andrews, however, was not sure they should set up with a full-scale press just yet. He thought that to do so would be premature, and he was inclined to wait until W. C. White came for that to happen. But again, Andrews would defer the decision to James White on that.21 Andrews reiterated his deep conviction that to suspend the paper

“would be to kill it.” But he thought now that with the little printing office set up in his house he could much more easily give a part of his time to “public labor,” that is, to preaching. He had not “forgotten for a moment the advice of the General Conference Committee from last summer” to do so. Ings was sure of one other thing that he reported to White. He felt that Andrews’s original judgment about Ings himself had been correct when Andrews had informed Haskell “that he had nothing here for me to do unless I could preach German.” Ings did not want to learn printing; there were others in Germany or Italy who could do that. His mission was literature distribution. But he could not do that either, not in France nor in Germany without a license or without the languages. He was therefore not sure what he should do next, but he did not want to stay around to be an expense on the Swiss mission. Jennie reported to Ellen White that her husband “does not enjoy himself as well as he would if he could use the language. His delight is in doing missionary work.” Apparently, Ellen White had suggested that the Ingses go to California to join her team. Jennie thought that this might enable them to “be called back honorably,” but her husband was not sure that was God’s will.22 In May, Ings would go across to England for several weeks to try out his literature distribution among his relatives in his native country and in his native tongue. He found that working with British relatives was not easy either.23 Jennie Ings would stay on in Basel and help to set German language type for tracts and, somewhat to her distaste, try to be a mother figure in the house. In reflection on the Ingses’ stay, Andrews realized that although at the outset he had feared that their coming would somehow mean the curtailment of his cherished publishing endeavor, he now felt quite the reverse. Their coming had, in fact, been “a valuable reinforcement.” Now his team had a printing office of their own, and things were at last looking brighter.24 To strengthen the staff, Sister Gabert, a language teacher who had been converted by Bourdeau in Alsace, came to stay with them to help

with proofreading and to teach French to Mary and Charles.25 This was Andrews’s “turning of the captivity,” though the brightness lasted only a little while.

Expanding horizons Back in Battle Creek, another urgent special session of the General Conference had been called to try and cope with the financial crisis and the increasing demands of mission. James White was too ill to attend, and Stephen Haskell served as convener and chair. It was noted that Andrews had overdrawn the account of the European mission by two thousand dollars—double what had originally been accumulated in the fund. But now it seemed that he was not being blamed as he previously had been. Clearly the church had underestimated the cost of launching the new mission, and in spite of the cost, gratitude was expressed for the success of the European mission and for “the openings for a wide-spread work among the nations.” Delegates voted to approve the purchase of a tent for John G. Matteson’s work in Scandinavia, and they launched a new appeal for funds for the European work in general. They also set up a committee to explore how to provide for a larger church building for Battle Creek.26 Growth was also causing problems at headquarters. With the additional help on publications in Basel, John Andrews now felt much less the pressure that went along with the detailed mechanical work of preparing his paper and tracts for publication. He was now able to be more extensively involved in public work with the churches and in evangelism. In late May, he reported to Willie and Mary White that during the previous month he had been engaged in the work of the tract and missionary society, promoting literature out among the Sabbath-keeping friends and their communities in their various towns and villages around Neuchatel. To his uncle Edward in Rochester, he reported that culturally he was now much better adjusted for this work than when he had first arrived. His culture shock was a thing of the past. He stated that it was

now “much easier for me to conform to the habits of the people than when I first began to live in Europe.”27 He would soon be spending two weeks helping Bourdeau again in his evangelistic program in Morges. Opposition there had become more aggressive, with the community trying to expel the Bourdeau family.28 After the Morges visit, he would go back to Basel to plan for the arrival of W. C. White, who was anticipated in June or July.29 Following that he would be away in Italy for six weeks. In the meantime, the Review carried regular reports from Andrews on the increasing interest being expressed across a whole new range of nations. He had heard further word of the Sabbath keepers in Russia, and there was breaking news about Sabbath keepers in Greece and Egypt. Dr. Ribton and his converts were becoming much more active in Naples, Italy, and were appealing to the General Conference for more help. Furthermore, Ribton was reporting that there were eighty thousand or more Englishspeaking people living in Cairo and Alexandria.30 The Review also reported further interests in Scotland and in South Africa.31 Responding to the challenging developments, the General Conference committee took the opportunity to meet while its members were in Battle Creek. James White was present, having traveled to Battle Creek for treatment under Dr. Kellogg’s care at the health institute, now being called the sanitarium or more affectionately, “the San.”32 Again, the committee addressed the severe financial challenges. Tract societies in the various conferences were now more heavily in debt to the publishing house, which was still carrying the college debt. The publishing house was still having to borrow large amounts from insurance companies at high interest rates.33 But the mission opportunities seemed both urgent and providential, and the committee appealed for ten thousand dollars more for missions in Europe. If church members had ever wondered about holding off their giving until the “selling time” just before the time of trouble, when it would not be possible to “buy nor sell,” wrote White, then 1878 was indeed the “selling time.”34 Action was taken to send

additional helpers to Denmark to work with Matteson, and a mission to England was to be opened immediately, with John Loughborough being sent as the missionary.35 These burgeoning opportunities were seen to be a clear sign of the end times. As July progressed, Andrews took up the discussion of whether the new publishing enterprise in Europe should involve erecting a new building or purchasing an existing one. The first ten thousand dollars was now in hand. If such a building were to be erected, would it involve bringing American laborers across or using local builders? With such issues to be resolved, W. C. White’s presence in Europe was even more critical. Andrews suggested that the question be put off until after the General Conference session in September when he learned that W. C. White’s departure had been delayed until after the meetings.36 By then the question would also become one of whether to locate the proposed enterprise in an English-speaking country or in a French-speaking one. Much was at stake. Surprisingly, it was at this time, in spite of the deteriorating economic situation, action was taken to begin fund-raising for the construction of a large, new church in Battle Creek to be called the Dime Tabernacle. The name became iconic because in this appeal donations were to be made a dime at a time. The campaign designed to reach every church member, not just the wealthy. Any surplus over the target of thirty thousand dollars would be allocated to Andrews’s mission in Europe.37 In early July, Andrews began a new evangelistic program in Orbe, twenty miles north of Lausanne. His experience in this town illustrates the difficulty he and Bourdeau faced in gaining a foothold even in the more tolerant parts of Switzerland. The meetings were focused on three closely connected villages. One village quickly closed up to them. In one of the other villages, the two men hired a hall in a local hotel. In the other they had been able to secure the town hall at no charge. About eighty people came out to hear the preachers in each place. In one location they sold about thirty francs worth of books. But local National church ministers

began to preach against them, and they were shut out of the hall, and the syndic (mayor) tried to compel them to leave the village. They were able to demonstrate that their permission papers were legal and their passports in order, which prevented further efforts to remove them. In reaction, the locals shifted their efforts to preventing people from attending. Prejudice was deep-seated, and evangelism was not easy.38 But they had decided to persevere, and Bourdeau would move his family to Orbe.

A milestone On July 22, Andrews celebrated his forty-ninth birthday and entered his fiftieth year while preaching in Orbe. Andrews was clearly missing his family and took the opportunity on this day to write a warm, fatherly birthday exhortation to Charles and Mary. This letter shines a bright light on the inner soul of the scholar-evangelist, and it is worth pausing to note it carefully. In the letter we see John Andrews meditatively reflecting on his deepest convictions. If a normal life span was ten spans of seven years, he noted, he had now completed seven of the ten. Seven sevens made this an important jubilee year for him, and he was conscious that on this scheme of things, “My period of life draws toward its close.”39 He was not morbid but thought it would be helpful to check in on his core values. Family and faith were at the center. “You are dearer to me than my life or than anything that there is in the world,” he assured his children. He was deeply grateful that they had come with him to “this foreign land,” and their presence had been a “great encouragement.” Their efforts to be “cheerful” in the midst of hardship had encouraged him in his work. He lamented that he could not be with them as much as he would like, but he prayed much for them. “I hope that you fear God and that you try daily to make some progress in the work of preparation for the judgment.” This was core theology for Andrews. It was what provided the focal point in his life. This forty-ninth birthday letter also provides an important insight into

Andrews from another perspective. He lamented that their family circle had been “cruelly broken up by death, but we know that those who sleep are safe,” and the time would soon come when they would “never be separated anymore.” While the letter testifies to his strong hope in the afterlife, it also hints at an unresolved grief. “We shall live to all eternity in the society of dear mother. And so we have something very precious for our consolation,” he continued. Angeline had died six years previously in 1872. Evidently, Andrews experienced difficulty in letting go and moving beyond this anguished loss. Why? Did he continue to feel guilty in some way, perhaps that he had not spent as much time caring for Angeline as he could or should have? Had he not been able to talk through his grief at her loss because he felt it his duty to continue being the strong provider for his children? Unresolved grief can inhibit the establishing of new relationships. This was a serious problem for the missionary, one that would continue to haunt him. In closing his letter, Andrews expressed his wish that Mary and Charles would get good educations. “Think, reason, reflect and be thorough.” Then, on a final note, he reported that even as he had been writing, little Augustine Bourdeau had fallen down the stairs and broken seven of his front teeth, highly distressing his parents. This would be a birthday to remember.40 Things were to get worse in Orbe. Two weeks later, Andrews reported that a “great mob” had been raised against the preachers and there had been “very violent opposition” from the community. The halls had been closed against them, and they had been forced to move into private homes for meetings, even though that was not always wise. “You will say we should use a tent,” he observed to White. It would be “torn in pieces in this canton on very short notice,” he observed. It would be really helpful for James and Ellen to come to Europe themselves, as well as Willie. “You cannot fully understand things in Europe without coming to see them.”41

Calamities unimaginable It was while Andrews was at Orbe conducting his evangelistic meetings that we hear the first report of Mary Andrews’s cough. In a letter Jennie Ings wrote to Ellen White just the day before Andrews wrote his fortyninth birthday note to his children, she mentioned almost casually among other things, “Mary Andrews has a cough which originated from a cold. I hope it will not prove serious. I am giving her some treatment [using] Sis. Temple’s remedy.”42 Instead of setting type, Mary had been assigned to studying French. Andrews first learned of the cough only after he returned home a week later in mid-August, and at once it gave him “some uneasiness.” He hoped she would soon be better.43 Andrews had planned for his return to Basel to be a very brief stopover. He needed to hasten on to Italy to meet with Dr. Ribton, who was planning soon to leave Naples for Egypt. It was vitally important to meet up with the doctor before he departed. Andrews was apprehensive that the Egyptian mission was developing too quickly, with an inexperienced missionary driving it. He had planned to spend four or five weeks with Ribton, preparing him for mission work in Egypt. Apart from being troubled by Mary’s cough, what really shocked Andrews on his short stopover, however, was the sad news that his only brother, William, had died on July 27 in Knoxville, Iowa. The news had taken three weeks to get to him, and it shook him badly. William had been caring for their mother, Sarah, and had recently borrowed one thousand dollars from John to help secure an investment in a new coal mine. To help William get established, John had almost emptied the balance of his funds left in trust with his uncle Edward. As it happened, his younger brother had suffered from “malignant fever” occasioned by sunstroke while looking after the mine in the Iowa summer heat. William’s death was “in every respect a terrible calamity to his family and to me,” Andrews lamented. He authorized “what little” of his money that remained in his uncle’s hands to be sent to the family to help in their distress.44 William’s wife, Martha, and her

daughter Edith found refuge with Martha’s brother, George Butler, in Mt. Pleasant, but it was uncertain what Andrews’s aged mother, Sarah, should do. The Butlers had also offered to take her in, but she was not sure if that was the right thing to do.45 Andrews undertook his journey to Italy with a doubly burdened heart. As he made to leave the house, he recalled later that his precious Mary had risen from her chair to bid him goodbye. She “was so affected, that she buried her face in my bosom and sobbed violently,” he remembered. When she could speak she said, “Pa, I will try to get well by the time you come back.” He realized that she was frightened—frightened by her cough and at the prospect of her father being away.46 But he had to go. As he went he wondered if she had sensed his own anxiety about her persistent cough. It had now been with her for several weeks. Did Andrews or the mother figure of the house, Jennie Ings, think that there might be any connection between Mary’s cough and the health of their other housemates? Mrs. Aufranc, who, with her husband, occupied three rooms on the top floor of their house, had recently been seriously ill with “dropsical consumption,” so serious that Bourdeau thought he might not see her again when he visited.47 The possibility of contagion as an explanation for the etiology of the disease was still largely unknown. In any event, the anxiety that Andrews now experienced was too great to keep him away in Naples for very long. After only two weeks mentoring Ribton, he was back. Then things began to move with blurring, agonizing speed. On the last Sabbath of August, Andrews went out to the annual Conference of Swiss Churches at La Coudre, where he sensed that at last the Spirit of God was “fully taking hold.”48 On his return to Basel on Tuesday evening, September 3, he was given a newly arrived telegraphic dispatch from Battle Creek as soon as he entered the house. “Come to the Gen. Conf.” was its cryptic message. This surprised him. No reason was given. His reply by mail that evening was to say that although it was very difficult for him to extract himself from local responsibilities at such short

notice, if the Battle Creek leaders had asked, there must be an important reason to go. He would therefore consider the possibility and “do what seems to be duty in the case.” Andrews then went on in his letter of response to the telegram to speak of “my Mary.” He reported that he now feared that consumption was “fastening upon her.” She had lost much of her strength and had a “considerable cough.” Given her rapid deterioration, he had already thought of taking her down to Italy to place her under the care of Dr. Ribton. That would also give her “the benefit of a change of climate.” If he were to go back to America instead, he would need to take Mary with him. Ever conscientious of what was and what was not mission expense, he assured James that whether he went to Italy or the US, her travel would be on his personal account. He would, however, quickly check transatlantic fares and see what rearrangements he could make for his appointments.49 It took Andrews six days to get adequate information on the cheapest rates. With this in hand, he decided at once to return to Michigan and take Mary with him. “We all have become alarmed” about Mary, he explained to James after making the bookings.50 Jennie Ings had become convinced by the rapid progress of the disease that nothing could help now except it be “an answer to prayer,” but she dared not share those thoughts with the family. Instead, she had advised that the only thing that could help would be for Mary to go to America. Thus when the General Conference telegram had come so unexpectedly, it had been “a heaven-sent message,” she later related to Ellen White.51 Another problem that distressed Andrews in the pressured days before he hastened to catch the boat at Le Havre concerned what to do with the Bourdeau family. His predicament illustrated the ambiguous position he found himself in with regard to his authority in relation to Daniel Bourdeau. Mrs. Bourdeau had determined that she could not stand the cold winters nor the endless tension and opposition that her husband’s evangelism provoked, and she wanted to return to the US She had

requested to travel with Andrews, and he found that he “could not speak against it under the circumstances.”52 The question then arose, however, of whether her husband should go also. After consultation with the Ings and with Bourdeau himself, Andrews felt that he really had no choice other than to advise Daniel Bourdeau to also return. Bourdeau had a duty to his wife and to his own health, in Andrews’s view, although he felt decidedly uncomfortable about his counsel because he was sure he was overstepping his authority in taking on this “great responsibility.” In his judgment, however, he saw “the most weighty reasons for this thing,” and after much prayer and reflection, he had advised Bourdeau to take the step. White could “judge what is needed” after he had talked with Bourdeau back in Battle Creek. If in the end it was determined that Andrews’s action had been “quite unnecessary or useless,” he pledged that he would see to it “that the cause shall not bear the expense.”53 Here he was again, looking over his shoulder, fearful that he would be second-guessed or accused of yet another mistake. He assured James White that he would “lay all” before him when he got to Battle Creek. Mary and her father, along with their traveling companions, embarked at Le Havre on Sabbath, September 14. Twelve days later they stepped off the train in Battle Creek, arriving in town on the September 27, just two days before Mary’s seventeenth birthday and shortly after the Whites also arrived in town from Colorado.54 Mary was immediately taken to the sanitarium. “All that could be done for her when she reached here was careful nursing and the best possible attention,” Andrews later reported to his uncle Edward in Rochester.55 Immediately upon arrival, it seems, Andrews found himself sucked into the vortex of presession consultations and meetings. The session convened on the Battle Creek fairground on October 1 and was conducted in tandem with the Michigan camp meeting. Tensions arising from the financial crisis emerged at the very outset when, as previously noted, James White very publicly challenged Uriah Smith in a Sabbath morning sermon over his

interpretation of Daniel 11 and the imminence of Armageddon, suggesting that Smith’s over emphasis on imminence was making fund-raising difficult.56 The anxieties over finance led to Andrews being appointed to constitute a committee with four other leaders to prepare a document on a revised approach to Systematic Benevolence that would incorporate the new understanding the church had agreed upon—a system of tithing that would better equip the church to meet the financial challenges of a wider mission.57 Sermons for plenary sessions and business meetings of the now numerous institutions quickly filled his days. On the first Friday of the session, Andrews gave “a thrilling account of his work in Europe,” and two days later followed up with “a further review of the situation.” He was upbeat in his report, even though at about the same time he was speaking in Battle Creek, his Swiss brethren in the Sabbath keeping churches around Basel were grappling with a pastoral letter from Ellen White that was stoutly critical of their lack of support for Andrews. The letter would have arrived about the time Andrews and Bourdeau withdrew (assuming that the date on Ellen White’s letter to the Swiss Brethren actually reflects the date the letter was sent and not just when it was written).58 In her letter, Ellen White faulted Adémar Vuilleumier for his mistranslation of Andrews and the brethren generally for making the work of the missionaries “very much harder than it would otherwise have been.” The letter carried a strong rebuke for the intense suffering and hardship they had caused Andrews. It is in this letter, written after he had left the field, that Ellen White described Andrews in spite of his weaknesses as the “ablest man in all our ranks” and that the Swiss brethren had not appreciated the immense sacrifice he had made to go work among them.59 The letter should have helped create a much more welcoming spirit when Andrews would eventually return. Privately, he had been hoping for some time that she might write such a testimony.60 While he was attending the session in Battle Creek, Andrews also reported on news that had just arrived from Dr. Ribton in Italy, and he

spoke on the work in England. Delegates also heard of the expanding work in Scandinavia. These reports led to extended discussions on how best to organize the work in Europe. James White proposed resolutions that would send John Loughborough to England and set up an oversight committee of three comprised of Andrews, Loughborough, and a third person they themselves could appoint. Lengthy discussion ensued about the Swiss mission, but when it came to making a decision on sending W. C. White and his wife immediately to Switzerland—an initiative long anticipated— the delegates demurred. It seemed that given the shortage of money and the perceived slow rate of financial support from the believers in Switzerland, some proposed the idea of making England the center of the mission to Europe rather than Switzerland. The question became a matter of extended discussion, and it seemed to create some rather sharp divisions. No action was taken, and the matter lapsed. The very next action of the session concerned a proposal dealing with James White’s leadership. It also lapsed for want of support. The juxtaposition of the two actions is intriguing. Immediately following the failure to act on W. C. White’s assignment to Europe, James White proposed that he himself be excused “from acting as president.” The proposal that was developed to embrace this request stated that White could resign at any time he might consider appropriate and that in such a situation the two remaining members of the General Conference Executive Committee would be granted the right of appointing a new president to replace him. When this motion, however, was put to the vote, it lost, and the meeting promptly adjourned at the call of the chair. The status quo prevailed. What tensions lay behind the two proposals is not recorded but clearly there was uncertainty and apprehension over the sustainability of White’s leadership. Two days later the session adjourned sine die, assigning D. T. Bourdeau to work in Illinois as its very last action.61 Andrews found himself having to personally support the Bourdeau family until they became established in their new location. James and Ellen

promptly departed Battle Creek to camp meetings in Kansas and Texas. For the next six months, suffering physical ill health and instability, White traveled through the South as a “trail boss,” leading an overland wagon train and acting in a rather erratic way that distressed his wife, who was obliged to accompany him.62 Andrews had explained to Mary when they arrived in America that he might have to leave her among their friends and return to his post in Europe, especially if it took time for her to heal. At the time this possibility had not seemed to trouble her. Her seventy-five-year-old grandmother, Sarah Andrews, came in from Iowa and was able to spend time at Mary’s bedside, and her father snatched an hour or two every time he could be away from meetings to wheel her around the sanitarium grounds. Mary increasingly missed him during his absences. Her lament, “It has been so long that you have been gone,” haunted him, and he eventually assured her he would not leave her. He would stay.63 Andrews originally anticipated returning to Switzerland immediately following the conclusion of the session, but with Mary’s rapid decline, he abandoned this plan. He had the sense that his life was falling to pieces even though he continued to hope, and both father and daughter spoke only of her getting well again. As October turned into November and Mary hovered between life and death, community-wide prayer meetings for her recovery were held in the church and at the sanitarium.64 She rallied a little but then sank rapidly. Andrews later remembered the last few nights with deep pain. He had taken time to write out his memories of the last few precious hours.65 At the end she had not wanted him to leave her side at all, he recalled. One night after a long discussion, she asked how it was that “Mother could have you go away from her and be gone so long.” The question appeared to arise from a deep anxiety. He explained the compulsion of duty. How could he have postponed or “neglected the service of Christ?” he asked in reply. Dr. Kellogg had warned Andrews that there was a danger in staying

close to Mary. Increasingly medical people were thinking that the disease could be contagious, although how they did not understand. But Andrews felt he had no choice. This was a duty of love that he owed his daughter. She needed him. How could he stay away? He had made that mistake previously. A few weeks before the end, when she was very feeble, he had suggested that perhaps it was God’s will that she should sleep, but for Mary that was a lack of faith. “I have courage, why can’t you have courage?” she asked. She wanted to get well so that she could go back to Europe and “read French proof.” On her last day they again talked of the approaching reality. “Perhaps it is the will of God that you should sleep,” he ventured, but still she did not like the thought. “You must not speak so, Pa, for then I shall be separated from you.” She pled with him that last Tuesday night, “Don’t go away from me at all.” At 4:30

A.M.

on

Wednesday, November 27, Andrews, at her request, bent to say a prayer for her that the Lord would “relieve her distress,” and she also whispered the same prayer. He considered the prayers were answered, for the sleep of death overcame her just moments later.66 The “quick consumption” had taken her in just six short months.67 The day after Mary died, the writing of letters conveying the wrenching news to her older brother in Basel, John’s uncles, and his many friends occupied the grieving father. His entry in his daughter’s “autograph book,” written the day after she died, expressed well his agony and perhaps a sense of guilt. “Yesterday morning at 4:30 my dear daughter Mary F. Andrews fell asleep in death. This child rendered me great assistance in Europe, and when we encountered privation and want she met all with invincible courage and with patience, faith and hope. What she suffered caused her to fall by the quick consumption. She has fallen in the world at a time when her services had become of great value. Who is there that will rise up to take her place?”68 He had held such hopes for Mary. She was so crucial to the success of his French paper. Struggling to explain the depth

of his grief to his church elder in Switzerland, Albert Vuilleumier, he said it felt “very much as though I had buried my wife the second time.”69 According to George Amadon, the funeral at the Battle Creek church on Sabbath morning, November 30, lasted a long time. It was “the most impressive funeral service” he had ever attended. “The house literally packed, numbers not being able to get in.”70 Andrews himself had given a “very earnest and touching appeal to the youth in behalf of the silent sleeper before them.” He urged them to learn from her unselfish consecration and faithfulness in her youthful years and to devote themselves to the service of God.71 Sometime later the casket was laid beside that of her mother in the Mount Hope Cemetery in Rochester. Father and son consoled themselves with the knowledge that Mary’s faith had been strong. Charles, who had not been able to attend the funeral, found comfort in the thought that she was “safely through” and would no longer have to face temptation. She “could sleep through the time of trouble,” and there was blessing in that.72 The long, anxious days of the past few months, the unexpected loss first of his brother, and then sleepless nights in vigil at his daughter’s bedside, exacted a high toll on Andrews’s health. He was admitted to the sanitarium himself shortly after the funeral in “a condition of extreme prostration.”73 He needed rest and treatment. His mind, he reported, was not gloomy, but his mental energies had been so exhausted he could not even write. He needed restoration before he crossed the ocean again. Loughborough had sailed for England on December 16, and Andrews planned to soon follow him.74 But those plans were put on hold. Anxious to be back at work, Andrews had talked with W. C. White about going back with him, but that matter was also now in question.75 But whether or not W. C. White joined him, Andrews did not want to wait long. He thought that by the end of December he might be well enough to set out.

Return to Europe delayed

As soon as she heard the news of Mary’s death, Ellen White wrote a warm letter of condolences to her longtime colleague, who was as close to her as a younger blood brother. The news of Mary’s demise had not surprised her, she said. She had not expected Mary to get well, but she knew that God would sustain her brother and assured him that “God knew what was best for her and for you.” It was a letter that inspired hope. With “faith’s discerning eye,” she said, he might see with assurance that Mary and her mother and other members of his family would one day soon be “answering the call of the life-giver” and come forth “from their prisonhouse.” She had “seen” him, she said, “with head bowed down and mourning,” following Mary “to her last home in this world,” but she had also seen his “wife and children come from their graves.”76 Andrews was deeply thankful for the assurance—a word of hope from the future world —and he appreciated the thoughtfulness of the letter, although the loss was “a sore and terrible bereavement.” It was as though “the light of the house had been extinguished.” He, too, believed, and his theology obliged him to accept “that it is in some way all for the best.”77 Three weeks later, Ellen White followed up with another letter of comfort and encouragement, assuring John of her concern and urging him to take “some weeks” in the sanitarium to make sure of his recovery. He should not feel guilty about not being back at his post, she urged. Then she told him that it was not the right time for Switzerland to have a printing office. “It would not come up right in this way,” having to be sustained wholly from outside the country. The Swiss brethren needed further development before they would be ready for a press. She encouraged him not to be “crushed with disappointments of lifting burdens” himself. They needed to be able carry the load as well. And when he returned, she suggested, would it not be as well to spend some time in England?78 Sometime during January, Ellen wrote another letter to Andrews which is not now extant, so we cannot be sure of the details. We know enough of what was significant about the letter, however, from Andrews’s reply. It

addressed a painful but important topic. The lost letter told Andrews that he should not go back to Europe without getting married again. It was less than a month after the tragic loss of his dearly loved daughter and he was still struggling with his grief and thus, in any normal setting, it would probably have been far too soon to speak of such delicate matters. But perhaps hearing that he was planning to return to Europe in the near future, Ellen wanted to catch him before plans were set. Andrews had announced on January 19 that he was planning to return soon.79 In her letter, Ellen had, in fact, recommended quite specifically that Andrews should marry Lucinda Hall, her very close friend. The fact that Lucinda herself may have been very interested in the prospect of a match with Andrews may be deduced from the fact that she had sent him a donation for his work some months earlier and his reply had been unusually decorous and diplomatic. John’s reply to Lucinda conveyed a sense of having been written to one who had an extraordinary interest in his work and that this interest he needed to respect and honor. But there was also a gentle hint that this was not a relationship he wished to particularly encourage. Neither did he want to offend.80 During January, Ellen White also received a letter from Jennie Ings in Basel who had quite decided opinions about Andrews’s marital status. “The sum and substance of the matter is, he ought to have brought a wife with him in the first place. The family would have had proper care then and as long he did not do it then he ought to now,” she asserted.81 Jennie had a vested interest. His marriage would release her and the other two women staying with her from home duties—duties she did not think they should have to provide. For Jennie Ings, it seems, marriage in such circumstances was largely a contractual arrangement. In a cautious but thoughtful reply to Ellen White’s suggestion, Andrews explained that he appreciated the “kind care” which prompted the “important suggestion.” “I esteem very highly the person you have named.” His respect for both Lucinda and for Ellen, he said, had led him to

seriously consider whether he “ought not to take another wife.” He had since the death of his first wife thought it would not be the right thing for him. Then he went on, “I hope you will pardon me for saying that I think this is impossible.” It was not because he could not find anyone “good enough,” he explained. Rather, “I am still a deep mourner for the wife that sleeps in death and my affection seems incapable of detaching itself from her and taking up some other, however worthy.” He could even rationalize what grief counselors today would call complicated grief. The fact that he had not forgotten the mother of his children, he felt, had given him “an almost unlimited influence over them.” From his perspective, he wondered if parents actually made better child rearers if they remained in their widowhood, but he was not too sure about that. He just felt that he couldn’t bring himself to remarry. “If it is ever my duty to make any change I trust that it will please God in some way to change my nature and to cause me to feel that such a step is possible without giving me great distress.”82 The fact that Andrews’s continuing single status was now a serious problem is evidenced by the fact that a month later, apparently after further “counsel and reproof,” he was still writing about it to Ellen White. It had been mentioned that Lucinda was quite eager to link up with him, and there were others who were keen as well. He was, in fact, considering the matter again. This time he explained that before he had gone to Europe the first time he prayed several times that if God willed for him to marry again He would accordingly impress his mind. He felt that he had “unreservedly submitted to God’s will in the matter.” He had not received any conviction and had therefore not done anything. “One of the greatest evidences to me that God wills the change you propose,” he explained, “would be that it should cease to be painful to me.” He acknowledged that the letter he was writing to Ellen White was a painful letter to write, for he felt he was baring his inner heart to Ellen. He knew himself enough to know, however, that unless “a very great change can take place in me,”

remarriage would give him “extreme pain.”83 He wished that God would change his feelings with respect to this, and he felt he had placed himself unreservedly in the hands of God. He did not feel despondent or gloomy, he reiterated. He had to keep in mind, however, that without changed feelings he would only make both himself and the other party miserable.84 Andrews could recognize the problem of his unresolved grief, but fixing it was quite another matter. What was it that prevented him from letting Angeline go? From the perspective of our contemporary understanding of the processes of grief, he needed grief recovery counseling. What he received was reproof and instruction to put things right. Ellen White seemed to simply see his continued clinging onto the memory of his dead wife as selfish, morbid, and sinful, although she did not tell him this at the time. That was a later assessment she made of him in the last months of his life. The fact that this unresolved issue was holding him back from returning to Europe is hinted at by his allusion to the fact that he was planning to return to New York en route to Europe the following day. But he explained that he did not want to embark “if you disapprove my so doing.”85 There were other more serious matters beside Andrews’s grief and his physical health that forced him to delay his return for another five months. As 1878 rolled into 1879, confusion among church leaders deepened about what the response to the almost overwhelming new opportunities for mission should be, and the Whites “insisted” that Andrews remain in the US until the next semiannual session of the General Conference. This was scheduled for some time in the spring.86 In the meantime, in Basel, Charles found solace in his work soldiering on setting in type the editorials and articles his father was sending from America, Maude Sisley supervised the operation and oversaw the press runs and the mail-outs, while Jennie Ings kept house and also participated where she could in the literature projects. The companies that Bourdeau had established struggled on with local leadership, and Erzberger continued his evangelism among the German

Swiss. In many respects it was a hold and survive pattern.

