E AND Work eiOHN VViL ■ p ^^Hrip'i^'i pi'' •■:■.;••: ■'. ' jiflii:;^!^;^ Wi ■)' M 5- JAN 26 1890 BX 9^93 .N4 A6 1889 Appel, Theodore, 1823-1907. The life and work of John Williamson Nevin THE LIFE AND WORK -OF- JOHN WILLIAMSON NEVIK D. D., LL. D. BY THEODORE APPEL D. D. PECTUS FACIT THEOLOOUM PHILADELPHIA REFORMED CHURCH PUBLICATION HOUSE: 907 Arch Street 1889 Copyright by THEODORE APPEL 1889 The new Era Printing House Lancaster, Pa Alumnis Omnibus et Singulis Academias Marsliallianae Atque Franklinianse et Marsliallianse Hoc Opus Dicitur, Dicatur, ac Declicatur al) Auctore FREDERICK A. GAST, W. U. HENSEL, THEODORE APPEL, JOHN S. STAHR, CALVIN S. GERHARD, Publishing Committee, INTRODUCTION THIS biograph3' needs no Jipology. It is the histoiy of a noble life and an exalted character. In whatever light he may be A'iewed, Dr. Xevin occupies high rank among the distinguished men of his age. An eminent scholar, a pi'ofound theologian, an inde- pendent thinker, a vigorous writer and an earnest Christian, he exerted a powerful influence, which will not cease to be felt for many generations to come. It is only right, therefore, that the life and labors of one who touched the higher spiritual interests of hu- manity at so many points should be recorded, that the world may know what manner of man he was, what truths he taught, what conflicts he waged, and what measure of success he achieved. Dr. Nevin was a man of broad and thorough scholarship. With a strong and richly endowed mind well disciplined by j-ears of hard study, he accumulated vast treasures of learning, which were ever at his command. There are few departments of knowledge in which he was not at home. When he entered on the study of theology and philosophy, in which he rose to such great eminence, he had already laid a solid foundation in the Classics, mathematics and historj'. Equipped with a thorough knowledge of Hebrew and Greek, he was well fitted, both by his attainments and his tastes, for the pursuit of Biblical science, to which his earliest official labors were devoted ; and it is not improbable that, if he had con- tinued to make this branch of theology his specialt3',he would have come to stand among the foremost Biblical scholars of America. But when called to Mercersburg, it became his duty to teach dog- matic theology in the Seminary, and, after the death of Dr. Ranch, philosophy in Marshall College. His brief contact with that able and genial scholar afl!brded him a deeper insight into the immense wealth of German thought, of which he had only had a passing and unsatisfiictory glimpse before. He had alread3^ acquired a good working knowledge of the language, and he now devoted himself to the arduous task of mastering the whole field of German i)hiloso- phy and theology. It was at a time when, in this countr}- at least. VI INTRODUCTION all German sj^stems alike were regarded with suspicion ; but in his unwearied search for truth, he determined to make their acquaint- ance, and was rewarded by having a new intellectual world opened up to his Adew. His learning, though broad and varied, was especially marked by thoroughness. He had no ambition to be an encyclopedia of knowledge. To have full mastery of one subject was infinitely more to him than to have a superficial acquaintance with man}-. He was not a man who kept himself constantly surrounded b}^ a great multitude of books. It was a surprise to his friends, at least during the latter period of his life, to find how few books he had at hand. You entered his study, but saw no library. On his writ- ing-table lay his Hebrew Old Testament and his Greek New Testa- ment, which were never absent from his side, and besides these a very few works connected with the study on which his mind was then engaged. These he read and re-read and inwardly digested, till their contents became part of his A^ery self. Any subject which claimed his attention completely absorbed him, and for the time filled his conversation as well as his thoughts. He kept it con- stantly before his mind until he saw it in all its length and breadth, its height and depth. It was this that made him the profound thinker he was. His mind was constitutionally of a philosophic cast. Imbued with a strong love of truth he was impelled to search for it as for hidden treasure. Traditional opinions and inherited beliefs had little value for him until he had examined them, tested them and proved them correct. A questioning attitude was natural to him. He readil}' detected the weakness and defects of any sj^stem and mercilessl}' exposed them to view. His mind was in fact severely critical, even toward conclusions he had himself reached b}^ much stud}' and re- flection. Hence it is not surprising that, during his long and thoughtful life, he passed through various phases of faith. To many he seemed to be ever vacillating. And indeed he was not ^tationar}'. Whatever lives advances from lower stages to higher, and the life of thought is no exception. It manifests itself either in the discover}' of new truth, or, at least, in the fuller, clearer and more adequate apprehension of old truth. Only what is dead stands still. Dr. Xevin felt no pride in maintaining an unvarying uniformit}' of thought. As soon as a form of truth appeared on more mature reflection to be unsatisfactory, he freely surrendered it and diligently sought for a higher and more perfect form. And so he seemed to himself to be always progressing, and yet in his INTRODUCTION VI 1 progress to be self-consistent, at least in the sense that he was constantly- advancing ui)ward along one unconscionsl}- predeter- mined line. However that may be, it is undeniable that his mind had a won- derfull}- comprehensive grasp of truth. He viewed a subject on all sides and followed it out in all its bearings. It was as if the full vision presented itself at once to his gaze, and he saw it imme- diatel}- in its broad sweep and then gradually in its single features. Xot unfrequently his glance was almost prophetic. He anticipated many truths, the importance of which is only now beginning to dawn on the consciousness of the religious world. And he did it not so much hy logical ratiocination as by direct intuition. He was remarkable for his power of genei'alization, or rather, we should say, his intellect was constitutionally fitted to lay hold, first on a general truth, and then to trace it out in its manifold relations. Particular truths never appeared to his mind in their isolation. Single facts possessed value for him only as they were compre- hended in a general life. This is the characteristic of philosophic genius, and Dr. Nevin displayed it in a ver^-^ high degree. He was a singularly independent thinker. Though not disre- garded of what his predecessors had accomplished, keenlj- alive, rather, to the results of their thought, he passed their conclusions through the fire of his own powerful mind, tested them, refined them of their dross and adopted them only in a purified form. Cer- tain thinkers, like Schleiermacher, Xeander and Rothe, possessed a wonderful fascination for him ; but he never followed them blindl}', or surrendered himself to them in slavish dependence. His mind was always open in a childlike wa^- to the influence of other strong minds, but it was too vigorous and health3- to succumb to them in absolute submission. For a while, indeed, he might be too greatly under their sway, but, sooner or later, he recovered himself and re- asserted his independence. He was not a creative genius in the sense that Kant was in phil- osophy and Schleiermacher in theology. He did not originate a s^'stem of thought. His philosoi)hical and theological impulses came mainly from Germany. But he was original in this, that, having submitted the results of German thought to the scrutiny of his own gigantic intellect, he adapted them to the sphere in which he was placed. He I'eproduced German theolog3' in a form suitable to his country and age. 15ut behind the great scholar and the greater thinker was the still greater man. Nol)ility of soul was stamped even ui>on his outward VUl INTRODUCTION form. He was a man of marked appearance. His lofty brow, his firmly set mouth, the lines of his face, the peculiar gleam of his eye, and the strong, deep tones of his voice, together with a general air of abstraction, all witnessed to the refinement of intellectual and moral culture, to a life of earnest and profound thought, and to an unusual force of character. Though naturally of a shy, retiring disposition, his presence at once made itself felt wherever he chanced to be. Even among those to whom he was unknown, his appear- ance alwa^^s attracted attention and compelled respect. He was intellectually open, honest and without guile. You felt, when in conversation with him, that he was pouring out his inmost soul and that he had no reserved opinions, nothing, in fact, which he was tr^ang to couceal. His convictions were strong, and for him at least they were true; and the truth, as he saw it, took com- plete possession of his whole being. It was not something for the logical understanding merely, an idle speculation without any prac- tical bearing whatever. It was for him a matter of life or death, and he felt constrained to give it the fullest and clearest expression by tongue or pen for the benefit of the world. With all the earnest- ness of his nature he contended against every opposing error. He was often charged 'with being simply negative, breaking down with- out building up. He was negative, however, only because he was so positive. When he came into possession of a truth which he deemed of vital importance to men, he could not refrain from giv- ing it utterance. Having the courage of his convictions, he never hesitated to brave all opposition at whatever cost to himself. There was a time when Romanism on the one hand, and the larger section of Protestantism on the other, were arrayed against him ; yet he stood firm and undaunted, assured that time would vindicate the truth of his position. But whether in this he was right or wrong, who must not admire the sublime heroism displayed in thus contending almost single-handed against such tremendous odds! It was possible only to a soul thoroughly in earnest, keenly alive to the truth, and endowed with extraordinary strength of will. The key to Dr. Kevin's character laj^ in his moral earnestness. Whatever came to him as a dut}^ he did with all his might. In the early part of his Seminary course he was dismayed by what seemed to him the difficulties to be overcome in the study of Hebrew. In his discouragement he asked himself whether it was really worth his while to spend the time and labor necessary to acquire a language, which was mastered by few, and forgotten or laid aside by nearly all. He had almost resolved to discontinue the study when, through INTRODUCTION IX the judicious counsels of a frieiul, he reconsidered the question, and, having on serious reflection come to see how indispensable a knowledge of that language is to one who would understand the Old Testament aright, he addressed himself with vigor to his task, and with such success that he read the entire Hebrew Bible through before completing his student life in the Seminar\^ at Princeton. Such earnestness aroused by a keen and strong sense of duty characterized his life fi*om its commencement to its close. He could do nothing in a half-hearted way, whether in stud}', in con- troversy, or in the sphere of practical activity'. He began his career as a severe and stern reformer, denouncing intemperance, slaA'ery, fanaticism and wrong of every kind. He outlived this negative activity, but only to seek, in a higher and positive realm of life, the cure for the maladies that afflict humanity. All along he had had faith in the Gospel as the divine remedy for human evils, but he thought that the Christianity by which he was surrounded lacked the spirituality and power needed to accomplish its mission in the present era of history. The circumstances amid which he stood in the earlier 3ears of his ministry' kindled in him a reformatory zeal, which became ever less negatiA'e and more inward and positive, as he grew in wisdom and grace. During the period of his public life there prevailed an impression as false as it was common, that Dr. Xevin was extravagant!}' speculative, an intellectual dreamer, and it was remarked by some who were not in sympathy with his thinking, that it would have been better for the world and the church if, instead of being a mere theorizer, he had devoted the force of his giant intellect to practical work, especiall}- in his own denomination, where it seemed to be particularly needed. Re- marks of this kind, however, were based, not on facts, but on fancies, and grew out of an inadequate knowledge of the man. He was in truth eminently practical in all his tendencies. Few, indeed, were more so. With his intensely earnest nature, how could it be other- wise? With him philosophy' and even theology had no interest or value, apart from their actual bearings on the welfare of man and the progress of society. He scarcely ever wrote an article for the press, however metaphysical or speculative in its character, in which he did not seek to promote the higher spiritual interests of the community or the Church. The practical element in Christianit}' seemed to be ever uppermost and predominant in his mind as in that of Xeander. In his sphere of labor in the Reformed Church, l*rovidence gave him ample range for displaying the practical character of his mind. X INTRODUCTION He could never content himself with simply doing his prescribed work of faithfully preparing laborers for the field white for the hai'vest, and then indolently sitting down to mope and monrn over the desolations of Zion. On the contrary, as opportunity pre- sented itself, he united with his brethren in the promotion of every good word and work. He seldom attempted to initiate any move- ment himself, but when others proposed a measure which had a prospect of usefulness and gave promise of success, he lent it a vigorous support and generally by his pen became its most power- ful advocate. He took a comprehensive view of his duties as a theological professor. The Seminar}^ was to his mind a vital part of the Church to which it belongs, in yery truth, its beating heart. He identified its success' with the prosperity of the interest which it represented. He could not feel satisfied, therefore, with laboring for the one without at the same time embracing the other. Enjo}-- ing, as he did, the confidence of the Church, he took a more or less active part in all its important movements, and his judgment alwa3's carried with it much weight. For many 3'ears he virtuall^^ occupied the position of episcopos in the Church, and during this period the history of the Church was in a large measure embraced in his life' Ever3^where he appears as the cautious pilot, skillfully guiding the vessel. By common consent he was acknowledged as primus inter pares, and was very generallj^ regarded as the Church's wisest and best guide. It was his Intense earnestness that made Dr. Nevin the sharp polemic and hard controversialist he was. He battled for what he had come to regard as the truth, as vital truth, to the supreme im- portance of which the Church needed to have its mind aroused. He could not be indiff"erent without being recreant to his trust. He saw on ever}' hand what he believed to be errors of the most dangerous kind, while the guardians of the truth slept unconscious of the peril by which it was beset. The time had come, and he held it as his task, to expose these errors with the wrong tendencies and false measures to which the^^ gave birth. And he did it in plain, unmistakeable terms. As a matter of course, he called forth fierce opposition and often the bittei'est hostility. He came into collision wuth the religious thought of a large part of the Christian Church. Often he was misrepresented, oftener misunderstood. Yet in spite of ignorance and prejudice, he maintained his position without faltering. No arraj- of hostile forces could make him swerve an inch from the truth and right which he belicA^ed he possessed. Naturally in the heat of such a contest there would be on either INTRODUCTION XI side many a, husty and harsh word which would better have been left unspoken, but which in calmer moments would be regretted and recalled. But now that the T)attle is ended, no one, whether he regard Dr. Xevin as in the wrong or in the right, can help admiring his moral earnestness in proclaiming what he, in spite of its un- popularity, believed to be the truth, and his unshaken courage in maintaining it without regard to personal consequences against the most formidable opposition. To mau}^ it may seem strange to hear it said that Dr. Xevin pos- sessed all the delicate sensibilities and tenderness of a woman. His voice was gruff and his manner somewhat brusque, leaving a natural impression of severit}' and sternness. And this impression was confirmed by the fact that in public controversy^ when he believed the interests of truth and righteousness were at stake, he gave, as he received, many a hard blow. Those, however, who knew him in the intimac3^ of private life, were aware of a gentleness, a tender heartedness, a loving kindness, not apparent to a stranger's eye. Little children loved him, as he loved them. His pupils regarded him with reverence and with affection as well. There was in him a deep well-spring of emotion which was easil}- touched. Some- times a flood of feeling overwhelmed him when preaching ; and at such times it was painful to witness that strong nature, struggling hard for several moments to choke down his emotions and regain control of himself. Dr. Nevin was habitually of a serious mind. Notwithstanding his powerful assaults on Puritanism as a religious s^'stem, his na- ture was cast in a Puritan mould. No one ever thought of ventur- ing on any levity' in his presence. Not that his aspect was harsh or morose, rather there was in it a quiet sweetness, which, while it repressed the coarse jest and boisterous laugh, encouraged the humorous word and gentle smile. His intimate friends never felt anything forbidding in his manner, but they did feel when with him that life was too serious even for momentary trifling or folly. He lived, to a large extent, especially in his latter days, in com- munion with the spiritual world. That world was to him the su- preme reality-. His thoughts dwelt upon it with constant deligiit. His conversation was filled with it, as the all-engrossing