Concluding Note, 1859

With the letter of June 23, this long, regular, and most affectionate correspondence terminated on the part of my faithful friend. I wrote to him on the 7th and 21st of July, informing him in the latter, that I should leave home on the 27th for a journey of some weeks, and begging him to send me word to certain points on the 5th and 10th of August, of the state of his health. I had been desponding of his recovery from the time of our last personal interview, May 2; but was not prepared to receive the tidings of his departure so early as it came; for before the first date I had fixed for his writing to me he was in his grave.

Nothing, therefore, remains of my present undertaking, but to furnish a narrative of the events of these last few weeks; which I am able to do in the language of those who had the privilege, providentially denied to myself, of being with him in the closing scenes.

At the University of Virginia he had his home with his wife’s brother, Dr. James L. Cabell, Professor of Comparative Anatomy and Physiology, whose sympathies and attentions as a companion, friend, and physician, supplied every thing that either his domestic or religious wants could require.

“During the first few days after his arrival at my house,” (I quote the words of Dr. Cabell in letters to myself and others,) “he allowed himself to be distressingly exercised on the subject of his relations to the congregation, but letters received almost simultaneously from two of the Elders, in which they requested him to dismiss that subject from his mind until his health should be fully restored, had the desired result; and from that time forward I had no reason to think that the subject ever disturbed him again. The remainder of his days was spent in tranquil enjoyment, evidently at peace with God through faith in Christ, and in love and charity with all men.

“Leaving the University at noon of July 12, we reached Millboro’ station at four, and there took a chartered coach for the Warm Springs. The afternoon was exceedingly sultry, and when we reached the Bath Alum Springs, nine or ten miles from the station, and five from the end of our journey, it was found necessary to stop for the night. We made a fresh start at daybreak, (July 13,) and crossed the Warm Spring Mountain before break fast. It was a fine bracing morning. He had enjoyed good rest during the night, and was in excellent spirits. When we drove up to the Warm Springs Hotel, he got out of the coach with a more elastic step than he had shown for months, and averred that he felt like a new man. After a day or two this feeling of buoyancy deserted him, and was succeeded by an expression of tranquil resignation which puzzled me. On the one hand, the absence of a painful expression was gratifying, in contrast with the previously frequent indications of bodily and mental distress; but, on the other hand, the ordinary signs of convalescence in improved appetite and buoyant spirits, were lacking.

“The suspension of some of his most distressing symptoms soon after his arrival in Virginia, gave me for a time pretty sanguine hopes of his ultimate restoration; but my mind gradually received the impression that despite the abeyance of such symptoms, no ground previously lost was ever recovered. The flesh and strength he had lost were never regained; and more than this, his weakness and emaciation increased progressively, though slowly. By insensible degrees my hopes were lessening and my fears were increasing. He himself never wavered in his conviction that he was not only hopelessly disabled, but that his end was much nearer at hand than others thought. He left New York early in June, six weeks later my house, in the firm conviction that he would see neither place again. Still he was impatient to get into the mountains. You know the force of his aesthetic susceptibilities. In his daily drives, his enjoyment of our mountain scenery, which is unsurpassed for its varied beauty and grandeur, was almost rapturous. It had never before, he said, been half so great. He would repeatedly say that he had no language of his own adequate to the expression of his feelings, and could only exclaim with the Psalmist: ‘Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness and for His wonderful works to the children of men.’ Similar exercises were manifested on our journey to the Warm Springs, and especially at that spot of exquisite beauty, where we lingered a week. It must have been the effect of such mental exercises that produced so marked a change in the expression of his countenance, by removing the traces of suffering, as to cause both ourselves and strangers to mark the change, and to imagine that he was much better. But I recall the fact that he several times said to me: 1 1 have a strange feeling of increasing debility.’ On learning from my sister that he slept better than he had done for months, that he was entirely free from pain at night, and that his appetite and enjoyment of food were keen, I could not attach much significance to a feeling, which is temporarily experienced by most persons who take a warm bath daily. He was impatient to go on to the Red Sweet Springs, (Alleghany county,) his favourite resort in these mountains. Waiting for a rain to lay the dust and cool the air, we left the Warm Springs on the 20th July, the day after a heavy shower had produced this twofold change, on a bright and beautiful morning. But we had not gone many miles before we found, to our great regret, that the clouds of the preceding day had not extended far in the direction of our road, and we were greatly oppressed by the heat and dust. Towards noon he requested me to stop the coach at the nearest house as he was suffering extreme pain. In about a quarter of an hour we reached an obscure country tavern, where we remained four or five hours, and then proceeded eight miles further to a more comfortable house, where well-ventilated rooms and good bedding could be obtained. Here, during the night, symptoms of dysentery appeared, but were relieved by prompt remedies to such an extent as to admit of his travelling the next morning over the