Crisis and confusion In Battle Creek, uncertainty and confusion roiled the upper echelons of church leaders during the first six months of 1879 as they struggled both to respond to the continuing economic crisis and to know how best to respond to the challenge of mission with limited financial and personnel resources. Andrews had begun the year by leading out with Stephen Haskell in the special New Year’s Day “of humiliation, fasting, and prayer” services in the Battle Creek church. Although it was a Wednesday, not Sabbath, the church was “as well filled” as on a regular Sabbath.87 Emphasis had been on stewardship, and 141 of those present committed themselves to the new system of tithing being promoted across the denomination. There had also been special appeals for the Dime Tabernacle, which was nearing completion, and for the large new Oakland church in California. Since Thanksgiving it had been estimated that the believers in Battle Creek had raised the impressive amount of $1,505.62 in cash. The evening meeting laid the foundation for the establishment of the new denominationally sponsored “American Health and Temperance Association,” an organization launched the next day. Andrews gave the inaugural address.88 Down in Texas, James White could see the impact of the economic recession even more clearly. “These times are perfectly terrible,” he lamented to his son W. C. White after witnessing particularly distressing cases of poverty. As far as church finances were concerned, he was alarmed. “We are entering the narrows. Economy! Retrenchment! is the battle,” he warned Willie. “I hope to be helped by the Lord as I helm the ship through the narrows,” he added. As far as he could see, “there was no money in the country.”89 Church institutions were “embarrassed” under their load of debt, and the Pacific Press was in particular distress and “on the very eve of bankruptcy.”90 It was time for serious prayer meetings,

Ellen told Willie, and there were “some things to feel badly over.” At the very least the prices of publications had to be increased, argued James White.91 Ellen lamented that there has been “stepping in too deep” for the improvements undertaken in the publishing houses, health institutions, college, and churches, and they had “cost terribly.” There was a “vein of pride” that had run through the “outlays” that “was not pleasing to God.” Things could have been done more economically.92 James did not like the allusions to his allowing the enterprises to run into such debt. But the truth was that as the decade neared its end, he was increasingly being bypassed in the decision-making. The debt crisis threw into confusion the plans for Willie and Mary White. The General Conference session of the previous year had not been able to decide to send him to Europe, and there were second thoughts about the timing that was being contemplated for the launching of the European press. Although Ellen White was now warning that “our foreign missions must not be hampered” by the financial crisis, W. C. White should accept the call to go to California to rescue the Pacific Press instead of starting up a new European press. It was felt that this press should be delayed for at least for six months. James agreed.93 There had been a reversal. “According to mother’s light,” James White told Willie a little later, the time for establishing the European press was not now after all. Rather, “without doubt,” the first publishing house should be in England. That would be a much easier place to grow the church. In fact, as James saw things “at present,” he doubted that there would ever be a publishing house in Switzerland. In the meantime, California was where Willie should be.94 A week after writing to Willie, Ellen White urged church leaders in a letter to Stephen Haskell to retrench further. If the brethren had thought they were previously simply following Providence in the new openings for mission, now it was time to pause. Haskell should focus on California and Oregon. California, in fact, had been without a president for almost a year,

and Haskell was needed there. “The strength, ability and means are needed more at [sic] present crisis in our own country than in any other place. The heart of the work must be kept strong. . . . There must not be too much branching out, which calls for means, until the great center of the work is free from financial embarrassment.”95 Ignoring the struggle that Andrews had had to master French, and seemingly forgetting his attempts to stretch himself across Germany and Italy as well, she suggested that the work should not be confined to the French. What was important, she stressed, was that England had been stepped over too easily. Andrews should give some of his time to “Old England.” In further reflecting on the needs of England, Ellen White mused that Andrews could be better suited to England than to Switzerland. He was inclined to look at things “in such an intensified light that it fairly blinds him and the people.” Was she thinking he had taken too scholarly an approach for the Swiss? “Such a temperament would make a more telling impression upon the people of England,” she thought aloud. His fluency in English would, of course, be a distinct advantage. His “highly strung organization” would perhaps also be better appreciated in England than in Switzerland. Had he spent some of his time there, perhaps he may have seen more fruit.96 But of course, as she knew when she was not worried about finances in America, Providence, through Czechowski, had clearly been understood to have raised up Sabbath keepers in Switzerland, not in England, and that is where Andrews had been called and where he had been sent. But perhaps all she was suggesting in this advice of reversal was that the lesson now should be that England should not be overlooked and Andrews should spend some time there. Ellen White also noted to Haskell, as a member of the General Conference Executive Committee that Andrews should “take a good wife with him to help him” when he returned. On this topic she apparently meant to keep Andrews spiritually accountable to his colleagues. Haskell also knew about contractual marriages.97 Andrews needed to relax, she

said. He was “over-conscientious” and inclined to feel “terribly over things that ought not to disturb his peace at all. He makes the service in the cause of God fearfully hard when it should be pleasant and joyful.” Andrews received this counsel in a copy of the Haskell letter that was also sent to him, and he acknowledged its receipt with gratitude for the “deep interest” Ellen White had in him. He agreed with her. “I have myself often feared that I make the service of God so strict that I discourage my hearers.” Of course, this was a New England heritage they both shared. He assured Ellen that he would give “prayerful thought” to this counsel.98 He did not comment on how it was often the fear of making mistakes and of being publicly criticized by her husband that had also helped make him overconscientious. He probably suspected that she already knew that. Reflecting the urgency of the financial crisis confronting the church, perhaps even the extent of the panic, the General Conference committee announced the new European policy in the Review. England was to be the new focus of mission, and a fund was established for this work, even though funds would be sent overseas only after the publishing houses at home were “above want.” The Oakland church and the Dime Tabernacle had to be paid for first, and they were in serious trouble. A publishing house would be established in England only after a sufficient church membership had been raised there and when they themselves could sustain such an operation.99 In view of the good results that Matteson was achieving in northern Europe, the Whites urged support for a paper there and that he should start immediately. The same issue of the Review also reported the sad death of Matteson’s eldest daughter, who had stayed behind with friends in Battle Creek. Mission was a sacrificial enterprise.100 In the meantime, the Review continued to publish reports of the work of the independently resourced Dr. Ribton in Italy and Egypt and the work of Bro. Bertola in Greece and Turkey. What was Providence doing there? Andrews was not sure. Ribton announced that he was departing for Alexandria that very day. Later, after much misunderstanding, he would

set himself up in a private medical practice in Alexandria in a “tent-maker” ministry and conduct his evangelistic outreach in that way. But as he left Naples, his concluding note to Andrews suggested that difficulties lay ahead in Naples. The new believers were firm, he said, and could “stand alone for a time,” but they would have no leader or hall for meetings. “When Bro. Andrews comes, he will have to see what can be done for the church at Naples.”101 That did not sound like much of a warm welcome back. In the White family’s understanding, Providence had not set a clear agenda yet for Willie White either. Circumstances in California had changed markedly, and by the end of February, his mother had also changed her advice as she continued to weigh things up for her son and his wife. Now she recommended that he continue his education at Battle Creek College. She was still sure that he must go to Europe soon, and she was sure that England would be his first field of labor. The reason that England should now be the focus of attention is that it had been overlooked, and it should not have been. The work in England would be “attended with far less difficulty than in Switzerland,” she asserted. She pointed out that “the truth will find more ready access to the people” there because the “inherent power” in the truth would obtain a ready reception for it. The people in England would not be able to “withhold their belief” if the truth was given “with proper evidence.” And England would be much easier to resource with magazines, books, and pamphlets from America.102 The course correction from Ellen White gave the needed impetus to give more attention to the mission to England, but the hoped for early results proved just as elusive as they had in Switzerland. In this, Ellen White’s view of English prospects did not accord with reality. As church leaders would find out, after five years of diligent labor by Loughborough, William Ings, and others, England proved to be just as difficult a place to plant a church—perhaps even more so than the continent. As Brian Strayer

points out in his comprehensive study of the life of John Loughborough, the process of winning Sabbath keeping converts in tradition-bound England was slow. At the end of the Loughborough’s five years, there were perhaps one hundred new believers, despite herculean efforts at literature distribution, witness, and evangelism, not to mention the huge amounts of mission funds.103 Distinctive barriers of class, history, culture, climate, and an antipathy to things American made the planting of an American church by American evangelists a difficult task, whether in England or Switzerland. Things were simply not as easy as they were in the United States, and that was a difficult concept for Ellen White and for many other early leaders to fully grasp. While Andrews waited for matters concerning his future to clarify, he accepted preaching appointments in Michigan and in New York. Often accompanied by his aged mother, he visited his relatives and church members in various places and sought financial support for the mission in Europe.104 He also sought out markets for the watches manufactured by his Swiss Sabbath keepers, although with the changing technology in America and the rise of local American watch manufacturing, he had little success with this.105 Willie White also continued to reflect on how Europe should figure in his future, and he entered into discussions again with Andrews as to whether he should accompany Andrews when he returned to Europe. At the end of February, his mother encouraged him to seek to know the call of duty for himself. He should not take too seriously what his father sometimes wrote, she said. James had suggested that he would not be needed in England until 1881, for the printing office would not be needed there until then, and in the interim he should continue at college.106 Seeking advice was good, but Willie and Mary needed to be sure of their own sense of duty, his mother admonished him. Ellen White acknowledged her own lack of assurance that she was giving the right advice. “We may err and do and say things that may not be all right,” she told her son of her own counsel to him, “but we hope that no one will be

injured in any way by our sayings or doings.”107 This was a period of much uncertainty. The upcoming General Conference session would settle many questions. James White published the call for the next semiannual General Conference session in the March 6 issue of the Review. Meetings would be held March 27–31. The dedication of the new tabernacle would take place during the session.108 Within days of the call, however, a major misunderstanding developed between James, W. C. White, and the General Conference committee over the timing of the session and the convening of related meetings. The committee changed the dates and White, as president, then asserted in a huff that he would not attend unless he could have “a full explanation of the reasons for rejecting my plans.”109 The meetings were subsequently postponed for three weeks, until April 17–21, in order to give time for the dispute to be resolved. Publicly it was stated that the Whites could not attend “before that time.” In truth, a variety of reasons contributed to the president taking deep offense and deciding not to attend the session. Among these were matters such as the anguish he suffered over a reproof his wife had given him asserting that he was disqualifying himself to be a good judge in important matters. (She had read the letter to him in early April.)110 He was also angry over the recently created debt policy and felt he had been misrepresented in financial matters. Furthermore, some of his articles had been edited, and one or two had actually been rejected by Uriah Smith. The Review editor had apparently considered them inflammatory.111 James had tried to talk Ellen out of going to the session at all, but she apparently was determined to be there. That James had been planning for some time on attending was indicated by the fact that he had ordered an expensive new dress coat for the occasion.112 He was preparing to be the speaker at the dedication of the new tabernacle. Tensions were so high, however, that in the end neither he nor Ellen attended the important occasion. Though he talked openly of his need to “grow old gracefully,” he was having great difficulty in actually

doing so. His family and church colleagues had to bear with his anger and frustration both with them and with himself even as he worked on the “gracefully” part.113 When the session meetings finally convened on April 17, 1879, John Andrews and church mission again figured prominently. Church leaders politely noted that James White was unable to attend because of “ill health.”114 After the session had closed, White felt that he needed to straighten out this misinformation. He had not come to the session, he explained, not because of present ill health but because whenever he attended a session now he found himself too easily stressed and was not able to say no to tasks that would be assigned to him, and this indeed would imperil his health. In other words, in the gloss put on the quarrel it was not because of his “ill health” that he had stayed away. Rather, it was to avoid developing ill health should he go.115 In the absence of James White, Dudley Canright was elected to serve as chairman and subsequently steered the session through most of its meetings.116 Crowds attending the meetings were noticeably larger, and it was remarked that forty-nine ministers were in attendance. During the first four meetings, delegates were preoccupied with the needs of the sixteen state conferences, pastoral care following evangelism efforts, consideration of pastoral “districts,” and more systematic tithing. On the second day, beginning with the fifth meeting, attention turned to foreign missions, and Andrews outlined the difficulties of the European mission. The theme of foreign missions featured largely through the remainder of the session. In fact, as George Butler noted later, for the first time, foreign missions occupied more of the agenda time than domestic missions. Andrews was glad that the Whites had insisted he stay for the session. Enthusiastic support endorsed the success of John Matteson in Scandinavia, and authorization was granted for additional personnel for that field. Ribton’s work in Italy and Egypt was reviewed with deep interest, and Andrews was requested to visit Italy and Egypt, as well as

England, on his return to Europe. As time permitted, he should also visit Denmark and Norway. He was also asked to explore the possibility of bringing Ribton to Switzerland for a period of mentoring, if duty did not hold the Irish physician in Egypt. Clearly session delegates viewed Andrews, if not as the formal superintendent, at least as the spiritual guide and mentor of the entire European enterprise. He could return to his work with confidence and clarity. After his report on the European mission, Andrews’s first resolution at the session was the truly groundbreaking initiative that distinguished this session from other previous sessions. Because of the difficulty of communication with the geographically scattered members of the threeman executive committee (the arrangement was not working well), Andrews proposed the appointment of a new “officer” in the General Conference administration delegated specifically to care for the “foreign work.”117 This person would take time to acquaint themselves in detail with reference to the foreign fields and expedite correspondence “without delay” with the various missionary workers. The action was proposed as a “temporary” measure because the April session did not deal with such constitutional matters. It was endorsed but held over until the next session, when it would be subject to either confirmation or rejection. As it went to the executive committee for implementation, W. C. White’s name for the job was attached to the recommendation. As in the previous 1878 session, W. C. White’s name continued to appear with increasing frequency in the minutes. He offered comments, proposed resolutions, and was given important assignments. As his father faded from view, Willie began to fill the vacuum. In the last action of the session, Willie was also appointed to a committee with Canright and Henry Kellogg to devise some “ways and means” whereby Albert Vuilleumier, “without embarrassment to his business,” might be enabled to take up the work of ministry.118 For Willie White, as it had done for Andrews, this session provided clarity and direction for his work and solved a large part of the question of what he

would be doing post-session. Sunday, April 20, falling in the midst of the session, proved to be a high day for the denomination and for Andrews. The dedication of the new Dime Tabernacle, with its many rooms, capacious balconies, and its distinctive tall clock tower, made it a distinctive new landmark in the city. The clock and tower had been paid for by Battle Creek citizens, many of whom attended the opening. In the absence of James White, John Andrews preached the dedicatory sermon at the formal opening and dedication of the impressive three-thousand-seat building. With extra seating crowding the aisles, porches, stairways, and basement, 3,649 guests were accommodated and counted as they left. Hundreds more had been turned away, unable to find access. Rising to the occasion with what Uriah Smith described as “one of his strong efforts,” Andrews spoke about the distinctive essence of Adventism. “It would seem impossible to condense more of the distinguishing features of the S. D. Adventist faith into one short sermon than were clearly and concisely brought out on this occasion,” Smith enthused in the Review report of the occasion. Andrews had taken as his integrating text the visual themes displayed prominently in the window behind the pulpit—a distinctive architectural feature of the church’s interior. The windows described Adventist selfunderstanding at that time, and Andrews elaborated on “the relationship between law and gospel and the prophetic union of the two in the people who proclaim the third message.” In a small pane on the left were the words of Romans 3:24, “Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus,” and in a small pane on the right, the words of Revelation 14:6, “Here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus.” Featured in the dominant large artistic windowpane that stretched high above the pulpit was the complete text of the Decalogue rising above a graphic representation of the ark of the covenant and the cherubim. The attention Andrews artfully gave to each theme in his sermon, which dealt in detail with doctrinal and prophetic

positions, reflected the emphasis in the windows behind him.119 The law and its claims upon the believer were clearly the dominant focal point and integrative theme of Adventist preaching. It must be so, for the hour of judgment was at hand, he declared in conclusion. These are the “distinctive doctrines” which guide us, said Andrews. The dedicatory sermon articulated well the essence of the message that took Andrews back to Europe. Judgment was coming, and the nations needed to hear the warning. Before we follow Andrews back to Europe, however, it is worth taking time to reflect on Andrews’s distinctive contribution to the formation of Adventist faith. He had spent much of his ministry thinking about the best way to proclaim and explain the Adventist message. What was his contribution to Adventist theology? This is a topic we shall explore in the next chapter, interrupting briefly the unfolding story of his missionary career in order to do so.

1. Denis Fortin and Jerry Moon, eds., EGWEncycl. (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2013), 421. Jennie Ings traveled to Europe with her husband in 1877 rather than joining him later, as Michael Campbell reports. 2. JI to JW and EGW, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. 3. JNA to WCW, Nov. 2, 1877, EGWE-GC. “Arrived in Europe,” RH, Dec. 20, 1877, 195. 4. JNA to WCW, Nov. 2, 1877, EGWE-GC. 5. Ibid. 6. JNA to WCW, Nov. 3, 1877, EGWE-GC. 7. JI to JW and EGW, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. 8. JNA to ELP, Jan. 15, 1878, CAR. 9. “Arrival of Our Friends From America,” RH, Jan. 3, 1878, 4; JNA to WCW, Jan. 2, 1878, EGWE-GC. 10. JW to WCW, Feb. 6, 1878, EGWE-GC. 11. JNA to WCW, Jan. 2, 1878, EGWE-GC. 12. JNA to JW, Jan. 11, 1878, EGWE-GC. 13. “Our European Missionaries,” RH, Feb. 28, 1878, 68. 14. WI to JW, Dec. 18, 1877, EGWE-GC. 15. WI to WCW, Jan. 27, 1878, EGWE-GC. 16. In a letter written from the Bourdeau’s home to Lucinda Hall, Andrews described the illness as

a “nervous fever.” “She can not bear any confusion.” JNA to LH, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. 17. WI to WCW, Feb. 18, 1878, EGWE-GC. 18. JNA to DTB, Feb. 21, 1878, EGWE-GC. “Our Work in Europe,” RH, Apr. 18, 1878, 124. 19. JNA to WCW, Mar. 4, 1878, EGWE-GC. 20. “Our Work in Europe,” RH, Apr. 18, 1878, 124, gives an overview of development subsequent to Ings arrival. 21. JNA to WCW, Mar. 4, 1878. See also JNA to WCW, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. 22. JI to JW and EGW, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. 23. MA to Grandmother, June 5, 1878, CAR. Ings was still in England at the end of July and had visited cousins “in almost every corner of the Island,” according to his wife. JI to EGW, July 21, 1878, EGWE-GC. 24. JNA to WCW, Mar. 18, 1878. The March 18 letter was an extended part of the March 4 letter. He had been interrupted in the writing. 25. JI to EGW, July 21, 1878, EGWE-GC. 26. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Mar. 7, 1878, 77; “Business Proceedings,” RH, Mar. 14, 1878, 84. 27. JNA to ELP, Apr. 24, 1878, CAR. 28. Town authorities had to intervene on their behalf, declaring to the neighborhood, “As long as he behaves himself peaceably, and does not infringe on the rights of others, you cannot compel him to leave.” “The Work among the European French,” RH, May 2, 1878, 143. Such threatening social circumstances didn’t make it any easier for Mrs. Bourdeau, whose nerves were already on edge. 29. JNA to WCW and MW, May 23, 1878, EGWE-GC. James was encouraging Ellen to come back to Battle Creek to see Willie and Mary before their imminent departure in June. JW to EGW, June 25, 1878, EGWE-GC. 30. “European Mission,” RH, Apr. 11, 1878, 116; JNA to WCW, July 9, 1878, EGWE-GC. 31. “Tract and Missionary Work,” RH, Apr. 18, 1878, 125; “Our Work in Europe,” RH, Apr. 18, 1878, 124; “A Letter From Africa,” RH, June 6, 1878, 183. 32. JNA to WCW, July 2, 1878, EGWE-GC. 33. “Home Again,” RH, June 13, 1878, 189. 34. “Address and Appeal,” RH, July 4, 1878, 12, 13. Five articles in this Review were devoted to mission topics. 35. Loughborough did not really want to take on this assignment and preferred to stay in California. He had to be persuaded. White thought he had been in California too long and that it would be good for both Loughborough and California to have a change. White insisted on the move, an initiative he later regretted. JW to JNL, July 19, 1878, EGWE-GC. 36. JNA to WCW, July 9, 1878, EGWE-GC. 37. “The Dime Tabernacle,” RH, July 25, 1878, 36. 38. “Canton Vaud,” RH, July 25, 1878, 37. 39. JNA to “My Very Dear Children,” July 22, 1878, CAR. 40. Ibid. 41. NA to JW, Aug. 7, 1878, EGWE-GC. See also “Switzerland,” RH, Aug. 15, 1878, 63. 42. JI to EGW, July 21, 1878, EGWE-GC. The “remedy” was an expensive ($1.00 per bottle), horrid-tasting herbal medicine prepared entirely of roots, and for best results for serious ailments,

recommended to be taken over a long period of time. It was regarded by many in the nineteenth century as a panacea and was used and recommended privately by Ellen White, as noted occasionally in her diary. Whether the supply used for Mary belonged to Jennie Ings or to Andrews himself is not mentioned. The nostrum made Mrs. Temple a wealthy Adventist woman. See Elizabeth Temple, Mrs. E. Temple’s Renovating Remedy: The Greatest Medicine of the Age (Athol Depot, MA: R. William Waterman, 1867). See also EGW, L&M (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2014), 897. 43. Sarah Andrews to ELP, Aug. 12, 1878; JNA to ELP, Aug. 16, 1878, CAR. 44. JNA to ELP, Aug. 16, 1878, CAR. 45. Ibid. 46. JNA Notebook, “In Memory of Mary Andrews,” 1878, CAR. The memories are a set of personal recollections Andrews noted down after the funeral. 47. Daniel Bourdeau felt he had taken his last leave of her in mid-November because of her consumption. “Switzerland, and Alsace, Germany,” RH, Nov. 15, 1877, 158. 48. JNA to JW, Sept. 3, 1878, EGWE-GC. 49. Ibid. 50. JNA to JW, Sept. 9, 1878, EGWE-GC. 51. JI to EGW, Dec. 31, 1878, EGWE-GC. 52. JNA to JW, Sept. 9, 1878, EGWE-GC. 53. Ibid. 54. The family did not stop off to visit relatives in either New York or Rochester en route and had to apologize to them for the apparent neglect. He had hastened directly to Battle Creek. JNA to ELP, Sept. 27, 1878, CAR. 55. JNA to ELP, Nov. 27, 1878, CAR. 56. ALW, Ellen G. White: The Lonely Years: 1876–1891 (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 1984), 96, 97. Ellen White rebuked her husband for dealing with the problem in this way and exposing a divided leadership to the constituency. Arthur White suggests the rebuke was one of the most difficult James ever had to deal with, and it took considerable time to come to terms with it. 57. “Seventeenth Annual Session of the General Conference of S. D. Adventists,” RH, Oct. 17, 1878, 121. 58. EGW to “Dear Brethren in Switzerland,” Aug. 29, 1878, EGWE-GC. Ellen White had thought about the testimony letter for quite a long time before writing and then extensively revised her first draft of the message. She was at Oregon camp meeting at the time of writing. The letter expresses deep pastoral care and a sensitivity about cultural prejudices and Swiss perceptions of America. “America” and “American” are mentioned twelve times, and “Swiss” or “Switzerland” eleven times. Ellen White talks about specific problems of misunderstanding, but tellingly she does not address the chronic problem of drinking wine, the pastoral problem that so troubled Andrews. 59. Ibid. 60. Andrews had earlier hoped that Ellen White might have “something helpful to say” for Europe, but he did not want to write and “set before you things” that he thought she should address. That “would defeat the very thing that I would accomplish,” he noted, hoping that she would be shown something in a dream. But he had then written of the problems quite openly to James and to the

General Conference committee, mentioning the particular difficulties with the Swiss brethren, the economic situation they faced, and the opposition he faced. He related the difficulties caused by his being mistranslated by Adémar. JNA to General Conference Committee, (June) 1875; JNA to JW and EGW, June 8, 1875, EGWE-GC. 61. “Seventeenth Annual Session of the General Conference of S. D. Adventists (Concluded),” RH, Oct. 24, 1878, 129. 62. ALW, The Lonely Years, 96, 97. Gerald Wheeler, James White: Innovator and Overcomer (Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald®, 2003), 203–212. 63. JNA Notebook, “In Memory of Mary Andrews,” 1878, CAR. 64. George Amadon records in his diary that he attended several prayer meetings on behalf of Mary Andrews. See, for example, GWAD, Nov. 1, 2, 3, 1878. See also JNA to Sis. Harris, Oct. 29, 1878, CAR. 65. JNA Notebook, “In Memory of Mary Andrews,” 1878, CAR. 66. Ibid. 67. JNA to ELP, Nov. 27, 1878. 68. “Autograph Book,” Nov. 28, 1879, J. N. Andrews Collection, CAR. 69. JNA to AV, Apr. 15, 1879, CAR. 70. GWAD, Nov. 30, 1878. 71. “Fallen Asleep,” RH, Dec. 5, 1878, 180. 72. CMA to “Dear Father,” Nov. 26, Dec. 10, 1878, CAR. 73. JNA to EGW, Dec. 22, 1878, EGWE-GC. 74. Ibid.; “Departure for England,” RH, Dec. 19, 1878, 197. 75. EGW to WCW, Dec. 11, 1878. W. C. White was not sure if he should go, and Ellen White told him to think carefully about it before making a decision. 76. EGW to JNA, Dec. 5, 1878. 77. JNA to EGW, Dec. 22, 1878. 78. EGW to JNA, Jan. 22, 1878, EGWE-GC. 79. “Note From Bro. Andrews,” RH, Jan. 23, 1879, 32. 80. JNA to LH, Feb. 13, 1878, EGWE-GC. 81. JI to EGW, Dec. 31, 1878, EGWE-GC. 82. JNA to EGW, Jan. 27, 1878, EGWE-GC. 83. Ibid. 84. Ibid. 85. Ibid. 86. JNA to AV, April 15, 1879, CAR. 87. “New Year’s in Battle Creek,” RH, Jan. 9, 1879, 12. 88. Ibid.; “Organization of the American Health and Temperance Association,” RH Supplement, Jan. 9, 1879, 1. 89. JW to WCW, Jan. 17, 30, 1879, EGWE-GC. 90. JW to WCW and HWK, Jan. 15, 1879, EGWE-GC. It was Ellen White who saw the press heading for bankruptcy. 91. “Our Publications,” RH, Jan. 23, 1879, 28. “Ruinous” prices had led to the “embarrassment” of

the publishing house. 92. EGW to WCW, Jan. 19, 1879, EGWE-GC. 93. Ibid.; JW to WCW, Jan. 17, 20, 1879, EGWE-GC. “I see no other way but for you to go.” 94. JW to WCW, Jan. 25, 1879, EGWE-GC. 95. EGW to SNH, Jan. 27, 1879, EGWE-GC. 96. EGW to “Dear Children,” Feb. 11, 1879, EGWE-GC. 97. Haskell married his thirty-eight-year-old invalid first wife, Mary, when he was still only seventeen because he had promised his dying friend he would look after his sister. Later in 1897, he would marry Hetty Hurd, his second wife, after Ellen White recommended he should. Gerald Wheeler, S. N. Haskell: Adventist Pioneer, Evangelist, Missionary, and Editor (Nampa, ID: Pacific Press®, 2017), 14, 15, 189. 98. JNA to EGW, Jan. 27, 1879, EGWE-GC. 99. “Mission to Great Britain,” RH, Jan. 30, 1879, 36. 100. RH Supplement, Feb. 6, 1879, np. Tragically, the Mattesons were not able to attend the funeral of their daughter. And perhaps because Matteson was not part of the inner circle of leadership, the death of his daughter did not seem to have the same impact on the community as the death of Mary Andrews. But the cost of the sacrifice in the service of mission was not less. 101. “Letter From Italy,” RH, Feb. 6, 1879, 45. 102. EGW to WCW and MW, Feb. 11, 1879, EGWE-GC. 103. Brian E. Strayer, J. N. Loughborough: The Last of the Adventist Pioneers (Hagerstown, MD.: Review and Herald®, 2014), 283, 284. 104. JNA to JW, May 15, 1879, EGWE-GC. His aunt Sarah’s diary records numerous visits of John and his mother to the Pottle home in Rochester during this period, sometimes for several days at a time. John’s elderly mother tended to impose her own Sabbath-keeping regime on the household of her non-Sabbath-keeping hostess, which called for some adjustment. “I cannot read today as it is Mrs. Andrews’[s] Sabbath.” SPD, Mar. 15, 1879. In May, John’s stopover included a visit to the gravesites at Mt. Hope Cemetery. SPD, May 23, 1879. See also SPD Jan. 29, 30; Feb. 21, 26, 27; Mar. 19, 21 27; Apr. 5, 8, 9, 11; May 8, 11, 22, 1879. Though happy to accommodate the visitors and their occasional friends, at times the task of hosting was a burden for the invalid aunt. “John Andrews and his mother left this morning. I feel greatly relieved.” SPD, Apr. 11, 1879, MLCBU. 105. “A Visit From Bro. J. N. Andrews,” RH, Mar. 6, 1879, 80; JNA to AV, Apr. 15, 1879, CAR. 106. JW to WCW, Mar. 10, 1879, EGWE-GC. 107. EGW to WCW, Feb. 25, 1879, EGWE-GC. 108. “Special Notice,” RH, Mar. 6, 1879, 80. 109. JW to WCW and MW, Mar. 3, 1879, EGWE-GC. 110. JW to WCW, Apr. 10, 1879, EGWE-GC. 111. JW to “Dear Children,” May 3, 11, 1879, EGWE-GC. 112. JW to WCW, Jan. 21, 1878, EGWE-GC. “Have our Swede tailor make me a good fine broadcloth coat such as he would like to see me wear at the dedication of the Tabernacle, and hold it subject to my order.” 113. “Grow Old Gracefully,” RH, May 15, 1879, 156. This column describes his struggles to adjust to the loss of the leadership role. See, for example, JW to WCW, July 28, 1879, for an angry letter

Willie White was told not to share but to keep to himself. Also JW to LH, Jan. 4, 1880, EGWE-GC. 114. “The Conference,” RH, Apr. 24, 1879, 132. 115. JW to “Dear Children,” Apr. 26, 1879, EGWE-GC. 116. “Business Proceedings,” RH, Apr. 24, 1879, 132, 133. 117. Ibid. Andrews wanted to pattern the role on the “missionary boards” of other denominations. 118. “Business Proceedings,” RH, May 1, 1879, 140. 119. The sermon was later published in full. “The Dedication of the Tabernacle,” RH, May 5, 1879, 146, 147.