object of his meditations. Not that he ever lost interest in the atfairs of this world ; on the contrar}', he kept himself remarkabl}' well informed concerning all social, scientific and religious movements. He studied them carefully, but mainly in their relation to Christ's spir- itual kingdom, which was for him, not something to be expected at Xll INTRODUCTION a remote future, but a present reality encompassing us at all times. His thoughts were never long absent from that higher spiritual realm, which, though dim and shadowy to many, was so real and substantial to him. During the Centennial 3'ear he visited the Ex- position at Philadelphia and on his return, when asked, by the writer, how he was pleased he replied : " On the whole, I ma}^ sa}^ that I was disappointed. I looked at the great Corliss engine, and it impressed me as something wonderful ; but all the while I could not help thinking how infinitely the spiritual transcends the nat- nral." While his eyes rested on those marvels of human inventive genius and artistic skill, of which, indeed, he soon wearied, his thoughts were far away with that which touched the innermost depths of his life. Of such a man, with his splendid qualities of mind and heart, we wish to know all that can be known. There is little, indeed, in his external history to enlist attention. He rarely went from home. He shrank from having his name brought prominentlj^ before the public. Even when urged to become a member of the American Committee for the revision of the Bible, he deemed it best, for rea- sons satisfactory to himself, to refuse. He cared nothing for fame, but much for righteousness and truth. His was the quiet life of the scholar, the thinker and the writer, and its interest lies largely in the development of a powerful intellect and a strong Christian character. It is not surprising, therefore, that, in spite of his great attain- ments and profound influence, he was not as widely known as he deserved to be. His work was not of the kind that awakens the en- thusiasm of the populace. He was no public orator, no gifted leader of a popular movement, no stern reformer of acknowledged abuses. There was nothing in his career to call forth the applause of the multitude. He simply sat in his quiet study, and pondered, deeply and seriously pondered, the grand problem of life, and then gave forth to the world the results of his thought. What was there in all this to strike the popular fancy or win him fame among the masses ? Not that he was unknown. Strange as it may seem, he was better appreciated in Europe than in his native America. German theolo- gians, like Ebrard and Dorner, Thiersch and DoHinger, could esti- mate him at his true worth; and while they might dissent from many of his conclusions, they recognized his power as a religious thinker. Scholars in England as well as in America, who stood foremost in theological movements, were in correspondence with INTRODUCTION XIU him and eagerl}' sought his opinions on the religious questions of the day. The many pupils who were indebted to him for a large part of their theological and philosophical training learned to ad- mire the greatness of his mind and the loftiness of his character. There was besides a great circle which, though never under his im- mediate tuition, felt a debt of gratitude to him for quickened im- pulses to high thinking and right living. But to the religious world in general he was comparatively un- known. For more than half a century he was active with his pen. In books, tracts, and Revieio articles, he discussed man^^ problems of far-reaching significance for the Church and society, with great depth and strength of thought and wonderful comprehensiveness of grasp. His attitude was in the main one of antagonism to pre- vailing views ; and whilst here and there, outside the bounds of his own Church, a solitary thinker grappled with him in single combat, the theological schools went quietl}' and unheedingly on their way. The hour had not yet arrived when these should be living questions for them. In his own Church, indeed, his writings always earnest, bold, clear and vigorous, excited much controversy which was often violent and bitter; but the religious public in general seemed to think this was only a family quarrel with which it was in no wise concerned, though, in truth, the questions at issue were of such fundamental character as to involve an entire reconstruction of the reigning conceptions of Christianity and the Church. Unfortunately for his renown. Dr. Nevin's lot was cast with one of the smaller tribes of Israel. From conscientious motives he left the Presbyterian Church, in which there opened up before him the prospect of a most brilliant future, to enter the German Reformed Church, which at the time was ver}- insignificant as regards the territor}' it occupied and the membership it enrolled. Since then, it is true, and largely through his influence, it has made consider- able progress, and it is now far more widely known and better un- derstood. Fifty 3'ears ago, however, few beyond its own narrow boundaries were aware even of its existence. The Theological Seminar}' in which he taught and the College of which he was the head were located, at the time of his most intense activit}', in the obscure village of Mercersburg, hidden from the public gaze. They were just struggling into life and were without prestige among the educational institutions of the land. Here he unselfishly labored, burying, as it seemed to man}^ his splendid talents from the sight of men. But he never had any desire to emerge from the moun- tains and valleys of his native state and occupy a position of more XIV INTRODUCTION prominence before the world. His only ambition was to perform his special task in the hnmble position Providence had assigned him. And so, when he, a faithful servant of more than four score years, passed awaj'^ from earth, many had not even heard of his name, or if they had, knew nothing of the achievements of his life. Moreover, of many of his opponents it may be truly said that not understanding him aright, the}^ often attributed to him views he did not entertain. This was due, not to any vagueness of his opin- ions or to any lack of clearness in expi'essing them • nor yet, we may well believe, to a deliberate purpose to wrong him by misrepresen- tation ; but simply to the fact that his intellectual world was for- eign to theirs and his modes of thought new and strange to them. And besides, as he was progressive in his tendencies, he passed through several phases of belief, which, while they seemed to him- self to be in the line of a continuous harmonious development of the truth, appeared to many others to involve inconsistencies and self-contradictions. Quite naturally he was subjected to much mis- conception. In view of these facts it is highly desirable as an act of simple justice to the memory of a great and good man, that his life should be presented to the world as a whole, that all may see it, not in disconnected fragments, but as a unity in which the sev- eral parts stand in organic relation to each other. But this biography is called for by other and more general con- siderations than such as are merely personal. It is indeed a tribute of affection and esteem, which his many admiring friends wish to see paid to the memoiy of one the}^ so justly revered. But at the same time it possesses an interest for the religious world at large. It records the life and labors of a profound theologian who, in advance at least of American scholars, discussed many questions of central significance to Christianity and the Church. They were questions which had as yet forced themselves on the minds of few thinkers in this country, and the need of solving them was hardly felt. It was on this account mainly that Dr. Nevin was so little appreciated in his day. The mind of the age was not yet read}^ to grapple with the problems on which he bestowed such earnest thought. But these very questions are now demanding serious at- tention and are fast becoming the live questions in the religious world, because theology is more and more ruled bj^ the Christo- logieal tendency, and men are seeking, as ncA^er before, to find, as Dr. Nevin did, the principle of Christianity in Christ Himself. Just at the present time, the divided state of the evangelical Churches is almost universally deplored as a great misfortune, and INTRODUCTION XV the healing of these divisions is a question that now occupies the mind and heart of man}- a devout thinker. Dr. Xevin in his day wrestled earnestly with this problem, and we doubt not that his views will in the near future be studied with interest and profit. Though he belonged to a denomination and taught its theolog}^ yet he went fairly beyond it into the field of general theology. And in this view this biograph}- possesses a value for the Church at large. Shortly after Dv. Xevin's death, at the meeting of the Alumni Association of Franklin and Marshall College, which was attended by many of his former students, a committee was appointed to prepare a memorial of his life and labors. After due consideration this work Avas committed into the hands of Dr. Theo. Apj^el, who is one of the oldest of the Alumni, had studied under Dr. Xevin in the College and Seminary at Mercersburg, had been his colleague for man}' j'ears as Professor both at Mercersburg and at Lancaster, is well acquainted with his modes of thought, and possesses the requisite qualifications for a work of this character. At the next annual meeting of the Alumni Association in 1887, the selection made by the Committee was approved; and with this kind of moral support, together with the advice of Dr. Schaff, Dr. Appel consent- ed to undertake the task, which he found to be one of more than ordinary diflicult}^, requiring the careful examination of original sources, with much study and thought. The result of his arduous labors is now laid before the public, with the hope that it may meet with a generous reception and contribute to a better knowledge of one whose life has been a benediction to the world. FREDERICK A. GAST, D. D. Lancaster, Pa., Dec. 4, 1889. JOHN WIl.IJAMSOX NEVIN CONTENTS Dedication. — Introduction. — Table of Contents 1-24 I— THE NEVIN FAMILY Chapter I. — Scotch Ancestors. — The "Williamsons. — A Patriot. — Daniel and Margaret Neviu. — Their Descendants. — Captain David Nevin. — His Family. — John Nevin. — An Educated Farmer. — His Wife Martha. — Their Sons and Daughters 25-28 II— EARLY YOUTH FROM 1803-1817 Chapter II. — "My Own Life." — Birth. — Religious Training. — Educational Religion. — The Catechetical System. — Church Life. — The Old Reformed Faith. — Dr. Moody. — Changes. — Preparation for College. — A Poem on the Middle Spring jNIeeting House 29-3-4 III— AT SCHENECTADY FROM 1817-1821 Chapter III. — Starts for Schnectady, N. Y. — Dr. Hugh Williamson. — En- ters Union College. — The Youngest in His Class. — College Life. — A New Phase of Religion. — Uuchurchly. — A Revival Breaks Out. — Religious Experience. — Joins the Church. — Graduates with Honor. — The Revival System. — Criticisms. — Returns Home, a Bankrupt in Health. — Dyspep- sia Under Its Worst Form 35-39 IV— AT HOME FROM 1821-1823 Chapter IV. — A Valetudinarian. — A Thorn in the Flesh. — Morbid Piety. — Conflict Between the Old and the New. — Confusion of ]Mind. — A Tumul- tuating Chaos. — Diversions. — Botany. — A Debating Club. — Orderly Ser- geant.— Hesitation aud Doubt. — In a Fog. — Chooses Theology. — Goes to the Theological Seminary at Princeton, N. J 40-4() Y— AT PRINCETON FROM 1823-1828 Chapter V. — In a Quiet Harbor. — Pleasant Impressions. — The Professors. — The Old Dualism Not Yet Resolved. — Strong Cries aud Tears. — The Two Systems. — Puritan vs. Reformed. — Distaste for the Hebrew. — Good Advice. — Masters the Hebrew. — The Best Hebrew Scholar in his Class. — A Determining Influence. — Still at Sea. — A Father's Sensible Letters. — Fills Dr. Hodge's Chair for Two Years. — A More Cheerful Life. — Exercises on Horseback. — Writes His Biblical Antiquities — A Valuable Work. — Returns Home 47-54 YI— AT HOME FROM 1828-1830 Chapter VI. — Licensed to Preach. — Dr. Herron and the Western Theologi- cal Seminary at Allegheny, Pa. — Selected to be One of its Professors. — 1* XVIU CONTENTS An Interim. — Studies Political Economy. — Begins to Preach. — Method and Style. — An Humble Opinion of His Sermons. — Much of a Botch. — The Father's Approval. — Religious Zeal. — Family Worship. — The Tem- perance Cause. — Not the Right Man. — An Incident. — The Father's Death. — The Shadow of a Great Sorrow. — A Beautiful Testimony. — Removes to Allegheny, Pa 55-61 VII— AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 Chapter VII. — The Western Seminary. — A New Enterprise. — Its Feeble Beginnings. — Colleagues, Dr. Halsey and Elliott. — Hard Work. — Finds a Pleasant Home with Dr. Herron, his Father's Friend. — Marries Miss Martha Jenkins. — The Jenkins Family. — A Wise Choice. — Sons and Daughters. — Ordained to the Ministry. — An Evangelist. — Writes for the Press. — Sermons and other Publications 62-67 Chapter VIII. — Editor of the Friend, a Christian Monthly. — Its High Tone. — Its Narrow Stand-point. — Realistic and Reformatory. — De- nounces Intemperance and other Sins. — Attacks Slavery. — A Tempest of Abuse. — The Friend Comes to Grief. — Self-Defense. — A Mild Form of Abolitionism. — The Valedictory. — A Parthian Arrow. — A. Solemn Warning. — Justification in 1861. — The Intolerance of the Times. — A Curious Illustration 68-76 Chapter IX. — The Presbyterian Schism. — A Via Media. — A Declaration Put on Record. — Conscientiousness. — Dogmatic Slumbers. — Dr. Augus- tus Neander. — His Magic Wand. — His Oeist des Tertullians.—Ris Church History. — The Church Fathers. — Old Heretics. — Neander's Mer- its and Defects. — An Historical Awakening. — The Value of History. — Self-Criticisms. — Christological Defects. — The Apostles' Creed. — Other Defects. — Remarks. — Reminiscences 75-91 Chapter X. — The German Reformed Church. — A Vacant Chair in its Theological Seminary. — Rev. S. R. Fisher. — A Daring Inspiration. — The Synod of Chamber&burg. — Dr. Nevin's Unanimous Election. — His Letter of Acceptance of the Call. — Very Satisfactory. — Removes to Mer- cersburg. Pa , 92-99 VIII— AT MERCERSBURG FROM 1840-1844 Chapter XI. — First Impressions of Dr. Ranch. — Ranch's Psychology. — Princeton Review. — Dr. Nevin's Review of the Work 100-107 Chapter XII. — Inaugural Address. — The Christian Ministry. — Its Dignity and Power. — The German Character. — The German Cliurches.-^More Laborers 108-116 Chapter XIII. —Address on Party Spirit. — The Nature, the Evil and the Cure of Party Spirit T" . ' . TT . ' 117-125 Chapter XIV. — An Excursion. — Eastern Pennsylvania. — American-Ger- mans,— Their Country. — A Promising Field 126-132 Chapter XV. — The Synod of Greencastle. — The Centennial Celebi-ation Inaugurated. — Its Happy Termination. — The Centennial Hymn. 133-137 Chapter XVI.— The Death of Dr. Rauch.— A Sketch of His Life.— Eulo- gium by Dr. Nevin 138-144 Chapter XVII. — Articles on the Heidelberg Catechism. — Its History and Genius 144-156 Chapter XVIII. — A Tract for the Times. — The Anxious Bench Controversy. — Its Beginning, Progress and Termination 157-177 Chapter XIX, — An Address on the German Language. — Its Excellence, Its CONTENTS Xix Fulness, Expansiveness, Depth, Force, Flexibility, and Value to the Stu- dent and Scholar 178-107 Chapter XX. — The German Professorship. — Dr. Krummacher Elected but Declines the Call. — Dr. Schatt" Accepts. — His Reception. —Inaugural Ad- dress.— The Principle of Protestantism 198-205 Chaptku XXI.— Theses for the Time— The Church in General.— The Refor- mation.— The Present State of the Church 200-210 Chapter XXII.— Dr. Nevin's Sermon on Catholic Unity.— The Nature and Constitution of the Christian Church. — The Duty of Christians in Re- gard to Its Unity 217-226 IX— AT MERCERSBURG FROM 1844-1853 /chapter XXIII. — The Protestant Banner.— Dr. Joseph F. Berg. — His First Attack, — The Reply. — Articles on Pseudo- Protestantism. — The Lord's Supper. — The Roman Catholic Church. — Religious Radicalism . 227-241 Chapter XXIV. — The Synod of York.— The Professors Arraigned. — Charges Not Sustained by the Synod. — A Just Decision.— Controversies Begin, Extending Over ]Many Years 242-250 Chapter XXV. —The Principle of Protestantism Reviewed by the P/'i«cei'o?t Repertory and the Biblical Repository. — Professor Taylor Lewis. — The Flight of Time, a Poem 251-204 Chapter XXVI. — The Mystical Presence by Dr. Nevin Appears. — A Review of it by Dr. Ebrard 206-279 Chapter XXVII.— Reply to Dr. Hodge's Review of the Mystical Presence. — Its Significance. — Siutual Respect 280-298 Chapter XXVIII. — The Mercershurg Revieio Founded. — Its History. — Ar- ticles Contributed by Dr. Nevin. — The Lutheran Confession . . 299-309 Chapter XXIX.— The Anglican Crisis. — Its Signiflbance.— Its Defects — High Church and Low Church Criticised 310-320 Chapter XXX. — Brownson's Review. — The Error of the Roman Catholic Theory of the Church 321-337 Chapter XXXI. — Early Christianity. — False Theories of the Church, An- glican and Puritan. — Cyprian. — The Theory of Historical Development. — Church (Juestion Not Yet Solved 338-368 Chapter XXXII. — True Catholicity.— Organic not Abstract . . . 369-395 Chapter XXXIII.— Dr. Berg's Last Words.— A Fanatical and Tyrannical School. — Severe Language. — Self-Defence. — Dr. Berg's Coadjutors, Dr. Proudfit and the Christian Intelligencer. — The So Called Dutch Cru- sade.— A Better Feeling 390-409 Chapter XXXIV. — Two Extremes. — Romanizing Tendencies, — A Just Es- timate of Dr. Nevin by Dr. Schaff 410-417 Chapter XXXV. — Dr. Nevin as Professor in the Seminary, — His Method of Teaching Theology. — Final Resignation.— An Affecting Scene in the Synod at Lancaster in 1851. — As President of ^Marshall College. — Pater- nal Government. — The College Rallies. — Good Management. — True Education.— Discipline. — A Surprise. — A Mistake. — The Correction. — Good Results. — A Bright and Atlectionate Student Saved, . . . 418-431 Chapter XXXVI. — The College in Financial Embarrassment. — Franklin College at Lancaster. — Consolidation with Marshall. — Difl&culties Sur- mounted in the Board at Chambersburg, in the Legislature at Harris- burg, and at Lancaster. — An Election and a Close Vote. — Dr. Nevin Teaches Mathematics at Mercersburg. — Dr. Bucher as Agent for the XX CONTENTS College. — His Perseverance and Success. — Farewell Words at Mercers- burg.