294: CONCLTJDISG NOTE.

remaining eighteen miles of his journey, which brought us to the Red Sweet Springs. Having here more comforts, conveniences and appliances for gratifying his tastes, than could have been brought together elsewhere, both he and my sister made it a subject of thanksgiving that he was permitted to reach a spot endeared to him by its rural and quiet charms and many pleasant associations.

“Our determination to continue our journey was based upon the fact that the tavern at which we lodged, though in many other respects quite comfortable, was rendered unfit for invalids by reason of its being the night-stand for the enormous travel to the White Sulphur Springs. The stages were coming in or going out nearly all night, and there were not two hours of quiet during the entire night. He passed over the eighteen miles with so little discomfort, and with so frequent manifestations of delight as he recalled the familiar objects along the road, that I really thought the disease must have been extinguished. The symptoms returned, however, after our arrival at the Springs, but with so moderate a degree of intensity as to awaken no alarm. The immediate cause of death was an uncontrollable diarrhoea supervening upon an attack of dysentery. His system responded readily enough to the remedies employed, and this circumstance induced us to indulge very sanguine hopes of his recovery until a few days before the termination; but his physical constitution had been so completely wrecked that he had no recuperative power in reserve for such exigencies. On Wednesday morning, July 27th, after a night of fever, I sent telegraphic communications to his friends respecting his condition. From this time till his death I did not leave his bedside, except to take my meals. Wednesday night the fever was scarcely perceptible, and his sleep -was so refreshing that on awaking at dawn of day, he said to me: * I slept delightfully and am much refreshed.’ An hour or two later he said to my sister: ‘I must be better — I feel entirely comfortable.’ This delusive appearance of amendment continued all the day, and slightly revived our hopes. But Thursday night the fever recurred, and again on Friday night. On the latter occasion a collapse ensued on the* subsidence of the fever, which looked like the final sinking. He rallied, however.

but the fever recurred early Saturday night, and by midnight he was evidently and unquestionably sinking, though he continued to breathe till about five o’clock on the Sabbath morn.

“Much of the time before his strength entirely failed, was spent in sending messages of farewell and comfort to his congregation and the absent members of his family. He said: * I have not been in the habit of talking much on the subject of my own spiritual states of feeling. With respect to my subjective religion, I have often disappointed people who look for manifestations of a certain kind. But I have frequently made known to Elizabeth [his wife] the grounds of my hope.’ It was now suggested to him that he was exhausting himself, and needed rest, but he added, ‘Let me say one word more with respect to the solemn event to which you have called my attention. If the curtain were to drop now, and I were this moment ushered into the presence of my Maker, what would be my feelings? They would be these: first, I would prostrate myself in an unutterable sense of my nothingness and guilt; but, secondly, I would look upon my Redeemer with an inexpressible assurance of faith and love. A passage of Scripture which expresses my present feeling is this: “I know WHOM” (with great emphasis) “I have believed, and am assured that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him against that day.” ‘In quoting this sentence he remarked, “some persons read it ’ in whom I have believed,’ but there is no preposition. Christ himself was the direct object of the Apostle’s faith.” This took place about twenty hours before his departure, after which he fell into a sweet sleep, which continued till the last.

“We are apt to think of sickness and death at a public watering-place as peculiarly distressing. It was far otherwise in this case. Our party had the exclusive occupation of a large isolated cottage, with abundant attendance by excellent and sympathizing servants, and the kind-hearted and liberal proprietor (Mr. Bias) spared neither trouble nor expense in procuring every comfort and luxury which could be had.”