Chapter Twenty-One

Resident Theologian and Defender of the Faith who became a Seventh-day Adventist in his early teen W. A.years,Spicer, recalls John Andrews in the pulpit as “a slim and tall, bespectacled” preacher “with the quiet way of one not at all driving or self-assertive.” He was in his forties when Spicer first heard him. Andrews impressed him as “modest and retiring, but very earnest and intense,” and “even children knew that he had something important to say.” In spite of the fact that Andrews was “self-effacing in spirit” and might appear “retiring and timid,” Spicer also recalled him “as determined as a lion in contending for truth.”1 Andrews’s church certainly recognized that Andrews had important things to say. What he said to his church and for his church, in fact, carried much weight and helped shape its doctrinal convictions and belief structures in enduring ways. He was the Adventist Church’s “theologian-in-residence.” This is an excellent time to interrupt the narrative of Andrews’s story again and attempt to summarize his overall theological contribution. As we will notice, Andrews returned to Europe with his creative years behind him. He was now focused on how to best share the Adventist message with the people of Europe. It is an appropriate moment to reflect on his overall contribution as the church’s resident theologian. Andrews might not be the “architect of Adventist theology” in the sense of designer, for he was not an original theologian nor the creator of the distinctive theological synthesis that gave Adventism its particular

mission.2 But he might well be thought of as the architect draftsman—the specialist whose skills in logical analysis and scholarly insight constructed the detailed arguments that reinforced and buttressed the edifice and convinced his colleagues that the theological house was more than sound. The logic of his arguments would persuade others to come and live in it. This chapter will briefly explore the major theological themes that found expression in Andrews’s writing and the ways in which they contributed to the development of his church. We know much of what Andrews thought and taught as a theologian from his writings and his reported sermons. His interests were practical and broad. We also gain insights into what was important to him as a writer and theologian from the kinds of books that he kept in his library. Books mattered a great deal to Andrews. Some he gave away in his last years, but just under 1,000 volumes from his personal library have survived across the 134 years since his death—675 of them at the Universitie Adventiste in Saleve, France, and 313 of them at Andrews University in Berrien Springs. Books were his friends, and he conversed with them as he read, leaving questions, notes of disagreement, and marks of approval in the margins, along with underlining and cross-reference marks in many of them. The composition of his collection tells us something about the theological issues that mattered to him.3 Together with original Greek and Hebrew language testaments, numerous English and foreign language translations of Scripture held places of pride on his shelves. Flyleaf notes indicate that he studied his 1512 Tyndale translation when he was at Jackson, Michigan, in 1868 and that his copy of Luther’s German translation was bought when he visited Prussia in 1875. Handwritten notes in the flyleaf of his personal King James Version record the beginning dates of each fresh, new reading. Before he left for Europe, this record indicates that he had read his way through Scripture at least twenty-six times, usually on an annual basis. One reading had been in French and another using the Latin Douay-

Rheims version. Flyleaf notes also tell us that he was familiar with the copies of the Apocrypha that he had on his shelves. He had read the Douay-Rheims version twice, and others as well. Marginal notes in these volumes indicate his interest in the topic of “eternal misery” and in passages that seemed to parallel the text in Revelation. Exegetical reference works were also well represented on his shelves, with numerous Greek lexicons and syntax reference works, as well as theological and secular encyclopedias. There were 316 “sets” of multivolume works in his collection, thirty of which, for example, were writings by or about the early church fathers, and there were also numerous volumes on the history of “Romanism” and the popes. The most valuable book in his library is an original first edition of a sixteenth-century anti-Catholic work in Latin with many handwritten corrections to the text by its Zwinglian author. The notes were subsequently incorporated into the second edition.4 Multivolume Bible commentary sets on his shelves included such authors as Matthew Henry, Adam Clarke, Albert Barnes, and Christopher Wordsworth. He appears, at least at times, to have tried to keep himself up-to-date with current biblical scholarship by taking journals such as Bibliotheca Sacra, the American Biblical Repository, and the Theological and Literary Journal, although some of these may have been acquired later as secondhand bound volumes, since they show little marking. Books on prophecy, the principles of prophetic interpretation, and Bible chronology were numerous, reflecting his keen interest in this topic. Specific thematic books on the theology of baptism and the Trinity, for example, also appear to reflect particular interests in those topics. Andrews was a reader. He frequented secondhand bookstores and kept himself engaged with scholarship, although book purchases appear to have diminished during his years of poverty in Europe. Clearly, however, his library reveals that his thinking and writing and the shaping of his theological viewpoints were all done in dialogue with others.

Andrews and restorationist theology Although Andrews came from an Episcopalian Methodist background (like Ellen White) he was definitely un-Methodist in his anti-Trinitarian conviction—beliefs he shared with James White, Joseph Bates, and other early Adventist leaders who had come not from Methodism but rather from a Christian Connexion background.5 Whether he was influenced in his anti-Trinitarian views by his close colleagues who were outspoken on the issue or whether it was a long-held personal conviction is not clear. Ellen White’s disagreement with her childhood church’s creedal statement on the Godhead was straightforward. While it affirmed that “there is but one living and true God, and in unity of this Godhead, there are three persons of one substance, power, and eternity;—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” the statement also specified that God was “everlasting, without body or parts,” and that seemed a bridge too far for her. Such an assertion seemed to deny the reality of God as a Person. How could God be imagined without a body? With a husband who was decidedly antiTrinitarian, Ellen White took a low profile and used ambiguous language.6 Andrews did not write about the topic of the Trinity very often, but when he did he was hostile. In his earliest statement on the issue at the age of twenty-five, he seemed to share the Connexionist position. “The doctrine of the Trinity . . . was established in the church by the council of Nice, A. D. 325. This doctrine destroys the personality of God, and his Son Jesus Christ our Lord. The infamous, measures by which it was forced upon the church which appear upon the pages of ecclesiastical history might well cause every believer in that doctrine to blush.”7 Of greater concern to Andrews was that the doctrine had emerged during what he viewed as the time of the church’s great apostasy in the early centuries after Christ. He regarded the doctrine as one of the evidences of the “moral fall” of the early Christian church when it apostatized, adopted “false doctrine,” and became Babylon.8 Later, in his arguments for the nonimmortality of the human soul, he would call to his aid the idea that only

God the Father, the “self-existent Being,” was immortal. Drawing on the subordination passages of the Gospel of John, he would observe that “the Son of God, . . . at some point in the eternity of the past,” had a “beginning of days,” and that Christ’s immortality was thus “derived.”9 Andrews did not ever make the topic a large feature of his theology, but that he maintained an interest in the theme could be assumed from his close reading of a book on the topic gifted to him in London in 1876.10 Although he did not himself come from a Connexionist background, the theme of “restoring” Christian beliefs to their pure New Testament form and expression was the cultural and theological framework that shaped his theological convictions on the doctrine of the Trinity and on numerous other topics, such as the Sabbath, which we have noticed in an earlier chapter.11 Andrews’s church community eventually moved to adopt a Trinitarian understanding of the Godhead following its post-1888 reorientation to a more Christocentric understanding of its doctrinal formulations.12 Adult baptism was another restorationist theme that Andrews adopted that varied from his Methodist creedal framework. Although a believer’s baptism rather than infant baptism was important in Andrews’s belief structure and was fundamental to his aggressive approach to evangelism, he did not write extensively on the topic. When he did, he framed it within his dominant, overarching emphasis on the perpetuity of the law. His view of baptism thus took a predominantly forensic mold as illustrated in a twopart article series he wrote in 1880. “Because Christ, our sacrifice, has died for us, the law regards us as though its sentence had been executed upon us, and as though we had actually suffered death. Now this fact of our death must be publicly expressed. This is done by the ordinance of baptism. The fact of our death must be attested by our burial. Rom. 6:1– 8.”13 Even the dimension of baptism that spoke to new life in the resurrection of Christ is explained in terms of the primacy of law. “So the gospel, that it may honor the law of God, and acknowledge the justice of

the sentence of death against the sinner, bears testimony to his [the believer’s] death by his public burial in the ordinance of baptism; then by a resurrection from that burial, it bids him walk in newness of life.”14 It is obedience to the “ordinance of baptism” by immersion rather than sprinkling which is his major concern. The change to sprinkling as the mode of baptism paralleled the change of the day of worship from Sabbath to Sunday. Here again, for Andrews, the issue involved a call to faithfulness. Baptism was a prominent topic that he focused on, and his library carried a number of works on the subject, one of which was a twovolume Baptist novel exploring the theme in narrative format that he had given as a twenty-fifth birthday gift to Angeline the year before they married. Another well-marked book in his library on the topic was a gift from a Baptist friend in London.15

Sanctuary theology What was of central importance for Andrews’s theology was the imminence of the return of Christ and with it the last judgment. This conviction, based on his Protestant historicist reading of the fulfillment of prophecy, constituted the starting point for all of his theological reflections, and it framed the central theological questions that he gave his life to addressing. It was this topic that led first to his writing on the sanctuary and then on the prophetic identity of his church as outlined in Revelation 14. While his writing in these areas was not original, it was creative, scholarly, and practical and was taken by his readers to be of immense help to the church. He provided clear theological and biblical reasons why other Adventists were on a wrong path, and he provided answers to the negative voices on the margins. He gave confidence to the growing body of Adventist believers. In the main, his theology was polemical. He engaged primarily in justifying the credibility and theological correctness of the interpretive positions his church had taken, and significant portions of his effort went to responding to criticism from

those who had taken a different theological course after the Great Disappointment of 1844. The trauma of disappointed Advent hopes in 1844 was ground zero for Andrews’s theological rebuilding enterprise. Like Ellen White, Andrews’s vibrant spiritual experience in the Millerite movement had such depth and such spiritual authenticity he could not accept that it might have been a delusion. Explaining the Disappointment in terms that preserved the authenticity of the Millerite movement and its experience made theological sense and pointed the way forward to a meaningful mission. This had become his primary theological task, and in 1851 it had introduced him to ministry. The topic became the theme of his first sermons and then of his very first book, and from there the theological task took on a polemical dress as it expanded into numerous other writings. The first book published by John Andrews was also the very first book published on an Adventist press by the young Sabbatarian Adventist movement. James White had waited anxiously for the material from Andrews over the winter of 1852–1853. He was confident that it would be “a feast when it comes.”16 John Loughborough recalled that when Andrews had finished up the manuscript it was printed on the movement’s newly acquired handpress in the spring of 1853 at what became a memorable community event: The office had then no stitching or trimming machines, such work being done at the city bindery. Brother White was anxious to send copies of the pamphlet to all the brethren, so he called “a bee” of the Rochester members, who folded the signatures for the books. I perforated them with a shoemaker’s pegging awl, the sisters stitched them with needle and thread, Sister Mary Patten (afterward Mrs. Robert Sawyer) put on the covers, and Brother Uriah Smith trimmed them with his pocketknife and straightedge. Sister White wrapped them, and Brother White addressed them for the mail. We were a

happy company together, for we were “getting off the first book printed on a press owned by Seventh-day Adventists.”17 Although there were only one hundred copies in the first print run, the little book had a powerful influence and was reprinted many times thereafter. It set out as clearly as a draftsman’s blueprint drawings Andrews’s systematic detailed defense of the movement’s linchpin doctrine—the Adventist understanding of the Disappointment and its lifesaving sanctuary theology.18 Andrews begins by sympathetically addressing the major dilemma disappointed Millerites faced. Their interpretation of the 2,300-day prophecy of Daniel 8:14 had led them to expect Jesus to return to cleanse the sanctuary of the earth in October 1844.19 This expectation had been based on the seventy-week prophecy of Daniel 9, used as the interpretive key to understanding Daniel 8. The seventy-week period of Daniel 9:25 had started with “the going forth of the commandment to restore and to build Jerusalem,” which careful study had tied to the decree of the Persian King Artaxerxes in 457 B.C. This was an anchor point Andrews would be called upon to vigorously defend repeatedly in later years, sometimes in the face of substantial scholarship by scholars such as William Thurman. Andrews wrote a substantial tract in 1865 to rebut Thurman.20 The Messianic prophecy found fulfillment in A.D. 34 (when Stephen was stoned) with the Messiah being cut off in the “midst of the week”—the crucifixion of Jesus in A.D. 31. Understanding the seventy weeks of years to be “cut off” from the 2,300 years so that the two periods had a synchronous commencement point saw the 2,300 years fulfilled in autumn 1844.21 Because their interpretation of the prophecy had failed, Millerites abandoned the link between the two time periods, asserting that making the connection had been their mistake. Andrews defended the linkage between the two chapters. The link had not been the mistake. Rather, the key to the dilemma was to rethink the meaning of the sanctuary “to be

cleansed” at the fulfillment of the period.22 In order to demonstrate the necessity of keeping the seventy weeks and the 2,300 days together, Andrews developed five detailed arguments why the persecuting “little horn” of Daniel 8:9–12, which “trampled” upon the sanctuary, could not reasonably be Antiochus IV Epiphanes, who had been perceived as such an existential threat to the Jewish religion at the time of the Maccabean revolt (167–160 B.C.). Such was the usual interpretation given to the “little horn” of Daniel 8 by “the mass of opposers to the Advent faith.” Andrews argued that this argument was, in fact, an interpretive device introduced by the papacy to discredit the Daniel prophecy and avoid the papacy itself being identified as the fulfillment of the prophecy.23 Having labored to demonstrate the validity of the chronological calculations, Andrews then turned to his second task: that of persuading his Millerite readers that they had not been mistaken over the time but the event. He cited William Miller’s assertions that the “two grand forms of opposition” to the cause of God had been “paganism and popery”—arguments that were so well established, he thought, that they did not need any further proof.24 The papacy had absorbed much of the error of paganism in a new Christian syncretism. Satan had been successful in creating an opposing sanctuary system, together with its “host” of supporters, and a great conflict had developed between the sanctuary of Satan and the sanctuary of God.25 For the remainder of Andrews’s first theological treatise, he set out to explore in a systematic, step-by-step process what was meant in Scripture by the “sanctuary of God.” Along the way he demonstrated with extensive argument that the sanctuary “emphatically” could not be the earth, nor could it be the church or the land of Canaan.26 His analysis of every reference to “sanctuary” in Scripture led him to the conclusion that, primarily, the points of reference were to the “typical” tabernacle, with its sacrifices and rituals, and to its pattern in heaven, upon which it had been

modeled—the heavenly sanctuary. Andrews attached great importance to the observation that the earthly and the heavenly sanctuaries as depicted in Scripture possessed the same essential characteristics, including two holy places, the Holy and the Most Holy, a point he documented in detail.27 He then labored the point that the earthly sanctuary had fulfilled its mission in the work and ministry of Jesus and that the focus of Scripture had then turned to the “present sanctuary” in heaven, where Jesus continued to minister. Satan, in opposition to the cause of God, as part of the “mystery of iniquity,” had achieved considerable success in setting up a temple system in the form of the papal church in Rome, and this system had “trodden underfoot the sanctuary of the Lord” by its counterfeit priesthood and its counterfeit system of salvation.28 To explain what the prophecy of Daniel meant by the promise that the sanctuary of God would be “cleansed,” Andrews then embarked on a detailed explanation of the regular tabernacle services, their role in teaching about the forgiveness of sin, and their implications about the transfer of sin to the sanctuary. The sacrificial system developed around the two apartment distinction (Holy Place; Most Holy Place) and focused finally on the annual Day of Atonement “cleansing” service. In the last ten pages of his treatise, Andrews showed how the parallel sanctuary in heaven also had two apartments and two aspects to the ministry of Jesus. “In the shadow of heavenly things [the tabernacle], we see the guilt of the people transferred to the sanctuary itself.”29 This necessitated its end-ofthe-year cleansing. As in the type, so in the antitype, argued Andrews. In His present ministry in heaven, Jesus, as High Priest, bore the confessed sins of His people and, as Andrews explained, “the sins of those who come to God through our great High Priest are communicated to the sanctuary as was the case in the type.” Thus, as in the type, the heavenly sanctuary also needed cleansing as the final work of atonement. The work of cleansing changed the ministration of Jesus “from the holy place to the holiest of all.” It was this important work which began “with the termination of the

2,300 days.”30 They could now see that, in 1844, Jesus began this new phrase of ministry. Andrews concluded his argument by asserting, “No one can fail to perceive that this event, the cleansing of the sanctuary, is one of infinite importance.” He ended the book with the question with which he had started but now he had the answer. “Could we then [in 1843–1844] have understood the subject of the heavenly sanctuary,” he wrote, “our disappointment would have been avoided.”31 Andrews was aware of the objections. “We are ranked as spiritualizers, by our enemies” for taking this position, he noted. How this could be, however, he did not understand, for he actually believed “in a literal sanctuary in heaven, consisting of two real places, and that our High Priest, while at the Father’s right hand, is a minister of both these holy places.” It was critical to Andrews that the temple in heaven was a very exact place, and he argued that Scripture described it in very concrete or geographical terms. “Vague ideas of the temple of God constitute the best objections to the work in the heavenly sanctuary,” he would later assert.32 From the “unjust charge” that they were spiritualizers, Adventists would “appeal to the Judge of all the earth, who will do right.”33 Young though he was when he wrote his treatise, Andrews clearly established a solid foundation for his reputation as a respected writer and resident theologian in the church. Besides explaining the Disappointment, this understanding of the heavenly sanctuary enabled Adventists to also embrace the doctrine of the seventh-day Sabbath (the law, with its fourth commandment, was enshrined in the ark of the covenant at the center of the Most Holy Place in the heavenly sanctuary). The sanctuary doctrine was not, therefore, a stand-alone teaching. It provided a framework for the integration of the Sabbath doctrine and other related teachings, particularly those that emphasized the fulfillment of other prophecies and thus the imminence of the Second Advent. Andrews was also the foremost writer who found effective ways to explain how these teachings were linked. His pamphlets

on the first, second, and third angels’ messages of Revelation 14 soon followed. They, too, were developed into small booklets. Early Adventists found them as helpful as his first book, and they were accepted as masterpieces of clear exposition and persuasion. They were soon edited into a larger book on the third angel’s message of Revelation 14:9–12 and very effectively tied together the themes of Sabbath, sanctuary, and the urgent need for a personal decision on Sabbath keeping in the face of the announcement of impending judgment. Andrews’s distinctive application of the two-horned beast symbol of Revelation 13 to the United States gave this second book an urgency and a contemporary appeal to Adventists as they experienced minority problems in their convictions over the seventhday Sabbath. The oppression of slaves, Andrews suggested, was but a foretaste of the kind of oppression that the civil and religious powers of the state would soon exert against a religious minority refusing to work on Saturday or working on Sunday. The teaching led to the development of a significant body of thought by other writers on the subject of religious liberty. Andrews’s new book also went through frequent reprinting and took its final definitive form when he was in Europe.34 John Corliss would comment fifty years after it was first published that “no writings of later days have made the subject more simple and plain than that little work.”35 It was a book and a theology that powerfully reinforced the ethos and the mission of the church. Like his fellow Advent believers, John Andrews understood the nature of humanity to be such that the human soul was not naturally immortal, and this meant that a state of uncomprehending unconsciousness prevailed during the time between bodily death and resurrection. Andrews believed that the doctrine integrated much more logically and consistently with the doctrine of the Advent, resurrection, millennium, and final judgment. The

central idea in the doctrine is today sometimes called Christian mortalism, or more pejoratively “soul sleep.” Andrews’s Seventh Day Baptist friends who contested with him occasionally in debate on the issue called the idea “materialism.”36 The theme was not one that occupied a central place in his theological schema, but in the 1860s, when the Civil War brought death close to most families in one way or another and when the desire to communicate with the dead created a huge wave of interest in the “rappings” of the Rochester-based Fox sisters, he wrote more extensively on the topic but in pamphlet format rather than in books.37 Andrews believed the “Spiritualist” movement spawned by the Fox sisters’ claims to be able to speak with the dead to be an end-of-time phenomenon that had been explicitly foretold in Scripture (the sisters became “mediums” and earned a living conducting many public séances). He introduced his sixteen-page pamphlet Samuel and the Witch of Endor with an extended argument that the “familiar spirit” oracle of the prophet Isaiah in Isaiah 8:19, 20, not only pertained to the “gospel dispensation” but that it specifically foretold the situation that was to occur just prior to the Second Advent.38 Andrews used numerous texts of Scripture in his proof, which focused on the expression “the law and the testimony.” These words featured prominently in such passages as Revelation 12:17, which describes the last struggle with the dragon. He thus saw the spiritualist movement as providing the exact fulfillment of the “unclean spirits” in Revelation 13 and 16, who went out to make “preparation for the battle of the great day of God Almighty.”39 Five pages of the sixteen-page pamphlet are given to an exposition of the Saul-and-Samuel encounter, and then Andrews goes on to explain on the basis of many references in Scripture that the supposed spirits of the dead are, in fact, fallen angels impersonating the dead. This provides him with an opportunity to discuss many other texts in Scripture that prove that the dead cannot speak and that the dead are in an unconscious state. Believers who were caught up in the phenomenon faced serious spiritual

consequences. Spiritualism was a “heinous” sin because it actually involved “the holding of direct intercourse with Satan or his evil angels.” Andrews did not seek to discredit the phenomenon of speaking with the dead or argue that the Fox sisters’ claims were a hoax, which they later turned out to be.40 His polemic was directed rather to challenging the underlying “immortal soul” theology that made the Spiritualist movement even possible. In his five pamphlets on the non-immortality of the soul, Andrews adopted a variety of literary formats, which gave a freshness and variety to his writing style. The pamphlets were still polemical because Andrews approached the matter of the state of the dead as directly answering what he considered erroneous positions, and he set out to provide logical and biblical proof for what he argued was the true biblical positon. But in the state of the dead pamphlets his tone seems to be more pastoral and sensitive. Andrews was aware that the subject of death touched lives in a deeply personal way, and believers were invested in the subject from a personal perspective rather than just trying to sort out an academic or theological argument. For example, in his Samuel and the Witch of Endor tract, Andrews had written: With hearts wounded and bleeding under some great bereavement, they call up their dear departed. And when their peculiarities are exactly reproduced, and when little tokens of friendship, which were known only to the inquired and to the departed, are brought out, and matters best calculated to awaken all the fond remembrances of the past are called up, so that the inquirer becomes satisfied that he is conversing with his dearest friend, who now knows a thousand times more than himself, he is not only thrown off his guard, but captivated by Satan, and caused to believe the doctrine of devils; for certainly, as he thinks, his dearest friend cannot deceive him.41 In his tract Departing and Being with Christ, Andrews adopts a

catechetical style in addressing the problem arising from a literal reading of Philippians 1:23, 24, where Paul expresses his ambivalence over his “desire to depart, and to be with Christ.” In this pamphlet, Andrews frames twenty-two questions which either inquire into what the Bible really means or that directly challenge a traditional immortal soul doctrine. Again, the style is pastoral and personal rather than dogmatic, and the answers are provided in a warm, conversational style, which makes the pamphlet very readable. After clarifying again that a person’s state in death is an unconscious state, he discusses what Scripture means when it speaks of the return of the spirit to God (Ecclesiastes 12:7) and asserts that there is no biblical evidence for an eternally burning hell. “Once fire has destroyed the earth and turned it into ashes, new heavens and earth shall exist, formed out of the elements of the old, thus purged of sin.”42 Along the way, the pamphlet allows Andrews to comment on or to cite sixty-four passages of Scripture. In another pamphlet, The Wicked Dead: Are They Now Being Punished?, Andrews addresses a similar theme but focuses particularly on the two passages of Scripture that talk about “everlasting fire.” Again, Andrews adopts a question-and-answer mode of discussion. “Two answers are returned” to the question of the pamphlet. “1. They [the dead] are now suffering the torments of the damned. This is the answer of all the selfstyled orthodox creeds. 2. They are now sleeping in the dust of the earth, awaiting the resurrection to damnation. This answer is believed by Seventh-day Adventists to be the harmonious teaching of the Scriptures on this subject. Which of these two answers is the true and proper one?”43 Andrews then proceeds to discuss major problem passages for the Adventist doctrine, the case of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah (suffering the vengeance of eternal fire, Jude 7) and the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16. With thirty-four numbered bullet points, many with Scripture references, he lists the reasons why hell is not an eternal burning fire. Then in twelve further texts of Scripture, he offers proof “that the

resurrection and judgment of the wicked take place before they [the wicked] are punished; a doctrine in the highest degree reasonable, and sustained by many plain testimonies.”44 Proving the reasonableness of the Adventist doctrine on the nonimmortality of the soul and its capacity for consistency in explaining a range of other doctrines was also the purpose of Andrews’s concluding short tract Thoughts for the Candid. His purpose was to show from a reasoned position that it was, in fact, the doctrine of natural human immortality that posed the most gloomy prospects and that the doctrine that Adventists held of “life only in Christ” was the far better and much brighter doctrine. And this was a doctrine he could argue from both a biblical and a systematic perspective. On the contrary side, he would point out, The doctrine of the immortality of the soul is something indispensable to almost every prominent erroneous religious system. It is the cornerstone of heathenism. All or nearly all the gods of heathenism are believed to be dead men who were turned into gods by dying. Catholicism is indebted to this doctrine for all its saints who are believed to be mediators with God. It is a fundamental idea in the system of purgatory. In fact, Romanism is as much dependent on this doctrine as is heathenism. Spiritualism is simply the embodiment of this doctrine of natural immortality. It is incapable of existing without it. Is it not strange that this cornerstone of heathenism, Roman Catholicism, and Spiritualism, should be also the cornerstone of modern orthodoxy? Yet such is the case. It is in these days esteemed the marrow and fatness of Christianity.45 Such a doctrine rendered Scripture’s assurance of the advent of Christ, the resurrection of the dead, and the final judgment “almost obsolete.” Andrews was not about to give up those core beliefs and teachings of

Scripture. Although Andrews did not see the direct links between health reform and the holistic view of human nature that is clearly implied in this area of Adventist doctrine, he was committed to health reform on a personal level for practical reasons. It would remain for others at a later time to see the profound theological implications in the doctrine of the non-immortality of the soul and the holistic view of human nature that it implied and thus provide a rich theological undergirding for his health message. Nevertheless, Andrews’s contribution to Adventist theology was deep and lasting. His role as Adventism’s Melanchthon enabled his church to thrive and grow at a crucial time in its development, and Andrews’s theological arguments still resonate in the church, although in many cases the theological and doctrinal harmonies he framed may now find expression in a new key.

1. William Ambrose Spicer, Pioneer Days of the Advent Movement (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1941), 203, 207. 2. The term is used by K. F. Mueller, “The Architect of Adventist Doctrines,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 75. 3. Georges Stéveny, “Andrews’ Personal Library,” in J. N. Andrews, The Man and the Mission, 148–152. 4. Rodolpho Hospimano Tiguriuno, De Origine Progressu, usu et abusu templorum, as rerum omnium ad temple pertinentium acutore (1587). The current value of this volume has recently been assessed by antiquarian experts to be in excess of seven figures. 5. Andrews’s copy of Doctrines and Discipline of the Episcopal Methodist Church (1832), which outlines the Methodist creed, appears to be a family heirloom. CAR. 6. See Jerry Moon, “The Adventist Trinity Debate, Part 2: The Role of Ellen G. White,” Andrews University Seminary Studies 41, no. 2 (Autumn 2003): 275–292. 7. “The Three Angels of Rev. XIV. 6–12: The Second Angel,” RH, Mar. 6, 1855, 185–187. 8. Ibid. His brief discussion is a short paragraph in a list of evidences of the fall of Babylon in which he includes the corruption of the ordinance of baptism and the adoption of the pagan doctrine of the immortality of the soul, as well as the change of the Sabbath. 9. “And as to the Son of God, . . . he had God for his Father, and did, at some point in the eternity of the past, have beginning of days,” in “Melchisedec,” RH, Sept. 7, 1869, 84. “Others may possess it

[immortality] as derived from him, but he alone [God the Father] is the fountain of immortality,” in “Immortality Through Christ,” RH, Jan. 27, 1874, 52. 10. Alvan Lamson DD, The Church of the First Three Centuries: Or Notices of the Lives and Opinions of Some of the Early Fathers, With Special Reference to the Doctrine of the Trinity, Illustrating It’s Late Origin and Gradual Formation (London: British and Foreign Unitarian Association, 1875). The flyleaf notes, “Presented to the Rev. J. N. Andrews from his friend Thomas Rix. 1 Manbey St. Stratford, London, April 1876.” The book is an anti-Trinitarian history and is well marked up in Andrews’s handwriting, particularly in the sections dealing with the personality of the Holy Spirit and of Christ. 11. The Restorationist movement of the early nineteenth century held an idealized view of early Christianity and believed that the church could be restored by reform from within. Initially led by Barton Stone and Thomas Campbell, the group was known pejoratively as “Campbellites.” Calling themselves simply Disciples of Christ or the Christian Connexion, the movement eventually developed into many separate groups now loosely represented in the contemporary Church of Christ. 12. See Gilbert M. Valentine, “Learning and Unlearning: A Context for Important Developments in the Seventh-day Adventist Understanding of the Trinity, 1888–1898,” Andrews University Seminary Studies 55, no. 2 (2017): 213–236. 13. “The Relationship of Baptism to the Law of God,” RH, Feb. 5, 1880, 89. 14. “Baptism as the Memorial of the Resurrection of Christ,” RH, Feb. 26, 1880, 136, 137. 15. Theodosia Ernest, Theodosia Ernest, or The Heroine of Faith (Nashville, Tennessee: Graves, Marks & Rutland, 1858). Charles Stovel, Christan Discipleship and Baptism (London: Houlston and Stoneman, 1846). The flyleaf records that the book had been a “gift from H. B. Vane via Wm Jones of London.” “Left in my care for the Rev J. N. Andrews on Sabbath 15th [no month] 1879.” 16. JW to Brethren in Jackson, Dec. 5, 1852, EGWE-GC. 17. “Looking Backward,” RH, July, 31, 1919, 14, 15; JNA, The Sanctuary and Twenty-Three Hundred Days (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press, 1872). 18. The metaphor is from K. F. Mueller, “The Architect of Adventist Doctrines,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, 76. 19. JNA, Sanctuary, 1–11. 20. The tract produced on this occasion was entitled The Commandment to Restore and Rebuild Jerusalem (Rochester,, NY: n.p., 1865), and was in response to a major scholarly study by Wm. C. Thurman entitled The Sealed Book of Daniel Opened. Thurman’s 370-page book was promoted by the publishers of The World’s Crisis and had been endorsed by Joshua V. Himes. It argued for a different starting point for the seventy-week prophecy and set the date of 1876 for the cleansing of the sanctuary “and the beginning of the grand day of rest,” 301. 21. The interpretive approach continued to be challenged by other biblical interpreters. An extended, nuanced defense is found in sections VI and VII of Questions on Doctrine (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1957), 205–445. 22. JNA, Sanctuary, 19. 23. JNA, Sanctuary, 11–13. Later Adventist exegetes would explain more carefully the pagan origin of this interpretive approach. Ibid., 320, 321, 337.