^ — The New Faculty Organized at Lancaster. — Dr. Nevin and Dr. Schaff Decline the Presidency. — Dr. E. V. Gerhart Becomes President of Franklin and Marshall College. — Prof. Adolphus L. Koeppen . . 432-442 X— IN RETIREMENT FROM 1853-1861 Chapter XXXVII.— The Formal Opening of the College at Lancaster.— Dr. Nevin's Address. — Pennsylvania, the Sleeping Giant. — Anglo-Ger- man Education. — Anglo-Germanism. — Lancaster City and County. — Commencement at Lancaster. — The Baccalaureate Address. — Man's True Destiny 443-461 Chapter XXXVIII. — The Church Year. — Nature, Time and Man. — The Pagan Year.— The Jewish Year.— The Christian Year 462-480 Chapter XXXIX.— The Liturgical Movement. — The Classis of East Penn- sylvania in 1847. — The Synod of Hagerstown in 1848. — The Synod of Nor- ristown in 1840. — The Liturgical Committee Appointed. — Dr. Nevin Chairman. — His Views of a Liturgy — Dr. Schaff Chairman in 1851.— His Report at the Synod of Baltimore in 1852. — The Provisional Liturgy Ap- pears in 1857. — Dr. Schaflf's Remarks in Regard to it. — Dr. Nevin's His- torical Account of its Progress and Completion. — The Liturgical Move- ment in the West. — The Synod of Chambersburg in 1862. — The General Synod in 1863 481-493 Chapter XL. — A Revision of the Liturgy Ordered. — The Revised Liturgy, or the Order of Worship Api)ears in 1806.— The Synod of York, 1866, Sustains the Order of Worship. — The Era of Liturgical Controversy Be- gins.^ — The General Synod at Dayton in 1866. — Dr. Nevin's Speech. — A Long Discussion. — The Optional Use of the Revised Liturgy Granted. — A Moral Victory. — Dr. Nevin's View of Its Significance. — His Review of the Liturgical Situation. — His Vindication of the Revised Liturgy, Historical and Theological, a Tract for the Times. — The General Synod at Philadelphia in 1869. — The Liturgy Endorsed. — Unpleasant Discus- sions.— MyerstownConveutiun. — Good and Evil Results. — General Synod at Lancaster, Pa., in 1878. — Peace Measures Initiated and a Happy Meet- ing.— Peace Commissioners Appointed. — Their Report Adopted in 1881. — The Directory of Worship Officially Announced by the General Synod in 1887— Era of Peace 494-514 Chapter XLL— Address on the Wonderful Nature of Man. — The Structure of the World. — Its Prophecy of Man. — Its Head and Meaning. — The Hu- man Body. — Consciousness. — The Moral World. — Memory. — The Rea- son.— The Will. — The Presence of Law. — Conscience 515-528 Chapter XLII. — Dr. Bushnell on Nature and the Supernatural. — Friendly Criticisms by Dr. Nevin. — The Constitution of the World, Physical and Moral. — An Organic Unity in Christ. — Sin. — Redemption. — The Incarna- tion.— Revelation.— A Personal Satan. — A Defective Christology. — The Continuance of Miracles. — Unchurchliness. — Want of Faith . . 529-550 Chapter XLIII. — Thoughts on the Church. — The True Sen.se of the Church Question. — The Idea of the Church. — What is the Church ? — The Creed. — Faith in the Church. — The Unchurchly Scheme. — The Church Historical. — Antichrist. — Peter's Faith 551-565 Chapter XLIV. — Hodge's Commentary on the Ephesians, Reviewed from the Stand-point of the Church. — Arminianism. — Calvinism. — Metaphys- ical Predestination. — ^Tlie Scriptural Idea of Election. — St. Paul. — St. Peter. — Dualistic Theory of the Church. — The Church an Organism. — Its Objective Life.— Noah's Ark. — The Incarnation 566-589 Chapter XLV. — Lectures on History. — Biography. — ^National History. — Universal History. — Objective and Subjective. — A Unity or Totality. — CONTENTS XXI The Idea of World History. — Cliroiiolo<;ically and Syiichroiiolojrically Considered. — Philosouhy of History. — The Tiuc Sense of History. — Christianity.— Christ. — Learninj;- — Faith. — Imagination. — Ex-President Buehanan. — He Joins the Chureh. — ^Tlie Orj^anization of the Colle<)4 Chapter XLVI. — Third Centennial of the Adoption of the Heidelberg Cateehisni in 18<)3. — General Convention in Philadelphia from .Jannary 17th to Jannary 24tli. — Papers from German and American Divines Read at tlie Convention. — The Tercentenary Monnment. — Dr. Nevin's Sermon, on the Undying Life in Christ. — The Same Yesterday, To-day, and Forever. — Christ and the Wcnld. — Christ in Humanity and History. — Christ the Absolute Fountain of all Truth and Reason. — Practical Re- marks (i05-6a7 Chapter XLVII. — Progress of the College at Lancaster. —Elder Henry Leonard. — The Return of Peace. — Its Animating lutiuence. — The Friends of the College Rally in lS(i(). — The Movement to Increase the P^ndowment. — Enthusiasm. — Reorganization of the Faculty.— Dr. Nevin Elected President of the College. — Hon. John W. Killinger. — Professor Thomas C. Porter. — Dr. Nevin's Letter of Acceptance. — Commence- ment xVddress. — A Survey of the Situation. — The Animating Features and Signs of the Times. — The Greatness of Our Ct)untry. — Its World- Historical Character. — Its Future. — A New Era in History and the Church. — Our Danger, Our Duty, and Our Responsibilities . . 628-654 Chapter XLVIII. — The I-^ndowment Movement. — Dr. B. C. Wolff' as Agent. — His Success. — Mr. Lewis Audeuried. — His Generous Bequest. — An E.xcursus. — The Hon. William J. Baer. — The Wilhelm Family. — Its History. — Kiuderlehre. — Benjamin and Peter. — A New Church. — The Laying of the Corner-stone. — The Consecration. — Rev. A. B. Koplin. — His Fidelity. — The Wilhelm Estate Bequeathed to the College and Sem- inary.— A Legal Obstruction. — A Critical Situation. — Court of Eijuity. — A Compromise.— The Legacy Saved. — Herman L. Baer, Esq., Hon. A. H. Coffroth, Judge Jeremiah S. Blank, Hon. John Cessna, Hon. Thos. E. Franklin, and George F. Baer, Esi[. — Alumni Professorship. — Harbaugh Hall. — Rev. C. U. Heilmau as Agent. — The Academy Build- ing.— Another Huge Pile of Bricks. — Deficits in the Treasury. — Resig- nation of Dr. Nevin. — He Goes Into Retirement. — His Influence Con- tinues to be Felt. — The College Continues to Prosper 655-666 Chapter XLIX. — Lectures on ^Esthetics.— The Idea of Beauty. — Objective Beauty. — The Sublime in Time, Space, and in Dynamics or I'ower. — The Subjective Sublime in the Will, — Good and Bad. — The Subjective Apprehension of the Sublime. — The Comic. — The Burlesque, Wit, Humor, and the Naive. — Nature Beauty. — The Phantasy. — The Fine Arts 667-685 Chapter L.— Lectures on Philosophical Ethics. — Lemmata or Postulates, Derived From Metaphysics, Psychology, and Piactical Philosophy. — The True, the Beautiful and the Good. — Ethical Ideas.— The Idea of Right. — Its Actualization.— The Idea of Social Integration. — The Idea of Religion, as the Bond of the Two Other Ideas. —The Freedom of the Will.— The Natural Will.— Its Transition to a Higher Stage of Char- acter.— The Suj)reme Good in the Psychological and Ethical Sense. — Character.— Ethical Character. — Virtue. — Its Relation to Duty and the Good. — Its Contents. — As an Endowment — The Conception of Duty. — Its Relation to Virtue. — Duties to Ourselves. — Duties to Others. — Col- lision of Duties. — The Good. — The Development of the Idea of Right. — Actualization of the Idea of Social Integration. — The Actualization of the Idea of Religion. — Its Relation to Morality. — Its Embodiment in the Church. — The iS'ecessity of Christianity. — The God-Man in Christ. — Ethics, the Handmaid of Christianity 686-700 XXll CONTENTS Chapter LI. — Self-criticism in 1870. — Theological Progress. — German Liter- ature.— The Rationalistic Element. — Abstract Supernatural ism. — Au- dover. — Knapp. — Testimony of the Spirit. — Hermeneutical Enlargement. — Ernesti. — Grammatico-Historical Interpretation. — Two Revelations, The Outward Word and the Interior Sense. — The Human and the Di- vine in Scripture.— Luther and the Bible. — The Christological Method. — Herder, Lowtli and Michjelis. — The Theanthropic Sense. — Pia Desideria, — Rationalist Supernaturalism, in Germany and This Country. — Person- al Religion. — Francke, Bengel, Zinzendorf, Spener, and the Wesleys. — Henry Scongal. — Shaw's Immanuel. — Mysticism. — De Imitatione Christi. — Illustrations of the Interior Sense of Scripture. — Seventieth Birth-Day. A Presentation. — An Historical Response. — Mutual Kind Wishes. — The Reformed Synod — Many Disciples 701-727 Chapter LII. — Our Relations to Germany. — Charge of Germanizing. — An Opposite Charge. — Dr. Dorner's Favorable Opinion of the Liturgy. — His Exceptions to its View of Ordination and the Christian ^linistry. — Respect for German Learning. — Its Christological Tendency. — Its De- fects.— Review of Dorner's History of Protestant Theology. — Its Strength and Its Weakness. — Answer to Dr. Dorner 728-739 XII— IN RETIREMENT FROM 1876-1886 Chapter LIII. — Mystical Tendency. — Bereavements. — Emanual Sweden- borg and Professor Thiersch. — Mojhlei's and Gorres's View of Sweden- borg. — Dr. Nevin's View. — Articles in the Reformed Church Review. — The- osophy. — A Healthy Reaction to Intellectualism. — Last Articles for the Review. — The Interior Sense 740-749 Chapter LIV. — Reminiscences. — Last Sermons. —Spiritual Enlargement. — Ceases to Preach and to Write. — Looking for the Coming of Christ. — Failing Eye-sight.— Conversation with a Young Friend. — Love for the Bible. — Memorizing the Scriptures. — The World an Ocean of Mist. — Ceases to Attend Divine Worship. — Last Communion on Easter Sunday. — An Affecting Scene. — Little Children. — Ejaculatory Prayer. — A Scene in his Class-room. — A Tribute of Respect. — Birth-day Anniversaries. — Visitors. — Great Conversational Powers. — Physical Weakness. — Pre- monitory Symptoms. — Last Sabbath. — Death. — Funeral Service.- — Ser- mon and Address. — At the Grave. — Memorial Services. — Commencement of 1886. — Endowment of the Presidency of the College. — Memorial Vol- ume.— Observatory. — Memorial Window. — An Elegy 740-761 Chapter LV. — Correspondence, — Condolence. — Letter to Mr. George Be- sore. — Letter to Rev. Dr. John Casper Bucher— Letter to Mrs. Alexander Brown. — Notes of a Great Sermon. — Concluding Remarks. — Alphabetical Index 762-768 THE LIFE AND A^^ORK JOHi\ WILLIAMSON NEVIN I-THE NEVIN FAMILY CHAPTER I ~^T"EYIX, or its equivalent MacXevin, is an historical name in ^^ the annals of Scotland and Ireland. Two of the race came to Xevv York from the north of Ireland about the middle of the last century. One of- them settled in the state of New York, along the Hudson, where his descendants at the present time are numer- ous and respectable. Daniel, liis younger brother, continued his journey into Penns3'lyania, and cast in his lot with what are some- times called the Scotch-Irish settlers, in the Cunil)erland Yalley, a religious and intelligent class of peoi)le, who, like himself, had fled from oppression in the same part of Ireland. Here in the course of time he married a widow, who had been the wife of Mr. Reynolds, from whom descended a family of children that reflected honor on their parents. Her maiden name was Mar- garet "Williamson, a lady of superior natural intelligence, and of decided force of character. She was a sister of Hugh Williamson, M.D., LL.I)., who w^as on the medical staflf during the Revolution, a member of the Continental Congress, one of the framers of the Constitution of the United States, and otherwise distinguished, l)oth during and after the war, as a patriot and an eminent American citi- zen. He was a writer of some distinction, the author of a History of North Carolina and other publications. The AYilliamsons were of English origin, although the family had a ti'aditiou, whetlier true or not, l)ased on its coat of arms, and other considerations, that they were in the line oi' descent from the celebrated Scottish chieftain, 2 (25) 26 THE NEVIN FAMILY [DiV. I William Wallace, whose daughter, or near relative, married a Will- iamson. They came, however, from England, where one of the family was an Episcopal clergyman, and is said to be honoralily rep- resented at the present daj^ by his descendants in the tliird and fourth generation. Daniel and Margaret Nevin lived on a farm near the present vil- lage of Orrstown, in Franklin county. Pa., in full view of the North Mountain. They were blessed with three daughters and two sons ; and through them, with numerous descendants who have reflected credit on their name as ministers, lawyers, doctors, editors, authors, or as successful business men. The daughters of Daniel Nevin were married into families of good standing : Sarah to Daniel Hen- derson; Elizabeth to John Pomeroy; Mary to Cook and McClay. Their sons were John and David, the former a farmer, the latter a merchant. Their children and children 's children came to be much esteemed in their respective communities. Major David Xevin established himself at Shippensburg as a successful merchant and business man. Clear-headed and progressive in his tendencies, he added farm to fiirm during his lifetime, and being pleasant in his manners and on the popular side in politics, he was alwa^'s elected to posts of honor when he received the nomination. The immense crowd which attended his funeral showed the high estimation in which he was held by the community. He had six sons and five daughters, two of the latter having died at an early age: Caroline, married to Wm. Rankin, M.D.; Jane M., to Charles M. Reynolds, merchant; Mar}'^, to Tustin; Joseph P. and Samuel W., merchants; William Wallace, M.D.; David Robert Bruce, law^'er; and Edwin Henry and Alfred, the remaining sons, who be- came eloquent divines in the Presbyterian Church, well-known doc- tors of divinity, popular writers, and the authors of a number of meritorious books or pamphlets on moral and religious subjects. It was thought that John, the older brother of David, and father of John Williamson, as he was of a quiet and studious disposition, should receive a collegiate education, and })erhaps enter one of the learned professions. Accordingly he was sent to Dickinson Col- lege at Carlisle, Pa., then under the presidency' of Dr. Nisbet, a dis- tinguished Scotch divine, where he graduated in 1795. One of his class-mates was Roger B. Tane}^ afterwards Chief Justice of the United States, who was his successful competitor at graduation in canying off the highest prize for scholarship, in a class of twent3'-four members. As this nice point of honor was de- cided by a majority' of the class, and perhaps, at times, b}^ their Chap. 1] john and mahgaret nevkv 2*7 preferences, his inei'e selection, as one out of two competitors, was an evidence of his high standing as a schohir among his feHow stu- dents. Young Xevin took as the theme of his graduating speech the " Sin of Slaver}'," with which his successful rival, Mr. Tane}', ma^^ not have altogether sympathized at the time. After his gradu- ation he was somewhat at a loss to know Avhat his proper calling in life was to l)e; but at length, either from natural timidity or love of rural pursuit, he chose the noble profession of farming; married Martha McCracken, a woman of decided character, adorned witli many virtues ; and settled in a home of his own, on llerron's Branch, near Shippensburg, and subsequently on Keasey's Run, not far from the neighboring village of Strasburg. Thus he became what is some- times called a "Latin Farmer," one who could teach his sons Latin, Greek, or other l>ranches of a higher education in his own fomily. Private life was preferred to a public one, but he stood in such high estimation among his fellow citizens for his intelligence and sterling integrity', that the}' concluded to send liiiu to Congress as their representative, which, it was said, was frustrated only by his death in 1829. He liecame a Trustee of Dickinson College, his Alma crater, in 1827, which was prol)ably the only i)ublic oftice he ever tilled. He seemed to be naturally unaggressive, apparently too timid to make a prayer of his own in public; but it was his highest ambition that his sons should be trained for posts of honor and usefulness in their day — perha})S to supplement, as it were, his own backward- ness in the noisy, busy world. As for himself, with his love f»r nature, he chose to pursue his course along life's sequestered vale, apart from its contentions, in congenial rural pursuits. He was a diligent reader of the best authors, and an attractive conversation- alist. His meagre supply of I»ooks was consideralily enlarged when his uDcle, Dr. Williamson, h'ft liim his librai-y at his death in 1819. It was a compliment to him as one who was most likely to apjire- ciate such a gift. Occasionally his quiet life in the country was re- lieved of its monotony by summer visits from his uncles. Dr. Hugh Williamson of Xew York, or Captain John Williamson, a wealthy merchant of Charleston, South Carolina. Both were gentlemen of the old school in dress and manners, and arrested considerable attention among the country people during their visits. Much more of a sensation, however, was produced on such occasions among the nei)hews and nieces of tlu' Nevin family, who usuall}' received hand- sonic gifts or k('('[)sakes from tlicir uncles, especialh' from the wealthy iiicichMut (Voni the South. The latter at his decease bequeathed to 28 THE NEVIN FAMILY [DiV. I the Xevins in Pennsylvania a large tract of land in the West, and John, with one of his nephews, went out to look after it and secure it for the family. The trip, which was successful, was one of the few that took him any distance from his home. At Nashville he called to pay his compliments to General Andrew Jackson, the "idol of the people" in those daj^s, and was entertained by him in generous style at The Hermitage ; no doubt because he came from Pennsylvania and was a good representative of its patriotic people. John Nevin and his wife, Martha, had six sons and three daugh- ters: Margaret, married to John K. Finley, M.D., Professor of Na- tural Science in Dickinson College whilst under Presbyterian con- trol ; Elizabeth, married to Rev. Dr. A. Blaine Brown, son of the distinguished Rev. Dr. Matthew Brown, and his successor as Pres- ident of Washington College, Washington, Pa. ; Martha Mary, de- ceased, married to John Irvin, Esq., merchant, and honored Elder in the Presbyterian Congregation at Sewickly, Pa. ; Theodore, a prominent banker and prosperous business man of Pittsburgh, and also Elder in the Sewicklj^ Congregation, lately deceased; Robert, editor and author of abilit}" at Pittsburgh, still living; Daniel E., clergyman, teacher, author, and an Israelite without guile, now deceased ; William M., Professor in Marshall, and in Franklin and Marshall College, from 1840 to the present year 1889, poet