It increases our cause of thankfulness for the perfect peacefulness and serenity of this passage through the* valley of the shadow of death, to know that Dr. Alexander expected to suffer some severe spiritual conflicts before his release. In view of such a trial he had deliberately prepared the minds of those who might be expected to be most deeply moved by it; reminding them of the nature of such temporary temptations of faith, as some times occur in Christian experience before the final triumph, and bidding them not to be disturbed by what might take place in his own instance. But no such darkness, doubt, or trouble came, even for a moment. His countenance, even in silence and sleep, bore such a happy and transported expression, that it was remarked by one who witnessed it that he was already looking into heaven. In this respect, those prayers appeared to be answered, which were intimated by his speaking of the comfort he found on his death-bed in such stanzas as these, (translated from German:)

Forsake me not, my God,
Thou God of my salvation!

Give me thy light, to be
My sure illumination.

My soul to folly turns,

Seeking she knows not what;

Oh! lead her to thyself — My God, forsake me not!

Forsake me not, my God!

Take not thy Spirit from me;
And suffer not the might

Of sin to overcome me.
A father pitieth

The children he begot;
My Father, pity me;

My God, forsake me not!

Forsake me not, my God!

Thou God of life and power,
Enliven, strengthen me,

In every evil hour;
And when the sinful fire

Within my heart is hot,
Be not thou far from me;

My God, forsake me not!

Forsake me not, my God!

Uphold me in my going;
That evermore I may

Please thee in all well-doing;
And that thy will, 0 Lord,

May never be forgot
In all my works and ways —

My God, forsake me not!

Forsake me not, my God!

I would be thine forever;
Confirm me mightily

In every right endeavour.
And when my hour is come,

Cleansed from all stain and spot
Of sin, receive my soul;

My God, forsake me not!

I place, here, principally on account of the interest now associated with it by the unexpected decease of the writer him self in less than six months from its date, an extract from a letter addressed to me by Dr. J. Addison Alexander, on the day after his brother’s death, but before the intelligence had reached New York.

“NEW YORK, August 1, 1859.
” MY DEAR SIR,

“I left town on Friday for a day or two, and on returning to resume my work [writing Commentary] this morning, find that James’s sons set off that same day for the South, having heard unfavourable news from their father, and that my brother Samuel followed them last night after receiving a despatch saying that James was rapidly sinking. He was seized with dysentery on his way from the Warm to the Sweet Springs, where it seems that disease is epidemic. I hear indirectly through a member of Dr. Cabell’s family, that at the beginning of this new attack he suffered nothing, but seemed nearly insensible. We are now in hourly expectation of later news, which will determine my own movements. In the mean time I think it right to let you know what we know, if you have not previously heard it. I cannot yet abandon all hope, though I stand prepared to hear the worst.”

In a letter a month afterwards, and in reference to another

VOL II. — 13* bereavement, Dr. J. A. A. says:” I have no doubt you have often turned in thought to our departed ’ son of consolation,’ as if he were still living. With a strange but not unnatural for getfulness, I find myself looking to him for support even under the irreparable stroke of his own death. I had no conception of my intellectual dependence upon James, until I caught myself continually laying things aside to tell him as the person who could best appreciate and enjoy them. All this says very loudly ’ cease ye from man whose breath is in his nostrils,’ and shows the grace and wisdom of that constitution which reserves the office of comforter for a divine person. The circumstances which you mention certainly go far to reconcile us to his death at this time; but I feel now and then a disposition to repine at the circumstances themselves. I have no doubt that he shortened his own life by morbid anxieties, connected not merely with his health, but with his duties. I find it hard to acquiesce without a murmur in the loss of such a man from such a cause, or to reflect, without a momentary pang of discontent, that he might have preached for many years with ease and pleasure, but sunk under the weight of other cares. ;,.,...-.

“It seems an argument in favour of the old Puritan arrangement, which provided both a pastor and a teacher in such cases. But I have already said too much, and check myself.”

Ten days afterwards, referring to the modification in his Seminary duties, Dr. J. A. Alexander wrote: “The change in my employments is exceedingly agreeable, and none the less so from its having been a favourite plan of James’s, without whose influence it never would have taken place. This is not the only point in which he lived to see his hopes fulfilled in reference to his nearest relatives — another instance of the loving-kindness which arranged the circumstances of his death.”

The decease took place early on the morning of the Lord’s day, July 31, 1859. After a proper interval, the body was taken to Princeton, and the interment was made on Wednesday,

1 The writer alludes to his brother’s extreme, almost morbid conscientiousness, which led him to attempt an amount of labour beyond his physical ability, and which oppressed his mind when he found he could not overtake his work.