24. JNA, Sanctuary, 34. Andrews adopted Miller’s interpretation that the “daily” of Daniel 8:13 was the daily harassment of the cause of God by pagan powers and then papal powers. 25. Ibid., 36, 37. 26. Ibid., 39–45. 27. Ibid., 75–77. 28. Ibid., 78. 29. Ibid., 89. 30. Ibid., 91. 31. Ibid., 95. 32. “The Sanctuary of the Bible,” RH, Dec. 30, 1873, 20, 21. 33. JNA, Sanctuary, 95. 34. JNA, The Three Messages of Revelation 14.6–12 (Battle Creek, MI; Review and Herald®, 1877). 35. “The Experiences of Former Days—No. 8,” RH, Sept. 15, 1904, 9. 36. The editor of the Sabbath Recorder, N. V. Hull, publicly disputed with Andrews at evangelistic tent meetings conducted by Andrews in Alfred, New York, in 1869. 37. The three Fox sisters, Leah, Margaret, and Kate, had moved to Rochester in 1849 from Hydesville in New York, and during the 1850s and 1860s their activities generated nationwide attention. 38. “And when they shall say unto you, Seek unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that peep, and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God? . . . To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them” (Isaiah 8:19, 20, KJV). 39. JNA, Samuel and the Witch of Endor (Battle Creek: MI, Review and Herald®, 1842), 1, 3. In his commentary on the passage, Andrews’s exegetical literalism and proof-text approach led him to some strange conclusions. He asserted that the persons who are said to “peep” and “mutter” are linked with the spirits who control them. They are identical with the “unclean spirits like frogs”; for this “is the very language of frogs. Rev. 16:13.” 40. In the 1880s, the sisters publicly admitted that the rappings were a hoax and that their pretended communications as “mediums” were a sham. They died in poverty. See Amy Lehman, Victorian Women and the Theatre of Trance: Mediums, Spiritualists and Mesmerists in Performance (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2009), 87. 41. JNA, Samuel and the Witch of Endor (1866). 42. JNA, Departing and Being With Christ (Battle Creek, MI: Review and Herald®, 1860), 8. 43. JNA, The Wicked Dead: Are they Now Being Punished? (Rochester, NY: SDA Publishing, 1865), 1. The tract was also published under the title The Rich Man and Lazarus. 44. Ibid., p. 9. 45. JNA, Thoughts for the Candid (Battle Creek, MI: Review and Herald®, [1865]). Although no date for this source is listed, it is definitely 1865, see RH, Oct. 17, 1865, 160.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Return to Europe and an Expanding Mission: 1880–1882

W

hen Andrews eventually left New York for Europe on Thursday,

May 29, five weeks after the Dime Tabernacle dedication, he was accompanied by two women, neither of them his wife. Anna Oyer, a recently graduated twenty-five-year-old teacher from Buffalo Normal School in New York State, had been recommended to him by the New York Conference officers. She had skills in working with tracts and some facility in the German language. She would make an excellent stenographer, said his colleagues. After talking with his family, he had also persuaded his sixteen-year-old niece, Edith Andrews from Iowa, to accompany him. She would provide a home away from home for John and Charles and help care for domestic matters. Andrews was also hopeful that Martha, his widowed sister-in-law, would also join him. He explained to James White that this would “avoid all appearance of evil” and remove occasion “for foolish speeches.” He was concerned to protect not only his reputation but also that of the two young women. During the last weeks of his prolonged stay in America, Andrews had given much thought to the advice of Ellen White about remarrying, but he still felt extremely uneasy with the idea. He had hoped he might have opportunity to talk things through with her during the 1879 spring session, but she had stayed away.1 He must have thought that taking his sister-inlaw and her daughter would help address the issues that troubled Ellen White. He assured her that returning to Europe “without making any

change” in his marital status was not because he did “not attach any importance” to her advice. Rather, his dilemma was understanding how to implement it. “I do not at this time see how I can act upon it.” He had submitted his heart to God and still had “no clear light at this time how to act,” he told her. “I beg,” he wrote, “that the matter be allowed to rest for some months, till my mind shall in some way become clear.”2 Andrews asked James White’s opinion about the arrangements he was making with Edith and her mother and Anna Oyer, urging him not to put “any foolish interpretation on what I write,” because “no such thing would be according to the facts.”3 Plans for marriage were definitely not yet on his calendar. As it turned out, Martha could not join him until later. As he embarked from New York for his final crossing of the Atlantic, Andrews noted that he was “still in feeble health,” although he was of good courage. He had been stretching his physical resources in preaching, fund-raising, and in finalizing travel arrangements. Later he would ask himself if he should have waited longer and given his health more time to recover, but, at the time, he thought he was getting stronger, and the urgency of mission took priority. He requested that readers make his case a “special subject of prayer.”4 When the traveling party disembarked at Glasgow on Monday, June 9, they gave their first day to pastoral visitation. They called in on a draper who had circulated publications for Andrews. They also visited with Marian Bernstein and her mother. Marian was a long-time Glaswegian Sabbath keeper, whose home had been used for Sabbath meetings on Andrews’s visit five years previously. This time he found them “in circumstances of distress” but did not spell out the trouble, and he could not stay longer to help. He needed to get to London to meet up with his friend William Jones. Unfortunately, in London “chills and fever” overtook him on the first day of his visit, and he was obliged to move from his hotel to the Mill Yard parsonage, where Jones and his wife “spared no pains” trying to help him recover. In spite of his illness, it was a highlight

for him to celebrate Sabbath with his colleague’s congregation. Six days later, on June 18, with no letup in the fever, however, he left for Southampton, fearful that if he did not go then he might not be able to get there at all. By the time he arrived at Loughborough’s home he was in a state of collapse, and for the next two weeks he could not get out of bed.5 He felt distressed that he could not help Loughborough, who in anticipation of his coming had launched his summer tent evangelism program. The tent meetings soon ran into trouble. The wettest July in a long time meant that the soggy, moldy canvas tents attracted few attendees. Andrews was glad the Loughboroughs’ newly acquired home called “Ravenswood” provided “a light, airy chamber” where he could have complete rest and quiet.6 He was unable to help with much preaching, although he did speak for some meetings, and apparently on some days he could dictate letters from his bed.7 Two months passed from the time Andrews took ill in London until he was well enough to continue on to Basel. Even then, the three-day journey was too much for him, and for days after his arrival on August 14 he was too “feeble” to seriously engage in work other than outlining plans for the remainder of the year, when he was sure he would be well again. On reaching home, though, he was encouraged to learn that Erzberger’s summer evangelism in Switzerland had been successful, more so than Loughborough’s Southampton program. Working in Morges and Tramelan, the Swiss pastor had baptized almost thirty new believers. Loughborough had a few covenants and thirty names—but no baptisms.8 There was much to do. Andrews planned for a major change in the format of Les Signes des Temps. He wanted to give it a fresh, more European dress. He also wanted to attend meetings of the World Evangelical Alliance that was scheduled to convene its international conference in Basel in late August. He needed to find a larger, lesscrowded, and quieter house, visit his Swiss churches, go to visit Dr. Ribton in Egypt, and plan for the year-end annual conference.9 As it turned out,

his continuing ill health kept him largely housebound if not bedbound for the next six months. In late September, he reported to his brother-in-law, Uriah Smith, that his “missionary work”—reading and dictating letters, reading printer’s copy, and dictating articles—was being done from his bed. Writing letters of appeal to the government authorities in Lausanne to prevent Erzberger from being driven out of the canton by hostile council men might be a discouraging task, but receiving word of new Sabbathkeeping companies being established in Bucharest and elsewhere in the Turkish Empire by readers of his Les Signes des Temps brought much encouragement.10 By November, he was well enough to be able to convene the sixth annual Swiss conference attended by sixty Sabbath keepers. News of a total membership of 235 for the European mission was received warmly, and this total did not include the substantial numbers of believers being won by Matteson in Scandinavia or the tiny company in England. Implementing the American plan for Sabbath Schools and reenergizing the Tract and Missionary Society for the circulation of tracts and pamphlets were significant accomplishments of the 1879 session that helped the churches organizationally in their mission. The prospects for further growth looked very bright. It seems that Andrews’s major concern at this three-day meeting was the issue of stewardship and the need for financial self-sustainability. He reported that the financial embarrassment among the leading families of the mission was now being addressed, and commitments were being made to faithful tithing. However, Andrews’s undiplomatic public assessment of his fellow believers’ business failures may not have been heard as comfortably. His New England penchant for “plain talk” still prevailed. Speaking of the impossibility “in time past” of remedying the business “errors,” Andrews observed that the brethren had “learned by experience what they could not learn by being told,” and they were now “fully determined to accomplish an entire change” in their financial affairs. How his hearers felt being lectured like this, or reading

such comments in the Review, can perhaps be imagined. But Andrews was hopeful that very soon the situation would be improved. “Our first duty is to make our work self-sustaining,” he reported to Review readers. The Swiss brethren had acknowledged that they would then need to repay America for the assistance the mission had received.11 In terms of his health, the session exertions cost Andrews dearly and reduced him to feebleness again through the remaining four months of winter. Neither did the business affairs of his older Swiss brethren, the anciens frères, rise to the expectations as he had hoped. In fact, they became worse. During 1880 and 1881, the failing watchmaking business with its complicated financial arrangements, led to bitter “lawsuits” between the Swiss brethren, public accusations of “slander,” disrupted fellowship, and the distressing loss of homes. Some families were under such pressure they faced the loss of even their household furniture. The situation distressed Andrews.12 Anxiety about achieving a more effective administration of the foreign missions led the General Conference session of late 1879 to follow up on Andrews’s initiative at the previous March session and establish a highpowered nine-member missionary board.13 But other dynamics were at work as well. Anxiety about the cost of the mission program had eaten away at the confidence the General Conference placed in Andrews’s leadership, and the suspicion had grown that he had not managed the finances well. Andrews learned of this in a late-December letter from George Butler, a member of the General Conference committee. Butler told him that W. C. White and Stephen Haskell had been assigned to make a tour of inspection.14 Was this another audit? That is how Andrews interpreted it. And he was correct. Thus it was that during the last days of December, Andrews found himself proposing a mid-February itinerary for the two visitors, which would conclude with a council of all the European missionaries to be held at Basel. He dutifully published formal notice of the council in the Review.15 As matters eventuated, however, and much to his relief, the

inspection was first postponed and then canceled because the Californian mission had become a more urgent crisis and both Haskell and W. C. White were needed there to help rescue the failing publishing house and provide leadership for the greatly discouraged membership in that state, which had been without a president for almost a year since Loughborough left. James White had edged out Loughborough and sent him to England. Ellen White came to regret Loughborough’s removal, lamenting that her husband should have been more patient with him. She was of the view that he would have been more successful in California had he stayed. Loughborough might have “some peculiarities,” she conceded. But they all did—she and James included. “I am thoroughly convinced,” she wrote to James, “that we are of like passions. . . . No one is perfect. And forbearance must be exercised to each other. Be pitiful, be courteous. Our own faults are more grievous,” she remonstrated.16 In Basel, though he was cordial in his correspondence, the prospect of an inspection, disguised as a committee for council, clearly hurt Andrews, who felt again that his American colleagues were simply not able to understand the unique difficulties the missionaries faced in Europe. He knew that their insistence on the “American model” was misplaced, and he fretted about it. During the last days of December, he developed a lengthy defense of his leadership, recounting in detail the disabling financial context of the Swiss Sabbath keepers that prevailed at the beginning, the initial difficulties with Adémar Vuilleumier, and his disappointment with Albert. He enlarged upon the cultural context in Europe and the rationale for focusing on a periodical as the spearhead of mission. He gave a lengthy explanation of the financial complications in managing Dr. Ribton’s transfer to Egypt and a detailed justification of other financial overruns. He felt it quite unfair, for example, that the General Conference should question the high expenses of the previous financial year when much of the overrun had involved his own return to Battle Creek, at their direction, and the return expenses for the Bourdeau family. He contended that these

were not properly expenses of the local mission at all. On the other hand, that component of expenses which had been incurred by Dr. Ribton, Andrews said that he would assume responsibility for himself. The Irish doctor’s transfer expenses to Egypt had deeply embarrassed Andrews, and he knew that the man annoyed James White, who viewed him derisively as an “elephant.”17 Andrews assured his auditors that Ribton’s costs would not be a mission expense. In the financial arena, Andrews felt quite ill-used, distrusted, and misunderstood. Did he have cause to feel so? A close analysis of his October 1879 financial report reveals that only approximately 29 percent of mission expenses during his first four years had been used in personnel costs (Bourdeau, Erzberger, and himself). Fully 71 percent of mission expenses had been for tracts and the periodical ministry. His own renumeration averaged out at $4.30 per week, and he had survived only by subsidizing his own salary with personal savings from America and, as we have noted, this led him to cut back on food and clothing. By contrast, a minister in the US would be receiving between $6.00 and $9.00 per week.18 James White was drawing $10.00 per week as Review editor and was doubling or tripling that with multiple personal entrepreneurial activities. For the White household budget, Ellen White received a fully ordained minister’s salary as well, another $9.00 per week. Andrews was not able to undertake what today would be called moonlighting activities. He acknowledged with sorrow and a deep sense of guilt that it was his circumstances of poverty that had helped create the conditions for Mary falling ill with consumption.19 It seems that later, when Andrews was depressed, he developed the view that at least part of the blame for his circumstances of deprivation and the cause of his own subsequent illness (from exposure to Mary’s consumption) was to be traced back to the feet of his Swiss brethren. “I am brought down to this great feebleness and under the power of this terrible malady by troubles which ought never to have happened. God permitted it

to be thus with me though he certainly could not have been pleased with those who made so much trouble.”20 Did he also carry a grudge like his New England mentor? Was it a valid assessment? Something of Andrews’s overwrought conscientiousness on financial matters can be glimpsed from his reaction to the offer of the General Conference auditing committee when they tried to put things right and give him back pay. In a coda to his 1879 financial report, he recalled that the committee had eventually decided “to pay me something more for my past labor than I had received,” but he had told them at the time that if they would simply meet Mary’s expenses (presumably her travel back to the US and perhaps her hospital expenses), then he “would take nothing more.”21 Was this his New England pride and stubborn independence, a fear of criticism, a martyr complex, or a spirit of genuine self-sacrifice (or perhaps a complex mixture of all of them)? Whatever it was, it seems clear that the impatient and unrealistic expectations of church leaders in Battle Creek, that a foreign mission would become self-sustaining within a short time and that missionaries needed to fund their own way in new fields, carried an enormous cost. Loughborough also apparently felt disturbed at the prospect of the proposed inspection visit.22 He began to explain to Review readers the particular challenges of the English mission. He had secured only a tiny handful of baptisms after a full year of labor and 250 meetings in Southampton. Earlier he had reported the reaction of one of his interests, who had written: “You will find the English people, as a rule, harder to convince than the Americans.” They were of a “less excitable temperament, and are not so readily induced to surrender their preconceived opinions.”23 Alerted by Butler that “our people” wanted “to learn the exact situation,” Loughborough noted that he had previously “purposely refrained” from talking of the “difficulties connected with the work of introducing the truth in a kingdom like this [the UK] . . . , lest any should think us complaining of our field of labor.” But now he went on to

talk about the problem of class divisions in England, prejudice against American religions and ideas, and the fact that English people were conservative and moved slowly and cautiously.24 Loughborough also understood the pressure of the unrealistic expectations the brethren put on Andrews. “If Brother Andrews would cease worrying, and trust in the Lord more, his health will be better,” he wrote to Haskell and W. C. White in mid-February as he contemplated the proposed inspection. “If he takes it [the lack of confidence in his management] to heart for the next three months as he has in the past,” he added, “the conference will find him still in bed.”25 Andrews suspected that Maude Sisley had given an unfavorable report on his work when she returned to America. According to Jean Vuilleumier, a son of Albert who worked closely with Andrews in his final years, Andrews was terrified that the brethren would remove his beloved paper to England and that his long, hard effort with Les Signes des Temps would be in vain. Just remembering “the unspeakable anxieties” later (when he recounted the episode to Jean) reduced him to tears.26 It was during the winter of 1880 that sixteen-year-old Jean Vuilleumier first joined the little Adventist colony at Basel to study with the Adventist French teacher Miss Gabert and to serve as a helper in the printing office. Jean was the son of the senior Swiss Sabbath keeper who, as we have noted, served as patriarch of the several Sabbath keeping churches in the Swiss community. Students of the life of Andrews are deeply indebted to Jean Vuilleumier, for when he went to live in Basel, the observant and thoughtful teenager began to keep a diary that now constitutes an invaluable source of information on the closing period of Andrews’s life. As long-time Swiss professor at Andrews University Daniel Augsburger pointed out, though the eyes of the teenager are admiring eyes, we nevertheless catch a somewhat realistic “view of the conditions and problems at the headquarters of Adventism in Europe.” It is also a perspective that enables us to “behold the splendor and the frayed edges of a great enterprise of faith.”27 On Jean’s first day at the office, for example,

we learn that Elder Andrews is having trouble swallowing his meat broth and that he suffers from stress headaches because the anciens frères continue to give him trouble, not wanting “to help promote our work.” He is portrayed in a temporary fit of discouragement, considering perhaps starting afresh in a new field in German Switzerland.28 Later, however, the anciens express appreciation that Andrews had published a detailed statement dissociating the Adventists from Czechowski and that he stressed that Adventist soteriology was thoroughly Protestant.29 As the winter months of early 1880 rolled into spring, Andrews’s continued ill health kept him in bed much of the time, preventing him from engaging in fieldwork and causing him “much anguish of spirit.” With the iron self-discipline that had shaped him in New England from his youth, however, he continued to conduct his periodical ministry from his sick bed and slowly succeeded in expanding it. Jean Vuilleumier observes him as constantly active: “He is always at work, whether in bed or when he is up. And if his office helpers fall behind in the physical tasks of getting the paper in the mail he will join in to help wrap and address the mailouts.”30 After experimenting with different approaches to securing subscriptions, Andrews eventually discovered that by sending out, over a period of four months, a series of four back copies with an appropriate letter that accompanied the first and another letter sent out with the fourth issue that invited a subscription, they were obtaining a very good response rate. The arrival of a donated “patent lithogram” from Battle Creek “for the copying of letters” now made this part of the work much more efficient.31 While the bulk of their mailings went to France and Switzerland, they also sent paid subscriptions of the magazine to French readers in twenty-four other countries. His associate, James Erzberger, continued to carry the public preaching side of the mission work, but they still needed to be cautious in this. Erzberger had recently suffered a “brutal attack” after one evangelistic meeting in the canton of St. Gall. Someone had “knocked him down and kicked him with much violence, so that he bled much from the

mouth.” The villagers who had attacked him had “supposed him to be the teacher of some very dangerous doctrine.”32 Andrews reported the incident to stress the importance of prioritizing his periodical ministry while not overlooking the preaching. With the commencement of the fifth volume of the magazine in July, Andrews issued the journal in a new, more petite, sixteen-page format in response to the “unanimous request of our European readers.” By adjusting the type font, he was able to “follow the counsel of our brethren in America not to diminish its size”—meaning the amount of content. He believed the time had at last come when he would not have to draw down any further on the missionary treasury at Battle Creek. The paper was being sustained by its friends and subscribers. This recurring refrain in Andrews’s reports indicates just how much pressure he felt from headquarters over finances.33 By September, the new marketing promotion system was working so well that the number of paid subscriptions had more than doubled from the previous year. It was a very labor-intensive and tedious process to manage the large lists of potential subscribers, which every four months required discarding the names of those who declined the offer of a subscription.34 Andrews was indebted to his son Charles and to Jean for helping shoulder this side of the project. Each month the mailing team processed lists of between one thousand and two thousand new mailings, and Andrews had recently obtained the names of many more thousands of Protestants in France. The names of others were continually being sent in to the office, and the editor rejoiced that at last “a wide and effectual door” had been opened. With public venues being closed against evangelistic preaching, “our right arm of power is our paper,” he stressed. The broadening success of the journal brought immense relief to Andrews. “My greatest suffering of mind in Europe has been in view of the apparent impossibility of gaining the attention of the French people,” he wrote in July as he launched the new format. He had felt an “anguish of spirit that has almost consumed me.” But now there had

been a breakthrough.35 His patience and the trial-and-error experiments had at last born fruit. The new approach, of course, involved heavy postage expense, but this was being funded by subscribers and by friends of the mission. He did not think it “proper to take it [the postage] from our funds which came from Battle Creek,” he noted, pointedly aware of his critics in Battle Creek.36

The darkening shadow of consumption Since Andrews had been confined to bed on his first visit to Southampton, upon his arrival back in Europe in June 1879, he had worried that his illness might be the onset of consumption. All during winter in Basel, he had battled “consumptive difficulties,” which, as we have noted, prevented him from engaging in field labor. By May 1880, however, he saw enough improvement to encourage him to hope he would “overcome the tendency to the consumption,” but he was not sure. He reported that after he had overcome one set of problems, another set would erupt. But he was aware of the expectations of his American brethren and the counsel of Ellen White to spread himself beyond Switzerland, and thus he planned to join Loughborough and William Ings and assist them in their next summer tent campaign in Britain in June.37 Continuing ill health delayed his departure, however, and he found it necessary to assure Review readers that he went to England “cheerfully” and that his difficulty in leaving was not because of any “sectional interest.” Was this a pushback against critics who thought he had become one-eyed in the Francophone work? He knew he was suspected of diverting money from French brethren in Illinois, circumventing General Conference channels. The accusation offended him, and he found himself explaining the misunderstanding.38 Andrews arrived in Southampton at 6:30 A.M. on Sabbath morning, June 26, a week after the start of the tent meetings in the village of Romsey. The journey to England had so exhausted him, however, it took several more days after his arrival to recover enough to begin making any

contribution.39 During the next two months, coughing fits would allow him to preach in the tent only occasionally, although he was able to help in a more sustained way, conducting church and study meetings at Ravenswood. The indoor meetings at Ravenswood, explained Loughborough, could be “addressed with less exertion than is required to speak in the tent.”40 Harry Leonard estimates that “Andrews was able to halve Loughborough’s speaking load through July and early August.” He also notes that William Ings did not contribute to the preaching at all but busied himself in home visitation and tract distribution.41 The difficulties posed for the evangelists is highlighted by the fact that even Ings, by now an experienced British lay colporteur, could make next to no progress raising an interest from his door-to-door work among his English compatriots, and he eventually diverted his energies and talents away from that frustrating endeavor to distributing large amounts of literature in a ship ministry at the port of Southampton. There he found the response from travelers and merchant seamen much less discouraging. Such a ministry, however, while it undoubtedly “did some good,” and it sure provided good reporting material for the Review, it actually did nothing at all to help the English mission to secure local baptisms and thus become self-sustaining. In fact, it only increased mission expenses.42 On July 24, Adventist congregations everywhere observed a day of fasting and prayer. The challenges of mission, limited ministerial labor, overwhelming debt levels on Adventist institutions, and declining spirituality worried James White and other church leaders.43 The call to prayer included a request that the church also pray for Andrews, who had felt concerned enough to report on his situation in the Review.44 At the same time, in a rather strange move initiated and led by James White, a group of Battle Creek leaders (minus the two primary General Conference Executive Committee members), published a jointly signed public appeal in the Review for Andrews to return to America so that he could recover his health and so that Charles could attend college for a time. White had

been concerned about Andrews’s health since April. The group argued that Matteson and Loughborough should also return, and the proposed council among the mission leaders should be held in October at the General Conference session. There would be no European visit. The group declared that it would be simply too “hazardous” for the cause in America to spare Stephen Haskell and W. C. White to travel overseas.45 Was the leadership not sure about this? It was certainly an irregular procedure. White pushed the idea of Andrews’s return again in a private letter in August, to which Loughborough responded, telling White that Andrews was too unwell even to reply, let alone travel anywhere. As Harry Leonard observes, underneath the surface of Loughborough’s reply, one detects a sense of anger that the demands being made of the sick man were unreasonable and would only exacerbate Andrews’s condition.46 Andrews himself replied shortly afterward, saying that he was too unwell and, further, that if Charles returned to the US, the paper would die. Andrews was determined to keep it alive.47 At Ravenswood on July 24, Andrews had been anointed with oil in a special closing Sabbath service. Loughborough reported that in the following ten days Andrews had been able “to speak with less difficulty and accomplish much writing.” His presence in Southampton during this period, however, was clearly adding to the burdens in the Loughborough household rather than lightening them. The severe gale that tore the top out of the evangelistic tent on August 7 was probably a blessing in disguise. It forced the preachers to transfer the meetings to a local hall for a short while. The audience soon completely dropped away. By that time Andrews could no longer contribute anything more to the effort. A month after the day of prayer, he was able to cautiously report, “My health has in some respects been better,” but he was still feeble, and he feared that if he tried to return to America, the results would be fatal.48 Andrews also believed in the depths of his soul that if he and Charles were obliged to return to America, the journal would have to be suspended, and that would be fatal

for the work in Europe. Increasingly, with New England stubbornness, he struggled to focus his diminished energies on his literary work for Les Signes des Temps and on his correspondence, which he handled as best as he could from his bed. He enjoyed a visit by William Jones and his family on the weekend of August 21, but by the end of August, when he had hoped to return to Basel, he was still too ill to travel.49 Late in September, Loughborough organized a consultation with two of “the best physicians” in Southampton, who both confirmed that Andrews’s lungs were so badly affected he should “desist from preaching,” at least for the present.50 This was, in reality, a death knell for his public preaching career, at least when it involved large audiences. He could, however, still address smaller evangelistic settings, and he continued to speak, for instance, at the Sunday evening meetings at Ravenswood. By and large, whatever he was able to continue doing as a missionary he would now have to do by writing. As Andrews reported the consultations, he also added that the doctors did “not speak very encouragingly in respect to my restoration to health.” This was his euphemism for a terminal diagnosis, and it was confirmed by doctors. Andrews had consumption. Did the diagnosis give occasion for sober reflection and perhaps some nostalgia? Loughborough reports that the next day he “had a long talk with Bro. Andrews [about] old times in America.”51 Two weeks later, on October 14, Loughborough noted cryptically in his diary, “Bro. Andrews bled today.” In the world of nineteenth-century medicine, this was the incontrovertible evidence of decaying tissue and approaching death. A few days later, Loughborough informed Review readers that Andrews had “had a second spell of bleeding from the lungs.”52 Charles had to be called from Basel to accompany his father back to Switzerland. He could not travel alone. Father and son arrived home, disappointed, on the thirty-sixth anniversary of the 1844 Great Disappointment. But they were not so discouraged or so disappointed that they could not see light and the call of

duty still ahead. Iron self-discipline would not allow the scholar-evangelist to throw in the towel that easily. Nevertheless, John Andrews paid a terrible price for his pledge not to leave his beloved daughter alone during her last days in 1878. But he had stayed away from his children so many times before, he knew he could not do so this time with a clear conscience. This time, a higher duty demanded he stay. As he explained to Review readers after receiving the diagnosis, Dr. Kellogg had warned him of the danger of contagion. (Doctors at that stage were still only guessing, and they did not know how or why the disease was contagious. They only suspected that it was.) Andrews was aware of the risk, “but could not do otherwise than I did,” he acknowledged.53 The disease had a deadly impact. It accounted for more than fifty percent of recorded deaths of young people in England at the time. It was known as the disease of poverty because people living in “overcrowded, damp, and unhealthy conditions” and subject to poor nutrition were the most vulnerable.54 It had wrought havoc in Ellen White’s home in Rochester twenty-five years previously with the loss of four members of the household. Now, in Andrews’s home, it also cast its long shadow. Mary probably picked it up from Mrs. Louis Aufranc on the third floor in her own house. Then it was to infect and tragically shorten the lives not only of John Andrews but of his youthful assistant Anna Oyer in late 1883, then his niece Edith on Christmas Eve two years later in 1885.55

Changes at the helm A month after his arrival back in Basel, Andrews mustered energy enough to convene the 1881 Annual Conference of Swiss Churches at Tramelan over the weekend of November 19–21, where he was able to report steady progress on his Les Signes des Temps ministry. The monthly print run had been increased to three thousand, and with the continuing subscription campaign in full swing, he estimated that his papers were now visiting about five thousand families per month and that about twenty-five

thousand readers were engaging with him through the printed page. Swiss friends had risen to the occasion, and they were able to meet the extra expense. Again, Andrews assured Review readers that the local brethren had resolved to do all in their power “to render our mission self-supporting within a short time.”56 It would be more convenient to have the printing office not occupying two rooms in his crowded home, and it would certainly be easier not to have to take both his printing paper and his page type half a mile or more each month on a handcart to the press. It was also definitely more economical this way.57 Money hovered like a cloud over everything, it seemed. Money certainly continued to create a huge cloud of anxiety over the General Conference session that had convened a month previously in Battle Creek. With the long economic recession continuing, the church faced serious financial problems. Church members’ capacity to donate continued to decline, as did their ability to purchase and distribute publications. Under White’s administration, church institutions had continued to seriously overextend themselves and develop superfluous production capacity. Debt continued to pile up, and White found himself faced with the same problem that he had been so caustically critical of during Andrews’s administration in the mid-1860s. But he did not like to be seen as being responsible for it. “I tremble for our finances, and for the cause,” he wrote to his son Willie in September 1880. In the lead-up to the General Conference session scheduled for the following month, he expressed his distress that “our debts are too large, our field is too broad and the number of laborers are too few and too feeble.”58 He was sure that the recent reaching out “to earth’s remotest bounds” had gone too far. It was time to retrench. He accused Haskell and his Tract and Missionary Society as being part of the problem. As he saw it, Haskell wanted everything his own way. White could recognize such traits in others—but not see them in himself. The pressure on White was now so great that he determined afresh to

resign all responsibility. On Monday, October 11, George Butler was elected president in his place (now for a second time), with Uriah Smith as secretary, Minerva Chapman (J. N. Loughborough’s sister) as treasurer, and Stephen Haskell and H. W. Kellogg as executive committee members.59 White had suggested Butler’s name and was happy with the choice.60 John Matteson from Scandinavia attended the session to speak to mission issues that included Andrews’s European mission challenges, plus his health situation. Matteson received a sympathetic hearing. Delegates voted a pledge of support “in every place where it is needed and possible.” Delegates also resolved again to convene a European Council as soon as possible but left it to the executive committee to organize.61 In his report to the 1880 General Conference Session, Andrews had recommended that the provision of two thousand copies per month of the Californian Signs of the Times could well achieve in England what his Les Signes des Temps was achieving in Francophone Europe. It would be an excellent entry into homes in the absence of a locally produced journal in England.62 In the weeks following the session, an enthusiastic Battle Creek publishing house board (which had remained under James White’s chairmanship) undertook to preempt the request for the Californian Signs of the Times and offered to publish a special edition of the Review for distribution in England and also to raise money for a new German periodical that they would publish for Andrews’s mission to Germany.63 These resolutions, however, proved contentious. Serious conflict soon broke out among the leadership over whether offering the Review was the best approach for the English mission. Competition between the publishers of the Review and the Californian Signs of the Times seriously complicated things and became ugly. The General Conference became concerned about who was setting the agenda, the publishing house or the General Conference? James White was obliged to “back down” on the project, with sore feelings all round.64 Butler moved promptly to deal with the financial crisis, alerting the

church to the seriousness and the extent of the problem. He sounded an optimistic note, projecting confidence that the church would pull through. “The hard times are just passed, which ruined thousands of business firms, and brought nearly all into embarrassment,” he wrote two months after taking office. The church’s institutions had also fallen into deep trouble, some “heavily in debt,” whether wisely or not. Butler believed, however, that the debts would be paid “if our people unitedly sustain these beloved institutions.” He was realistic, nonetheless, and acknowledged that guiding their interests so they would “not clash, and so that perfect harmony and union will prevail, is a matter of some difficulty.”65 James White, struggling to let go of his role as denominational leader during 1881, continued to insert himself into the debt-reduction endeavor with editorials and opinion pages. He urged church members to purchase newly issued shares as a way of solving cash-flow problems at the Review office, and he sought loans from church members at lower interest rates in order to help reduce payments on the high-interest commercial loans from the East.66 In July, in a lead editorial that must surely have made President George Butler wince, White asserted that “it is now evident that we are occupying too much ground,” and while he would not suggest abandoning any field of labor, he urged retrenchment again. Mission effort must be curtailed. Andrews should be brought back from Switzerland and Loughborough from England. His reasoning suggested that their labors overseas were inefficient, and the church could not afford this. They would be more successful back in America and were, in fact, more needed at home. It was almost as if White had lost his nerve, or was beginning to panic. On the matter of “the unpleasant features of the management of our institutions and missions,” he suggested that the managers had “moved too hastily, and have ventured too much.” A week later he critiqued the Tract and Missionary Society again, arguing that it had been sidetracked in a wrong direction. Managers, he said, would “necessarily err in many things, unless moving under the direct hand of God.” Again, the implication was