and humorous writer, honored by Dickinson College, his Alma Mater, with the title of LL.D. ; and John Williamson, the eldest in the famil}", whose life and spirit it is the object of this volume to por- tray. II-EARLY YOUTH FROM 1803-1817 ^t 1-14 CHAPTER II AS DR. XEYIX advaiK'ed in years and fame, lie was reciuested, -^-^ from time to time, to furnish -the necessary material for a sketch of liis life, to be given to the world in some })ermanent form. In the year 1870,therefoi"e,he concluded to write out his biography in a series of articles, which were i)nblished in the Me.ssenf/er, the organ of the Reformed Church, commencing in the month of March and ending in Jul}-, uncler the title of "My Own Life." The}' give a full account of his inner and outer life, with self-criticisms, until his removal from Alleghen}- Citj', Pa., to Mercersburg, Pa., in the spring of the year 1840. It was his intention at some future time to resume the thread of his histor}^ onward to the period when he wrote, but for various reasons the task, unfortunately, was never resumed, and it has devolved upon the writer to supply the public with the record of the remainder of his long and stirring career as best he can, from the material on hand. It has been deemed best, on the wliole, to reproduce the autobiography, quoting from it when deemed necessary, and at other times making a liberal use of its language, without always informing the reader. John Williamson Nevin was born on Ilerron's Branch, near Shi})- ponsburg, Franklin county, Pa., on Sunday, February 20, 1803. He alwaj^s regarded it as an important part of his youthful train- ing and worthy of note, that he sfjcnt his early days on a farm, in the midst of a people of plain and simple manners ; that he thus became fiimiliar with the scenes and emplo^'ments of country life; and that he was jiut to all sorts of farm work, just as soon and as far as it was found that he could render himself useful in that wa\-. He, however, thought that it w^as a matter of still greater ac- count, that he was so fortunate as to receive a healthy religious training from his earliest years. He was by birth and l)h)od a Presl)yterian ; and as his parents were both conscientious and ex- emplary professors of religion, he Avas brought up in the nurture an- tlie Ituddiiis: of a strong intellect in his first-l)()rn, he so superintended his country training, as to give it direction from the beginning towards a full course of college study. At an early day, accordingly, a Latin (xrammar was ])laced in his hands, and the father himself became the tutor. The lessons were studied irregu- larly, it is true, sometimes in the house and sometimes in the field, and there was no fixed hour or place for the sub-freshman's recita- tions ; but the course was full and complete, first in Latin and after- wards in Greek, and the drilling was thorough. In after years he was W'ont to say that it was worth more to him than all that he learned of these languages subsequently in passing through col- lege. In this kind of a preparatory school, on a farm, under the eye and auspices of his honored sire, and with no proctor to en- force obedience to fixed rules, Williamson made rapid progress in his studies — like Cyrus in the Cyropedia, who, according to Xeno- phon, studied ])ecause he loved to study. He was prepared to enter college when he was only a little over fourteen years of age. But before avc follow him on his way to the classic halls of his Alma Mater, we here sui)ply the reader with a few reminiscences of the old Middle Spring Meeting House, in which he received his best religious impression during his earh' years. They are selected from a quaint poem, composed by his l)rother. Professor William M. Nevin, after a pilgrimage to the sacred spot during the year 1847. Welcome to me once more this lone church-yard. To which this June's l)right morn have strolled my feet ! Ah ! from the village left still hitherward Outdrawn am I that good old church to greet ; And these sad graves, to pay them homage meet, AVhat times I come back to this neighborhood. Long whiles between, where erst my boyhood sweet AVas sped ; here o'er its joys despoiled to brood. But, though it bringeth dole the while, it doth me good. That old stone church! Hid in these oaks apart I hoped Improvement ne'er would it invade; But oidy Time, with his slow, hallowing art, Would touch it, year by year, Avith softer shade, And crack its walls no more, Init, interlaid. Mend them with moss. Its ancient sombre cast To me is dearer than all art disi)lMye(l In modern churches, which, by their contrast, ^lake this to stiiiid forlorn, licld in the solemn i):\st. 34 EARLY YOUTH FROM 1808-1817 [DlV. II For me of reverence is that church possessed, For in my childhood's dawn was I conveyed Within its dome, when was high Heaven addressed. Me to renew, and solemn vows were made, And lymph was sprent, and holy hands were laid. And on me was imposed a Christian's name ; And when through youth's gay wildering paths I strayed, What wholesome truths, what heavenly counsels came! The birthright there enfeoffed, oh, may I never shame! Its pews of pine obdurate, upright, tall, Its gallery mounted high, three sides around. Its pulpit goblet-formed, far up the wall. The sounding-l)oard above with acorn crowned. And Rouse's Psalms which erst therein did sound To old fugue tunes, to some the thoughts might raise Of folk forlorn that certes there were found. Ah, no ! I wot in those enchanting days There beauty beamed, there swelled the richest notes of praise. Out from that pulpit's hight, deep browed and graA^e, The man of God ensconced, half-bust, was shown. Weighty and wise he did ne thump nor rave, Nor lead his folk upwrought to smile nor moan. By him slow-cast the seeds of truth were sown, Which, falling on good soil, took lasting hold. Not springing eftsoons, then to wilt ere grown, But in long time their fruits increased were told; Some thirty, sixt}' some, and some a hundred fold. Here were they gathered every good Lord's Day From town, from hamlet, and from tarm afar. Their worldly cares at home now left to stay. Was nothing here their pious thoughts to mar ; The time, the place all follies did del)ar ; The Church their only care ; yet, sooth the State Did some mislead, who, nothing loth to spar, Ev'n here brought in untinieous debate Their party's cause to uphold, and speed their candidate. * * * Now, by this locust bowing down the knee As would he wish here laid, thus let me pray; Kind Saviour, with Thy spirit strengthen me, And play-feres strown, help us to walk the way Our fathers trode, and never from it stra^- ; And Avhen at length Thou com'st, to take Thine own. Grant that with them we gathered be that day. All saved and blessed, forever round Thy throne, With them to live, and love, and worship Thee alone. Ill- AT SCHEiNECTADY FROM 181M821 ^t. 14-18 CHAPTER III AFTER Williamson Xevin had fairly- mastered the rudiments -^^^ of the ancient languages with corresponding English liranches, it was supposed that, young as he w-as, the time had ar- rived for him to go to college. His uncle, Captain John "William- son, after Avhom he was named, assumed the cliarge of his educa- tion, and by the advice of his brother, who was still living at New York, in the fall of the year 1817 he was sent to Union Col- lege, Schenectady, X. Y., which was then at the zenith of its pros- perity under the presidency' of the celel)ratcd Dr. Elii)]ialet Nott. The place seemed to be far aAvay at that time ; and although the first steamboats were running on the Xorth River, it took in fact as much time to reach it as it now requires for an overland trip to California. On his way he met for the last time his patriarchal kinsman, Dr. Hugh Williamson, of revolutionary fame, and was sufficiently overpowered by his venerable and commanding jjres- ence. His only word of counsel to him w'as : " Take care, my boy, that you do not learn to smoke ; for smoking will lead you to drinking, and that is the end of all that is good." It is scarcely necessary to say that his namesake remembered his advice, and kept himself aloof from smoking, and all use of tobacco or licpior. Rut this requiied no s])ecial effort on his part, as he no doubt be- lieved with King James in his famous " Counterblast " to toltacco, that there was no use "in men's making ciiimneys of their moutlis." Union College had at this time a better reputation than it de- served. Dr. Nott himself took only a small part in its actual work of instruction, and this never amounted to much more than an cini)ty form. The institution lived largely on the outside credit of his name. It was a mistake that young Nevin was sent to college at such an early age. He was the youngest and the smallest stu- dent in his class, and a mere unfledged boy, it might be said, to the end of his college course. With the natural timidity, inherited from his fatlu-r, he couhl hardly connect two tlioughts together ( 35 ) 36 AT SCHENECTADY FROM 1817-1821 [DiV. Ill when he arose to speak in the Literan^ Society, and was surj^rised at the flow of words and ideas that came from William Henry Seward, several classes in advance of him, who did not seem to know when it was time for him to take his seat. Little did Will- iamson imagine at this time that probably as many winged words should go forth from his tongue and pen to the world as from the embryo statesman of ITtica, N". Y. Although a retiring, diffident youth, he formed some valuable friendships with fellow-students which continued during his life time. Among others he met with Taylor Lewis, who in his day came to occupy a deservedly high position in the walks of American literature. The}" were difler- ently constituted, but both possessed a deep reverence for what was profound and spiritual, and became congenial friends, whom no difference of opinion could separate as the years rolled around. The young student from Pennsjdvania entered the Freshman Class, studied hard, maintained a respectable standing, and al- though his studies were at times interrupted by ill health, he grad- uated with honor in the year 1821. But his health broke down, and when he returned to his home he became a burden to himself and to all around, as he says, through a long course of dyspeptic suffering, on which he afterwards was accustomed to look back " as a sort of horrible nightmare, covering with gloom the best season of his youth." His life at college was not uneventful. The religious experience through which he then passed was to him instructive, and indi- rectly, at least, exerted a salutarj^ influence on his entire subse- quent career. But favorable, as it may have been in some respects, yet in others, as he aflSrmed when his judgment was matured, it was decidedly imfavorable. Union College was organized on the principle of representing the collective Christianity of the so-called evangelical denominations, and as a consequence, it proceeded, throughout, practically, on the idea that the relation of religious to secular education is something abstract and outward only — the two spheres having nothing to do with each other in fact, except as mutual complemental sides, in the end, of what should be con- sidered a right kind of general human culture. This is a common delusion, by which it is imagined so widely, that the school should be divorced from the Church, and that faith is of no account for learning and science. There was religion in the college so far as morning and evening prayers went, and the students were required to attend the different churches in town on Sunday. But there was no real church life, as such, in the institution. It seemed to Chap. Ill] a new phase of RELUiiox 37 l)e only for the purpose of apprenticing its pupils in the different dei)artments of a common academical knowledge, and not at all in any comprehensive sense for bringing them forward in the disci- pline of a true Christian life. This was something that was left to outside appliances altogether, more or less sporadic and irregu- lar, and was in no wa^' brought into the educational econoni}' of the college itself, as its all pervading spirit and soul. All this involved serious consequences, as a matter of course, al- though not clearly understood at the time b}- an ingenuous youth, trained in the old Bcforriwd faith under its Presb3terian form, into which he had been baptized at Middle Spring. It was his first contact with the genius of New England Puritanism as a new pliasis of religion. This was something very plausible, and with his limited experience he was not in a condition to withstand the shock. For him it amounted to a serious disturbance of his whole previous life, if not a complete breaking up of its order. He had come to college as a boy of strongly pious dispositions and exem- l»lary religious habits, pious without exactly knowing it, never douI)ting that he was in some waj" a Christian, although, unfor- tunately, as he sa^'s, he had not as 3et made a public profession of religion. But now one of the first lessons inculcated on him by this unchurchly sj'stem was that all this must pass for nothing, and that he must learn to look upon himself as an outcast from the famil}' and kingdom of (Jod — in the gall of bitterness and the bonds of iniquity — before he could get into either in the right waj-. Such, he sa^s, esjjeciall}', was the instruction he received from others around him, when a "revival of religion," as it was called, liroke out among the students, and brought the instruction which he had received to a i)ractical application. It took place in close connection with an extended system of religious excitement, which the celebrated Mr. Nettleton Avas then carrying on in that region of country. To the minds of man}-, and to that of the student from Penns3lvania, he was the impersonation of the Apostle Paul. The sj'stem appeared under its best character, it will be freely ad- mitted, under his direction, and was altogether diflferent from what it afterwards became in the hands of such men as Finne}' and Gal- lagher, when Mr. Nettleton himself withdrew from it his counten- ance. The awakening in the college was no part of its proper order. Dr. Xott had nothing to do with it; it formed in facta sort of temporary outside ei)isode, conducted by the Professor of Mathematics, an adroit manager, and certain '"pious students" ])it'vi(uis]y Christiani7A'd bv the working of the machine, who now. 38 AT SCHENECTADY FROM 1S17-1821 [DiV. Ill after such drilling and nianipnlation, were supposed to he compe- tent to assist him in liringing sonls to their new birth. Along with others Williamson Nevin came into their hands in the anxious meetings and underwent " the torture of their mechani- cal counsel and talks," as he expresses it in his autobiography. One after another, however, of "the anxious" obtained hope, each new case, as it were, stimulating another, and finally, among the last, he struggled into something of the sort himself, with a feeble, ti"embling sense of comfort, which his spiritual advisers then had no difficult}^ in accepting as all that the case required. In this way he was converted, as he imagined, and brought into the church as if he had been altogether out of it before, about the close of the seventeenth year of his age. His conversion he thought was not fully up to his own idea at the time of what such a change ought to be; but it was as earnest and thorough, no doubt, as that of any of his fellow-students — certainly more solid and fruitful than that of the i)rofessional conductor of this revival, who subsequently showed, sad to say, how deficient his own, unfortunately, was. Such a grave and thoughtful Christian as Dr. Nevin was the last person in his rii)er 3-ears to undervalue the significance of this mo- mentous crisis in his life, or to deny altogether the benefit he de- rived from it. It was to him a true awakening and a real decision in the great concern of personal, experimental religion, which car- ried him, because he was a good subject, a growing young Chris- tian, beyond all that he had known or experienced before. As such it entered deeply into his subsequent history, where, however, in the end, the truth was separated from the dross and made avail- able for a higher purpose. But he was too honest and truthful in subsequent years not to utter his testimony and to speak freely of the vast amount of error that was involved in the movement from beginning to end. Thus he expressed himself in regard to it in his mature years : " It was based throughout on the principle that regeneration and conversion lay outside of the Church, had nothing to do with bap- tism and Christian education, required rather a looking away from all this as more of a bar than a help to the process, and were to be sought only in the way of magical illapse or stroke from the Spirit of God — denominated by Dr. Bushnell as the icfic experience — as something precedent and preliminary to entering the true fold of the Shepherd and Bishop of souls ! To realize this, then, became the inward strain and etfort of the anxious soul ; and what was held to be saving faith in the end, consisted largely in a belief that CflAP. Ill] CRITICISMS 39 the reality was reached. And so afterwards also, all was made to turn, in the life of religion, on alternating frames and states, and introverted self-inspection, more or less — under the guidance of some such work as Edwards on the Affections. An intense sub- jectivity-, in one word, which is alwa^-s something impotent and poor, took the place of a proper contemplation of the grand and glorious objectivities of the Christian life, in which all the true power of the Gospel lies. " ]My own experience in this way, at the time here under consid- eration, was not wholesome, hut rather very morbid and weak. Alas, where was m}- mother, the Church, at the very time I most needed her fo-itering arms ? Where was she, I mean, with her true sacramental sympathy and care ? How much better had it been for me, if I had only been drawn from myself, by some right soul com- munication with the mysteries of the old Christian Creed ! As it was, I could not repeat the Creed, and as yet knew it only as one of the questionable relics of Popery. I had never heard it, even at Middle Spring; and it was entirel}' foreign to the religious life of Union College. " So I went on with m}^ spiritual life to the close of my college course in 1821, when I returned home a complete bankrupt for the time in bodih' health. My whole constitution, indeed, was, I may say, in an invalid state. I was