August 3d. The religious services connected with it were held in the First Presbyterian Church, and were conducted by the Rev. Dr. Thompson of New York, Dr. Magie of Elizabeth, Professor Hope, (since deceased,) of the College, and Dr. Hodge, the last of whom preached a discourse from the words in Matthew xxv. 34, “Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

The sympathy felt by Christians of all branches of the church, in the removal of Dr. Alexander from their communion, was strikingly displayed in a meeting which took place on the 5th of August, at the most largely frequented of American summer-resorts — Saratoga. At this assembly clergymen of the Episcopal, Congregational, Baptist, Methodist, and Reformed-Dutch, as well as the Presbyterian churches, expressed a common sentiment of brotherly affection and high esteem.

The Session of the bereaved congregation in New York, appointed the second Sabbath of October to be observed with special reference to their affliction. It had been expected that the church would be closed during part of the summer and until that day, with a view to some extensive changes in the building to assist the voice of the pastor. But upon the reassembling of the congregation, a marble tablet, inserted in the wall near the pulpit, was the only change to be noticed. That tablet bears the following inscription:

IN MEMORY OF

JAMES WADDEL ALEXANDER, D.D.,

FOR THIRTEEN YEARS TUB BELOVED AND REVERED PASTOR OF THIS CHURCH J WHOSE SINGULAR NATURAL GIFTS, RIPENED BY GENEROUS CULTURE,

WERE SUCCESSFULLY GIVEN TO HIS SACRED WORK;

AND WHO, BY HIS FERVENT PIETY, PURE LIFE, TENDER AFFECTIONS,

LARGE BENEVOLENCE, AND UNSPARING LABOUR, SO ENDEARED HIMSELF TO

HIS PEOPLE, THAT THEY MOURN
AS FOR A DEAR BROTHER AND BELOVED FRIEND.

HE WAS BORN MARCH 13, 1804,
HE DIED JULY 31, 1859,

DECLARING, AS THE SUM OF HIS FAITH AND HOPE,

“I know whom 1 have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him against that day,”

With the services on the Sabbath alluded to, were connected in the morning a sermon by Professor Hodge of the Princeton Theological Seminary, from the words, (Acts ix. 20,) “He preached Christ;” and in the afternoon a sermon by the Editor of these volumes, from 2 Peter i. 15, “Moreover, I will endeavour that ye may be able, after my decease, to have these things always in remembrance.”

From the former of these, I extract a few paragraphs:

“Dr. Alexander united in himself gifts and graces rarely found in combination. God had endowed him with a retentive memory and a perspicacious intellect, with great power of application and acquirement, with singular delicacy of taste, with a musical ear, and a resonant voice. These gifts were all cultivated and turned to the best account. Probably no minister in our Church was a more accomplished scholar. He was familiar with English literature in all periods of its history. He cultivated the Greek and Latin, French, German, Italian, and Spanish languages, not merely as a philologist, but for the treasures of knowledge and of taste which they contain. To this wide compass of his studies is in good measure to be referred many of his characteristics as a writer, the abundance of his literary allusions, his curious felicity of expression, and the variety of his imagery.

“It was, however, not only in the department of literature that Dr. Alexander was thus distinguished. He was an erudite theologian. Few men were more conversant with the writings of the early fathers, or more familiar with Christian doctrine in all its phases. He embraced the faith of the Reformed Churches in its integrity with a strength of conviction which nothing but the accordance of that system with his religious experience could produce. * * * Theology and philosophy are so related, that devotion to the former involves of necessity the cultivation of the latter. Dr. Alexander was therefore at home in the whole department of philosophical speculation. His last publication was an able exposition of the views of the meta physicians of the middle ages on one of the most important questions in mental science.

1 “The doctrine of Perception, as held by Doctor Arnauld, Doctor Reid,” Thus richly and variously was your beloved pastor endowed. These gifts, however, were but accomplishments. Underneath these adornments, in themselves of priceless value, was the man and the Christian. He was an Israelite without guile. Probably no man living was freer from all envy and jealousy, from malice, hypocrisy, and evil-speaking. No one ever heard of his saying or doing an unseemly or unkind thing. The associations connected with his name in the minds of all who knew him, are of things true, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. No one can think of him without being the happier and the better for the thought. He was a delightful companion. His varied knowledge, his humor, his singular power of illustration, rendered his conversation, when in health and spirits, a perpetual feast. Having been brought early in life to a saving knowledge of the truth, his religious knowledge and experience were profound and extensive. He was therefore a skilful casuist, a wise counsellor, and abundantly able to comfort the afflicted with the consolation wherewith he himself had been comforted of God. He was evidently a devout man, reverential in all his acts and utterances, full of faith and of the Holy Ghost.