that his colleagues had not been led by God. Ministers, he argued again, needed to be involved in handling sales directly from the Review office so that they could both augment their salaries and help the publishing house.67 Ellen had tried to persuade her husband to completely withdraw from involving himself in these administrative debates, but as he had earlier ruefully acknowledged, he had difficulty growing old gracefully. Ellen White had been fearful for some time that the new generation of leaders would fall into the same controlling patterns as her husband, and she sought to address this danger. In late 1880, Ellen did not feel the same critical need to defend her husband’s role as leader for the sake of maintaining unity in the movement. It seems she was able to be more objective about the style of leadership and the difficulties it created for colleagues. “The only reason that my husband’s influence today is not what God designed it should be is because he was not patient, kind and forbearing,” she wrote to Haskell. “Severity and too much dictation became interwoven with his character. You have seen it and felt it. Others have felt it. This has marred the work of God from time to time. Repetition of this very course of action made it a habit.” It was only his age, his affliction, and the great work that James had accomplished that had fastened him in the affections of his brethren such as Andrews and enabled them to overlook “many things he might say that savor of sharpness.” Her fear was that Haskell and his colleagues, in promoting the Tract and Missionary Societies, would fail where her husband had failed, and they also would fall into a pattern of being dictatorial, exacting, and overbearing. Buel Whitney, if not careful, was in danger of this, as was Stephen Haskell. Whitney, who was already being considered as a likely candidate to replace Andrews at Basel, was growing into “a sharp, domineering ruling power,” exercising “sharp-cut and overbearing words.”68 He needed to reform this particular trait or his labors would prove a failure. She was greatly concerned that younger ministers should not at all follow the same pattern, for they would surely “find

themselves without the confidence of the church.”69

Publishing under a darkening cloud In his crowded printing office home in Basel, John Andrews, with iron discipline, pressed on with his work and listened in on the distant debates about church finances in Battle Creek through the pages of the Review. His limited energies were now tightly focused on simply surviving and, above everything else, getting his monthly journal off to the press. His reports in the Review about his own finances earlier in the year had seemed rather pointed, given the discussion of church deficits in America. He noted that his mission, somehow under the providence of God, had been “exempted from losses,” and the mission had “no debts.” The small sums of money that flowed in from “different parts of the Old World” seemed to meet the expenses of the work. The blessing of God somehow “causes our means to go a good ways.” This was particularly so now that he did not have to meet the “heavy expenses which we have had to meet for others in time past.”70 No longer having to support the Bourdeau family and the Ribton family from his meager mission fund certainly made things much less stressful. But if Andrews was not accruing debts in Europe, his home-base fund at the General Conference was, nevertheless, still being overdrawn. It required a special appeal from Butler through the Review a year later in February 1882 to restore it and build up its credit again.71 In spite of his severe disabilities, Andrews was able to keep writing, though much less than in previous years. His determined focus was to prepare articles for his French journal, though in addition to this, in 1880 he produced eight articles for the Review besides his regular progress reports on the state of the mission. In 1881, he produced another ten. These were more pastoral and devotional articles than his tightly reasoned doctrinal expositions of former years, and they probably were the basis for material he translated into French for his Les Signes. According to his colleagues, his articles in the magazine had never been “clearer or more

weighty.”72 Readers still felt engaged by John Andrews’s insights. As 1881 wore on, however, consumption slowly tightened its grip on the missionary-editor. “The grasp of death is upon my lungs,” and they must soon “be consumed,” he had informed readers in March 1881. He had been reduced to doing all his writing by dictation, and on many days he could write only three or four sentences. On some days he could not even write a word. By November 1881, a scholarly piece he had prepared for the Review replying to a critique of his Sabbath history in the New York Evangelist took him ten painful days to prepare.73 At the personal request of George Butler, John Loughborough and his wife Annie had traveled from England to Basel in mid-May 1881 “to see if anything could be done for the relief of our dear Bro. Andrews.” They found him somewhat improved, having rallied during the previous ten days. He was able not only to sit up for short periods but also even to walk a short distance when the weather was favorable. The missionaries learned, after the Loughborough’s arrival, that May 21 had been announced as a denomination-wide day of fasting and prayer. Again, there was to be a special focus on petitions for the healing of the ailing pioneer in Switzerland. On that day, Loughborough and Erzberger led out in another anointing service, and they believed they saw further improvement in their colleague, but it was minimal. Loughborough’s extended report on his visit assured readers that Andrews was “receiving all that careful attention a sick man needs.” The dried fruits and other provisions caring supporters had sent from America were deeply appreciated. They were obtainable locally “only at an enormous expense,” well outside of the sick man’s budget, noted the visitor. Loughborough also had a word of commendation for Anna Oyer. Her “varied and arduous duties” in the publishing enterprise required “much care and prayerful thought,” and in his view she was discharging them in a way that proved clearly “that it was in the order of God that she came here.”74 There was probably an element of self-interest in Loughborough’s

observation that “our American brethren have little idea of the difficulties under which Bro. Andrews has labored in opening this mission.” That did not, however, make the observation any less true. Loughborough was an astute observer, and he noted some of the subtle tensions which still seemed to linger from Andrews’s earliest days in Switzerland, six years before. These tensions grew out of Andrews’s cultural ineptitude and strong intervention in church members’ personal business affairs. Andrews’s efforts to advance the work were apparently still perceived by some local Sabbath keepers as “wishing to assume a position of authority,” which possibly reflected elements of local field jealousies. Loughborough noted also that “some have made his burdens very great.” Local missions today often carry an undercurrent of discontent framed in questions like: Why should we have this foreigner over us? Can’t we provide leadership ourselves? The church’s very first venture into foreign missions encountered such problems. To some extent, such tensions are inevitable in mission. “Those of us who have known Bro. Andrews for the last thirty years and upward, of course think it strange that any one should so look upon his unselfish labors,” observed Loughborough as he returned to his own difficult field of labor. Apparently some did.75 One minister whom Andrews himself continued to have difficulty feeling confident about was Daniel Bourdeau. When the ailing missionaryeditor picked up rumors in early summer that his former evangelistic colleague might be planning to bring himself back to Switzerland, he wrote anxiously to Ellen White, telling her that, given the perplexity and stress Bourdeau had previously caused him, if he were now to return, he knew it would not work. Ellen White agreed and was sure “it would kill him [Andrews].”76 She immediately undertook strategies to prevent Bourdeau’s return. Writing to his brother Augustin to inquire if the rumors might be true, she assured his brother that she knew it was most certainly not Daniel’s duty to return. She asserted that he had been “little short of an insane man much of the time he had been in Europe” with Andrews. “I

must use all my influence to prevent it [his return].”77 As it turned out, Ellen White was at least able to delay the French Canadian preacher’s return until after it was not possible for him to create problems for Andrews. She was also able to personally appreciate Andrews’s objections later when she encountered Bourdeau’s strongly nationalistic ideas about the way the work should be organized in Europe. On her visit to Europe in 1885, she experienced his temperament firsthand in a major and very unpleasant personal confrontation with him.78

Loss of a colleague Just a few weeks after helping Andrews avoid a challenge to his health in the form of Daniel Bourdeau, Ellen White faced the biggest crisis of her own life. In the summer of 1881, in fact, Ellen White and her fellow church members struggled to cope with two deeply traumatic events. On July 2, an attempted assassination attempt had been made on the life of US President James Garland, and throughout July and August he struggled to hold on to life, eventually succumbing to his wounds in early September. The newspapers were full of the news of his struggle with death. On the last day of the same month, a severe attack of malaria at a camp meeting at Charlotte, Michigan, disabled James White. Worsening quickly, the deadly fever took his life on August 6, despite heroic efforts on the part of Dr. Kellogg to save him.79 Ellen White was a widow, and John Andrews had lost a deeply respected, if a challenging, colleague. A week later on August 9, black-bordered editorial columns in the Review reported White’s unexpected death. A massive funeral service in the Battle Creek tabernacle (the largest ever held in Battle Creek, noted the Review) provided opportunity for the church and the community to bid him farewell on Sabbath, August 13. Over the weeks that followed, the church mourned deeply its charismatic leader and founding father. Numerous tributes were published in the Review by church leaders. George Butler would find himself bearing the huge burden of resolving the financial crisis without

the voice of his predecessor cheering and criticizing from the sidelines. Andrews ran the news of James White’s death in the September issue of his Les Signes. Poignantly, the late-breaking news was inserted to accompany White’s last published article, “Words of Comfort.”80 White’s name had been listed nominally on the masthead of Les Signes since the beginning. Andrews’s eulogy for his senior colleague in the next issue was formal and was published first in Les Signes and then in the Review. It reads a little stiffly, as if written for readers who were not closely acquainted with White. Andrews pointed out that “during a period of nearly forty years,” the two men had been intimately associated in the cause of Christ. “We bear testimony to his excellence as a man, a Christian, and a minister of the word of God.” He had an “ability of a high order” when it came to business, and in the Advent movement he had “left a monument which can never be overthrown.”81 The death of Andrews’s mentor and fellow leader was as unexpected to Andrews as it was distressing. The gifted leader had been hugely influential in Andrews’s life, shaping decisions at crucial moments, encouraging him, prodding him, irritating him, valuing his giftedness even as he may have been somewhat threatened by those gifts during his darker mood swings. White had been to Andrews an esteemed guide, and Andrews was blessed by that guidance, even though he sometimes bridled at the tight hand on the reigns by which White tried to direct his movements and even though he reacted to the stings White inflicted, which could be as painful and as nasty as those of a March fly. Andrews admired the entrepreneurial genius that White brought to his leadership in the church, and in this he recognized the hand of Providence and was willing to submit and support. He would sorrow with the church in the loss of its leader and paradoxically also feel both gratitude and relief. Was it this mix of emotions that curiously delayed him for almost a year until he felt able to offer personal condolences to James’s widow? Or did the death of James simply bring too close a raw sense of the sharpening twinges of his

own mortality? Andrews’s energies had declined again as he grappled with the news of James White’s death through the stifling heat of July and August. New symptoms of his disease manifested themselves, and in September he made last preparations for his own expected demise. But, surprisingly, he survived. Mustering all the resilience at his disposal as cooler weather came, the determined New Englander somehow rallied sufficiently to do the necessary labor involved in getting his writing and editing done on time to meet press deadlines. This was followed by a period of prostration. Even after the hot weather had passed and breathing became less painful, the pattern became a recurring cycle, almost a routine, as Andrews steadfastly determined to maintain the paper and found the physical resources to do so. At the end of the year, the monthly print run was increased to thirty-five hundred, and he was also well enough to participate in the seventh annual conference session at Tramelan, although the effort again prostrated him afterward.82 Having successfully navigated the autumn and winter months of 1881, Andrews found himself in early spring 1882 with steadily improving health again. According to Butler, he was able to get out for a walk nearly every day.83 It was not until the end of July, however—almost a year after James’s death—that Andrews found himself able to send a letter of condolence to Ellen White on the death of her husband. The delay is puzzling. Was he just too ill, too distracted? When he did write, it was in response to a letter he had received from her, which is not now extant. His letter of reply to Ellen White was a much warmer, personal, and pastoral message than his published editorial tribute the previous year. White’s death had been a “terrible shock” to him, he said, for it was “wholly unexpected.” He could “not for a moment,” however, think that it had “happened without the special notice and care of God,” and he assured the widow of his “warmest love and sympathy.”84 Apparently in her letter, Ellen White had explained that since her husband’s death she had not felt

free to travel back to Battle Creek because of the troubles there. Andrews commiserated with her concerning the drift toward worldliness in the church and the conflict at the college over what its program and standards should be. Did Andrews detect in her letter an inclination for her to withdraw? He sought to assure her that Butler would not succeed in mending things in Battle Creek or in the church “unless he can have your help.”85

The Haskell audit As Andrews wrote his delayed condolence letter to Ellen White, he noted that Stephen Haskell was at last “making an extensive visitation in Europe” that Andrews hoped would enable him “to obtain information that will be of much value to the missionary work.”86 At the General Conference session in October 1881, Butler had been too ill to attend, and Haskell, as the ranking General Conference leader, was asked to chair the session. It was a major time of adjustment and transition for the church with the recently deceased James White no longer giving advice, Ellen White absent in California, and George Butler, the president, temporarily incapacitated.87 Coming from England, John Loughborough attended the session and was able to give extensive reports on the unique challenges that the English and European missions posed for the church. In an effort to ensure the sending of appropriate personnel, and in recognition of the special conditions in the fields, the session took an action that no worker “should presume to go to any of the European missions, with a view to connecting themselves with these missions as laborers, until they have first received from the General Conference Committee credentials.” This would indicate to the mission leaders that such persons were “worthy of their confidence and support.” Andrews should have been pleased.88 As Butler explained in the Review, the need had been contemplated for several years for “leading brethren” at the General Conference to “become acquainted with the state of things in Europe, in order to co-operate to the

best advantage” with the missionaries there.89 By mid-1882, such a visit could be postponed no longer. At some point during the European tour, an on-location European council would gather Andrews, Matteson, and Loughborough together with others, such as Ribton and Bertola and local Swiss lay clergy to exchange experiences, share ideas, and strategize together concerning the best means of outreach. Haskell, in company with a Brother J. W. Gardner and his wife from California, left New York on May 13 bound for the UK. Gardner had previously traveled extensively on the continent and “was familiar with the customs and languages of central and northern Europe.” Butler argued that Gardner’s assistance to Haskell would make the inspection tour much more profitable. Haskell and his traveling companions were away from the United States, journeying through seven different countries of Europe for a total of five and a half months. Beginning in England, where they spent a week with Loughborough and his team, they journeyed to France, on to Switzerland, north to Norway and Sweden, back to Holland and Germany for the briefest of their numerous visits, down to Italy, and then back to Switzerland, England, and home by November 3. Haskell did not let the grass grow under his feet. After observing him for a week in England, Jennie Ings reported to Ellen White that he had been “continually on the move.” In the space of just a few days, Haskell had visited Jones in London, talked with Sabbath keepers in Taunton in the west country, at Grimsby in the north, spent time with the small company of believers in the southeast at Southampton, and in a council with the workers there had made important decisions about beginning to localize a version of the monthly journal in order to reflect local English usage and idioms. Haskell was a quick study and a person of action. After his first week he was informing Review readers that it had become quite apparent to him that the “publishing work is the right arm of our strength.” He had seen already that “more can be accomplished by scattering reading matter, and filling such openings as the providence of God may indicate from time to time,

than by making such efforts as are put forth in America.”90 And he was yet to visit Basel and meet with Andrews and the Swiss brethren! Along the way he took time to study people, the way they lived, and their interests. He made an effort to absorb the local culture. He was also keenly interested in educating himself on names and places that were significant in church history. He spent almost a week in Paris on his way to meet Andrews in Switzerland. Haskell made Basel the hub of his European travels, returning three times to the city for varying lengths of time. On his first visit he found Andrews feeble but stable. Andrews was frustrated because he was not strong enough even to accompany Haskell on his local travels among the believers in Switzerland, but this was probably for the best anyway in that it enabled Haskell to gain a perspective of his own. He traveled in Switzerland in the company of James Erzberger, spent a weekend at Adémar Vuilleumier’s home in Chaux-de-Fonds, and stayed with the believers in Tramelan after taking a meeting that went until almost midnight. Then he spent a month visiting Scandinavia, Germany, and Italy, checking out both Torre Pellice and the Naples church that Dr. Ribton had established after his baptism by Andrews three years previously. Haskell returned to Switzerland for the Swiss annual conference in early September at Tramelan. He convened the first European-wide council in Basel shortly afterward on the weekend of September 15–17. One of the earliest recommendations that Haskell urged on his brethren back in Battle Creek was the need for a larger and more convenient home for the extended Andrews family. It was essential to have a place large enough to accommodate the people, the printing rooms, and to have a hall for meetings, he argued. Securing a location away from the tramlines that created so much distracting noise and away from markets and stables to a place where the air was less fetid was also a necessity, even though it might cost considerably more. Before he left Switzerland he had negotiated just such a relocation, obtaining a property with echoes of

Ravenswood in Southampton. Andrews was grateful.91 Making the transition to the new house at the end of 1882, however, was not without its problems. The owner of the house they vacated took Andrews to court over lost income. The landlord’s case eventually failed, but Andrews had to interrupt his editorial work to make several anxious visits to lawyers and to the court under a cloud of gloom. Then, nine months after their relocation, their new landlord challenged the lease and tried to evict them because he wanted to sell the house. These uncertainties significantly added to the anxieties that clouded Andrews’s last year.92 As Haskell progressed through Europe and reported his findings to George Butler and to the Review, his observations tended to confirm the oft-repeated story Andrews had been telling his peers for the previous six years. As Andrews read the reports, he must have felt vindicated concerning most of the decisions he had felt obliged to make considering the circumstances he had found himself in. In an important sense, Haskell found himself defending Andrews and vindicating his course before his critics, although only once did he do so in a direct and personal way. “The results already accomplished through the efforts of Eld. Andrews are in some respects truly marvelous,” Haskell wrote in mid-July.93 He affirmed repeatedly that for Europe, publishing a regularly issued periodical rather than tracts was a much more effective mission strategy. “It is evident that more can be accomplished in Europe by publications than by the living preacher,” although they could not alone suffice, he asserted.94 Furthermore, the papers needed to be published locally in order to reflect local issues and idioms. It was “impossible for a paper published in America to fully meet the wants of the European people,” he pointed out. Furthermore, Haskell acknowledged that he had “never realized the magnitude of the work, and how much can be accomplished with little expense.”95 The work in Europe should be enlarged, not retrenched. This seemed to be a direct riposte to the late James White.96 Haskell noted the problematic limitations that characterized the present

mission outreach. Andrews’s health and his lack of editorial resources had prevented him both from visiting his local churches adequately and from following up interested readers with public and personal labor. Andrews knew this. Haskell noted that the preacher-editor had been “confined to his bed” more than half of the time for a long period. Les Signes had done “a noble work,” he reported. It had certainly gained in stature and in circulation. It was now being cited in numerous other religious journals, and the Swiss Sabbath keepers had determined to increase its circulation by investing in paid advertisements for the journal in prominent daily newspapers.97 Erzberger had been successful in the field among German speakers, but there had been weakness in the Francophone work.98 Haskell had not been able to travel in France to visit churches or any of the many Les Signes readers scattered across forty-five of the eighty-six departments into which France was divided administratively. But Haskell did read some of the large number of letters from the numerous scattered Sabbath keepers that Andrews kept on file. In Italy in August, Haskell and Gardner engaged in day-long Bible studies with villagers in Torre Pellice. This had necessitated double translation across three languages back and forth. “I never saw people try any harder to understand,” he told Butler, as his own understanding of the difficulties of language barriers, national histories, and cultural differences appreciably deepened.99 In both Torre Pellice and in Naples, Haskell and Gardner were surprised to find more Sabbath keepers and Sabbath keeping groups among readers of Les Signes than even Andrews had learned of.100 Haskell was in Basel, on his first visit there, in mid-June when the telegraphed news arrived that the founder of the Naples church, Dr. Herbert Ribton, now serving in a “tent-maker” mission in Alexandria, Egypt, had been brutally murdered on June 11, along with three other Adventists, by a rampaging mob that had massacred a large number of foreigners. The mob had been angered by negative social and political developments spilling out from the collapsing Ottoman Empire. Ribton

and his fellow Sabbath keepers had been returning from distributing Les Signes des Temps and other Adventist literature on ships at the Port of Alexandria. Ribton’s young daughter, Nina, who had been with the group and saw her father felled by his assailants, only survived because she had been taken into a sympathetic sheikh’s house, where she found shelter and was later returned to her mother disguised under a veil. The family subsequently found refuge on the island of Malta before returning to be with their extended family in Ireland. Reports of these first Adventist martyrs featured prominently in the Review. “The Eastern Question,” also occupied much space in the Review, the events being seen as the fulfillment of Daniel 11.101 These themes linked with the outbreak of Sunday law agitation in California. The brief arrest of W. C. White for working on Sunday contributed to a much-heightened sense of imminence at the time.102 The news about Ribton’s murder greatly disturbed Andrews’s circle in Basel.103 It is not known how Andrews personally responded to the death of the passionate Irishman, but it must have brought back to him memories of the day Andrews had baptized him in the Bay of Naples in 1876. The two had become entangled in an unpleasant episode of mission politics during the previous year. James White criticized Andrews for his financial support of Ribton, implying a lack of judgment on Andrews’s part in supporting and encouraging the doctor.104 Andrews was embarrassed at Ribton’s later ill-advised move to Alexandria and rebuked the doctor for dissembling about the size and nature of the prospects for mission work in Alexandria. The costs involved in the move caused shock and indignation at Basel.105 The doctor had not been teachable or able to take rebuke. Correspondence exchanges between the men after Andrews’s returned to Basel had been blunt, with much “plain speech,” as Andrews told Ribton he would need to survive on his own dime. Andrews distanced himself from the now-independent missionary to avoid further criticism over the alleged misuse of mission money.106 Whether the two had been able to

rebuild the relationship is not known. The tragedy of Ribton’s death, however, reminded all of the difficult circumstances Adventism faced in its mission to the world. What hopefully would have been of deep and genuine encouragement to Andrews was the message that Haskell took back to Battle Creek with him after the Swiss conference and the European council. Andrews had been well enough to attend both of these meetings, although his speaking had needed to be restricted. Haskell had learned during his tour that things were indeed different in Europe and that the “American model” would not work without major adaptation. Strategies for evangelism had to be adapted and localized to suit the European context. “It is very different here in the Old World from what it is in America.”107 A. A. Johns, a participant at the council expressed it clearly when he said that there were “peculiar circumstances by which our missionaries are surrounded, and the many difficulties that they have to surmount, which are known only to those who have labored in a foreign land.”108 In January 1883, Haskell reiterated the theme again. “But few in America have been able to realize the difficulties under which those labor who go to Europe from this country,” he noted for Review readers.109 Andrews felt, at last, that they were being understood. Arguing as they had done that their situation could not be fully understood by those who sat in judgment in offices in Battle Creek was not simply a weak excuse. Circumstances on the ground, in the field, were genuinely different. Andrews, Loughborough, and Matteson were helping the Adventist Church learn how to do mission and how to benefit from the trial-and-error process, and church leaders were now, finally, also learning how to encourage them. The opportunities provided by the European council provided a much-needed larger perspective. The mission leaders at the council agreed on many things, such as the importance of the periodical ministry, and they found it exceedingly useful to be able to share ideas about the way forward.110 The adjustments needed to correct the overextension in publishing facilities in Christiana were

initiated. In Norway, the publishing endeavor needed to be trimmed down and redesigned, and Haskell’s report to the General Conference assisted this process. Andrews must also have been encouraged at Haskell’s commendation of the local Sabbath keepers in his comment that, “considering the circumstances,” the Swiss church was generous, and their financial standing was good. In fact, their tithe averages were above those “in many of our Conferences in America,” he reported.111 As the council broke up and Haskell made his way back to Battle Creek via England with a commitment to do what he could to facilitate the enlargement of the work, John Andrews returned to his work in Basel “apparently stronger,” wrote Haskell, and “with a returning appetite.”112 That would be both for food and for work. Andrews told his council colleagues that friends had tried to persuade him that it was time for him to give up work if he really wanted to recover his health. Andrews’s half-humorous reply was that it was his hold on his work that was his only lease on life. But there was really more to it than that. It was his sense of duty that was so strong he could not do otherwise. He just could not let go of his work. With God’s blessing, he believed, his work was what kept him alive.113 But Andrews was also realistic. He reported to the General Conference session delegates in September that although he was not having to spend as much time in bed, his voice had failed to such an extent that he could “no longer preach sitting down as heretofore and I cannot go to labor among the people where there are calls for help.” This had been “as a sword thrust through my soul,” he acknowledged, but he had sought grace to submit to this providence of God. His mission family had, under the circumstances, attended to the one thing they could do—faithfully send out Les Signes des Temps. As he looked to the future, he had formally written to Elders Butler and Haskell with a recommendation describing the “qualifications of the persons, according to my judgement, that should be sent” as a replacement for himself.114 Haskell too could see that the ailing editor was not going to

last much longer, that the mission needed help, and that the next General Conference session would need to plan quickly for a replacement for Andrews as the leader in Europe. Apparently, Haskell had not encountered anyone among the Swiss who impressed him as a potential candidate to replace Andrews. His observation that “most” of them “seem to realize the necessity of arousing to the importance of the work and put away their wrongs” was not an ecstatic assessment. Thus he had argued publicly in the Review for the need of a young husband and wife team from America to come and assist with a view to taking over. Such a person should have “an aptness for the French language” and be considered so valuable a person that America would consider they could not afford to do without him. Such a person to assist in the work in Europe was going to be “indispensable.”115 Did he have in mind his colleague, the New York Conference president, Buel Whitney?

1. JNA to EGW, Apr. 24, 1879, EGWE-GC. 2. Ibid. 3. JNA to JW, May 15, 1879, EGWE-GC. 4. “Departure for Europe,” RH, June 5, 1879, 180. 5. JNLD, June 18, 1879, CAR; “Arrival at Southampton, England,” RH, July 7, 1879, 28. 6. “Southampton, England,” RH, July 24, 1879, 38. 7. JNLD, Aug. 2, 9, 1879, CAR. 8. Jean Vuilleumier provides details of Andrews’s ill health at this time. JVD, Aug. 14–28, Sept. 2– 27, 1879. “Arrival at Bale,” RH, Sept. 11, 1879, 93; “Southampton, England,” RH, Sept. 18, 1879, 100. 9. “Arrival at Bale,” RH, Sept. 11, 1879, 93. 10. JNA to US, Sept. 19, 1879, EGWE-GC; “The European Mission,” RH, Oct. 30, 1879, 149; “Report From Switzerland,” RH, Jan. 1, 1880, 13; “Report from Egypt,” RH, Jan. 1, 1880, 13. 11. “Report From Switzerland,” RH Jan. 1, 1880, 13 12. Jean Vuilleumier’s diary provides many details of the painful misunderstandings between the families and church members and between Andrews and Albert Vuilleumier and other pastoral leaders over finance. See JVD, May 10, 11, 23, 24, June 7, 18, 24, 1880. “Report From Switzerland,” [March] 1881, General Conference Archives. 13. “General Conference,” RH, Dec. 4, 1879, 181, 184. Both the General Conference treasurer and

secretary were members. 14. Andrews notes the receipt of a letter from Butler in JNA to SNH, Dec. 23, 1879, EGWE-GC. 15. “Conference of European Missionaries at Basle,” RH, Jan. 29, 1880, 80. 16. EGW to JW, Mar. 18, 1880. See also EGW to JW, Apr. 6, 1880, EGWE-GC. Ellen White was alarmed that James might go back to California and again insert himself into leadership, which “with the view you take of things, would be very disastrous.” The “tone of your letters” and “the way you view matters, giving expression to your feelings,” were problematic. She knew they would only further injure her husband’s failing reputation as a leader. 17. JW to WCW, Sept. 18, 1880, EGWE-GC. White complained of having “to support our elephants such as Dr. Ribton.” It is not quite clear what White meant by “elephant,” but the context indicates that whatever he meant, it was negative. Andrews had intended Ribton to go to Egypt alone just to survey the territory and report back. Instead, he had taken his whole family, for health reasons, and stayed at a huge cost—double the number of francs Andrews used to support his whole publishing family of ten and their activities for a month. Andrews was distressed that Ribton had practiced “deception.” JVD, Oct. 14, 23, 1879, AHAF. 18. “The Cause of God,” RH, Dec. 2, 1880, 360. James White reported these figures in the context of arguing that the ministers, “to a certain extent, should act as colporteurs” in order to supplement their meager salaries. Ministers’ work should not be belittled as “book peddlers or common canvassers,” but nevertheless they should be offered financial incentives by the publishing houses to encourage them to sell church literature and increase their income. 19. “Financial Report of the European Mission,” Oct. 20, 1879. General Conference Archives. JNA to SNH, Dec. 23, 1879; JNA to WCW, Dec. 27, 1879, EGWE-GC. JNA, Untitled Manuscript, Dec. 29, 1879, CAR. 20. JNA to EGW, July 28, 1882, EGWE-GC. 21. “Financial Report of the European Mission,” Oct. 20, 1879, 10. General Conference Archives. 22. By August 1880 the number had risen to 21. “The Cause in England,” RH, Aug. 26, 1880, 156. 23. “Southampton, England,” RH, Nov. 20, 1879, 166. 24. “Southampton, England,” RH, Jan. 22, 1880, 60; “Southampton, England,” RH, Jan. 29, 1880, 76; “Southampton, England,” RH, Feb. 26, 1880, 140. 25. JNL to SNH and WCW, Feb. 18, 1880, EGWE-GC. 26. JVD, Dec. 24, 1879, Feb. 26, 1881, AHAF; JVD, May 6, 1883, AHAF. Jean Vuilleumier speaks of Andrews’s “great anguish of mind” and relates that he saw the prospect of the removal of the paper to England as extinguishing his “last remaining bit of vital strength” and taking away “his restorative power.” The conversation also reduced Vuilleumier to tears. 27. “The Adventist Colony at Basel During the Andrews Years,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 332–355. The diary runs from February 19, 1880, to Andrews’s death and has a number of gaps, the most extensive of which is the almost two-year gap between February 1881 and January 1883 when Vuilleumier returned to his father’s watchmaking business during a time of economic pressure. The diary is located at the Archives Historiques de l’Adventisme Francophone, Campus Adventiste du Saleve. I am indebted to Bernina Ninow for her English translation of this important French text. 28. JVD, Feb. 19, 1880, AHAF.