dyspeptic both in body and mind." Had he been, after his awakening, under the care of a judicious pastor, or catechist, who would have taught him the meaning of the Creed, the Lord's Praver, and the Ten Commandments; had he then with others been asked to kneel before the altar in the pres- ence of the congregation, where the minister could pray for tliem that they might receive the Holy Spirit; and had he thus, according to the Preslyterian Liturg}-, been received into the Church, he would have been very much strengthened and confirmed in his faith. It would have been a true confirmation, even though the minister's hands were not imposed on him at the time. And the probability, moreover, is, that he would have returned from Schenectad}- a better Christian, in better health, and in a more cheerful, happ}- state of mind. IV- AT HOME FROM 1821-1823 ^t. 18-20 CHAPTER IV DR. XEVIN having graduated when he was still in his nine- teenth year, the case seemed to require that he should wait a few years before entering upon his professional studies. His mind would become more mature, he would be better acquainted with the world, and be better prepared to profit by the new studies that might engage his attention. But as our times are in the hands of the Lord, so here in his case, the question as it regards what he was to do next after his graduation, was decided for him by divine Providence itself. His health was such as to require him to stay at home in the country, and, as it seemed to him, to do nothing. His disease, d3'spepsia, was of the worst kind and caused him much discomfort and suffering. It had a fashion of its own, and it was something more serious a good deal than what goes by that name generally in our da3^ It appeared in the character of a new disease, which fell as a scourge on sedentary people, particularly of the 3'ounger class. We give a description of his sad condition at this time in his own plaintive language : " I had the complaint in its worst character, and it hung on to me with a sort of death-like grip, which for a time seemed to mock all hope of recovery or relief. I experienced all sorts of painful and unpleasant symptoms, was continually miserable and weak, had an intense consciousness all the time of the morbid workings of my physical system, lived in a perpetual casuistry of dietetic rules and questions, and ran through all imaginable helps and cures, only to find that in my case, at least, the}' signified nothing. At the same time, of course, the disease lay as a cloud upon my mind, entered as a secret poison into all my feelings, and undermined the strength of ni}' will. Emphatically might it have been called, in every view, a thorn in the flesh, and a very messenger of Satan sent to buffet me with sore and heav}' blows." If he could have read German at this time and sung Luther's great psalm, beginning with the sad but appropriate words, Aus tiefer Noth schrei ich zu ( 40 ) Chap. IV] morbid piety ' 41 Dir, they might have been ii comfort to him, peiluips medicine both to his soul and body. "And the strength of Christ, it must be sorrowful!}- confessed, was not made perfect in my weakness, for there was no proper room ottered it to become so, in the reigning character of m^' re- ligious life as it stood at this time. As I have said before, this was also of a most sickly- d3-speptic habit and I Avas poorly quali- fied, therefore, to show the power of grace, over against the weak- ness of nature. No doubt my physical condition had itself much to do with the morbid character of my religion, since, when the whole nervous sj^stem has come thus to be disordered and de- ranged, it is not possible that the higher life of the soul, in any case, should not become involved, more or less seriously, in the general wreck. But apart from this, my p^t}' in its own nature was not of the sort required for such an emergenc}' as that by which it was now tried as hy fire. It was of the sort rather to aggravate and increase the trial; for, as I have already- said, it was intensely sub-« jeetive and introspective. Instead of looking to the outward re- deeming facts and powers of Christianity, it was too much a habit of looking into its own constitution, as if to be satisfied with the ' goodness of this first of all were the only way to true religious sat- isfaction in au}- other form. And as all was sure to be found largely unsatisfactory here, what would the result of such painful autopsj- be — this everlasting studving of S3'mptoms, this perpetual feeling of the pulse — other than the weakening of faith, and the darkening > of hoi)e, and the souring of that most excellent grace of charity it- self, which is the bond of perfectness and of all virtue — in one word, a hopeless valetudinarian state of the soul, answering in all respects to the broken condition of its outward tenement, the bod}'. " This Avas the order of piety I brought home with me from col- lege. It was not after the pattern which had been set before me in my early j-outh in the Middle Si)ring Church. But the Presbyte- rian churches of the Valley generall}^ and Middle Spring itself,, were not true to their old position. The change of which I have spoken before, had already begun to make itself felt. The cate- chetical system was passing away. What had once been the living power of the old style of religion was, in fact, dying out ; and the motion of a new sort of religious life, heard of from other parts of the coiMitry, or exemplified irregularly among outside sects, was silently at work in the minds of many ; causing it be felt, more or less, that the modes of thought, handed down from the fathers, had become a good deal prosy and formal, and needed at least todiave in- 3 42 AT HOME FROM 1821-1823 [DiV. IV fused into them a more modern spirit. There was a slow process of Puritnuizing going forward tliroughout the Presbytery of Carlisle, which, however, was still met with no small amount of both theo- retical and practical resistance from different quarters, giving the case the character of a continuous drawing in opposite directions, such as all could feel, without being able to make it plain in words. "All this only helped, of course, to promote the confusion, which was already at work in my own religious experience. As a conse- quence, I was, in some measure, divided between the conservative and the would-be progressive tendencies, having a sort of constitu- tional inborn regard for the true underlying sense of the first, but being drawn, also, toward the second by emotional sensibilities, which were not to be repressed. I held on outwardly to the regu- larities of the old Presbyterian life, as they were kept up in the Middle Spring Church ; but in thought and feeling I went far, at the same time, in justifying different Methodistical modes of piety, as being on the whole, perhaps, of more account for the salvation of the world. I was of that awakened ^'oung class in the congre- gation, who sow for the most p:irt only a state of dead formality in its church services, and found it somewhat difficult to believe that the older sort of people generally had any kind of religion at all. " So much then for my general religious state, as far as I can call it to mind, in this darkly remembered, and, by no means, pleas- ant interval in my life. It was confused and dark ; I might also sa}', without form and void, a sort of tumultuating chaos, in which conflicting elements and forces vainly sought for reconciliation, and which it was plain only some new power from heaven could reduce to order and peace. As for theology, my great vade mecum and thesaurus, in those clays, was Scott's heavy Commentary on the Old and New Testament." Under these circumstances, it could hardly be expected that the A'aletudinarian should make much progress in his knowledge of books, or in severe intellectual study of any kind. It was not desirable that he should. Evidently he already knew more than he could digest, and it was enough if he could retain the small amount of learning that he had brought with him from college, so as to keep it from gliding away from his possession. His power of intellectual assimilation was not much better than that which was physical, and he was already under the weight of a double dyspepsia. Study, or even reading, for whole weeks and months, was a weariness to the flesh, during which the grasshopper was a burden, and desire failed, by reason of physical prostration. Chap. IV] diversions 43 JJut rrovicU'iice itself had .sent him into tliis retreat in the desert for a good and wise purpose — that he might rest and rally his ener- gies for the busy life that was to follow. He was in the right i)lace, in the bosom of nature, which was doing for him more perhaps than he was aware of. During these two years, hoAvever, he was V)y no means in the condition of a hybernating animal. Jlis condition re- sembled rather that of the tields covered with snow, where the growing wheat only waits for the April sun that it may spring up in all its native luxuriousness. Unquestional»ly he must have made some progress in strength and knowledge, Avhether he observed it or not in his autopsies. There was a useful discipline in the experience tlirough which he was called to pass; and his outward relations and emi)loyments became, in various ways, a profitable school, whose practical lessons in the end inured to the benefit of others no less than to his own. Sometimes when a rich dinner was served for the famih', whether its very odor was grateful or repugnant to him, in order to protect his health, to the dismay of father and mother, he would denj' him- self of rich viands, mount his horse and ride four or five miles off into the country. Nature was to him the best nutriment. In his out-door exercises he became interested in the science of Botany, and during the summer he prosecuted this cheerful study with much diligence and zeal, scouring the countr}- for miles around on foot or horst'1)ack in search of plants and flowers. Another slight exercise lu' found ill improving his knowledge of the French language. It did not occur to him at that time to pay any attention to the study of the (xerman. He was surrounded by those who spoke the lan- guage, but it was to him, then, nothing more than common, useless P<')})}si/lraina Dutch, and it was one of the last things dreamed of, that in after life he would turn to it with avidity to possess him- self of its treasures. That was a discovery whicli he made oidy in the fulness of time. Another diversion, from which he derived an im|)ortant educa- tional advantage, was a debating clul) in the ancient borough of Shippensburg, nearer to which his father had come to reside. This it was his privilege to attend regularly every week through the winter months. It was in its Avay a most honorable literary senate, an institution like many others in the rumberland A'alley, where the Scotch-Irish Presbyterians trained themselves for public speak- ing. His physical ailment naturally led him at this time to dabble considerably in medical reading, whicli ])robably did him more li:u-ni than u'ood ; but he found a nujrc liealthv diversion in writiuij 44 AT HOME FROM 1821-1823 [DlY. lY for the public press, something that he had learned from his father, which disclosed an editorial tendency that exhibited itself subse- quently likewise in other members of the Nevin family. A num- ber of his poetical productions, based on David's Psalms or the Odes of Horace, appeared in a religious periodical newly started at Carlisle, in whose columns Dr. Bethune, a student at the time in Dickinson College, was then exercising his maiden muse, in the same way. This was a useful literary' exercise, but the author naivel}' remarks in his review of himself, that whatever talent he may have had for the composition of poetry in his 3'outh, it must have left him afterwards — except, we may add, onl}- on one or two occasions. With this spirit of poetry, may have been con- nected the military spirit, which led him into a crack military com- pany- at Shippensburg, and filled his imagination with pleasant dreams, more or less romantic, in the high and might3' office of Orderly Sergeant^ with which he had the honor of being unan- imously invested in the company. His regular business, however, so far as he could engage in busi- ness at all, was working on his father's farm. At first, as we may suppose, he was not able to accomplish much in this direction on account of his general physical weakness. But, as time went on, he gradually gained a certain amount of strength, and in the end could put himself to all kinds of agricultural labor. This indeed seemed to be the only chance he had for regaining anything like tolerable health ; l.iut he came, as he informs us, to look upon it more and more as his only proper avocation for life. In fact, the idea of going on to prepare himself for a learned profession was now prett}' effectively crushed out of his mind. '' I had no heart or spirit," he says, " for anything of the sort and was disposed to look upon my existence as a kind of general failure." He, there- fore, continued to plough and harrow his father's acres ; but in due course of time God called him from the plough, as He did Elisha of old, in order that he might be a prophet in Israel. Although a broken reed, he was not allowed, after all, to rest quietl}' in his own morbid conclusions. With some improvement in his health, whilst nearing the age of twent^^-one, he felt himself urged towards a resumption of study through inward as well as out- ward pressure in a wa^- which became more and more difficult to withstand. There was, indeed, but one direction in which the force of this constraint made itself felt. If he was to prepare himself for any one profession, it seemed to be admitted all around that it must be the Christian ministry. He was considered to have a Chap. IV] hesitation and doubt 45 born (letermination to that otlice from the hegimiing-. "That was looked at," he sa3's, "in m}' being sent to college, and neighbors and friends held it to be my proper destination afterwards, pretty much as a matter of course. And then I Mas shut up to it also quite as decided!}', in m^' own mind, so far at least, that I had no power to think seriously of any other profession. I could not de- vote myself to medicine or law. But just here came in my chief difficulty. Could I then devote myself with free conscience to divinity? The negative side of the call was clear enough — this pro- fession, or else no profession; but how altout the positive side? ^^^•^s that also clear? Not by mi}' means to my own mind, for my whole life, as already shown, was in a fog. This it Avas especially that caused me to hesitate and pause, when all around me appeared to think I should be going to the Theological Seminar^y. "The pressure, however, could not l)e escaped, and so, finally, through no small tribulation of spirit, I was brought to a decision. I would at all events go to Princeton and stud}- theolog}*, that ' much at least Avas settled. Whether I would enter the ministry afterwards or not, was another question. A course of three 3'ears in the Seminary might solve the doubt in different ways. One way thought of was that of ray own death, for I was still in the merci- less hold of what I felt to be an incurable chronic disease, and had a general imagination that my life, in any case, was destined to be short. When I went to college, it had been with great misgivings in regard to my boyish scholarship. Such was my high ideal at the time of the reigning standard of college education. In propos- ing to enter the Theological Seminary I had like imaginings now in regard to my piety, which I felt to be of a very poor sort again, over against my similar idealization of the reigning piety of this venera- ble institution. Princeton divinity students, as far as the}' ap- pealed among us at Shippensburg or Middle Spring, liad a certain air of conscious sanctimony about them, which seemed to be re- buking all the time the common worldlinesss of these old congre- gations, especially on Sundaj's; and gave the notion of a i/oiiDf/ Preshi/fc?