“The pulpit was his appropriate sphere. There all his gifts and graces, all his acquirements and experiences, found full scope. Hence the remarkable variety which characterized his preaching; which was sometimes doctrinal, sometimes experimental, sometimes historical, sometimes descriptive or graphic, bringing scriptural scenes and incidents as things present before the mind; often exegetical, unfolding the meaning of the word of God in its own divine form. Hence, too, the vivacity of thought, the felicity of style, and fertility of illustration which were displayed in all his sermons. He could adapt himself to any kind of audience. * * * He preached Christ in a manner which seemed to many altogether peculiar. He endeavoured to turn the minds of men away from themselves, and to lead them to look only

and Sir William Hamilton,” in the Repertory for April, 1859. As I have, in the progress of the volumes, indicated Dr. Alexander’s articles in the Repertory, as far as I can identify them, I will mention that in the course of 1858 ‘his contributions were, 1. “Ancient Manuscript Sermons;” 2. “Sprague’s Annals.”

unto Jesus. He strove to convince his hearers that the work of salvation had been accomplished for them, and was not to be done by them; that their duty was simply to acquiesce in the work of Christ, assured that the subjective work of sanctification is due to the objective work of Christ, as appropriated by faith and applied by the Holy Ghost. He thus endeavoured to cut off the delays, the anxieties, and misgivings which arise from watching the exercises of our own minds, seeking in what we inwardly experience a warrant for accepting what is outwardly offered to the chief of sinners, without money and without price. He was eminently successful in his ministry, not only in the conversion of sinners, but in comforting and edifying believers. The great charm of his preaching, that to which more than to any thing else its efficiency is to be referred, was his power over the religious affections. He not only instructed, encouraged, and strengthened his hearers, but he had, to a remarkable degree, the gift of calling their devotional feelings into exercise. In his prayers there were those peculiar intonations to which the Spirit of God alone can attune the human voice, and at the sound of which the gates of heaven seem to unfold, and the worshippers above and the worshippers on earth mingle together, prostrate in adoration. Your religious services, under his ministry, were truly seasons of devotion, the highest form of enjoyment vouchsafed to men on earth. The man who can give us this enjoyment, who can thus raise our hearts to God, and bring us into communion with our Saviour, we reverence and love. This is a power which no one envies, from which no one wishes to detract, which surrounds its possessor with a sacred halo, attracting all eyes and offending none.

“Dr. Alexander’s preeminence, therefore, was due not to any one gift alone; not to his natural abilities, to his varied scholarship, to his extensive theological knowledge and religious experience; not to his divine unction, or to his graces of elocution. It was the combination of all these which made him, not the first of orators to hear on rare occasions, but the first of preachers to sit under, month after month and year after year.”

[The last letter ever written by Dr. Alexander, as referred to on page 290, was as follows :]

“WARM SPRINGS, July 19, 1859.

“MY DEAR LITTLE CHARLEY. — We have all been very much grieved to hear of your trouble; your mother’s letter is all we know, but we trust you are by this time over the worst. I am weak, and cannot write much, but I beg you to consider that it is your Heavenly Father who sends this affliction on you, for your good. And if you are patient and resigned to the will of God, it will please God as much as if you did the most laborious works. We were pleased to hear how manly you were, after you were hurt. This was God’s gift; and he will take away your timidity, if you ask him, and make you strong and courageous.

“Willy has a letter begun to you, but he is a poor writer, and every thing draws him away. Give my love to your dear parents, to my sweet little Netty, to Archy and Sam, also to your Uncle Sam; all join in this. A letter is a great treat up here. Our address will be: Red Sweet Springs, Alleghany Co., Va. deiir3 Please let this be known to our friends. We expect to leave here to-morrow in a chartered stage. Mrs. Cabell is better. Your aunt is well; so is Will. My own troubles are chiefly from extreme weakness. I gain little.” God bless you, Charley!

“I am your affectionate uncle

JAMES.”