29. JVD, Jan. 28, 1881, AHAF 30. JVD, Feb. 28, 1880, AHAF 31. “Acknowledgement,” RH, Apr. 8, 1880, 233. 32. “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, May 20, 1880, 332. 33. “Missionary Work in Switzerland,” RH, July 8, 1880, 36, 37; “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, May 20, 1880, 332. 34. In July 1883, Jean Vuilleumier developed a better system for managing the subscription lists. JVD, July 7, 1883, AHAF. 35. “Missionary Work in Switzerland,” RH, July 8, 1880, 37. 36. Further details of Andrews’s Les Signes des Temps ministry are given in his report to the 1880 General Conference Session. See “The Work in Europe,” RH, Oct. 21, 1880, 264, 265. 37. “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, May 20, 1880, 332. 38. JNA to JW, June 6, 1880, EGWE-GC. 39. JNLD, June 26, 1880, CAR; “The Cause in England,” RH, Aug. 5, 1880, 104. 40. Harry Leonard, “Andrews and the Mission to Britain,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, 244. 41. Ibid. Leonard’s estimate is based on a close comparative analysis of Loughborough’s diary records and other reports, and he assumes the existence of a regular Sunday evening meeting at Ravenswood. 42. William Ings to SNH, June 18, 1882, EGWE-GC. Mission rules, for some reason, required that the ship ministry literature be given away rather than sold. “The Work in England,” RH, June 27, 1882, 409. Rather curiously, neither James nor Ellen White criticized this tangential work of Ings. Did this suggest a closeness of relationship to Jennie Ings? Haskell was not inclined to see weakness in the literature distribution either. Even though it did not help self-support, it could perhaps be seen as a way of supporting the publishing houses. 43. “Christ Our Only Hope,” RH, July 15, 1880, 57. 44. “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, May 20, 1880, 332. 45. JW to EGW, Apr. 7, 1880, EGWE-GC; “Important Suggestions,” RH, May 20, 1880, 332. 46. JNL to JW, Aug. 12, 1880, EGWE-GC. 47. JNA to JW, Aug. 15, 1880, EGWE-GC. 48. “The Cause in England,” RH, Aug. 26, 1880, 156; “The Work in England and Switzerland,” RH, Sept. 9, 1880, 185. 49. JNLD, Aug. 21, 1880, CAR; “The Work in England and Switzerland,” RH, Sept. 9, 1880, 185. 50. JNLD, Sept. 20, 23, 1880, CAR. Loughborough identifies the doctors as Dr. Townshend and a Dr. Frankens. 51. JNLD, Sept. 24, 1880, CAR. 52. JNLD, Oct. 14, 1880, CAR; “The Cause in England,” RH, Nov. 11, 1880, 316. 53. “Bale, Switzerland,” May 20, 1880, 332. It was not until 1882 that the famous German physician Robert Koch was able to demonstrate in his laboratory samples the presence of tuberculosis baccili and confirm that the disease was spread by coughing. 54. Richard J. Evans in his book The Pursuit of Power: Europe 1815–1914 (New York: Viking, 2016), 397, 398, has a succinct discussion of the impact of the disease in Europe in the nineteenth

century. 55. Jean Vuilleumier records that Andrews was worried that he would be blamed by Anna’s nonAdventist parents for causing their daughter’s death. She apparently refused to take the recommended medicine. JVD, May 11; Oct. 7, 1883, AHAF. Augsburger, 342. It was probably Mrs. Temple’s foul-tasting remedy. If only Ellen White’s health counsel had included instruction about the simple strategies of diverting coughing and boiling milk in addition to her advice to avoid its consumption where possible, how many Adventist lives might have been spared? 56. “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, Jan. 4, 1881, 9. 57. Ibid. 58. JW to WCW, Sept. 18, 1880, EGWE-GC. White’s editorial, “The Cause,” RH, Dec, 2, 1880, 360, publicly critiqued the literature distribution system and the role of Haskell’s Tract and Missionary Societies. 59. “General Conference of S. D. Adventists,” RH, Oct. 14, 1880, 252. 60. JW to WCW, Sept. 18, 1880, EGWE-GC. White thought he would be a “cautious, safe advisor” and was “fully aroused” concerning the financial crisis. 61. Ibid.; “The Review for Europe,” RH, Dec. 16, 1880, 392. 62. “The Work in Europe,” RH, Oct. 21, 1880, 264, 265. 63. Ibid. One senses that the enthusiasm for these large press runs would also help the publishing association work its way out of its financial difficulties. 64. JW to WCW and MW, Jan. 7, 1881, EGWE-GC. White blamed Haskell, Butler, and Willie White for the ruckus and took deep offense at Willie’s alleged misrepresentations concerning him. “Oh, my poor misled Willie!” he wrote to his son. “How could you be so cruel?” 65. “Battle Creek and Our Institutions,” RH, Jan. 25, 1881, 57. 66. “Permanency of the Cause,” RH, Mar. 8, 1881, 152. 67. “The Cause at Large,” RH, July 5, 1881, 24; “The Tract Society,” RH, July 12, 1881, 40. 68. EGW to SNH, Nov. 8, 1880, EGWE-GC. See also EGW to SNH, Apr. 22, 1881, EGWE-GC. At the time Ellen White disagreed with the idea. 69. EGW to SNH, Nov. 8, 1880, EGWE-GC. Butler was to discover how entrenched the “one man rule” idea had become from a legal perspective when he inherited the chairmanship of the publishing house board. So many shares had been entrusted by shareholders to White to exercise by proxy that in board elections one or two persons could have decided things by themselves. Butler was sure it was unwise “to concentrate so much power in the hands of one or two.” See “Proxies for the Stockholders of our Institutions,” RH, Oct. 31, 1882, 688. 70. “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, Mar. 29, 1881, 200, 201. 71. “The European Mission,” RH, Feb. 2, 1882, 89. The fund had been overdrawn by four hundred dollars, and Butler appealed for a fund of several thousand. The “times are quite good” now, he urged readers. Within just a few weeks the fund had returned to credit, and Butler appealed for more. “Money is plenty in this country,” he urged again. “The European Mission,” RH, Mar. 21, 1882, 185. 72. “A Day of Fasting and Prayer,” RH, May 3, 1881, 281. 73. Ibid. See also “The New York Evangelist vs. Andrews’ History of the Sabbath,” RH, Mar. 8, 1881, 152, 153; “The New York Evangelist vs. Andrews’ History of the Sabbath,” RH, Nov. 8,

1881, 290, 291. 74. “Bale, Switzerland,” RH, June 7, 1881, 361. 75. Ibid. 76. The hyperbolic expression is used in a letter to “Brother and Sister A. C. Bourdeau,” May 21, 1881, EGWE-GC. Andrews had written, “I have not a word to say against his [Bourdeau] coming, whenever he becomes a thoroughly sane man if the brethren then think best to send him. But till that time, whether I live or die, I beseech that he may be held in America if that is possible.” JNA to EGW, undated fragment, EGWE-GC. A follow-up observation from Andrews in another part of the undated fragment was that “if Bro. B. comes back to Suisse he will not relieve me a particle so far as the paper is concerned. I could not trust anything to him on the paper.” Internal evidence suggests the fragment is from a letter written just before Ellen White’s May 21, 1881, letter to A. C. Bourdeau, EGWE-GC. 77. EGW to “Brother and Sister A. C. Bourdeau,” May 21, 1881, EGWE-GC. 78. D. A. Delafield has an extended discussion of this confrontation in Ellen G. White in Europe 1885–1887 (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1975), 77–82. Ellen White had felt obliged to give the headstrong Bourdeau “such a message as I wish never to speak again to mortal man.” EGW to GIB, Oct. 1, 1885, EGWE-GC. 79. “Fallen at His Post,” RH, Aug. 9, 1881, 104; “The Funeral,” RH, Aug. 16, 1881, 21. The same issue carried tributes from George Butler and J. H. Waggoner. 80. Unattributed note, RH, Sept. 20, 1881, 208. The dispatch concerning White’s death had arrived in Basel after his final article had been set. 81. Les Signes des Temps, Sept. 1881; “The Death of Elder White,” RH, Sept. 27, 1881, 216. 82. “Report from Bale,” RH, Jan. 31, 1882, 72. 83. “Encouraging,” RH, Mar. 21, 1882, 184. 84. JNA to EGW, July 28, 1882, EGWE-GC. 85. Ibid. 86. Ibid. 87. It is no wonder that with such a vacuum as this in the leadership at the General Conference session the recommendation concerning the ordination of women to ministry was passed on to the executive committee to deal with. “General Conference: Business Proceedings (Continued),” RH, Dec. 20, 1881, 392. 88. “The General Conference,” RH, Dec. 6, 1881, 360. The action was apparently an effort to deal with the Daniel Bourdeau problem and similar personnel problems that had occurred with the Broreson brothers in the Scandinavian mission. 89. “Eld. Haskell’s Trip to Europe,” RH, May 16, 1882, 313. 90. “The Work in England,” RH, June 27, 1882, 409. 91. “Bro. Haskell’s Visit to Europe,” RH, Nov. 14, 1882, 712, 713. The new house was a large rented property in a location that “gave an abundance of sunlight and good air” and faced “no apparent danger that these will ever be shut out by other buildings.” It would also make a good purchase for the future. 92. JVD, Feb. 26; Sept. 18, 1883, AHAF. 93. “What is Wanted in Europe,” RH, July 18, 1882, 456, 457.

94. Ibid. “First give the paper then tracts, pamphlets and books,” he explained, had been the experience of “every live Tract Society.” His investigation apparently looked beyond just the Adventist experience. 95. Ibid. 96. “From Europe,” RH, Aug. 1, 1882, 488. 97. “The Conferences at Tramelan and Bale,” RH, Oct. 10, 1882, 632. 98. These details are based on Haskell’s reports found in, “From Europe,” RH, Aug. 1, 1882, 448, and “The European Mission,” RH, Aug. 29, 1882, 552. 99. SNH to GIB, Aug. 15, 1882, cited in “Notes From Italy,” RH, Sept. 19, 1882, 601. 100. “Bro. Haskell’s Visit to Europe,” RH, Nov. 14, 1882, 713. 101. “From Egypt,” RH, May 16, 1882, 316; “The Crisis in Egypt,” RH, July 11, 1882, 437, 448; “The Alexandra Massacre,” RH, July, 25, 1882, 472; “Report from Italy,” Sept. 26, 1882, 617; “More About Dr. Ribton,” RH, Nov. 21, 1882, 735. 102. “Editorial Correspondence,” RH, Sept. 5, 1882, 568. 103. “Particulars of the Death of Dr. Ribton,” RH, Sept. 19, 1882, 601. Anna Oyer apparently managed the coordination of communication. 104. JW to EGW, Apr. 14, 1880, EGWE-GC. Because no name had been mentioned, John Matteson thought White had been publicly criticizing him and took offense at White’s remarks. See also “From Egypt,” RH, May, 17, 1881, 316. 105. JNA to HP, May 23, 1880, EGWE-GC; JVD, Oct. 23, 1879, AHAF. Ribton claimed sixtythree hundred francs for a family of four, whereas support for the group of ten at Basel for a similar period had been thirty-four hundred francs. In a typical Swiss understatement, Vuilleumier recorded, “C’est une jolie difference.” (It is a nice difference.) See also Augsburger, 338. 106. JNA to EGW, May 23, 1880, EGWE-GC. Andrews felt badly over Ribton’s misuse of his trust and of his money and apologized to Ellen White. “I think that it is true that I have tried hard but whether I have done this work well enough for God to accept it is more than I can say.” 107. “The Work in England,” RH, June 27, 1882, 409, 410. 108. “General Meeting at Bale, Switzerland,” RH, Oct. 17, 1882, 648, 649. 109. “Omens for Good,” RH, Jan. 2, 1883, 9. In this report Haskell explained, tongue-in-cheek, that Andrews’s former accommodations were “comparatively comfortable” if “many things were different.” He then went on to list the deafening noise from the tram lines, the fertilizer smells from the neighbor’s yard, the fact that the house was overcrowded, and that it had no room for public meetings. 110. “General Meeting at Bale, Switzerland,” RH, Oct. 17, 1882, 648. 111. “The Conferences at Tramelan and Bale,” RH, Oct. 10, 1882, 632, 633. 112. Ibid. 113. “General Meeting at Bale, Switzerland,” RH, Oct. 17, 1882, 648. 114. JNA, “Report of Labor,” Nov. 30, 1882, General Conference Archives. 115. “Bro. Haskell’s Visit to Europe,” RH, Nov. 14, 1882, 712, 713.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Pen is Laid Aside: 1883 ohn Andrews and his mission colony enjoyed their new home in Basel. They felt able to breathe more freely, even as Andrews’s own breathing became more difficult. At the very time they had been relocating

J

themselves to the larger, more comfortable house courtesy of Stephen Haskell’s intervention, Uriah Smith, the General Conference secretary, was reading his brother-in-law’s soulful report to the 1882 General Conference Session. It came up early, just before lunch on the opening day, Thursday, December 7.1 Delegates had assembled in Rome, New York, for the meeting—a rather strange location for a General Conference session, five hundred miles away from Battle Creek—and there was some unease. Although the Rome location for the session may have intrigued and puzzled some delegates, the underlying tone of the meeting did not hint at any problems. It was decidedly upbeat following the reading of Andrews’s report from Europe, which had been listed at the top of the agenda. Haskell followed up Andrews’s report with some of his own rather exciting and “very interesting experiences” with Sabbath keepers in Europe.2 The next day he spoke again and gave delegates “an extended statement” on his assessment of the European mission. The information from Haskell’s long talk that impressed the unnamed recording secretary was that “a great work” was being accomplished. There were a great many openings for the introduction of the truth in Europe. Haskell also confirmed that there was such a feeling “against anything that is American” and that “papers

published in America” would accomplish little good. The secretary reported Haskell as stressing that there was, in fact, a great need to continue Les Signes des Temps and to add more journals in other national languages. Whether the agenda was deliberately planned to accommodate the next item or not, the very next thing delegates actually voted was the recommendation to send Elder Buel Whitney and his family “at their earliest convenience” to assist Andrews in Switzerland and to help in the other missions “as opportunity may offer.”3 The call for Whitney would deprive New York of a much loved leader. Butler later reported that “many of the brethren and sisters present were affected to tears” at the thought that the Whitneys would leave, but “their love for Bro. Andrews, who formerly belonged to the New York Conference,” persuaded them to agree. Sympathetic session delegates resolved to try and fill the vacancy as best they could.4 According to Butler’s later report, foreign missions received “much attention” at the twelve-day session. Missions were discussed more than any other one topic. Delegates had approved the formation of a common “European Conference,” with its own officers, and they had defined the relationship of the new entity to the General Conference.5 In the twelve months that followed the session, Butler was able to report a major surge in mission funding.6 The church and mission were on the move—a very practical tribute to Andrews’s sacrifice and determination. Difficult educational issues had also featured prominently at the 1882 session. In fact, Butler had been so apprehensive about the troubles over education in Battle Creek he had deliberately but discretely planned for the session to be held in the territory of the New York Conference, far away from the hotbed of strife in Michigan.7 This was because just two months previously, church leaders had felt obliged to officially close down Battle Creek College. Heated conflict between students, faculty, administration, and the community had erupted in a dispute about the objectives of

education and student discipline policy. There had been an assault on a faculty member. Butler had been working all year trying to resolve the conflict between the faculty and the board but had failed. In such a confrontational atmosphere, it was better to move the session away from what had become a very disaffected local community. He felt that the strategy had been successful and “there were none present to make trouble or circulate evil reports” in Rome!8 In Basel, meanwhile, journal subscriptions were steadily increasing and the print run was now at forty-five hundred. The twenty- by forty-foot hall in Andrews’s new house had been fitted out nicely to accommodate 160 people. Advertisements for an upcoming series of meetings had been placed in three newspapers, and the city had been blanketed with handbills. Erzberger would be doing the preaching. It was as if Andrews was experiencing a new beginning. Furthermore, Andrews reported that his “old Swiss friends” were giving him hope that “they will fully put away the old difficulties.”9 If this referred to the anciens frères ending their use of table wine, Andrews was to be disappointed again. According to Jean Vuilleumier, his father and uncles were still unpersuaded on the topic, and wine was part of their meals, even as they participated in conference meetings in Basel in later 1883.10 Andrews’s renewed hope may also have been related to reconciliation over his unwelcome intrusion into family business affairs in 1874 and the prospect that Albert Vuilleumier would finally commit himself to ministry. Andrews apparently continued to be positive and hopeful on this front. On a worrying note, however, Andrews told Haskell that his consumptive feebleness, aggravated no doubt by the onset of winter, had put him behind in the preparation of material for the next issue of his journal. Meanwhile, Butler was heavily promoting the raising of funds for the establishment of permanent printing facilities in Basel, acknowledging that although some of the funds for the European press were still laying unused in the General Conference treasury, it was planned that, with Whitney’s arrival in Europe,

an immediate start could be made. Then even more funds would be needed. Butler was clearly an enthusiastic Swiss mission supporter.11 As February began, Andrews was able to report that Erzberger’s meetings were progressing well and that fourteen new believers were now meeting with them for Sabbath services. But the evangelistic meetings, even in sophisticated Basel, were not without their drama. There was a serious dropping away of attendance after Erzberger addressed the Sabbath question, and some of the Protestant pastors organized a furious theological attack in response. Erzberger then responded publicly at a hall rented for the special occasion in the casino. Andrews, who attended, could only watch and pray. Vuilleumier noted that two angry teachers from the audience followed Andrews and Erzberger home, shouting, “Fellow workers of the Antichrist,” and the next week there was another angry anti-Sabbath meeting at the local Methodist church.12 There was much cause to thank God, but still the serious difficulty with Andrews’s lungs was persisting and he was increasingly conscious that “I may be suddenly taken away.” During the winter, the “shadow of death” had “rested heavily” upon him but his work seemed to be like a “life insurance,” and he would “cling to it as long as I can.” He was increasingly looking forward to Whitney’s arrival.13 In mid-April, the publishing family enjoyed a visit from Dr. John Harvey Kellogg and his wife and an adopted daughter for several days. The energetic doctor was in Europe for his wife’s health and to attend medical conferences. He prescribed massages for Andrews, which, according to Jean Vuilleumier, only made him feel worse. But the respectably affluent doctor also generously took the whole printing office group for an outing around the city and local countryside, visiting the cathedral and other historic places.14 Kellogg’s visit confronted Andrews again with his mortality. From a human point of view, the doctor had told him, he could only expect death, and that not very far off. To Jean Vuilleumier, it seemed that the editor

was a walking dead man already. “We see him come to breakfast in the morning, his German Bible under his arm, his tall body half bent down, and he drops into a chair,” observed Vuilleumier, with deep empathy a week after Kellogg left. “His eyes are reddened by the tears, his face wrinkled, drawn by his suffering, his weakness so great that he cannot think, but he does not want to give up. He dresses and appears at mealtime as if he enjoyed the best of health, although he can swallow practically nothing. The food is choked in his throat. It cannot go through. He feels almost that he is dying of starvation.” The diarist hears Andrews’s labored lament, “If I could just take some food, I think I could write, but it cannot go down.” Then Vuilleumier notes, “He puts his forehead on the table and silent tears drown his cheeks hollowed by his labors.”15 Rather overwhelmed by Andrews’s anguish and sympathetic to his dilemma, Jean tried at this time to persuade his father to be done with the watchmaking business and take up full-time ministry. He urged his father to apologize to Andrews for his reluctance to follow the missionary’s advice and sought to mediate the tension between the two men. This would lead to a serious breach between father and son that took some time to heal. It would not be for another year until the senior Swiss leader would eventually give himself to full-time work.16 In the interim, the diarist observes that there were sunny days when Andrews would feel better, for a while, and he would find the energy to write again, for there was always another issue of the journal to prepare and further articles to write. Andrews had shared with Jean Vuilleumier, in a Sabbath evening conversation, that he still had many ideas for articles and that he kept in his chest notebooks and draft manuscripts of partially written pieces.17 In May and June, the two worked together on developing what would be the last series of articles Andrews sent to the Review. It was a six-part series giving a broad survey of the seven thousand years of religious history entitled “The Great Week of Time.” The day of judgment had been appointed before Creation, humankind was on probation, and

judgment was coming very soon. In a sense, the series was a grand summing-up of the theme of Andrews’s life-long ministry.18 Every article of that last series, as Jean Vuilleumier witnessed the process, seemed to be created with groans of pain, deep sighs, and ardent prayer. Preparing each issue of the paper was seen as a battle against Satan. And there were irritations that always seemed to be associated with deadlines. Conflicts occurred between the typesetting girls and the matron, Miss Oyer, and frustrations with the inexactitudes of Louis Aufranc continued. Patience was stretched thin, and there were exclamations of shock and despair.19 During June and July, the papers were delayed because of the editor’s failing health and the immense effort required in order to correct the errors in the copy left by Aufranc. In July, it seemed to the staff that the issue would have to be sent without the signature article from Andrews, but he eventually mustered the needed strength to complete it. To the note-taking Vuilleumier, it seemed that each line was a miracle of faith and prayer.20 And yet, on occasion, there would be a measure of very good news that would cheer Andrews.

Vindication The month of May saw the pioneering editor cited by prominent temperance advocates at their annual meeting in Lausanne. Andrews was among three community leaders in Switzerland who had helped to significantly swell the ranks of teetotalers in the country. At least the temperance articles in Les Signes des Temps were being appreciated and having an effect beyond the church, even if progress on the topic within the church had stalled.21 It is not unreasonable to imagine that Andrews would have been even more encouraged and humbled by what he read in the eight-page Review Supplement that arrived in May.22 Butler, Haskell, and James Fargo, as members of the General Conference Executive Committee, had jointly authored long articles in this important publication focused on reviewing

the status of the church and its deeply indebted institutions. The committee set out possible goals and strategies for resolving these pressing issues. The supplement also devoted a substantial section to an analysis and review of Adventist’s short mission history and its prospects for the future. The authors had developed a well-reasoned rationale for both an expanded mission in Europe and in England and identified the acute need for additional funding. The section on Europe reflected thoughtfully on the unique difficulties Andrews and his fellow missionaries had faced and then expressed a deeply affirming tribute and warm commendation. Andrews had accomplished a “most noble work” in establishing the Central European mission, in spite of his physical “weakness.” The committee then expressed deep appreciation for his leadership. It was a striking vindication given the criticism and suspicion of an earlier period. “We regard this mission as already a great success,” they wrote. That did not mean that there was not much more to be accomplished. But Andrews had worked “under the greatest difficulties” and “to the utmost of his strength,” and he had “accomplished a vast amount of good under such circumstances that most men would have felt they could do nothing.” An excellent impression had been made by the French paper.23 The Review Supplement also cleared the air on the matter of the financial suspicions. “We consider the money used in this mission well spent, and firmly believe the advantages thus gained to the cause are worth far more than the cost.” The committee reported that it had closely studied the mission’s financial reports in light of the conditions in the Swiss mission and in light of the expectations that had been held for Andrews. They wanted Review readers to clearly understand that not all the church money had been paid to the missionaries as remuneration. Apparently, some in the church had thought that was happening. The report described the expenses and defended them as legitimate. Committee members went so far, in fact, as to suggest that there was “more danger that too great economy has been used, and that our missionaries have suffered, than that

they have fared too well.” “Our people will need no assurances from us,” they continued, “that this beloved pioneer, who has labored so long and so faithfully in this cause, and who has almost given life itself for this mission, has not squandered the money raised for it. He has given for it more than any money can buy. It has cost him more than all the money given for the mission by our people could repay.” There is no record of Andrews’s reaction to the report, but if he was still acting according to character, he would have offered a prayer of thanksgiving, and if his breathing had let him, he should have been able to sleep soundly. The Supplement report also defended Loughborough’s difficult English mission, noting that while there had been some disappointment that “greater results” had not been attained, there was nothing that should discourage the church or cause it to lose hope. Again, the writers of the report reflected a much more nuanced understanding of the unique challenges posed in introducing Adventism to “Old England” and expressed gratitude for the labors of Loughborough. To some extent, the report would have been read by those in the know as a subtle pushback against the criticisms of James White and perhaps also the veiled suspicions expressed by W. C. White to Ings in earlier years. Those who were close to John Andrews would have understood it this way. It certainly seems to have constituted an important part of the context of a letter from Ellen White that would be written a month later.

A new leader and a painful jolt Buel Whitney and his family spent the early part of June at the New York camp meeting at Glean, saying farewell to their many friends and gratefully acknowledging the surprisingly generous support that had been forthcoming for their new field of labor.24 Some church leaders had expected the family to be on their way to Europe earlier in 1883, for the news that had filtered back about Andrews’s health was not good. It had taken time, however, for Whitney to organize his personal effects and to

coordinate arrangements with the other travelers that joined his party. The group left America on June 28. In a gracious humanitarian gesture, and as an expression of gratitude, church leaders had encouraged Whitney to take with him Andrews’s elderly mother, Sarah, and his sister-in-law, Martha, and her little daughter, also named Sarah.25 If Andrews could not come home, the church would take home to him. The party arrived in Basel on July 26. The journey had taken longer than usual.26 They found Andrews in very feeble health. He was “wasted almost to a skeleton, able to take a few steps with great effort, and to sit up a little while during the day; yet at work whenever he had a little strength.”27 Andrews was considerably cheered by the arrival of his family, and for a few days he bounced back from his exhaustion.28 Whitney, whom Jean, the nineteen-year-old diarist, described as “tall, not very talkative, but simple enough to accompany the [printing] crew to the bathhouse,” moved quickly to impose a more businesslike order in the household. Mealtimes were regulated with set hours, and evening worship was set for 6:30, along with the strange new custom (to Jean) of repeating the Lord’s Prayer.29 If Whitney did not seem very talkative, it may well have been because he had other serious and problematic issues on his mind. In his pocket he carried a very sensitive letter from Ellen White to himself with some very delicate instructions about how he was to relate to Andrews. He was not to allow Andrews to dictate his course, nor Loughborough or Matteson, for that matter. He was to move around the field and make his own judgments. “His [Andrews’s] feelings and his imaginations must not rule you.” Ellen White’s letter had been written at the end of March, before the General Conference committee had published its report in the Review Supplement, and it carried an interpretation of financial affairs that appears not to have benefited from that report. She had the view that “much means” had been sent to the mission “that is controlled by Elder Andrews.” She had attended the General Conference session in Rome the previous December, and it seems reasonable to assume that she would have heard Haskell’s

report on affairs in Europe. Perhaps she had heard the report only secondhand. In any event, she had become concerned that “a sympathy had been awakened for Andrews that is not called for.” While it was a duty “to love and care for Elder Andrews, it is not our duty to deify him.” Did she also somehow sense that a vindication of Andrews implied a criticism of her deceased husband? She also had another concern. She did not think that Anna Oyer’s spiritual standing was of any help to Andrews. This must have been troubling to Whitney, for he had been the one who baptized Anna in 1877 when she was twenty-five, and he had been the one who had encouraged her to commit herself to mission service and accompany Andrews to Europe. She was the only one of her family who had become a Sabbath keeper.30 Whitney was advised to “move cautiously” in this matter, but it seems Ellen White intended to have Anna Oyer’s influence diminished. Jean Vuilleumier’s diary reveals that Ellen White’s concern about Anna Oyer having a “great influence” over Elder Andrews may have been misplaced. Vuilleumier recounts that he had himself misunderstood Anna Oyer’s role as matron in the home and complained to the Haskells’ traveling companion, Gardner who questioned him about Oyer’s role. Vuilleumier replied that he thought she was becoming too officious. Later, after a conversation with Miss Oyer, he had understood the situation much better and then deeply regretted having “talked badly” about her in misreporting the situation to Gardner. He apologized to Anna but did not have the chance to correct things with Gardner and the report seems to have been passed on to Ellen White.31 Ellen White did not know it when she wrote her letter, but consumption also cared for her concern shortly after Whitney’s arrival. When he arrived in Basel, Whitney found both Andrews and Anna Oyer “very feeble,” with Anna “slowly falling.”32 What was probably more of a burden for Whitney was the other letter that he carried in his pocket, one Ellen White had written to Andrews and which she expected Whitney to read to the dying leader. According to

Andrews, Whitney read the document to him “a few days after his arrival here.” It may have been early in August. He noted that the newly arrived missionary had read it “very carefully and very feelingly.” (Were there tears in the reading?) Andrews reported to Ellen White later, “I was so feeble that it seemed impossible for me to write to you” afterward. He had “committed” to Whitney “a message of response” to give to Ellen White, and he said he had “begged” Whitney to send it “promptly for me.” For whatever reason, Whitney neglected to do so. One wonders why this was, given such a highly sensitive and spiritually important request.33 Andrews had to be asked by George Butler six weeks later about whether he had seen Ellen White’s letter, which prompted an apologetic and embarrassed response from the dying missionary.34 Grady Smoot reads Ellen White’s letter as “the most severe rebuke” that Ellen White ever wrote to her colleague. Daniel Augsburger says that “she scolded Andrews severely.” Pietro Copiz notes that for later readers, who know Andrews was on his deathbed, the language may appear “unnecessarily harsh, almost pitiless.”35 Andrews himself took the letter as a “severe rebuke.” In truth, these assessments seem mild descriptions of the content. The letter could be seen as a devastating critique of Andrews’s temperament and personality and of the way he had done his work in Europe. The thirteen pages of the letter, which read in a stream-of-consciousness and somewhat circular style, begin by reproving him severely for not marrying again before he returned to Europe, a theme Ellen White came back to repeatedly in various ways. Angeline, his wife, had been the subject of disease and death, and he had been wrong to hug the grief for her to his bosom. She asserted that he dwelt too much upon himself and his sufferings, many of which had been self-imposed, wrought by his overconscientiousness. He was inclined to follow impressions and a conviction that these were the voice of God. He had magnified his afflictions and did this to draw sympathy to himself. This was unnecessary

and unhelpful. It was a “birthright” problem that he had carried all through the years, since his friendship with the Stevens family back in Paris, Maine, and it was a species of selfishness. Ellen White wrote that he had failed in the education of his son Charles. He had given him an education that had been too narrow and limiting. Andrews had sacrificed his own happiness because he considered that his brethren had not come up to his ideals of duty. He had given his own money to aid others when it had not been called for. He had been too parsimonious and deprived his family unnecessarily. She took the position that money from the General Conference had not been deliberately withheld.36 He worshiped intellect and gave preference to others whom he thought of as educated. He had exercised poor judgment, for example, in his relationship to Dr. Ribton.37 Ellen White said, with hyperbole echoing that of the biblical prophets, that nine-tenths of his problems had been born of his imagination, which had been diseased.38 God did not decree that he should die. The letter was a long and uncomfortable critique and must have been almost as difficult for Whitney to read as for Andrews to hear. It was also a letter that had been difficult for Ellen White to write, and she had made several attempts to do so beginning in March.39 The versions she had written earlier she did not feel she could send. She knew her colleague’s “temperament” was “peculiar,” and she did not know he would be able to receive what she said if it conflicted with his ideas. Clearly she felt uncomfortable with the way she was saying things and also probably with some of the content, but she somehow felt burdened to write about certain things and knew she could “not feel free until I do write them.” Before settling on the letter she finally sent, Ellen White had talked of the material or read some of it to her son Willie. William and Jennie Ings also knew of what she was writing or had read some of her attempts.40 But she was still not sure, and she told Willie that she wished she had found opportunity to talk further with Stephen Haskell and with Bro. Gardner since they had returned from Europe. In this she had been unsuccessful.

Clearly she was still unsure of herself in some things, and the letter was written with an awareness that further consultation and information would have been helpful.41 There are clear points of tension between this letter and the published May report of the General Conference committee. Andrews received the letter with his characteristic submissiveness. For him, letters from Ellen White, such as this, carried evidence of the prophetic charisma. If, as many biblical scholars have pointed out, the purpose of the prophetic voice in a community is to bring about change and give guidance for the life of the believer going forward, it might be asked what purpose this letter served other than inflicting pain. As a very ill man on his deathbed in late July 1883, without hope of recovery, what change was Andrews able to make in his marital status, in how he should educate his son, or, even at that stage in life, how he might change his “peculiar” temperament? It has been seen as a very troubling letter. Is there a way of understanding this letter to avoid the perception that it is as damaging to the reputation of the author as to the reputation of the recipient? Might an awareness of the wider context assist in our understanding of it? Perhaps this last letter to Andrews should be read more as a cry of anguish in the pattern of an agonized scriptural lament over what might have been. At this stage in his life, Andrews was not in a position to change anything or do anything other than seek forgiveness and find refuge in the grace of God. A lament sees ideals not achieved. The prophetic perspective points to ideals for the sake of others who follow though they, too, would have to adapt ideals to uncomfortable realities in the pursuit of mission. Another perspective might suggest that the letter should be seen more as a prophetic voice speaking directly to the ideals that should generally guide mission. The realities on the ground had, in many cases, prompted Andrews to make less-than-ideal choices, but the only place that missionaries live is in the real world, and a number of the things that Ellen White describes as to what should have been done, people

could not do because of circumstances. But the prophetic call to ideals is still important, and this perhaps would have been important for the other reader in Andrews’s bedchamber at the time Andrews heard it read. The only other person to benefit from the reading of this letter was Whitney, and perhaps the holding out of the spiritual ideals of mission was important for him, as he, too, would have to grapple with the realities of time and place in the difficult world of the less than ideal. Clearly the latter part of the letter seems to be addressed as much to Whitney as he approached the task of leadership as it was to Andrews.42 Andrews’s sense of inadequacy and his lack of confidence in his decision-making evidence a low sense of self-esteem that seemed to grow worse with time. This problem he seems not to have been able to overcome. His seeking of emotional support from others in what Ellen White saw as inappropriate ways she perceived as a danger to himself and the church. Yet Ellen White’s own diaries and letters are similarly full of complaints about her health, with long public accounts of how she and her husband had suffered and sacrificed. They also seemed to be designed to provoke sympathy and support for their lonely stands for what she saw as truth and right. Did she recognize these dimensions of temperament and their associated dangers in herself, and was she, therefore, more keenly aware of them also in Andrews? Did the frequent public criticism from her husband actually help Andrews to overcome the weakness, or tend to make the problem worse?