~ianism, which was in a fair wa}- soon to turn their exist- ing religious life into old fogyism. I was duly impressed with all this, in the case of three or four excellent young men, now in heaven, whom I well remember; and it was not, therefore, without a certain degree of fear and trembling, that I left my home in the fall of 1828 and l)ecame matriculated, as a student, in the school of the i)rophets at Princeton." V-AT PRINCETON FROM 1823-1828 ^t. 20-25 CHAPTER Y THUS for a second time young Mr. jVevin left his home in Frank- lin County, beneath the shadow of the Kittatinnies, to pursue his studies elsewhere. He knew whither he was going, and the prospect of allaying his thirst at the fountain of Presb^^terian theology and orthodoxy was not without its charms. He was not entirely disappointed. Theological science was not without its in- tricacies, and had its difficult problems to solve, but they were con- genial to his mind, and he was now prepared to confront them ; and as strength permitted, to wrestle with them. He must be al- lowed here to give his own impressions, when, over fifty years after- wards, he took a retrospective view of his life at Princeton. " I look back," he says, " upon my days spent at Princeton, as, In some respects, the most pleasant part of my life. My entrance into the Theological Seminar}' brought with it, of itself, a certain feeling of repose, by putting to an end much of what had been painfully undetermined before, in regard to my life, and by offering me the prosi)ect of a quiet harbor for three years, at least (should I live that long), from further outside cares and fears; whilst I was met here, at the same time, with all the oi)portunities and helps I needed for prosecuting with energy the new work in which I had embarked, and I was in no hurry to get through the Seminary as many seemed to l)e. Looking beyond it to me was only looking into the dark. I cared not how long I might rest in it as my home. "So I gave mj'self up steadily to its engagements and pursuits; and I did so, by general acknowledgment, with the best success. The institution itself was at the time, I may say, in the height of its prosperity and reputation. Dr. Miller and Dr. Alexander were in the full vigor of tlieir spiritual poAvers, the two men 1)est qualified in the whole Presbyterian Church, unquestionably, for the high position in which they were placed; Avhile Professor Hodge, still young, and only recently invested with the distinction of being their colleague, gave ample promise also, even then, of what he has (46) Chap. V] the old dualism 47 since become for the Christian world. It was a pi'ivilege to sit at the feet of those excellent men. So I felt it to be at the time; and so I have never ceased to regard it as having lieen, through all the years since. On the best terms with my revered instructors, in most pleasant relations throughout with my fellow-students, in the midst of an old academic retreat, where the very air seemed to be redolent of literature and science, with no necessity and no wish to pass be^'ond it, is it any wonder that I came to look on Princeton as a second home, or that memory should still turn l)ack to Avhat it then was for my spirit, as an abode oidy of pleasantness? " Tills hnppiness and peace, however, were only relative, not abso- lute, not what tlie Italians, in their fair country, call a dolce far niente. Thus it is always with believers in their pilgrimage through this vale of tears. The burden that he had brought along with him to the Seminary did not fjill from his shoulders when he crossed the Delaware. His bodily ailments showed some promise of improve- ment, but he Avas in poor health all the while. This finally took the form of a settled affection of the liver ; a hea^-y burden at first, which, however, in the course of years, grew gradually more toler- able, although as late as the year 1870 he said " that there had not been a day of his life up to that time, in which he had not felt more or less pain from this additional malady." He had also brought with him the dualism in his religious life to which we have already referred. Embarrassments, fears and doul)ts, with regard to his own personal religion, the result of reading many casuistical l)ooks, still attended him, as it seems, all the time, as they have many other earnest believers, who have not always been content to receive the kingdom of heaven as a little child ; or as many pagans do, when they first hear of the glad tidings of salvation. Coelum, non animum, mutant. Qui trans mare currunt. The question of his call to the ministry hung with him always in painful suspense, creating within him doul»t and uncertainty whether he should ever be able to enter it at all. There was much in the institution to promote earnest concern of this kind. Dr. Alexander's searching and awakening casuistr}^ especially in the Sunday- afternoon conferences, was of a character not easy to be forgotten. It was by no means uncommon, we are told, for stu- dents, and these of the most serious and enrnest class, to go away IVom these meetings in a state of spiritual discouragement border- ing on despair, rathiT than in the spirit that called them in ener- 48 AT PRINCETON FROM 1823-1828 [DiV. V getic tones to watch and fight and pray. Here again, Dr. Nevin says, he had his own experiences, at times exceedingly deep and solemn, often with strong crying and tenrs, going in the way of a sonl-crisis qnite heyond the crisis of what was called his conver- sion at Union College ; and yet never coming np to his own idea of what the new birth onght to be. " The two different theories Or schemes of piety refused to coa- lesce, and there seemed to be no one at hand to proclaim a broader and a better one, which would embrace what was good in each, and yet stand above them in a higher life of the soul. The Puritan theory, coming in from New England, pervaded the revival system of the times, and assumed to be the onl}^ true sense of the Gospel all over the country. Over against it stood the old proper Presby- terian theory of the seventeenth century, which was also the gen- eral non-conformist theory of that time, as represented by Baxter, Owen, Howe and other like teachers of the same age. There was a difference between the two systems, which could be felt better than explained. The old system was not perfect, nor, by any means, all that the true idea of the Church required ; but it stood much nearer to it than the more modern one, whose great charac- teristic it was on principle to supplant it, and to be unchurchly and unsacramental in its movements. My religious life, as already stated, started in the bosom of the old Reformed order. It be- longed to the Presbyterianism of the Westminster Assembl3\" His rugged nature or constitutional life, therefore, would never allow him to feel altogether at home in the more modern system. " The instruction I received at Princeton," he says, " had much in it that went against the new here, and in favor of the old. Dr. Miller was strong, more particularly in certain ecclesiastical points, that would not always dove-tail with the new way of thinking ; while Dr. Alexander was alwa3\s careful to recommend the divinity and piety of the seventeenth century, showing that they formed the elements in which mainly his own piet}^ lived, moved, and had its being. But with all this, the unchurchly scheme, nevertheless, continued to exercise a strong practical force at Princeton, which an unsettled mind was not always prepared to withstand. The teaching was perhaps, not in all cases, steadily and consistently in one direction. It was evident that but few of the students cared much for the divinity of the Reformed Church in the seventeenth century, whether in Germany, Switzerland, Holland, France or Great Britain. The prevailing style of religion, in the Seminary and elsewhere, lay in another way, and the life of the studen;s. Chap, V] the study of hkbrew 49 whetluT they wished it to be so or not, fell iiiwardl}' and experi- mentally, more or less, under captivity to its power." Thns the conflict of opposing forces continued through all the years at Princeton in the mind of the peri)lexed theological sophomore in search of more light, although, as he informs us, towards the end of his course the conservative tendency, which prevailed with him at a later time, began to gain, to some extent, the upper hand. Among tlie different departments of study in the Seminary, that of Oriental and Bil)lical Literature, which was at the time in the hands of Dr. Charles Ilodge, engaged at once a large share of his time and attention. This came to j)ass from no planning of his own, rather against his own will; and it is a somewhat curious and interesting fact, as .it had an important bearing upon his subse- quent life. He had provided himself, at some cost, with the neces- sary text-books for the study of the Hebrew, and had just got tar enough in the grammar to find it a wilderness of apparent ditticul- ties, when the unw;elcome discovery stared him in the f\xee, that all the stud3' of the students generally amounted only to a smattering knowledge of some few chapters of the Bible, which w^as pretty sure to be forgotten again through neglect in aftei'-life. The thought of so dry a task, ending in such barren and useless result, destroyed all zeal in the matter, and he came to the conclusion to omit the study altogether. Fortunately, however, he happened to have a wise and thought- ful counsellor in his friend, Matthew L. Fullerton, his room-mate, who was then in the senior class of the Seminary. He would not listen to his dropping the study of the Hebrew. How could he know, he said, what use he might have for it hereafter in the ser- vice of the Church? In vain he plead his distaste for it, his want of firm health, and his ow-n persuasion, tliat, if he ever should enter the ministry, it would be in some out-of-the-w-ay country congrega- tion, where Hebrew w^onld be of no sort of use whatever. His friend only laughed at such kind of talk, and put it so much the more earnestly to his conscience to do what he held to be plainly his present duty in the case, leaving consequences and results with God. In tliis way good advice in the end prevailed. "I took up again my half-discarded grammar," he says, "and de- termined, cost what it miglit, to make myself master of the new situation. This meant for me now, however, much more than gain- ing a mere introduction to the Hebrew language. I must make it my own, so as to have it in sure use, and to Ite in no danger of losing it again. So to work with it I went in uood full earnest, and to 50 AT PRINCETON FROM 1823-1828 [DiV. Y my great comfort, in a short time, the lion which was in the wa}' disappeared altogether. I soon pushed ahead of the class in the exercise of reading, and b}' the time they had got through three or four chapters, I was at the end of Genesis. Then I laid down my plan to tax myself with a new lesson privatelj- every day. The task soon liecame a pleasure, and in this way, before the close of my course, I made out to finish the whole Bible. I had a right then to be considered, as I was considered in fact, the best Hebrew scholar in the institution." This unforseen and casual turn, which was given to his theolog- ical studies at the beginning, exercised, in fact, a determining influ- ence on his whole seminary course, and through that, as we shall see, on his subsequent history-. It led him to devote himself, more than he otherwise might have clone, to biblical and exegetical learn- ing generally. It opened the way for his temporary employment as teacher at Princeton, and that position in turn drew after it im- mediately his call to the Western Theological Seminary at Alle- gheny City, Pa. God thus leadeth the blind by His Providence in paths that they have not known, making darkness light before them and crooked w^ays straight. But so far as his future life beyond the three years at Princeton was concerned, all was still painfully dark. He looked forward with fear and anxiet_y to the close of his course, and it seemed to be com- ing only too fast. In the end he felt himself precluded from enter- ing the ministry, and began to cast about for some outlet for the present from his difficulties in some other employment. His idea was to take a classical school, as a sphere in which he could be most useful, and perhaps the most successful. His letters to his friends at this time were gloomy and full of distress. A few extracts from several received from his excellent father, called forth by his dole- ful self-be wailings, when he was getting ready to leave Princeton and to enter upon some kind of public life, will throw light upon his inward state at this particular pei"iod of time. "I should be sorry, m}^ dear son," he wrote in 1825, "should I live to see 3'ou mount the sacred desk, induced by any other mo- tive than the loA^e of Christ and the salvation of souls. But I should also be sorry, if you should be deterred from preaching the Gospel by aiming at such a state of separation from worldly things as is seldom attainaljle, and by no means desirable ; because were such an indifference to the things of this world universally to ob- tain, it would very soon come to an end. "We find our great Guide and Master going about doing good, CiiAi'. Y] A fathek's sensible letters 51 mixinir and eonversinsj with all kinds of men, present at a wedding-, directino; the tishornien, supplying food and wine even Iiy a miracle. The aceonnts which we read of the lives and experiences of pious men are to be received with caution. De mortuis nil nisi bonuni. Of those with whose originals I became acquainted, the writer, even when he comes nearest the truth, imitates the painter, who gives a prominent appearance to beauty and elegance, but throws defects and deformities into the shade. I believe there are as t)ious men now living as Edwards, l)oddriack for a time; and it was not until the begin- ning of December, therefore, that I crossed the mountains and joined Dr. Halsey, finally, in the work of organizing the new "West- ern Theological Seminary.''' VII-AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 ^t. 27-37 CHAPTER VII PROFESSOR NEYIX filled the chair of Bihlical Literature in the Western Theological Seminary, during a period of ten years. It fell to his lot through life to labor for the most part in sitviations attended with more than ordinary difficulties and hard work ; and the same lot awaited him now, when he was called to employ his broad shoulders in sustaining the new enterprise at Allegheny Cit}^, connecting the East with the West. In 1830 it had no buildings, no endowment, no library, no pres- tige from the past, and only a doubtful and uncertain promise from the future. It had indeed been established by the General Assem- bly ; but there was iio special interest felt for it in the Church generall3^ The affections of the East were wedded to Princeton ; and in the West there was a large amount of dissatisfaction with its location at Pittsburgh, as not being sufficiently western for those particular wants which it was intended to meet. The Institution was thus thrown in fact on the care mainly of the churches in Western Pennsylvania, and seemed to have slen- der prospects of receiving active sympath}?- from an}' other quar- ter. Dr. J. J. Janewa}', as alread};^ mentioned, after being on the ground for a short time as Professor of Theology, had resigned his situation, and his loss of confidence in the success of the Insti- tution and its locality had, of course, the effect to discredit the whole undertaking in the eyes of the public. So it sometimes happens with those who, after having once put their hands to the plough, look back. Dr. Luther Halsej- was left to himself in the field, laboring single-handed as his successor, and anxiously wait- ing for his new colleague. Three j-ears later, the Rev. Ezra Fisk, D. D., of blessed memory-, was appointed to the chair of Didactic Theology, but he died in 1833 before entering upon his office, and subsequently in 1835, the Rev. David Elliott, D.D., was called to the same chair. The withdrawal of Dr. Halsey from the Institution in 183*7 therefore left onl}- two professors in the faculty' as before. (62) Chap. VII] marriage 63 There arc now some five or six learned professors in the Western Seniinarv. dividing among them the work which in those earlier days two alone were expected to manage as best they could. The Institution, moreover, depending as it was obliged to do on transient agencies and special collections among the churches, was subjected all the time to more or less financial dillicult}-, which in its way told seriously on the comfort of those engaged in its service. Their chairs during those years were fiir from being sinecures. To all concerned in it, whether as Directors or Trustees, the work of building up the new Seminary was, in the circumstances, anything but a holiday business. The}' labored faithfully in the day of small things, and others afterwards entered into their labors. One sow- eth and another reapeth. In the course of time, it was a satisfac- tion to those pioneers to see that their labor and self-sacrifice were not in vain in the Lord. The Western Seminary has grown to be a name and a power in the Presbyterian Church. It has sent forth its thousands to preach the everlasting Gospel, and not a few of them, as missionaries in foreign lands. On going to Pittsburgh Professor Xevin found his first home in the kind and pleasant family of the Rev Dr. Francis Herron — born in 1774, died in 1860 — a warm-hearted Scotch-Irishman, for many years the patriarchal jiastor of the First Presbyterian Church in the place, and, more than any other man, the founder and father of the Theological Seminary. This was a ver}' special privi- lege and favor which the new professor highly prized at the time, and Avhich he ever held. in grateful remembrance. The loss which he had sustained in the death of his father, his best friend and counsellor, we might say, was in a large degree cancelled when he was admitted into the family of his father's friend. He now- had, as it were, a spiritual father upon whom he could lean in his adversities. The arrangement continued for nearly three j'ears, when the removal of his mother and her family to the West opened the yvay to his establishing with her a new home in Allegheny City. This was followed two years afterwards by his marriage, which seemed to give him a still more permanent settlement in the place. He found his wife in the person of Martha, the second daughter of the Hon. Robert Jenkins, the well-known iron-master of Windsor Place, in the immediate vicinity of Churchtown, Lancaster county, Pa. The marriage was solemnized by the Rev. John Wallace, pas- tor of tlie Presl)yterian Church of Pequca, on Xew Year's Day of the year 1835. The choice of a wife, a momentous step in the life of men gencr- 64 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 [DiV. YII all^y, was in the case of Professor Nevin a wise and judicious one. He needed just sucli a partner of his life as he found in the com- panion of his choice. Subsequent events proved that she was worthy of such a man. In verj^ many ditierent respects she was helpful to him in the great work to which he was consecrated. Her home was a happj^ and a cheerful one, modelled after that to which she had been accustomed at Windsor Place. Mrs. Nevin, in addition to great personal refinement, was versed in literature, and could write for the press when occasions called for it ; but she devoted herself mostly to her sphere in the family circle, and drew around her people of cultivation and superior social standing. At the time we write these lines, a widow indeed, over four-score j-ears of age, at her pleasant residence^ " Caernarvon Place," near Lan- caster city, she retains much of the vivacity of youth, and feels her- self at home in the societ}^ of professors, students, and cultured people generally-, with feelings deepl}' in S3nnpath3' with the poor in their trials. Bearing enshrined in her heart the memories of loved ones M^ho lived in the past, she looks forward to a happy reunion with them in the better land in the great hereafter. The children of this branch of the Nevin family, useful and honored in different sphere of life, social, literar}^ and artistic, are as follows: William Wilberforce, Esq.; Robert Jenkins, D.D., LL.D. ; Miss Alice ; Miss Blanche ; Martha Finley, wife of Robert Sayre, Esq., of Bethlehem, Pa. ; Cecil and John, who died in their youth, when they had excited high hopes of future usefulness, leav- ing behind sad but sweet memories ; and Herbert, who died in in- fanc}^ The father-in-law, Mr. Jenkins — born in 1767 — was the great- grandson of David Jenkins, who had emigrated from Wales and settled in Chester county, Pa., at an earl}^ da}'. His son John re- ceived from William Penn the grant of a large tract of land lying along the Conestoga Creek in the eastern