CHAPTER III. FROM HIS GRADUATION TO HIS SETTLEMENT IN THE MINISTRY, 1798-1803. Teaches an academy in Framingham-Honest frankness of his character-Studies divinity with Dr. EmmonsPoetry-On writing prayers-Manner of life at Franklin-Resides at Cambridge-Corresponds with his former pupils-On decrees, self-determining power, chirography, education-School-teaching as connected with the pastoral office-Returns to Franklin-Remarks on Darwin, Young, the study and reading of poetry and prose-Begins to preach, and is appointed tutor-Efforts to ascertain his own faults-Letter from J. Metcalf -Didactic and social traits of character-On best habits in all things-Poetry on Mrs. Steele-Death of his mother-Eventful correspondence-Death of other relatives-Preaching-Journal-Habits of study— Resolution and plan for studying the Bible-Projects, resolutions, and expectations-Call to settle at Beverly -Admiration of Baxter-Answer to his call-Formation of the church in B.-Feelings in view of his approaching ordination. About the time of his leaving college, my brother took charge of the academy at Framingham, where we find him at the date of the following letter. Framingham, Dec. 7, 1798. SISTER AMA, I hope you will not be very much disappointed that you see this letter instead of your brother. Much less will your husband regret my determination. However, I believe I shall not progress very much in Hopkinsianism. It is not absolutely certain that I shall spend the vacation with Mr. Emmons, as I have said nothing to him concerning the matter. I shall probably see Franklin to-morrow. I should certainly come to Holles this winter, could I be sure of seeing Hannah, [then married to Rev. N. Hall of Granville, N. Y., and since dead.] It seems almost an age since I saw her. I fear I shall not see her for seven long months. Not a syllable have I heard from Granville since last summer. I almost regret, sometimes, that I did not try to visit her. I do not know that my affection for her is stronger than it is for any other person, but it seems sometimes as if I liked her better than every body else. Surely I never knew before how much I esteemed her. You now seem almost like an only sister. My school has lately been small. My task has been easy, and my health was never better than it is at present. He spent about a year at Framingham; where, if I may judge from letters that now lie before me, he formed many agreeable acquaintances, and passed his time very pleasantly. Most of his letters, at this period, are written with much sprightliness, and warmth of affection, but bear less of the impress of fervent piety than those of some other periods. Occasionally they are tinged with a pensiveness, not uncommon to a sensitive heart at that period of life, and soon after leaving the university. The following brief extract may serve as a specimen. Framingham, July 9, 1779. The toils of the day are past. Toils?-no, they are not toils, they are pleasures. My days are happy, though they seem "swifter than a weaver's shuttle." The moon is hastening to quench her lamp in the waves of the Pacific. The lamp of this mortal life is hastening to be extinguished in the ocean of eternity. All, all is silent as the house of death. O Harvard! thy joys rise fresh to my soul. Sweet are the joys of Harvard; but they are past. Sweeter are the joys of Framingham; but they are past, or hastening to be gone. Still sweeter are the joys of futurity, which feed my rapturous hopes. "He knows not how to fear, who dares to die." Many times have I traversed the plains of Cambridge, when darkness and silence were my sole, my pensive companions. These words were my never-failing solace: "Night, sable goddess, from her ebon throne, The following sentences are too full of weighty truth, and too strongly show one of the most prominent traits of the writer, to be omitted here. Flattery I detest. It is the child of nonsense, or of vice, or of both. He who flatters a lady, at the same time implicitly tells her that he is a knave, or a fool, or that he thinks her one." In the genuine spirit of these remarks, he appears to have conducted his social intercourse through life. I do not believe he ever intended to flatter any individual. And yet, of all the honest men I ever knew, he was perhaps the most ready to mention frankly and soberly to a friend, what he supposed to be the excellencies, as well as the defects, in the character of that friend. And this he did upon principle, judging it to be as plainly a duty to prompt and encourage one to the increase of his good qualities, as to admonish him of his faults. His delight, too, in the excellences of his friend, doubtless often led him to an undue estimate of their powers or their moral qualities; and from this source, the undesigned effect of his conversations or his letters, might not unfrequently be allied to that of the flatterer whom he abhorred. Still his manner was so serious, and so ingenuous, that in cases of the greatest over-estimate, he was not likely to be suspected of this sinister vice. And, as to the effect, I suspect that, in most cases of such mistake, while the individual felt grateful for the good opinion, he was left to think that his frank and kind-hearted friend did but imperfectly understand his case, and that it would be his wisdom to amend the faults so lightly touched upon, and as speedily as possible to attain to that balance of positive excellence thus prematurely awarded. In July of this year, he left Framingham for Franklin, where he studied divinity under the care of Dr. Emmons, with some intermissions, for two years. This step was sorely against the will of his father, and some other friends, who at that time but imperfectly understood the opinions of Dr. Emmons, and who were filled with apprehension for the effects of his rising influence among the churches. Their estimate of him and his doctrines, was afterwards materially changed. Though reluctant to take a single step against the wishes of such a parent, yet my brother thought it his duty to avail himself of the instruction of this distinguished teacher, who had already guided many in their studies for the sacred profession. Perhaps, too, he also had a curiosity to learn more perfectly the new doctrine of Hopkinsianism, from the fountain head. I know not that he ever regretted this step; but have reason to believe he always rejoiced in it as the means of attaining to a higher degree of accuracy and precision of thought and expression on the great subjects of religion, than he would probably have attained elsewhere. When thus removed, his thoughts naturally reverted to the scenes he had so recently left. In a letter to one of his former pupils, he thus writes, under date of November 5, 1799: "Doubtless you are sensible that I left Framingham with a degree of regret. I there formed many very agreeable acquaintances. I have often been asked how I liked Framingham. The substance of my answers has been, that I was very happy in my school; that I was treated with great hospitality and politeness; that the place contained a very fine circle of young ladies, many of whose minds were seasoned with the salt of knowledge and the spice of refinement. But what could I tell persons, when they inquired concerning that "pearl of great price," without which all the knowledge, and all the refinement, that any mortal can possess, are as "sounding brass, or tinkling cymbals ?" What could I do but be silent, or reply, that I found in Framingham almost every thing conducive to happiness, except religion? This was my answer, and I would gladly be convinced, that it was without foundation. What says your experience upon this subject? Did I mistake, when I represented that religion was almost entirely out of fashion, especially among young persons? If I did, please to tell me, and tell me your reasons for thinking so. I do not pretend to exculpate myself. If my conduct in this respect be "weighed in the balance" of reason, I know it will be "found wanting." I did not inculcate the importance of religion with the frequency, nor with the assiduity, which so momentous a subject demands. My popularity would probably have been greater, if my pretensions to religion had been less; and if I had faithfully performed my duty in this respect, my reputation would have been still less than it was. These remarks, however, I am persuaded, are not applicable to all. No, "I am persuaded better things of you," than to suppose that you would despise, or more lightly esteem me, on account of my pretensions to religion; or because I sometimes told my pupils, that they were possessed of immortal minds, capable of incalculable bliss or wo." I find also among his papers, a fragment of a poem, on the same scenes, dated at Franklin, 1800. When toilsome studies of the day are o'er, And drinks the song of whippoorwill so gay. But still more oft, when midnight curtains spread Those pleasing scenes, I once enjoyed with you. find Nor you alone, my partner do |