The pen lays still Whitney’s reading of Ellen White’s letter had a devastating impact on Andrews. His last report on his work to Review readers, written on his fifty-fifth birthday, embraced yet another expression of public confession, this time his last. His report noted that he was glad that eight had been baptized as a result of the recent Erzberger mission and that there would be more baptisms to follow. He was also delighted that his monthly print run

was now at fifty-five hundred, an increase of another one thousand, sponsored generously by Kellogg as a vote of confidence in his mission. He was reaching a readership of sixty thousand.43 His report concluded with a confession. Acknowledging that his life seemed “wholly filled with faults,” he asked that “wherever my example has not been in accordance with the gospel of Christ, those who have seen my faults may freely forgive me.” He thanked the many friends who had shown their interest in the support of his mission.44 Once more, the scholar-evangelist, now editor, sought for the grace of submission and felt he had found it. Six weeks later he explained to Ellen White, “I have tried to humble myself before God, in the dust in view of my sins.”45 Embarrassed when he learned of Whitney’s neglect to pass on his message of response, he noted that “I humble myself before God to receive the severe rebuke,” and added, “I most cordially thank you for your faithfulness in writing me so fully on matters that must be very painful for you to write.” In a testament to his faith, he wrote, “I can say that my feet are on the Rock of Ages and the Lord holds me by my right hand.” He noted that he had “given up the control of everything to Bro. Whitney.” He asked her to believe him as “ever one who sincerely desired to follow the right.” The spiritual discipline of submission characterized his life to the very end. On a personal note, he explained that his health had declined further. “I am a mere skeleton,” he wrote, and he confessed that he had not even attempted to get dressed “for many weeks,” although duty still seemed to require him to read proof sheets.46 Although Ellen White had assured Whitney that she did not want to injure Andrews, he had been deeply hurt by Ellen White’s assessment of him and by her lack of confidence in his abilities and judgment. Jean Vuilleumier, who did not know of the letter that Whitney had read, recorded a conversation between Andrews and his mother and sister-inlaw just a few weeks after the reading. It was a conversation relating the very private and profound sense of hurt one shares only with family.

“Martha,” he confided, “my life has been a total failure. No one among those who have tried to spread the third angel’s message has failed as much as I. Almost all my efforts for the advancement of the work have failed, and what I have done has not produced the fruit that I was expecting. May God forgive me.” Martha graciously tried to provide consolation by assuring him that he could “know that his writing would remain and circulate and enlighten the world.” Andrews was not sure, reflecting that “what I wrote will be quickly forgotten.”47 To his mother he observed, with what Jean called “eloquent simplicity” and in a voice that was “weak, at times hardly perceptible,” that his journey was done. “I have come to a point where I compare myself to ships sailing into the harbor, they are no more in the middle of the ocean, exposed to the thunderstorms and tempests; the cliffs of the coast stop the winds, the sea is rather quiet, the waves fade away, its calm, approaching the harbor.” After the storm, the sun still arose, and duty still called. Even as Andrews became increasingly aware that his life was ebbing away, his mind worked feverishly to get on to paper the many ideas he still had for articles. “I am under an immense burden that I can neither bear nor lay down,” he lamented to colleagues in America. He was not sad, he said, but then, sometimes, he could not help but weep over things.48 He had grown close to Jean Vuilleumier, who increasingly admired the ailing editor and now wanted to learn as much as possible from him about writing and editing and things theological. Andrews had apparently introduced him to the writings of John Milton, which Vuilleumier thought “the best book after the Bible.” He also gave him a copy of a sermon by Louis Gaussen to keep.49 Andrews had assigned his young protégé as chief proofreader. Jean thought that the articles Andrews prepared for the paper were “inexhaustible treasures” and that they were “the vital part of the paper.” He found himself assuring his mentor that people really did find them interesting. The two worked on Andrews’s last series of articles published in the

Review in September. He visited the sickroom more frequently, and the visits helped to shape his own sense of calling. “These visits help me greatly,” Vuilleumier confided to his diary. “The sight of this man of God lying on [a] bed of anguish and suffering fills my thoughts with the seriousness which they often lack and remind me of the solemnity of the task in which I am engaged.” Sometime later, seeing Andrews’s pen on the table, Vuilleumier caught a vision of his own future. “O precious pen. How I would like to have in my heart and mind all the thoughts and articles that you have put on paper.”50 The last article Andrews published in the Review had a certain poignancy. This was the magazine on whose editorial staff he had served since the appearance of its very first issue back in 1851. The article was a Bible study on the successful reforming work of Hezekiah. But Hezekiah was a flawed leader, not willing that his life should end in God’s good time, and he pled for more. Was Andrews wrestling with his own sense of God’s purpose in his imminent demise? The closing paragraph marked not just the end of the article but the end of his life and work. It was a simple exhortation to himself and his readers, “in view of the uncertainties of life,” to “set our houses in order as though we may suddenly be called away.” If possible, debts should be paid and troubles settled with our fellow man. “And above all, we should seek the forgiveness of all our sins through the blood of Christ.”51 As his body gave in to the disease, he became increasingly uncomfortable and unable to cope with stress. He had to be carried from room to room. Even when his mother came in to his room, he struggled to cope with her care and had to ask her to sit down and not to move. Whitney, seeing him discouraged, attempted to build up his morale but was somewhat unsuccessful. Then he requested that Andrews help prepare for the upcoming conference session. On September 5, he left for a tour of Italy. Andrews was annoyed. Whitney was obeying Ellen White’s injunction to find things out for himself.52 On September 19, Daniel

Bourdeau arrived with his nineteen pieces of luggage, requiring the service of two men to retrieve it all from the railway station. He was on his way to France and was thankful he had arrived in time to talk to Andrews, although Mrs. Erzberger, who was now in charge of the house because Anna Oyer was too ill, feared “his constant chatter” would kill Andrews.53 But the frail editor was now resigned to the inevitable, and according to Whitney, he was unusually cheerful and calm.54 He extended an invitation to the Bourdeau family to visit him in his chamber. “I made it as easy as I could for him, so that he would not feel that I had any feelings of retaliation,” Bourdeau later told Ellen White, indicating that he carried a sense of having been dealt with badly by Andrews. To see Andrews die prematurely distressed Bourdeau, but the attitude he held was that Andrews was to blame for his own situation. The fact that Andrews, the day before, had read some proofs as he lay in bed was an occasion for chiding. “I am sorry you did it,” he told Andrews, suggesting later to Ellen White that there were lots of others who could do such things. “He has got into that routine and they can’t take him out of it,” he observed.55 And it was true. Andrews’s work was his hold on life, and he must be doing things to ease the gnawing sense of “duty” that had been the focus of his life. It was something he could not lay down unless it be taken from him. Delegates gathered somberly in the ground-floor hall in Andrews’s Basel office-home on Friday, October 19, for the annual Swiss conference. Andrews, upstairs in bed, could not attend the session and preferred to be away from the sounds of the meeting, however much his heart longed to be with the delegates. On Friday evening and again on Sabbath evening, special prayer was offered, but these were now prayers for relief from suffering rather than petitions for healing. The preceding weeks had not been comfortable. Serious bowel distress caused the frail preacher to writhe, twist his hands, and crouch on his knees in terrible pain, searching and praying for relief.56 For twenty-six-year-old Charles, who continued to faithfully attend to his father’s care, it was an especially difficult parting.

He had already lost his mother and two sisters and would now be the sole survivor of the little family circle. On Sunday morning, at Andrews’s request, a few close friends gathered in his room for prayer as he continued to steadily decline. On Sunday afternoon at 2:00 P.M., he signed the last changes to his will, leaving the residual balance in his estate to the Swiss mission—an amount of five hundred dollars.57 At 4:30 P.M., with his mother, Charles, and a few others who loved him gathered around, he slipped into a coma, and by 5:00 o’clock, without further struggle, he simply ceased to breathe. His hand would not pick up a pen again. Funeral services were held on Tuesday afternoon in the mission hall on the ground floor, with Whitney, Bourdeau, and Erzberger offering brief remarks. Apparently, Jean’s father, Albert Vuilleumier, whom Andrews had hoped would say a few words at the funeral, was not able to.58 Whitney reported that Andrews’s body was laid in a pleasant part of the beautiful city cemetery in a lonely plot that had been newly purchased by the mission. Delegates voted an action affirming that though they bowed in submission to the will of God, they noted that, both personally and in the work, they had “sustained an irreparable loss.”59 Indeed the whole church had. Following the funeral, Andrews’s mother stayed on in Basel, caring for Charles and participating as she was able in the work of the publishing house. She returned to Battle Creek two years later, and she outlived her son by sixteen years. Charles, who had loyally stayed by his father through the difficult years of struggle, married his longtime Swiss sweetheart, Marie Anne Dietschy, not long after the funeral. The couple continued on in Basel, helping to establish the new publishing house under Elder Whitney’s leadership before eventually also returning to join the publishing work in Battle Creek.60 They followed the Review to Washington in 1905 and continued to serve Adventist publishing until Charles’s death in 1927.61 Edith, John Andrews’s niece, also stayed on in

Basel, employed in the publishing work, but she only outlived her uncle by two years, also succumbing to tuberculosis. She was buried beside her uncle in the Basel cemetery not far from Anna Oyer’s grave.62 Her mother, Martha, also stayed on in Europe and married the widowed Augustin Bourdeau, Daniel’s older brother. Martha and Augustin labored in Europe for some time before returning to Montreal, Canada, where she died in 1901, also of tuberculosis.63

Legacy Adventist mourning in America was restrained, if not very much muted, when news of the pioneer scholar-evangelist’s death reached Battle Creek. Editors at the Review understandably had been anxious to receive word. Andrews was not just an esteemed colleague. He was also a close relative, a brother-in-law, a much-loved uncle. And for thousands of others, he was a spiritual mentor and a pastor. The Seventh Day Baptists, for example, noted that “his death will be a great loss to the Seventh-day Adventist people” and that he would “be remembered by many of our people as a candid, earnest, Christian gentleman.”64 In sending the details of his death and a report on the funeral, Whitney had not intended his notice to be a tribute to the fallen leader’s life and work for, he felt, there were people better qualified for that task and he was sure that, by the time he wrote his funeral notice, “a fitting tribute” had probably already been offered.65 But the pen of the best tribute writer, Uriah Smith, could not provide “a fitting tribute.” His pen was tightly constrained by a number of factors. What kind of tribute was he to write in view of Ellen White’s last correspondence with the pioneer and given Andrews’s prior request to Smith to not make a fuss? This circumstance seems to have prevented a fully adequate assessment of Andrews’s life ever since. In particular, was the mission to Europe a success or not? Could it have been carried out differently, more effectively, given the circumstances encountered? Had Andrews been a helpful leader? If Bourdeau had learned of the “severe

rebuke” testimony, it seems that others would also know of the scalding the elder had received on his deathbed.66 How many is not clear. But how could one safely say much against such a backdrop? Two years before, James White had been farewelled in the Review, with numerous tributes from colleagues and expressions of gratitude. Appreciative observations on his major accomplishments and contributions to the church and discrete but respectful references to his distinctive temperament and its weaknesses appeared for several weeks. For Andrews, there was little more than a very subdued one-column statement giving some essential biographical details and facts about his family background and connections, along with a brief reference to his major writings. It was an extended obituary, not a tribute. Uriah Smith explained that, some months previously, Andrews had written to his brother-in-law, solemnly charging him that if and when the worst fears might be realized and he receive notice of his demise in foreign service, “no words of eulogy should appear in the paper.” Andrews’s reason was that he was fearful that Smith’s “high regard” for him would “constrain you to say what I do not merit and what ought not to be said.” In the tradition of William Carey of Serampore in India (“a wretched poor and helpless worm”), Andrews was aware that even “his best acts” were tainted by “some trace of selfishness in them,” and he had been “lacking in love toward God and man.”67 Smith felt that he had no choice but to respect “the wishes of our dear brother” and restrain the comments that the esteem and love the church felt for the leader “would naturally dictate.”68 And how much could he say without being perceived as undermining the authority of James White’s widow? As he wrote out what he felt he could safely say, he felt that compliance with Andrews’s request was “less difficult” because the works that the scholar-evangelist had left behind were “ample testimony to his efficiency and faithfulness” to the cause. It has been difficult, ever since, for students of Adventist history to feel comfortable making an assessment of the contributions made to the church

through the life and work of John Nevins Andrews. Letters of negative assessment—sent as private cautions and testimonies—are now public, and even in his own day, they had been circulated at least around wide circles of leaders. These communications have shaped perceptions and challenged assessments.69 How are we to understand things in the larger perspective and in light of history? Clearly, Andrews was a pioneer who helped shape the church profoundly in manifold ways. He helped shape its early theology and prophetic understanding through his preaching and writing as a Melanchthon to the early James White. His early apologetic writing on doctrinal and prophetic understanding helped establish Seventh-day Adventist self-identity against first-day Adventists. Uriah Smith was at least able to discretely reference this contribution in his obituary column.70 His apologetic but rigorous scholarly work on the history of the Sabbath gave the church strong confidence in its teaching on the Sabbath, as it moved into the wider world and into more educated strata of society. His constant support and validation of the work of Ellen White and his affirmation of her distinctive prophetic charisma through his published writings and by spoken voice helped the church remain united and confident in her leadership. His leadership of the Review and of the General Conference at times of crisis helped stabilize the church, enabling it to weather its way through times that might have caused it to founder on the rocks of fragmentation. His groundbreaking service in mission in Europe helped shape and establish the future of Adventist work across national and cultural boundaries; and, as he learned how to adapt to local circumstance in the cause of mission, he helped the church to learn as well. But then there is Ellen White’s assessment of his weaknesses and failings, which is penetrating and must be taken into account. He was a flawed individual, whether more than any other leader or whether more than Ellen and James White themselves, could be argued. But his leadership placed him in a goldfish bowl, and his towering abilities made

him prominent, and perhaps that is why Ellen White thought her public criticism was necessary. As is clear from this study, it is a fact that John Andrews, to a significant degree, lived and worked in James White’s shadow. In many ways, the individual strengths they brought to their cooperative partnership enriched the leadership of the church and helped it survive and thrive. In other ways, their leadership would inevitably appear competitive—at least to James White, whose strength was an autocratic, highly creative, and highly entrepreneurial style, even if moderated by bipolar characteristics. At times, when it was unclear when or even if James White would recover from debilitating strokes and ill health, John Andrews may have been perceived more as a competitive leader, but was that not because he ambitiously sought leadership but, rather, that he simply felt duty bound to serve the church as best he could? The surviving evidence seems to suggest that he was clearly not one who ambitiously sought leadership for its own sake or for his own sense of fulfillment. Both men were shaped by their New England traditions of self-discipline and strength of will, passionate conviction, and personal sensitivities. Tensions were thus inevitable, but the evidence suggests that it was always Andrews who gave way, seeking the gift of submission and learning and applying its discipline. Both men, whose lives were so intertwined in life, have their names and their unique contributions to the establishment of the Adventist Church still remembered on the campus of the Adventist university in Berrien Springs, Michigan. James White’s name is given to the library, Andrews’s to the entire university. Whether Barnabas and Paul or Paul and Barnabas, it was the cause of the gospel and the heralding of the judgment that were supreme to both.71 Andrews was an evangelist and pastor, but he was also, at heart, a scholar and a creative writer. This blend of capacities was shaped by his theology, his sense of calling, his natural temperament, and the cultural context of his upbringing. His Puritan, New England heritage had passed on to him a cultivated iron self-discipline, a value of study and self-

improvement, and a sharp sense of duty. He was curious. Things needed to make sense for him on the large canvas. But he was also interested in the details. Things had to be right. They had to be correct. When he spoke, he needed to know that the facts would support him, thus his concern for editorial precision. For a church that emphasized the truth, both the content and the form of its publications needed to convey that. The reputation of the church and its mission was important to him, and he felt called to be a guardian of that reputation. Part of the tension experienced in assessing Andrews’s contribution occurs because Ellen White, at least in the memory of the church, seems to have had more to say about Andrews’s perceived faults than his strengths. She, of course, spoke about both, but in the overall picture, one gets the feeling that she had more to say about his scholarly temperament being a weakness rather than a strength. The fact that they both lived in the heat and heart of an intensely eschatological community helps, perhaps, to provide a context within which we may understand this tension. Ellen White’s enduring keen sense of eschatological imminence and her conviction of the urgency and priority of proclaiming the warning of a soon-coming judgment evidences a level of discomfort and impatience with the scholarly temperament in those around her. And perhaps that was inevitable given the strength of these seemingly incompatible convictions. In an earlier draft of her last letter to Andrews she had written that “books and study and the minutious [sic] aiming to perfection have retarded your work and crippled your efforts from the beginning of your life.” That statement did not make it into the final version of her letter. Many of the temperament problems identified in the letter, however, relate to this dimension of who John Andrews was. He was a scholar as well as an evangelist. Ellen White was impatient with the scholarship side of him. She was impatient with the kind of temperament and exactitude that would take time to make sure a footnote was absolutely correct after having first hunted up the detail to put in the footnote. From her perspective, the real

need was for popular material—reading intended for the masses. It was only near the end of her long life that the importance of such things as footnotes registered with Ellen White and, more particularly, with those who worked around her in her literary circle. In her 1911 revision of Great Controversy, for example, others, with her approval, attended to the tedious task of footnoting. Relating to the sense of delay in the return of Jesus had called for numerous adjustments in Ellen White’s experience and in the development of the growing Adventist Church. Relating to the need for footnotes was one of these adjustments. One of John Andrews’s most lasting contributions is the way in which he helped the church make this adjustment—to care about footnotes and the related specifics. Andrews’s convictions of the imminent judgment and coming kingdom were no less vibrant than Ellen White’s convictions or those of James. They remained front and center in his theology and in his ministry, even as he labored carefully over content, ensuring the accuracy of accent marks in his Les Signes des Temps and of the footnotes in his History of the Sabbath. Maintaining the balance was a difficult one for Ellen White, as it was for others, and it is an ongoing adjustment that the church wrestles with still. Andrews’s life and work has helped the church to make those adjustments and maintain its convictions. As historian Daniel Howe draws his lines together in concluding his Pulitzer Prize–winning study of American history from 1815 to 1848—the period of Adventism’s birth—he is moved beyond considerations of cause and effect to a sense of awe. In spite of the failures, the deaths, the genocide, the self-interested imperialism that marked America’s development, he also notes the positive. There were developments in democracy, developments in transport, and in communication, expansion to the West—developments that Adventists see as providentially aiding the rapid spread of Adventism. From the perspective of faith, Howe notes that God surely “moves in mysterious ways” and, in solidarity with the people

of 1848, he felt moved, with due cause, to look with awe at “what God hath wrought.”72 It is the hope of the author of this account of Andrews’s life that the reader will likewise share the convictions of those who gathered at the missionary’s graveside in 1883: a conviction of deep gratitude and an awe for “what God hath wrought.” How should John Andrews be remembered? What should we think of this flawed but exceptionally gifted leader who gave himself to what he saw as truth and right? The flagship Adventist university that now bears the pioneer’s name is a fitting tribute to his life and labor: a faithful scholar-evangelist determinedly committed to his sense of duty in warning of judgment to come. He was a trusting believer proclaiming a gospel in which all can find sure refuge. The path he trod is a path that Christian believers are still called to tread, a life of sacrificial service, and Andrews University, if it is faithful to its patron pioneer, will continue to shine light on that journey.

1. JNA, “Report of Labor,” Nov. 30, 1882, General Conference Archives. 2. “General Conference,” RH, Dec. 26, 1882, 785, 786. 3. Ibid. 4. “The Late General Conference,” RH, Dec. 26, 1882, 792, 793. 5. “The Twenty-First General Conference,” RH, Dec. 12, 1882, 776; “Our Foreign Missions,” RH, Jan. 9, 1883, 25. 6. “Statement,” RH, Nov. 20, 1883, 732. 7. Ibid. It convened in the city of Rome, New York, December 7–19. Other church agency meetings that were legally required to be held in the state of Michigan were convened later in December. 8. “The Next General Conference and the Place Where It Is to be Held,” RH, Nov. 21, 1882, 728, 729; “The Late General Conference,” RH, Dec. 26, 1882, 792, 793. 9. “Omens for Good,” RH, Jan. 2, 1883, 9. 10. JVD, Aug. 19; Sept. 18; Oct. 21, 1883, AHAF. Jean noted the diminished quality of the prayer offered by his father at the opening of the afternoon session after consuming considerable wine at lunch. Jean himself was convicted that it was not a good practice, but he was only just becoming convinced that beer had no value as a food. 11. “Our Foreign Missions,” RH, Jan. 9, 1883, 256. 12. JVD, Feb. 8, 19, 26; Mar. 5; Apr. 15, 1883, AHAF. 13. “Report From Bale,” RH, Feb. 27, 1883, 139.

14. “The British Mission,” RH, Apr. 24, 1883, 269. Kellogg had visited Loughborough at the end of March and was in Basel for six days from April 12–18. He returned again in June for several days and was much sought after for medical consultations by Adventist believers. He arranged a group photograph in front of Andrews’s Basel home. JVD, Apr. 12, 17; June 3, 1883, AHAF. 15. JVD, Apr. 25, 1883, AHAF. 16. The tension lasted for some months and was so painful at times that Jean Vuilleumier resorted to a secret code (“in Mysterio”) in his diary to record his distress. JVD, Apr. 28, 1883, AHAF. Albert eventually gave twelve years to ministry following Andrews’s death. Don F. Neufeld, SDAEncycl. (Washington, DC: Review and Herald®, 1976), 1562. 17. “I have lot of things in my notebooks I have planned to publish. All this is lost if I die. For those who will come after me will not know it.” JVD, May 6, 1883, AHAF. 18. The “Great Week of Time” series in the Review began on July 14 (456) and ran through to August 21 (536). 19. JVD, May 6; July, 25, 28; Aug. 9, 1883, AHAF. 20. Augsburger, 334–336, has a good account of the anxieties experienced among the workers at this time. 21. “Special Mention,” RH, May 15, 1883, 36. 22. There is no documentation that demonstrates he read the supplement, but in view of the fact that he was still having his own articles published in the Review, it is reasonable to assume that he saw it. 23. “An Address,” RH Supplement, May 1, 1883, 1–5. 24. “The Camp Meeting at Olean, N. Y.,” RH, June 12, 1883, 366, 377. 25. “Departure for Europe,” RH, July 3, 1883, 432. 26. “Eld. B. L. Whitney and Party,” RH, Aug. 28, 1883, 560. Whitney was not a ready traveling correspondent, and the notice in the Review was based on a short postcard note to M. C. Wilcox. 27. “Death of Eld. J. N. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 20, 1883, 730. 28. Augsburger, 342, 343. 29. JVD, July 28, 1883, AHAF. 30. “Death of Sr. Anna M. Oyer,” RH, Jan. 1, 1884, 10 31. JVD, June 24, 1883, Vuilleumier gives extensive discussion to how bad he feels about the situation and his confession to Anna Dyer. 32. Ibid. When Bourdeau saw her in mid-September, she was expected to die at any time. See DTB to EGW, Sept. 20, 1883, EGWE-GC. Anna died two months after Andrews. 33. JNA to EGW, Sept. 17, 1883, EGWE-GC. 34. Butler does not appear to have actually seen Ellen White’s letter. It did not indicate that it had been copied to anyone else. 35. Grady Smoot, “Andrews’ Role in Seventh-day Adventist History,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, ed. Harry Leonard (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1985), 5; Augsburger, 341; Copiz, “Some Financial Aspects of Andrews’ Mission to Europe,” in J. N. Andrews: The Man and the Mission, 326. 36. Comments about the lack of promptness in the sending of remittances appear to be a defense of James and W. C. White. W. C. White had explained to Matteson in 1879, for example, that at times

there had been “delays and blunders” in settling accounts and that the failure to promptly send remittances was because the executive committee had been scattered and had “no head since father’s sickness.” During that time, the business had been “partly done by one member and partly by another.” WCW to JGM, July 24, 1879, EGWE-GC. 37. Andrews felt he had been used by Ribton. He had apologized and absorbed the expense. The matter could not be undone. 38. As Abraham Herschel points out, Old Testament prophets would often deliver their powerful prophetic message with hyperbole or gross overstatement that should not be judged by statistical or mathematical exactitude. They were concerned with “the meaning of facts.” Abraham J. Herschel, The Prophets (Peabody, MA: Prince Press, 1999), 14. 39. One short, discarded version is dated March 17. Another is dated March 29. On June 11 Ellen White reported to her son that on Sabbath, June 9, she had been strengthened to write thirteen pages to Elder J. N. Andrews—a third version. “Brother Whitney seems to be so long getting off. I feared that he might not get the light for him, therefore I wrote him again and this did not seem to injure me.” This indicates that one purpose of the letter was to give guidance to Andrews’s successor, and time constraints imposed themselves on the situation, making it less than an ideal communication. Which letter Whitney actually read to Andrews is not clear. Andrews speaks of it being in three parts, and none of the extant versions have this format. 40. It seems that the nature of Andrews’s dependence on Anna Oyer, or the nature of her influence on him, gave Ellen White concern, but she felt the need to be careful and guarded. Perhaps she suspected that, devoted as Jennie and William Ings were, they may not have had as balanced a view of things as Ellen White needed. Jennie had written to Ellen as her close friend, stating, “We think your work of greater importance than any other person on earth,” and that was why they hoped to go to work for her in California. JI to EGW, June 8, 1882, EGWE-GC. 41. EGW to BLW, Mar. 30, 1883, EGWE-GC. To what extent did her own recent bereavement and the need to protect James’s reputation as a leader also shape the way she expressed her counsel to Andrews? In some subconscious way, did the letter reflect the underlying paradoxical cooperativecompetitive tension that had always seemed to characterize the relationship between the two men? 42. Whitney led the work in Europe for only four years, until he suffered intestinal ailments brought on by the extraordinary complexities and stresses of work circumstances in Europe. He returned to America in the fall of 1887. He died of mesenteric consumption a few months later. “The Decease of Eld. B. L. Whitney,” RH, Apr. 17, 1888, 248. See also, “Whitney,” Lake Union Herald, Dec. 22, 1936, 10. Neufeld, SDAEncycl., 1607. 43. “Report From Bale, Switzerland,” RH, Aug. 14, 1883, 522, 523. 44. Ibid. 45. JNA to EGW, Sept. 18, 1883, EGWE-GC. Ellen White had apparently been anxious to find out how Andrews reacted to the delivery of her burden and had asked George Butler, who had discretely asked his sister, Martha, who had asked John about things. It was clearly a highly sensitive episode. Did Ellen White feel uncomfortable about some of her assessments? 46. Ibid. 47. JVD, Sept. 8, 1883, AHAF. 48. JVD, July 25, 1883, AHAF.

49. Augsburger, 347. 50. JVD, July 18; Sept. 15, 1883, AHAF. Neufeld, SDAEncycl., 1563. In time Jean Vuilleumier became a missionary and then a highly respected longtime editor of Les Signes des Temps. 51. “Lessons Drawn From the Life of Hezekiah,” RH, Sept. 25, 1883, 616, 617. 52. JVD, Aug. 16; Sept. 5, 1883, AHAF. 53. JVD, Sept. 18, 1888, AHAF. The following Sabbath, Bourdeau, after a “theatrical” song, preached with heavy voice, which, according to the unimpressed Vuilleumier, completely deafened everyone. The sermon comprised a lengthy reading of one of Andrews’s pamphlets on the 2,300day prophecy. Vuilleumier, unafraid to express his disagreements to Bourdeau, found his complaint shrugged off with a comment that the Swiss were too afraid of what came from America. JVD, Sept. 27, 1883, AHAF; Augsburger, 348, 349. 54. “Death of Eld. J. N. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 27, 1883, 730. 55. DTB to EGW, Sept. 20, 1883, EGWE-GC. 56. The descriptions in Vuilleumier’s diary are more graphic than the reports in the Review. JVD, Oct. 10, 1883, AHAF. 57. “Death of Eld. J. N. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 27, 1883, 730. He had previously made arrangements for the welfare of his family. 58. JVD, Sept. 5, 8, 1883, AHAF. Andrews had talked about the funeral with his mother and Jean. He wanted the funeral to be simple and did not want to be a burden to anyone. It seems that Bourdeau’s unexpected arrival necessitated some changes. 59. “Death of Eld. J. N. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 27, 1883, 730. 60. Grandmother Andrews returned to America with Charles and Marie in November 1885, celebrating her eighty-second birthday en route. Jenny Thayer, Diary, Nov. 6, 1885, General Conference Archives. 61. “Charles M. Andrews,” RH, Aug. 18, 1927, 22 62. “Obituary,” RH, Jan 26, 1886, 59. 63. “Bourdeau, Martha,” in Neufeld, EGWEncycl., 320. 64. The Sabbath Recorder, Nov. 18, 1883, 4. 65. “Death of Eld. J. N. Andrews,” RH, Nov. 27, 1883, 730. 66. Andrews had briefly “mentioned his testimony which was read to him by Bro. Whitney, his writing to you and to Bro. Butler etc.” DTB to EGW, Sept. 20, 1883, EGWE-GC. How much beyond this surface information was known by Bourdeau and others is uncertain. 67. JNA to US, Apr. 24, 1883, CAR. The Baptist founder of the modern missionary movement had insisted that the epitaph on his 1834 tombstone in the Serampore cemetery read, “A wretched, poor, and helpless worm on thy kind arms I fall.” Andrews asked that his private, confidential note also be shared with J. H. Waggoner in California. 68. “The Death of Eld. Andrews,” RH, Oct. 30, 1883, 680. 69. Papers read at the J. N. Andrews sesquicentennial celebrations at Andrews University, July 20– 21, 1979, all illustrate sensitive attempts to find a positive but balanced assessment in the light of negative testimonies. See Roy E. Graham, “J. N. Andrews and Dedication”; Joseph G. Smoot, “J. N. Andrews and the Bible”; and Gottfried Ooesterval, “The Legacy of J. N. Andrews,” CAR. 70. Andrews had been “instrumental in bringing out light upon the subjects of the sanctuary, the

United States in prophecy, and the messages of Revelation 14.” Oosterval, “The Legacy of J. N. Andrews.” 71. In the first part of the biblical book of Acts, the name of Barnabas always comes first in identifying the partnership. In the second part of the book the partnership shifts and becomes Paul and Barnabas. 72. Daniel Walker Howe, What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America, 1815–1848 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 811, 855.