portion of the adjoining county of Lancaster. After the Revolution, David, the second, the son of John, purchased the Windsor Iron Works, previously owned by an English Company-, built a commodious house near Churchtown, managed the works with much profit, and at his death left them to his son Robert. — Robert Jenkins was one of the fore- most men in his county, prominent in his day as a member of the State Legislature and of the National Congress, also a stern and inflexible patriot. His wife Catharine was the daughter of Rev. John Carmichael, pastor of the Brandy wine Manor congregation, whose piety and patriotism were of a high order. Mrs. Jenkins Chap. YII] ax evangelist 65 was a lady of culture, energy and influence, a zealous and exem- plary member of the Presbyterian Church, interested in all its niovements, and Avidely kiiown as a mother in the Presbyterian Israel. With great dignity, grace and hospitality she presided over the stately mansion on the banks of the Conestoga, all of which, under her careful supervision, was brought into beautiful harmony with the wide-spread and picturesque landscape with which it was surrounded. During the period of Professor Xevin's connection with the Western Seminary, he continued to exercise his gift of preaching, which was a benefit to his bod}' and mind as well as to the souls of others. In this way, for the most part, he performed nearly as much service as if he had been the settled pastor over a congrega- tion. For a while he remained a mere licentiate ; for as Jie had been slow before in applying for licensure, so noAv again he" was slow in taking upon himself Avhat seemed to be the much more serious responsibility and vows of ordination. In the course of time, however, he was set apart to the ministry in full, by the laying on of the hands of the Presbytery of Ohio, with a somewhat char- acteristic charge by the President of Jefferson College, the Rev. Dr. Matthew Brown. His jn-eaching carried him out largely among country congregations, on tlie invitations of pastors desiring his assistance, which, it was known, he was always ready to extend without any remuneration or return service of any kind. These visits had to be performed necessarily on horseback, over what were ver}- often bad roads, and once, at least, on foot for fifteen or twenty miles, with no small exposure at times to the roughest kind of weather. But thev gave him on the whole a good amount of healthful exercise, and had the effect of hardening his physical constitution, something wliith he needed. During a part of the time he preached with a considerable degree of regularity to a large and interesting Young Ladies' Seniinarv at Braddock's Field, eight miles from Pittsburgh, n\) tlic Monongahela River; and finally he took charge of the Ililand congregation about the same distance out from the city in another direction, Avhere he preached every two weeks for a j-ear by appointment of the Ohio Presbytery as its regular supply. " It has come to be considered proper enough," he naively remarks in this connection, "for the Professors in Seminaries sometimes to take charges, and to receive .salaries from them in addition to their full pay received for their services as teachers." But in liis day, there was no precedent of this sort to guide a doubtful conscience; and acting from mere ab- |66 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1810 [DiV. VII straet i)rineiples in the case, he was not able to see clearly his right in this instance to an}' such douljle payment ; the more especially so, as he knew the treasury of the Seminary to be all the time in the most pinching need. It was a distinct understanding, there- fore, between himself and the Presbytery, in this last case, that his services in the congregation Avere to be free; but yet, at the same time, that the salary paid for them should go to the Theological Seminary in whose service he then stood, and in no part whatever to himself. During his ten years at Allegheny, he appeared frequently before the public through the press. For such occasions he always pre- pared himself thoroughl}', and his productions were regarded as worthy of an extensive circulation. Of the various discourses and tracts, which he put forth from time to time in this way, bj- appoint- ment or request, the following seem to deserve mention in this place as characteristic of his mind during this stadium of his history. 1. The Scourge of God : A Sermon preached in the First Pres- byterian Church of Pittsburgh, July 6, 1832, on the occasion of a cut}' Fast, observed in reference to the approach of the Asiatic Cholera. The pestilence had broken out in Canada, and seemed to be on its way to Pittsburgh. For a time the agitation was intense. All faces indicated dark apprehensions, as if the sword of the destroy- ing angel were felt to be hanging over the city. In this state of things, there was a general call for a da}- of fasting, humiliation and prayer, and well was the day observed. The sermon here noticed was preached before a very large audience, that listened to it as with the solemnity of death, and on the same day a number of leading citizens of the place joined in soliciting a copy of it for publication. " One strong point," the author says, " was an un- merciful denunciation of all manufacturers and venders of ardent spirits." 2. The Claims of the Christian Sabbath: A Report, read and adopted at a meeting of the Presbyteiy of Ohio, April 21, 1836. It formed a considerable tract, and was intended " to draw up a judg- ment and a plan of action against the desecration of the Hoh* Sab- bath, on the part of members of the Church, either owning or using in any way Sabbath-violating conveyances on land or water." After the report was adopted, it was further ordered that 10,000 copies should be published in pamphlet form, by means of a subscription, opened in the Presbyter}- for this purpose. Chap. VII] sermons and addresses 67 3. 21ir EiujJifih Bible: A Brief View of the History ami ]\rerits of the Enirlisli Version in connnon use. Pnblished in jjiunphlet foi in in 183r.. 4. l\-r.«iii(il HoJiiii'ss: A Lecture delivered June, ]8oT, at the openinsi of the Summer Term in the AVestern Theological Seminaiv. Published by request of the Students. 5. The Seal of the Spirit : A Sermon preached in the Presby- terian Church at Uniontown, Pa., January 21, 1838. Publislied by the Session of the Church. C. Party Sjnrit : An Address delivered before the Literary Societies of Washington College, Washington, Pa., Sept. 24, 1839. Y. A Pastoral Letter: On the Subject of Ministers' Salaries, ad- dressed b^' the Presb3-tery of Ohio to the churches under its care, Jan. 18, 1840. Ministers in the Presbytery were inadequately supported, because the reigning rates of their salaries had not kept pace with the advanced rates of living. By failing to receive the necessary support, some had been compelled to turn aside from their proper vocation and work. The Pastoral Letter set foi'th a ])ainful picture of this sad state of things, based on a full induction of facts, and called upon the churches in solemn terms to redress the evil. CHAPTER VIII "TN addition to such occasional productions, he wrote also quite -L extensively from time to time, mainly on practical subjects, for the Christian Herald ; but much more largely, during the years 1833 and 1834 for the Friend, a literary and moral weekly journal, which he undertook to edit in behalf of the " Young Men's Society of Pittsburgh and Vicinity, *" regarded as an important institution at the time, in whose organization he was called to take a somewhat prominent part. The Friend had an ideal basis of its own, which was less sub- stantial than he found it to be in his riper years. In conformit}^ Avith the reigning character of the Society of which it was to be the organ, it was intended to be a Christian agency, openly and boldly set for the defence of all Christian virtue, but on the outside of all religious denominationalism strictl}^ so called. The field of action professedl}^ was "that broad territory of thought — broad enough surely for the putting forth of all its enterprise — on which men of all ])arties and sects, among whom the fundamental principles of pa- triotism and piety are not disaA'owed, may meet as upon common ground and join their efforts to do good in the exercise of the same mind. " The paper was to be decidedl}' religious in its character ; and this on the high platform of the Gospel, the only true basis of moral it v ; but all in such a yvny as to avoid the incidental belligerent discords of the different evangelical denominations, and to move only in the supposed far wider and deeper sphere — something hypothetical — in which the^^ are lovingly concordant — that mighty domain of doc- trine and life, which has never yet been made the scene of Christian controversy' at all, and over which our spirits may freelj^ expatiate, in fellowship with all who belong to Christ, in the midst of the most magnificent and endearing forms of truth." It sounded strangely to Dr. Nevin in after 3' ears, as he says, to hear himself so naively proclaiming such an outside Christianity and such pseudo- catholicity in the first number of his paper. — We may add that his philosophical talent, naturalh' of the highest order, of which he seemed to be unconscious for a long time at least — suppressed by his morbid religious life at Schenectady and Princeton — began ap- ])arentl3' to bud in an occasional article in the Friend, and mani- (68) ClIAl'. VIII] THE FRIEND 69 tested itself still more decidedly in his Address on Party Spirit, as we shall see hereafter. But with such broad idealism in the way of faith and charit}-, the F'-ii'nd took upon itself at the same time to be very realistic — very rugged also — and very positive in the way of rebuking the sins of the day, and aimed to set the standard of public morals from the high Gospel stand-point ; but the editor could easily see, as he grew in grace and knowledge, that the office was not alwaj'S exercised in the wisest and best Ava^^s. Its reformatory- zeal, he says himself, was too self-conscious and ambitious, as is apt to be the case with zeal bent on magnifying its own mission in this form. Infidelity, fashionable amusements, ladies' fairs, theatrical enter- tainments, and other such objects, came under its animadversion in the most pronounced way, cansing its boldness to be praised in one direction, while it gave offence, of course, in another. For attacking an attempt to get up a theatre in Pittsburgh, he was threatened with the honor of a cow-hiding, and at one time there was some danger even of a mob against the paper on account of its supposed incendiarism on the subject of slaA'ery. Of all causes, however, that of Temperance received the largest share of attention ; and as the circulation of the Friend seemed (luite too limited for its needs, especially out through the country, the plan was adopted finally of issuing, every two weeks, a small two-penny sheet, tilled exclusively with this part of its material. This sheet was known as the Temperance Register, and during the brief period of its existence did its own work in its own noiseless and cheap way. As might have been expected, this whole scheme of a high-toned Christian monthly, based on the power of Christian ideas, supposed to be available for the world at large be3'ond the narrow pre- cincts of the Church, in due course of time came to general grief and collapse. Owing to dissatisfaction in the Society, and in the communit}' on the outside, the editor felt himself compelled at length to withdraw from the i)aper, ant] his valedictorv of ^larch \'l, l.s;^5, was a confession of defeat. Among other things, it winds up liy saying: "'We have tried our method, and are satisfied that it cannot carry the i)ubIication forward in this community ; it has been upheld thus far onh' with great sacrifices, and there is no prospect that it will lie sustained without them hereafter. But, if another metliod can be adopted more likely to insure success, let it be tried — we make no sacrifice in giving \\\) the Friend. It has been atleudt'd with uiiich trouble and vexation of spirit from the 70 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 [DiV. VII beginning ; for more tlian tliose who liave liad no similar experi- ence can at all imagine. We have been anxiously looking forward to the close of our term of service as a day of deliverance and joy, and feel no regret at all in being discharged before the time. We lose no money by losing our place. We have never received a cent for our labor thus far, and we have not calculated on being paid anything at the end even of two years' full service. Here, then, our relations to the subscribers of the Friend must be brought to an end. We trust that, notwithstanding the occasion of offence we may have given to some, we may still have the respect and good will of all ; and with sentiments of corresponding regard, and the wishes for their prosperity on both sides of the grave, we bid them all an aff'ectionate farewell." The " occasion of offence " referred to was found in certain brief items or utterances in regard to the sin of slavery, which, if the editor had been less honest and more worldly-wise, he would have been careful to keep out of his paper at the time. They roused the intolerance of the old pro-slavery spirit, which then reigned in Pittsburgh, and in many other places that were just as enlightened. It might have been described as " a tempest in a teapot," if it had not brought down upon the head of the poor unsophisticated editor such a torrent of abuse, suspicion and trouble of mind. This episode in his life is interesting as an illustration of the spirit of the times, and, just as well, of the spirit of the person who was de- termined to do right, even if the heavens should fall. Uncompromising opposition to slavery was a tradition in the Nevin family, which grew in strength and concentrated itself in John Williamson, its most distinguished representative. Justice to the memory of the man, therefore, requires that he should be allowed to speak for himself, and to give his own account of this tempest or fiasco long after he got beyond its reach. " On the subject of slavery," he says in 1870, "it seems to me, that Avithout any material change of mind in myself, the weather- cock of public opinion has made me out wrong in diff'erent periods of ni}" life, under preciseh' opposite views. It has done so hy a sudden and complete polar change in itself, the full like of which it would be hard to find, within so short a time, in the history of the world before. I have been fanatically taken to task in later life for not cursing slavery hard enough at the altar and from the pulpit. In my Pittsburgh da3"s,as already intimated, it was the other way; m}^ wrong stood, it was fanatically said, in allowing m^'self to talk or write of slavery at all as a bad thing. Chap. YIII] a mild form of abolitionism 71 " It Avas not very much at best or worst that I had to say alxjut it ; I belonged to no anti-slavery society ; I was no missionary in the cause; I made no speeches and disseminated no tracts in its favor; indeed I openly condemned Mr. Garrison and others of the same stripe, as being irreligious in their spirit no less than un- patriotic. But I could not blind my exes to the plain truth, into the sense of which I had been educated from my childhood, that slavery, nevertheless, as it existed in this country, was a vast moral evil ; and I could not see why in this view it should not come, like any other great wrong, under religious criticism and censure. " And so before I knew hardly hoAv it came to pass, especially after the publication of the Friend had come into my hands, I found that I had begun to be looked upon and spoken of, in certain quarters, as actually a disturber of the public peace. One promi- nent physician in the place, I remember, allowed himself publicl^r in the street to characterize me, up and down, as in his opinion 'the most dangerous man in all Pittsburgh.' It even went so far, as I have said before, to some talk of danger to the ofRce in which the Friend was printed. And talk in those inflammable da^'s, it must be remembered, was itself xery much like sparks to tinder or powder. It had power to produce mobs, and work tragedies in the most terrible way. " But what a farce it appears now that so much should ever have been made of such an occasion for offense as there was here, after all, in the columns of the Friend. The paper never took any i)arty stand in regard to slavery one way or another; it went in favor of Colonization; but it was not willing that this should be allowed to silence the question of Home Emancipation, as in the eyes of the Abolitionists it seemed to be doing. There should be room, it was maintained, for calm and free discussion all around. Only so could we vindicate our title to Christian honesty in so great a case. But honesty of such sort was just what the community generally at this time did not want, and would not brook." The position here as- sumed was nothing more than what was in harmony with the Re- formed Faith, of which he speaks as still lingering in his youth at Middle Spring; and, strictjy speaking, not a lesson which he had learned at Schenectady. It was also that which would have met Avith a response among the Germans of Penns3-lvania of the Luther- an and Reformed persuasion, if they had had a chance to express themselves. Dr. Xevin was in a position to speak out. and in doing so he had the courage simply to define the position of many other good, honest people, who could not sympathize with the tide of 72 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 [DiV. YII fonaticdsin that was coming in at the time like a flood from the East, and from their neighbors, the Friends, around Philadelphia. Speaking in the Friend of April 17, 1834, of a notable move- ment on the subject of slavery, in Lane Seminary, Oxford, Ohio, he had no hesitation in saying : " A grand discussion was had on the subject by the students of the Theological Seminary, which was continued for a number of evenings in succession with great interest, and resulted in an almost universal determination in fa- vor of anti-slavery principles. We have received a cop3' of the Preamble and Constitution of a society organized in this Insti- tution for the purpose of promoting the emancipation of the slaves of this country. The whole is wisely and temperately drawn up, and well worthy of being temperately considered. We trust that the time is not fixr distant when what has been rashly spoken by >er of the Assembly, it was alleged that his public appearance at such a meeting, just at that time, might in some wa^- seem to be injurious to its honor. In the circumstances he meekly j-ielded to their re([uest, in compliance with a good old Presb3-terian rule, that ministers ought to submit themselves to their brethren. It is only one instance, in which General Assemblies and many other assem- blies showed how sensitively alive they were in those days, even at insignilicant point-s, to the serenity' of their standing conserva- tism on this great question of slavery. Of course such a nervous state of the public mind is ilow hap- l)ily changed, and the old conservatism during the late war lost its (»ccupati(Mi and went to the wall. Provitlence brought it about. 