Index A|B|C|D|E|F|G H|I|J|K|L|M|N O|P|Q|R|S|T|V

A Abbey, Ira, 428, 473 Adams, Henry, 28 Adams, John Quincy, 99 Advent Harbinger, 135, 141 Advent Tidende, 475 Aldrich, Jotham, 320, 333, 371, 428 Allen, Stephen and Pilsbury, W. H., 54, 79 Amadon, George, 144, 206, 224, 313, 335, 374, 376, 390, 439, 485–487, 625 counsels Ellen White, 377 keeps diary, 394, 478 resigns foremanship, 395 Amadon, Martha, 324, 405 American Model for European Mission, 561, 591–593, 665, 688 anciens fréres, 664, 668, 699 Andrews, Angelina (née Stevens), 71, 97, 101, 170, 249, 259, 289–294, 618, 706 apologizes to EGW, 253, 254, 412, 433

buries premature baby in Kirkville, 275, 280 dies of stroke in Rochester in 1873, 433–434 has questions about Ellen White, 127, 184, 239, 253 joins JNA in Rochester, 208, 257, 261, 271 keeps diary, 174, 209–213, 234 loses daughter to dysentery, 316, 318 marries JNA, 172–176, 187, 188, 192, 205, 249, 250 moves to Waukon, IA, 175 rebaptized by JW, 278 receives photograph of Whites, 283 spends time at Dansville, 282–291 uses hydrotherapy treatments, 281, 282 Andrews, Charles (uncle of JNA), 40, 43, 45, 89 dies of consumption, 108 elected to US Congress, 110, 130 offers to sponsor JNA to do law, 47, 48 speaker of Maine legislature, 43 Andrews, Charles M. (son of JNA), 3, 283, 433, 537, 580, 626, 670 accompanies sick father from England, 673 born in Waukon, 192 cured of lame leg at Dansville, 282, 283 marries Marie Dietschy, 712 Andrews, Edith, 619, 661, 674, 713 Andrews, Edward, 33, 34, 35, 41, 43, 95, 109, 170 confesses in the Review, 261 dies of consumption, 308 experiences visions, 261, 263, 268 “poor deluded man”—Persis’s opinion, 90, 91 quarrels with James White over rent, 125, 247 shares house with the Whites, 110, 111, 128 Andrews, John Nevins

“ablest man”, 27, 622 addresses leadership crisis, 399, 491–493 advised to leave Paris Hill by EGW, 128 almost dies of pneumonia, 550, 588 anti-Trinitarian theology, 646, 647 arrives in Neuchatel, 526 attacked in letter from JW, 425–427 baptizes children after wife’s death, 435 blamed for Annie Smith’s death, 160 brother William dies, 619 buries baby in Kirkville, 280 call to Gospel ministry, 105–107 “Caretaker” GC President, 333ff., 346ff., “Caretaker” Review editor, 369, 380ff. chronic catarrh, 162, 187, 192 collapses at revival meeting, 190 conducts “mother” White’s funeral, 418 confused in 1873 re. work assignment, 501–503 converted, 50–52 critiques T. M. Preble book, 431, 445, 511, 518 de facto president, 323–344 declines to marry Lucinda Hall, 627, 628 denied a salary in Europe, 526, 589–591 departs for Europe, 521 departs from “American Model”, 586–594 diagnosed with consumption, 673 difficulties learning French, 538–540 elected editor of Review and Herald, 380 elected General Conference President, 335, 349 establishes farm at Waukon, 162, 170 evades arrest after 1844, 69

experiences culture shock, 538, 544–552 experiences Great Disappointment, 17, 55, 66, 67, 70 fearful of making mistakes, 349, 424, 480, 549, 550, 560, 632 first published article, 121, 122 follows Bates’s legalism, 317, 330, 467 follows Review to Rochester, 143, 145 forty-ninth birthday in Orbe, 617 functions as Melanchthon for James White, 19, 139, 145, 149, 180, 205, 657 hears Spurgeon in London, 522, 608 ill health forces withdrawal from ministry, 139, 153–160 itinerates with Joseph Bates, 129 lives with aunt Persis in Dixfield, 47, 48, 60 loses self-confidence, 424–425, 511, 549 marries Angela Stevens, 172–176, 187, 188, 249 mentored by Samuel Rhodes, 107 mentors Erzberger, 408, 409 moves to Kirkville, NY, 272 obituary, 714 opposes Copperhead party, 306 ordained to ministry, 151–153 organizes NY Conference, 122, 230, 269, 270 places Rochester house on market, 435, 503, 510 preaches at Mill Yard church, 524, 526 preaches Tabernacle dedication sermon, 635–637 preaches together with Hiram Edson, 132 preaching style, 338 president of NY Conference, 409, 422 publishes book on, 2,300 days, 150 publishes book on Revelation, 14, 141, 159, 452, 464 publishes History of the Sabbath, 207, 248, 293, 302, 355, 400, 408,

416, 431, 439, 449–453 publishes library of pamphlets, 303 publishes Sermons on the Sabbath, 384, 438, 452 rebaptized by JW, 278 replies to GC criticism of strategy, 592–594 responds to O. R. L. Crosier on the Sabbath, 135 scholarly writing style, 655, 437, 438 sells “Laws of Life” journal, 283, 264 sells Swiss watches, 502, 634 sends son to Dansville, 282–284 sense of duty, 19, 21, 26ff., 46, 51, 97, 128, 152, 160, 174, 206, 270, 311–312, 317, 408, 510, 689, 716 stresses over mission finance, 525, 559, 570, 575, 590, 597, 622, 669 studies time to begin Sabbath, 156, 169 suffers dyspepsia, 164 suggests new interpretation of Revelation, 15, 148, 155, 304 team ministry with Whites, 342–344 tensions with Swiss brethren, 559, 622, 641, 664 theological dilemma re. JW’s strokes, 434, 387, 516 theological dilemma re. visions, 127, 252 to be “proved” before sent to Europe, 512, 549 unresolved grief, 629 violates privacy of Harriet Smith letter, 388, 397 visits London Sabbath sites, 523, 524 visits William Jones in London, 523, 526 writes against Messenger Party, 157, 185 writes paper on commencement of Sabbath, 156, 169 Andrews, Martha (née Butler), 212, 513, 619, 661, 662, 709, 713 Andrews, Mary, 222, 271, 282, 342, 433, 521, 563, 578–580, 591, 611, 617 afraid to sit on father’s knee, 271

dies of consumption, 27, 28, 618–625 laments absence of father, 624 learns French quickly, 540, 541 suffers whooping cough, 211 Andrews, Persis (née Sibley), 49, 89 considers accommodating Edward’s family, 131 hires Sabbatarian Adventist girls, 89–91, 107 impressed by nephews JNA and WA, 47, 48 keeps diary, 40, 43, 45, 97 marries uncle Charles Andrews, 40 offended by Jesse Stevens, 92 thinks Edward “steeped in delusion”, 92 Andrews, Sarah, 34, 41–50, 170, 619 cares for family on death of Carrie, 316 embarrassed by “holy kiss”, 92 plays guitar, 100 stays with Mary in Sanitarium, 27, 624 travels to Europe, 703 Andrews, William (brother to JNA), 212, 513, 619, 661 Aufranc, Louis, 589, 611 converted by Bourdeau, 563, 564 moves to Basel, 569, 570, not a careful proofreader, 576, 701 Augsburger, Daniel, 668, 705

B Baker, Dorinda, 64–66 Balharrie, Gordon, 19 Ball, Bryan, 523 Basel, CH, 27, 544, 545, 564, 568–582, 592, 593, 608, 663–665

Bates, Joseph, 102–104, 118, 121, 129, 134, 139, 219 dies in Battle Creek 1872, 434 visits JNA at Waukon, 171 Battle Creek Church trial, 337, 377, 386, 394–397, 480 Battle Creek College, 583, 581 closed during 1882, 698 Baumgartner, Erich, 593 Belden, Sarah, 179, 226 Belden, Stephen, 144, 181 Bell, Goodloe H., 354, 385, 394, 417, 436 Bennet, Mary, 38, 80 Bethel Academy, 67 Bleeding Kansas, 155 Bourdeau, Augustin C., 75, 76, 680, 713 Bourdeau, Daniel T., 10, 341, 349, 540, 587–597, 612, 614–618, 621–623, 666, 680, 681, 711 arrives in Neuchatel, 540, 559–574 complains about mission finance, 571 finds resistance to preaching, 572 tensions with Andrews, 570, 571 visits Alsace, 572, 573 Boutelle, Luther, 56, 71 Branson, Roy, 467 “Bridegroom Adventism”, 102, 103 Brinkerhoff, W. H., 308, 318, 355 Brown, William, 55, 56, 59 Brueggemann, Walter E., 471 Burt, Merlin, 52, 53, 82, 83, 102, 103 Burton, Kevin, 12, 286, 389, 398 Butler, Ann, 528, 529 Butler, Ezra, 120, 127, 133, 152, 187, 247–251

Butler, George I., 210, 212, 259–261, 518, 606, 619, 664, 681, 683, 705 achieves decision for JNA to Europe, 502, 519, 521 delays GC session, 480 elected GC president after, first refusing, 432, 515, 675 endorses JNA for Europe, 521 quickly addresses financial crisis, 676 reelected GC president, 675 reports to JNA on troubles at Waukon, 257–259 writes leadership essay, 493–501 Butler, Jonathan M., 13, 79

C Canright, D. M., 341, 593, 636 works with JNA in Maine, 315, 322, 323 Catholic, 60, 356, 464, 577, 596, 646, 657 Chamberlain, Ezra, 105 Christian Connexion Church, 130, 222, 646, 647 Church organization, 207 struggle to organize, 213–226 Civil War, 155, 170, 217, 243, 244, 285 church’s non-combatant stance recognized, 289 conscription becomes a problem, 287 four-day prayer-fast to end war, 307 “Compounditis”, 389, 390 Conradi, L. R., 450, 451, 463 Consumption, 161, 172, 673, 693 Copiz, Pietro, 538, 541, 705 Copperheads, 306 Cornell, Cornelia, 324 Cornell, M. E., 208, 243, 254–260, 264

preaching with JNA, 313, 314 visits Waukon, 254, 260 Cottrell, Raymond F., 450, 454, 455, 467 Cottrell, Roy F. articles opposing organization, 215–219 corresponding editor of Review, 215 team ministry with JNA, 206, 408 Crawford, Marion (née Stowell), 62, 64, 67, 75–77, 93, 94 Crawling (spiritual), 67, 68, 74 Crosier, O. R. L., 135, 187 Culture shock, 538, 544–552, 593, 612, 615 Czechowski, Michael B., 409, 502, 518, 528–530, 544, 555, 558, 569, 632, 668

D Dabrowski, Rajmund, 534 Dammon, Israel, 68, 121 Damsteedt, Gerard, 19 Dateline problem, 420, 421 Dibner, Martin, 39, 47 Dietschy, J. E., 578 Dime Tabernacle, 585, 616, 630, 633, 637 Diphtheria treatment, 271, 284, 298 Disappointment, Great, 9, 15, 55, 66, 70, 86, 102, 465, 545, 649, 673 Dixfield, ME, 12, 47, 48, 60, 61, 69, 89 Dodge, Abraham, 137, 179 Douglass, Frederick, 143, 297 Dress reform, 325, 337, 349

E

Edson, Hiram, 115, 132, 208 Elberfeld, Germany, 537, 550, 551, 562, 685–699, 708 Erzberger, James (Jakob), 409, 556, 560, 663, 669 commences work in Germany, 550–554, 562, 563, 587 falls out with Swiss brethren, 544 mentored by Andrews, 408, 502 reclaimed by Andrews, 545 European Council, 675, 684, 688, 689

F Fanaticism, 61, 88, 112, 121, 127, 133, 261, 520 Farnsworth, Eugene, 46, 338 Financial Panic of 1857, 193, 194, 203, 214 Fobes District Cemetery, 46, 108 Foner, Eric, 391 Foreign mission officer, 664, 636, 637 Fortin, Denis, 114, 163, 301, 605 French, W. R., 53 Fugitive Slave Law, 155

G Gage, William, 378, 417, 476, 500 General Conference adopts Butler’s “leadership” statement, 496, 497 meets in Rome, NY—1883, 697 organized—1863, 222–224 postponed because JW not well, 379 procrastinates on sending JNA to Europe, 500, 501 publicly criticizes JNA’s mission strategy, 591, 594 General Conference sessions

1863: 222–224, 273 1864: 284 1865: 310, 318 1866: 320, 321 1867: 327, 333–335, 370, 371 1868: 346–349, 355 1869: 355–358, 379, 380, 392, 409 1870: 399 1871: 418, 423 1872: 429–431, 480 1873: 473–475, 481, 482, 494, 501, 549 1874: 518, 520 1875: 556, 557, 581 1876: 583 1877: 598 1878: 616 1879: 635, 664, 672 1880: 675, 676 1881: 681 1882: 690, 697 Glossolalia, 106, 107, 156 Gold Rush in California, 131, 133 Graham, Roy, 722 Graybill, Ron, 13, 112, 160, 161, 166, 235 Great white throne of judgement, 26, 50, 356 Griswald, A. A., 78 Guardianship, 70, 74, 84, 95, 113, 211

H Hair, James, T., 195

Hall, Lucinda, 224–226, 473, 550, 627, 628 Hamlin, Cyrus, 43 Hamlin, Hannibal, 43 Hamlin, Mary, 65, 66 Harvard University Library, 206, 217 Haskell, S. N., 485, 486, 518, 578, 591, 598, 599, 611, 614, 630, 631, 675 audits European mission, 665, 672, 683–688 sends Wm Ings to Europe, 606–608, 613 vindicates JNA mission, 688–690, 697 warned not to be like JW in temperament, 508, 677 writes report for Review Supplement, 701, 703 Health Reform, 163, 201, 281–284, 303, 322–325, 334, 390, 412, 481, 547, 588, 589, 657 Health Reformer, The, 284, 427, 419, 539, 549, 595 Hebron Academy, 43 Heinz, Daniel, 440, 534, 554, 566, 604 Heinz, Hans (Johann), 17, 22, 469 Heschel, Abraham, 467 Himes, Joshua V., 52, 55, 86, 103 History of the Sabbath, 9, 17, 77, 119, 449 adopts “fraud theory”—Heinz, 470 applauded in Sabbath Recorder, 447 begins writing at Waukon, 207, 212 Conradi revises, 450, 451 EGW discussion re. style, 146, 431, 438 out of print, 355 revision process, 293, 302, 400, 410, 411, 416, 439 Holland, 555, 566, 684 Holland, David, 263 Hook, Milton, 404 Housefires in Paris, 98, 108

Howe, Daniel, 717 Howe, Julia, 490, 500 Hoyt, Frederick, 38, 83 Hydrotherapy treatments, 281, 282, 319

I Ings, Jennie, 540, 606–608, 612–614, 618–620, 628, 629, 638, 684, 707 Ings, William, 606, 608, helps equip Basel printing office, 581 lacks language skills, 607 ship literature ministry in Southampton, 634 writes secretly to W. C. White re. JNA, 609, 611 Insanity, 58, 73, 239, 262, 396, 428 Iron Wheel of Methodism, 253

J Jackson, James Caleb, 271, 281, 283, 412 Jamison, Kay Redfield, 113, 230, 231 Johns, A. A., 688 Johnson, Andrew (Pres.), 347 Jones, William B., 516, 523, 527, 540, 555 gives literature to Ribton, 595 hosts Andrews in London, 523, 524, 526, 527, 608, 662, 690 pastors Mill Yard church in London, 523 visits Andrews in Southampton, 673

K Kellogg, H. W., 428, 675 Kellogg, John Harvey, 26, 624, 674 secretary for church trial 1870, 394, 396, 405

sponsors Les Segnes des Temps, 708 takes charge of Health Institute, 584 treats James White for stroke, 615, 681 visits JNA in Switzerland, 700 Kellogg, Merritt, 348, 420 Kirkville, NY, 272, 277 Kubo, Sakae, 467

L Land, Gary, 38, 404 Laodicean message, 187–191, 193, 263, 492, 494 Lapham, W. M., 39, 54, 55, 56, 79–81, 113 Lapham, W. M. and Maxim, S., 38, 53, 54, 80, 82, 112 Le Locle, CH, 537, 539, 560, 562–565, 568, 569 Leadership struggle, 399, 475, 491–501 Leonard, Harry, 19, 20, 523, 527, 528, 531, 671, 672, 678 Les Signes des Temps, 17, 26, 467, 609, 674 changed to European format, 663 initially followed American format, 575–577 strong anti-Catholic bias, 579 Lewis, Abraham H., 450, 464, 423, 448 Lewis, Dio, 428 Lewis, Griffin, 300 Lewis, Jonas, 286 Lincoln, Abraham, 43, 217, 308 Lindermann, J. H., 551–554 Littlejohn, W. H., 112, 380, 385, 425 assists JNA in evangelism, 410 resigns membership re. leadership document, 501, 599 Long Depression, 630, 675, 631, 542, 582

Loughborough, J. N., 19, 168, 229, 294, 310, 478, 689 converted by Andrews, 148 finds evangelism in England difficult, 667, 672, 703 hosts Andrews in Southampton, 662, 673 missionary to California, 349 moves to Waukon, 169, 171, 188, 201, 232 president of Michigan conference, 322 transferred to UK by White, 519, 528, 616, 623, 626 visits Andrews in Basel, 674, 679, 680 Lowell, Robert, 113 Lunt, Noah, 75

M Marion Party, 321, 355 Markel, Howard, 136 Marsh, Joseph, 79, 87, 141 Masters, Lumen, 144, 154 Matteson, John, 475, 556, 574, 575, 615, 616, 633, 636, 663, 672, 675, 684, 704, Maxwell, Mervyn C., 22, 464 McPherson, James, 328 Mead, Thomas, 210, 239, 259 Megquier Hill Meeting, 71, 72 Methodist Episcopal Church, 50, 51, 54, 56, 93 Messenger Party, 156, 183, 185, 186, 189 Mexican War, 96, 131 Michigan Conference, 223, 224, 320, 322, 394, 398, 420, 480, 488, 490 Miller, William, 37, 55–58, 86, 103, 130, 143, 651 Millerism, 9, 28, 49, 56–60, 79, 87–93, 102, 133, 465 Mitchell, H. E. and Davis, B. V., 38

Mission to California, 361, 399 Mission to the East, 311, 315, 316 Moon, Jerry, 115, 163, 167, 301, 403, 440, 605, 638, 658 Morgan, Douglas, 134, 227, 327 Mr. Grove’s School, 48 Mrs. Temple’s Renovating Remedy, 619, 693 Mueller, K. F., 658, 659

N Neuchatel, 520, 521, 526–531, 535–540, 544, 545, 550, 553–558, 562, 571, 573, 590, 615 Nix, Jim, 82, 83, 113 Noll, Mark, 146 Norridgewock Meetings, 313–320, 323, 325, 338 North Paris, 33–36, 41, 46–50, 52, 55–62, 71–79, 88–94, 98, 108, 109, 184, 211, 311, 356 North Paris Meetings, 64, 100, 101 attended by Whites, 100, 102 highly emotional, 102, 104 occasion for Andrews conversion, 107 JNA called to ministry, 106 No-Work Doctrine, 68, 69 Numbers, R. L., 79, 282, 298, 300, 327

O Oakland Church, CA, 585, 586, 630, 633 Olsen, Mahlon E., 22 Ooesterval, Gottfried, 722 Orrington Meetings, 64, 67, 68, 75, 82 Ottoman Empire, 585, 687

Our Home on the Hillside, 282, 412 Oxford Democrat, 52, 57, 58, 61, 87, 96, 108 Oyer, Anna, 661, 674, 679, 701, 703, 704, 711, 713

P Paris Hill, ME, 12, 13, 16, 33–36, 39, 41, 43, 44, 47, 52–57, 70, 75, 88, 89, 97, 99–101, 108–111, 116, 122, 126–130, 169, 577, 600 Perpetuity of the Law, 16, 119, 121, 140, 146, 448, 456–460, 464, 648 “Picked Men”, 420, 428, 473 Plain speech/speaking, 18, 236, 238, 246, 259, 260, 296, 337, 340, 390– 392, 415, 424, 478, 493, 502, 522, 545, 546, 558, 688 Pottle, Edward, 210, 298 helps sell JNA house, 435 Pottle Family Genealogy, 36 Pottle, William, 36 Preble, T. M., 77, 293, 314, 320, 422, 431, 511, 518 Prescott, William Warren, 10 baptized by J. N. Andrews, 409 preaches Christocentric view of Sabbath, 467 Present Truth, 102, 105, 106, 117 Present truth, 150, 152, 176, 179, 269, 323, 386, 466, 482, 521 Probate court, 70, 95 Provost Marshal General (Civil War), 286, 289

Q Quakers, 204, 289, 391 Quasi-monarchical leadership, 493, 496, 599

R Ralph, Richard, 106

Randall, Daniel B., 50, 51 Ravenswood, Southampton, 662, 671–672, 685 Recession, 203, 512, 514, 630, 675 Reconstruction troubles, 347, 391 Reebok, Denton, 282 Restorationist Theology, 320, 646, 647 Review and Herald Publishing Co., 212, 352, 369, 374 acquires first press, 142 employs women during Civil War, 417, 420, 477 equipped with “top class” press, 509 loans funds to college, 583 moves to Battle Creek, 162–168, 177, 181 moves to Rochester, 139, 143, 154, 193 moves to Saratoga Springs, 130–134, 142–144 runs into debt, 582, 584, 616, 630 women workers resist reform dress, 481 Review and Herald, 27, 147, 478 becomes a weekly, 153 carries black borders at JW’s death, 681 doubles in size, 431 expands to, sixteen-page format, 371 launched in Andrewses’ family kitchen, 117, 118, 577 reduced in size, 357 Reynolds, Keld J., 403 Rhodes, Samuel, 106 Ribton, Herbert, 594, 595 baptized by Andrews, 596, 603 deceives Andrews on finance, 619, 633, 665, 666, 688 murdered in Egypt, 687, 688 starts church in Naples, 595 Ricker, Alvin B., 38

Ricker Family Genealogy, 35–37 Ricker, Harriet, 105, 107, 111, 118, 122, 132, 139–142 Ricker, Hiram, 38 Robinson, Dores E., 299 Robinson, Virgil, 19 Rochester, NY, 58, 143–145, 148, 169, 171, 179–181, 202, 210, 237, 239, 249, 255, 271, 272, 278–290, 294–298, 312, 316, 326, 400, 408–410 Andrews sells Rochester house, 435, 436, 510–515, 609 EGW advises against living in, 425 family buried in, 412, 415, 625 Fox sisters reside in, 654 JNA settles in, 318, 319, 370 Mary A. interred in, 625 Roeske, Siegfried, 454, 456, 466–468

S Sabbath Theology, 449–468 Sanctuary Theology, 648–653 Saratoga Springs, NY, 130–134, 142, 144 Sauvagnat, Bernard, 577, 579 Scottish philosophers, 146 Sermons on the Sabbath, 384, 438, 449 Seymour, Mary, 141, 142 Seventh Day Baptists, 16, 132, 156, 274, 335, 431, 464–466, 713 London church, 523–527 SDAs indebted to, 456 “two wings . . . same army”, 432 Value JNA’s History, 447, 448, 456, 511 Seventh Month Movement, 62–64, 82, 87, 536 Shaw, Beverley, 12, 43

Shut Door, 64, 86, 87, 100, 102–104, 141, 186 Signs of the Times, 61, 500, 579, 675, 676 Slavery, 52, 97, 99, 134, 143, 155, 172, 217, 285, 297, 303–306, 391 Smith, Annie, 142, 144, 157, 160, 174 Smith, Harriet (née Stevens), 20, 77, 97, 126, 155, 173, 185, 190, 224, 226, 271, 484 assists EGW during JW’s illness, 324, 325 disfellowshipped, 395 humiliated at church trial, 396–398 marries Uriah Smith, 192–194 receives severe letter from EGW, 234–240 views JW as “cutting and slashing”, 234, 388, 424 Smith, Uriah, 9, 20, 144, 216, 309, 316, 335–337, appointed “resident editor” of Review, 178, 180 assists JNA with library research, 425, 421 assists JW write Life Incidents, 350, 355 becomes “stubborn”, 485, 488 defends Aldrich, 373, 374, 376 demoted to assistant ed., 419 disfellowshipped, 395, 398 dismissed, 369, 374, 488, 490 marries Harriet Stevens, 126, 192, 193 participates in organization debate, 216, 219 promotes Sabbath history, 205, 212, 320 publishing house secretary, 310 resigns from editorship, 369, 374, 377, 380, 399 serves as GC secretary, 20, 379, 398, 490 tensions with JW, 224, 237, 249, 470 writes defense pamphlet for EGW and JW, 273, 321 Smoot, Joseph, Grady, 22, 705 Snow, Samuel S., 61

Soul Sleep, 654–657 Spalding, A. W., 19 Spicer, W. A., 19, 644 Stevens, Almyra, 71, 73, 74, 254 Stevens, Benjamin, 60, 94 Stevens, Cyprian, 50, 111 crawls over road, 74 moves to Iowa, 171 placed under guardian, 71, 74, 76, 77, 95, 96, 211 Stevens, Jesse, 91 commits suicide, 92–95 embarrasses Sarah A., 92 lay pastor of JNA’s church, 58, 60 Stockman, Levi, 59, 80 Stowell, Laura, 62, 63, 65, 66, 71, 184 Stowell, Lewis, 50, 63, 69, 71, 73, 76, 77, 93, 96, 201 Stowell, Oswald, 62, 68, 78, 144 Strand, Kenneth, 463 Strayer, Brian, 164, 199, 634 Swiss brethren, 502, 529, 545, 554–556, 587 adopt tract ministry, 537 continue use of wine, 547, 699 expand watchmaking industry, 583, 664 insist on “monthly” magazine, 556, 576 offended by “plain speaking”, 545, 546 Systematic Benevolence, 195, 213, 552, 561, 583, 586, 622

T Tarrying Time, 61 Testimony of the Fathers, 439, 451

Thayer, Amirica, 73, 95, 211 Tithing introduced, 203, 583, 622, 630, 636, 664 Tongstad, Sigve, 467 Trall, Russell, 161, 283 Tramelan, CH, 409, 528, 529, 603, 663, 674, 682, 685 Trim, David J. B., 12, 534, 605 Turner, Joseph, 64, 71, 72, 87, 103, 112 Turner, ME, 47

V Valentine, Gilbert, 112, 604, 658 Van Horn, Adelia, 417, 477 Vuilleumier, Albert, 529, 542, 578, 588, 625 continues to consume wine, 547, 699 elder of Swiss believers, 409, 502, 535, 542 expands watchmaking industry, 542 faces bankruptcy, 542, 543 involved in lawsuits with brethren, 664 tensions with JNA, 665, 666 unable to be full-time minister, 542, 610, 637, 699 Vuilleumier, Adémar, 521, 665, 685 accompanies JNA to Neuchatel, 521 fearful of evangelism, 547 mistranslates JNA, 543, 546, 547, 622 sent to US to study, 521 Vuilleumier, Jean, 668–670 assists in proofing Les Signes copy, 701, 710 mediates between JNA and father, 699, 700 regrets criticizing Anna Oyer, 705

W Waggoner, Joseph, 180, 193, 216, 220, 222, 237, 347, 351, 352, 379, 418, 423, 426–428, 484, 489 agrees on leadership document, 473–477, 495, 496 attempts to take leadership of BC Church, 482 serves on trial panel with Andrews, 394–399 tensions with JW, 517 writes defense of EGW with JNA, 513 Washburn, Calvin, 64, 89, 91, 102, 121 married Butler’s sister, 212 works for JNA on farm, 211 Watchmaking industry, 530, 542, 543, 562, 583, 664, 700 Waukon, IA, 24, 162, 168, 195, 201–212, 222, 232–242, 247–255, 258– 260, 269–274, 297, 308, 316, 342, 349, 434, 513 religious excesses on farm, 258, 259 Weiss, Herold, 463 Western Health Reform Institute, 322–325, 334, 372, 425, 434, 480 expansion stopped by JW, 357, 369, 381 Ira Abbey appointed superintendent, 473 JW treated at, 409, 482, 487, 488, 615 thrives under JHK, 584 Western Migration, 132, 179 Wheeler, Frederick, 208, 244, 245, 265 Wheeler, Gerald, 13, 195, 221, 601, 641 White, Edson, 144, 286, 324, 345 appointed to lead Pacific Press, 584 causes mother anxiety, 346 causes trouble in family, 423 quarrels with father, 324, 418, 602 White, Ellen G. (née Harmon) advises JNA not to marry Angelina, 173–175

attends Beethoven Hall, 59 authority of EGW a problem, 66 breaks with Joseph Turner, 103 calls for “home for the afflicted”, 222 calls Messenger a “vile paper”, 185 changes mind on Sabbath time vision, 183–185 criticizes JNA for scholarly temperament, 430, 716 defended by JNA, 337, 386–389, 491 defends husband, 126 defends JNA to husband, 423–425 endorses Paris Hill as place to publish, 110, 111 evades arrest in 1845, 76 first misunderstandings with Stevenses family, 125–127 has unrealistic hope for work in UK, 631, 632, 634 lived near JNA in 1830s, 37 makes underwear for JNA, 343 marriage in distress, 490, 516 moves to Battle Creek, 162 moves to Paris Hill, 117–128 moves to Rochester, NY, 143–162 moves to Saratoga, NY, 130 “saddest day” yet experienced, 399 severely criticizes Harriet Smith, 192, 234–240 sharp verbal exchanges with JW, 344, 345 stresses of menopause, 345 unable to confess fears to diary, 427 unsympathetic to Jesse Stevens, 93–95 urges JNA to remarry, 626–629, 632 urges popular style for Sabbath History, 437, 717 visions in relation to other doctrines, 104 visits North Paris, 64–66, 87, 100, 102–108

visits Orrington and Poland, ME, 72 visits Waukon—crosses frozen Mississippi, 188–191 works separately from JW, 316, 317, 489, 500, 516 writes last severe letter to JNA, 705–709 writes testimony to Swiss brethren, 622 White, James accuses JNA of shunning responsibility, 243, 414 “apostleship” of, 252, 254, 294, 428, 493, 497 appeals for finance for JNA’s ministry, 154, 158–162 autocratic leadership, 252, 254, 357, 493, 536, 715 believed in repeated baptisms, 20, 278, 338, 395 blames Brinkerhoff for causing stroke, 318, 330 broods over offenses, 418, 487, 507, 517 cannot bear “the slightest censure”—EGW, 237, 427 challenges Smith on Armageddon, 585, 622 cherishes offenses, 277, 319 commences Signs of the Times, 500, 581 considers Andrews family very poor, 110, 124, 158 deeply/seriously depressed, 153, 176, 287, 345, 423, 485, 510, 517 disagrees with Bates over publishing strategy, 118 disconnects from Review in protest at US, 237, 245 extra income with sideline selling, 295, 333, 370–373 goes to live in Paris Hill, 117–128 grieves over death of siblings, 154, 157 issues ultimatums re. organization, 177, 215, 219 manic-depressive cycles, 154, 225, 230, 474 micromanages, 277 mother dies, 418 moves Review to Battle Creek, 162ff. moves Review to Rochester, NY, 143–162 perceives JNA as threat, 18, 169, 212, 246, 682

proposes a press for Switzerland, 580 publicly shames colleagues, 424 quarrels with Edson, 324, 358, 423, 584, 602 quarrels with Edward A. over rent, 125, 246, 247 quarrels with Harriet Smith, 238, 388 son tempted to enlist in Union army, 487 suffers fourth stroke, 487 suffers from dyspepsia, 124, 424 teaches new “sanctuary” truth, 353 unable to forgive, 277 unable to manage RH subs. effectively, 375, 443, 583 urges church organization, 215 wants to move Les Signes to UK, 632, 677, 668 White, W. C., 20 considers going to Europe, 600, 615, 623, 631, 672 deputizes for sick father, 599, 606, 609 first GC Secretary for “Foreign Work”, 637 has “confidential” agreement with Ings, 612 helps “rescue” Pacific Press, 632, 665 Whitney, Buel dies early of stomach illness, 720 in danger of being autocratic like JW, 677 reads testimony to Andrews, 705, 708, 709 replaces Andrews in Europe, 677, 690, 698–700 Woodstock, ME, 32, 52, 55–57, 68, 78, 93, 94