'I'lu' smouldering fires, which had been in a measure concealed for more than half of a century, burst through all artificial restraints, and the explosions became so much the more violent and destruct- ive, liecause they had not l)een al)le to find any proper vent. Had the North and the South met together, and with the help of a few of llieir wisest matrons made a child's bargain, they would have 76 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 [DiV. YII saved themselves a vast amount of trouble, treasure, and many valuable lives. "When, however, the war actually broke out, men of all classes had to think. The two Presbyterian Assemblies, Old and iS^ew School, and other religious bodies, always more or less opposed to slaverj'^jnow more than ever before, were united in their opposition to it, and nobl}- stepped forward and sustained the gen- eral government in what they believed to be the cause of rigliteous- uess and truth. — John Williamson, the son of John Nevin of Her- ron's Branch, had been opposed to slavery from his 3'outh, and in 1835 he was at least thirty years in advance of the times. That is all that there is about his kind of abolitionism. There was one other passage in the life of Dr. Nevin at Alle- gheny, which was as satisfactory to himself afterwards as it must be to all intelligent readers at the present time. It had reference to the ecclesiastical division of the Presbyterian Church in 1837, which met with his open and unqualified dj_ssent. It was his first earnest testimony' against schism in the Body of Christ, and it was as sincere and earnest as those which followed, in his subsequent career, of which the reader will be duly apprized in the present volume. CHAPTER IX PR0FP:SS0'R XEVIX, not as yet a Doctor of Divinity, had charge of Bi2)lical Literature in the Seminary, and was not required to give special attention to dogmatic theology in his de- partment ; but his reading of theological works, mostly for spiritual edilicntion, had been extensive, and his judgment on doctrinal points was quite equal to that of his seniors, the learned Doctors who figured in the famous controvers}' between the Old and New Schools. Very naturally his theological SA'mpathies all along went with the Old School, but he was clear-headed enough to see that there was truth also on the other side. He also had the feeling at the same time, that the controversy in certain quarters on his own side was urged forward in an extreme way. Its orthodoxy was stiff, rigid and altogether too literal and mechanical. Moreover, he had by this time mastered the German language, and had held communion with some of the great theologians of Geinnany. The reading of Xeander's Churcli History had made an impression on his mind and given him some idea of history and the progressive advancement of the kingdom of God on earth. All this was op- posed to the theology of the letter, or of mere dead tradition, and suggested to his mind the idea of a theology of the spirit that ad- mitted of spiritual growth and enlargement. He, therefore, took no prominent part in the heated doctrinal dis- cussions of the day that were then raging around him in his own church. The time for the exercise of Jiis talents in this direction had not yet arrived. He looked at the situation rather in its bear- ings on Christian charit}- and the growth of godliness in the clinrclies. With a certain feeling of self-respect and independence, he deprecated the idea that the Pittsburgh Synod should be dra- gooned to take [)art in the Eastern quarrel with regard to Mr. Barnes; and he went so far as to urge seriously through the Chris- Han Herald the plan of relativeh' independent Synodical jurisdic- tion, proposed by Dr. Archibald Alexander of Princeton. Then, of course, when the rupture came, it was against his mind and judg- ment, although he had no difficult}' about accepting it as an aecom- l)lished fact, and remaining with the division to which he in truth belonged. But when it became an object afterwards to engage the Presbyteries to a formal endorsement of the decisive action of the 78 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 [DiV. VII General Assembly, he felt it necessary to guard against committing himself even indirectly to anything of the sort, and he had the courage to do so conscientiously. It was one of those questions, as he believed, that tried men's souls, although it probably troubled only the smaller part of the brethren in the Presbj'teries. This, however, was not, by any means, the case with the Professor at Allegheny. The Presbytery of Ohio had passed several resolutions, endor- sing the action of the General Assembly in splitting the Church, regarding it as a cause of " special gratitude to the Great Head of the Church for the wisdom and firmness of the fiithers and brethren in devising those measures, which were believed to be conducive to the promotion and security of the unity, peace, and all the great interests of our beloved Zion." When the vote was taken there were thirty-eight ayes, two non liquets, and ten naj'S, of which last Prof. Nevin's vote was one. At a meeting in the following year, June, 1838, another crucial question came up, called an "adhering act," declaring the allegi- ance of the Presbyter}" to the Old School General Assembly as the true successor of the Presb3terian Church — unchurching, as he thought, the New School brethren in effect — with something like a salvo, conceding the orthodoxy of those of its members, who had refused to endorse in all respects what had been done, ending with an expression of thanks for the otherwise harmony of the Presby- ter}'. The dissenters of the previous year for the most part were willing to let this pass as being in itself all that the ease required ; but the Professor felt that something more was needed to put the matter, so far as he was concerned, beyond all possible future misconstruc- tion ; and at a subsequent meeting of the Presbyter}'^ he, therefore, asked the privilege of having recorded, in the minutes of the l)ody, a distinct explanation of the sense of his vote in the act of adhe- sion. As he had had one whole 3'ear to consider the matter, this was not the result of a mere impulse but of mature reflection. The pa- per was signed by three other members of the body and allowed to be put on i-ecord in the proceedings of the Presb} tery, and is here given as throwing light on the character and spirit of its author, just about one year before he was called to a new sphere of lalior at Mercersburg. " To prevent misunderstanding, the undersigned, members of the Presbytery of Ohio, ask respectfull}^ to have it entered upon record, that in participating in the ' adhering act ' of last June, they intended ClIAP. IX] DOGMATIC SLUMBERS 79 siini)ly to iimkc their clcftioii between the two ecelesiiistiea] bodies into which tlic ( "hui'cii has been split, and uothiug more. If the act ill (luestioii be supposed to involve necessarily the idea of sub- scription to the claims of the Old School Assembly to be the only true and lawful successor of the Presb^'terian Church in this coun- try, they must disclaim it altogether. In the present state of the Church they dare not make the constitutional existence of either Assembly an article of faith either for themselves or for others. The question of legitimate succession in this case is the one they do not choose to decide, or to impose as a test of ecclesiastical standing in any way. On this broad platform only they have adhered, and the)' still agree to adhere, with a good conscience and in good faith, to the General Assembly under whose banner the Presb^'tery of Ohio has taken its stand." The allowance of this record on the part of the Presbytery was regarded by Professor Nevin as a favor which deserved his thanks at the time, and it became a pleasure to him afterwards to call it thankfully to mind. " Some of my brethren," he says, in 18T0, " I well know, considered me somewhat wilfull}- scrupulous in the case; but I value the record now more than ever, since the two sides of the Church have come together again, as showing that I at least ' never consented to the counsel and deed of them ' — now mostl}' silent in death or otherwise — who thirt)*^ years ago tore the body so ruthlessl}' in twain. For what less has this coming together again of the two bodies been than a general confession all around that there was no sufficient occasion originally for the bi'each, and that as an article of faith neither of the two assemblies ever was, or could be in fact, the onl)' true and lawful successor of the Presby- terian Church in this country to the exclusion of the other." During the ten years in the theological school at Allegheny, Pr. Nevin made considerable jirogress in his religious and theological life. At that time he was b)- no means just what he had been in theology when he left Princeton. Although surrounded by influ- ences at Pittsburgh to keep him stationary, in the traces of an old and rigid Calvinistic orthodoxy, he was gradually coming to out- live it. This advancement he was pleased to style, in 1870, his '■historical awakening," because it brought him to a proper sense of History in general, and Church History in particular. It was the beginning of a new era in his life, which turned out to be a valual)le providential preparation for his subsequent work in another sphere of labor, and we therefore proceed to narrate how it was brought about, using for the most part his own words. 80 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1810 [DiV. VII The influence, which helped to enlarge the horizon of his relig- ious thinking at this time, came from the new light that began to claAvn upon his mind in regard to the true nature and the vast sig- nificance of the history of the Christian Church. As he had stud- ied it at Princeton, he says, it was for him the poorest sort of sa- cred science. There was, in truth, no real science about it in the proper sense of the word ; and to his mind, as he dryly remarks, its associations could hardl}' be called sacred, as they certainl}^ were not particularly edif3'ing in any way. The whole subject, however, began to appear graduall}^ under a higher and better view, like the dawn of a new day, through his ac(iuaintance with the father of Church History, the vastly learned and profoundly pious 1)7'. Augustus Neandei\ What he was for Germany on a large scale, that he became to the Presbyterian Professor in America also in a large degree, forming an epoch, a grand crisis or turning point in his life — as Neander would sa}-— followed l\v a new order of mental and spiritual development. His magic wand served to bring up the dead past before him, in the form of a living present. Histoiy became in his hand like Eze- kiel's vision of the valley of dry bones, where bone sought out his bone, and sinews and flesh and skin came over them, and breath came into them, so that in the end "they lived and stood upon their feet, an exceedingly great arm}^" With all his uugainliness of manner and style, he was more to his American pupil than the great British "Wizard of the North." He caused Church History to become for him like the creations of poetry and romance. How much he owed to him in the way of excitement, impulse, suggestion, knowledge, literary and religious, reaching into his life, was more, he says, than he could pretend to explain ; as it was more, in foct, perhaps, than he was able satisfactorily to trace or understand. He informs us that his knowledge of the great historian was at first indirect only and through outward report. He had heard of him only by the hearing of the ear. But even that had an awaken- ing eflTect ; and it then became with him an object and concern to know him for himself. Primarily it was just for this purpose that he undertook to study the German language; and just as soon as he was able to read it in a stumbling way, he began to wrestle with the loose, inharmonious periods of Neander. The first German book of any account which he read was his Geist des TertuUians, the monogram in which he calls up this fieiy African fixther from the dead, and causes him to walk the earth again in living, intelli- gible form. It was no longer the Tertullian, which he and others CriAP. IX] CHURCH HISTORY 81 had known spectrally' befoiv, the Tortnllian of Mosheim, whose claims to be considered a real Christian appeared to l»e of an ex- tremely donbtful character; but Tertnllian, in propria persona, who was now allowed to speak for himself, and to reveal from the depths his own impetuous, but at the same time most earnest religious life. Afterwards he took up the " General History of the Christian Religion and Church " by his new teacher, and under his guidance I'enewed his acquaintance with the first Christian ages, where all had been for him before such a wilderness of drear}- disorder and eon- fusion. Here now all seemed to put on a new^ form, and to be lighted up with a new sense. Not that there was a full end of ob- scurities, or perplexities, by any means. There Avas enough still of both, but even these were not the same as before. They T)e- longed to a living concrete existence, and not to a w^orld of dead unmeaning shadows. They were prol)lems in what was felt to be a real past, answerable to the sense of the real present. Alto- gether the old ecclesiastical life was made to reproduce itself from its own ground and in its own projjcr form. " I became reconciled," he sa3's, "to the old Christian fathers ' generally. They were no longer to me the puzzling m3'steries they had been before. I learned to understand them in a measure — their inwai'd si)irit, and outward voice — each man speaking not in ray . Pnritanic Presbyterian tongue, but in his own tongue wherein he was born ; and it was a pleasure, as well as a great edification, to become acquainted with them in this Avay. The more I knew of them thus, the more they rose in ray rcA^erence and regard. They stood to me indeed still environed with much that I took to be wrong, and contradictory to the true sense of Christianity both in doctrine and in life. But this too I learned to estimate from the circumstances of their place and time; and so that Avas not allowed to blind me to their substantial worth. "■ Even the old Christian heresies were made to partake in the general benefit of this historical illumination. They appeared no longer as the freaks of brainless folly, or diabolical madness. There seemed to be both meaning and method in their rise and progress. Thej' had an inward, we might say, necessary' connection with the history of the Churchy and there could be, it was clearly shown, no i right understanding of Christianity and the Church, or the onward progress of the mystery of godliness in the world, without an in- sight, at the same time, into the interior nature of its counterpart and contradiction, the mystery of iniquity working from the begin- ning in tliis bad way. Tliere Avas deep historical meaning, under 82 AT ALLEGHENY FROM 1830-1840 [DiV. YII such view, in Ebionism and Gnosticism, in Moutanism, in Sabel- lianism and Arianism, in Manicheism and Pelagianism, no less than in tlie different tendences and schools of the orthodox Chris- tian faith itself. What a perfect bedlam, in particular, the old Gnostic sects had been previousl}- for nw mind! But now, even they began to take intelligible shape and fall into line ; and what was chaos rose into a Avorld of at least comparative order and light, full of profound instruction, and worthy of diligent study for all following times. " I do not wish to be understood, of course, as bestowing on Neander unmeasured or uncjualified praise, lie was but the pioneer in the new order of ecclesiastical history, with which his name is identified, and he left room enough for others, who have followed him in his course, to do better in some respects than himself. His ftiults and defects are now generally' admitted. They grew in a measure out of his position, and the reigning character of his own religion, and have a close connection with what are otherwise the positive merits and charms of his great work, being in part at least, one might say, those peculiarities carried to a sort of sickly and feeble excess." Dr. Nevin's own judgment of Xeander was well expressed by that of another, and he therefore quoted it as expressing his own. " This noble monument of sanctified learning," says Dr. Schaff, his disci- ple and now world-famous co-w^orker in the same branch of science (see his Tract, What is Church History, page '79),"is without question the most important product of the modern German the- ology" in the sphere of Church Histor}^ and must long maintain a high authority. At the same time, it is not to be denied, that in point of church character it is no longer fully up to the demands of the time. Neander occupies still the ground of Schleiermacher in this respect, that the church spirit api)ears with him under a too indefinite form, and in its general character in too much of a mere feeling of religious communion. Hence his aversion to a pointedly distinct orthodoxy, and his partiality towards all free dissenting tendencies. Since the Reformation Jubilee of 1817, how^ever, the evangelical theology of Germany has taken a strong and con- stantl}' growing church direction, which will give character, no doubt, also more and more to the future. To be all that is now required, therefore, a Church History should unite a proper har- mon}', a tliorough use of original sources, clear apprehension, or- ganic development, and graphic delineation, together with decided though broad church feeling, and the power of true Christian edifi- ClIAP. IX] AN HISTORICAL AAVAKENTNG 83 fiitioii. It iu:iy !>(-' l<>n