Descent and Boyhood

DESCENT — THE GREAT VALLEY — OLD AECHIBALD ALEXANDER — PAREN-TAGE NATIVE PLACE EARLY SCHOOLS THE WAR WILLIAM GRA-HAM PRIESTLY CLASSICAL TRAINING.

ABOUT the year 1736, as nearly as can now be discovered, three brothers named Alexander emigrated to America. Though they came from Ireland, they were of the Scottish race, and their father, Thomas Alexander, had removed from Scotland to the neighbourhood of Londonderry. One of these brothers, Archibald Alexander, settled first in Pennsylvania, where his son William was born upon the river Schuylkill. The three brothers were well educated, and one of them, Kobert, was a teacher of mathematics. After a residence of more than two years in Pennsylvania, Archibald Alexander removed to New Virginia, as the country was then called; his son William, being at the time 1

about nine years of age. He was among the earliest settlers of that particular region.

“While he resided in Pennsylvania,” says the personal narrative to which we are to be indebted for most of our facts, “the Grreat Kevival which spread its benign influence over so large a portion of America, extended to the congregation in which he lived, and he became a subject of the good work, under the preaching of Mr. Kowland. This fact I learned from old Dr. Robert Smith of Pequea, who knew him well, and told me in 1791, when I was at his house, that he had often met with my grandfather during that period, following Mr. Eowland far and near.”

No better notion of the locality here principally concerned can be obtained, than from some paragraphs left by the subject of this narrative.” The Great Valley of Virginia, or as it is commonly called in the State, the Valley, is situated between the Blue Eidge and the North Mountain; and its general direction is the same, from northeast to southwest. It is a continuation of the same valley which, commencing on the Delaware at Easton, passes entirely through the State of Pennsylvania, including Bethlehem, Reading, Harrisburg, Carlisle, Shippensburg, Chambersburg, and many other flourishing towns and villages, and extends through Maryland to the Potomac. On the south side of this river the Valley of Virginia commences, and runs nearly through the State, embracing in its whole extent, from the Delaware to the New or Kanhawa River, as rich, as variegated, and as well watered a region, as can be found in the United States. The width of this valley, from mountain to

mountain, varies from ten to thirty miles; fifteen miles may be considered the mean breadth. There is also a great difference in the surface; in some parts the land is flat, but rises in others into high hills, which every where in their uncultivated state are covered with forests of timber, which is often very large. It is, throughout, a limestone country; and in some places the rocks almost cover the surface of the ground. Within these rocks are many caverns, in some of which the waters collect in such quantities, that in many places, springs burst forth with a stream sufficient to turn a large waterwheel. The ledges of limestone running above the surface, and generally inclined at a considerable angle to the horizon, cause the roads to be rough and very unpleasant for wheels. Through the whole extent of this valley, wheat and other kinds of corn are cultivated with great success. Perhaps for the extent of it, it is the best wheat land in America. It is an excellent farming country, with a deep stiff clay soil, susceptible when exhausted of great improvement from the gypsum and the lime obtained from the rocks.” Although the region under consideration is now the central part of Virginia, it generally received its inhabitants from a source very different from that of the remaining portions; for while the latter are from a pure English stock, the former are Scotch-Irish and German in their origin. The people called the Scotch-Irish are all Presbyterians, and descending from the Scotch, have nevertheless for several generations resided in the north of Ireland. They are a people of marked traits, differing entirely from the native Irish, and from the descendants of the English in Ireland. They

4 SCOTCH-IKISH — THE SCHISM.

have also acquired characteristics which distinguish them from the Scotch. These people settled in Ireland at different periods; but most of them went over in the times of persecution under the Stuarts. When Pennsylvania was laid open for settlement, and freedom of religion was promised to all denominations by William Penn, many emigrated to that colony, and settled in the southern and eastern counties, and in the three counties which have since composed the State of Delaware. As the settlements extended, they spread themselves westward, and were generally among the foremost to occupy new lands. Many of them therefore entered the Great Valley before described, about Harrisburg and Carlisle, also towards the Potomac, and beyond it into Virginia. The time of the earliest emigration from Ireland was probably from 1720 to 1740. About the last mentioned date, some persons had penetrated so far along the valley as to reach the waters of the great Powhatan, commonly called the James Kiver. This part of the valley, though uneven and in many places rocky, was found to be exceedingly fertile, and the ’ coves ’ and gaps in the mountains furnished good grazing for cattle. So favourable a report was brought back by the explorers, that many families in eastern Pennsylvania determined to remove to New Virginia, as that region was then called.

“Between 1740 and 1750 a great emigration took place: and as an unhappy schism then existed in the Presbyterian Church, dividing it into the Old Side and New Side, as the parts were called, the people of these parties settled, not promiscuously, but in separate groups, which became the

germs of new congregations; for when a settlement was once made, it was rapidly increased every year by emigrants, not only from Pennsylvania but directly from Ireland. The emigrants from congregations of the Old Side planted themselves in compact bodies in that part of the Valley east and south of Staunton, and even extended themselves over the Blue Eidge at Kockfish Gap, immediately below which they found some rich and beautiful land on Kockfish River. In a very few years there were three ministers of the gospel stationed among them. The Kev. Mr. Craig took charge of the Augusta Church, and that of Tinkling Spring; the Kev. Mr. Miller, of Mossy Creek and Harrisonburg; and the Kev. Mr. Black, of Kockfish, on the eastern side of the Blue Kidge. That part of the valley which lies southwest of Staunton, as far as the Forks of James Kiver, was settled principally by adherents of the New Side. The congregations of Hebron, Bethel, New Providence, Timber Kidge, and the Forks, with some mixture of the others, were chiefly of the New Side. The first minister who settled in this part of the Valley, was the Kev. John Brown, who was born in Ireland, but received his education, at least the finishing part of it, in this country; for he was a graduate of the College of New Jersey. When licensed he visited New Virginia, and received a call from New Providence and Timber Kidge, which then formed but one congregation. The next preacher of this party was, I think, Mr. Cummins, who preached at the North Mountain (Hebron) and Bethel. In the Forks, that is the region about Lexington and further on towards the James Kiver, there was no settled pastor before Mr. Gra-

ham.” * And here we resume the personal narrative:” The congregation to which my grandfather belonged must have been Norriton, in the vicinity of Norristown, which did not then exist. It was divided into two, and the friends of the revival built a new house of worship, which they called Providence. From this many families emigrated to New Virginia, settled together, and built a meeting-house, which they called New Providence. As the congregation was extensive, they built another on Timber Kidge, ten or twelve miles further along the valley. My grandfather’s residence was within the bounds of the latter; my father’s farm was adjoining.

“I have often wondered why he chose a residence in a part of the valley so hilly and precipitous, when the whole country was before him, and when land could be had for a mere trifle. But I have understood that the selection was judiciously made, on account of the tine pasturage in the mountains, made accessible to cattle by the gap of Irish Creek.”

Archibald Alexander was a man of some remarkable points. At the solicitation of others, and for the sake of his children, he gave lessons to such of the neighbouring youth as would resort to him at night. “The appearance of my grandfather,” the narrative continues, “I remember very well. He was rather below the common height, but was thick-set, broad-breasted and strongly built. His face was broad, and his eyes large, black, and prominent. The expression of his countenance was calm and benignant, and his

* MS. Life of the Rev. William Graham.

manner of speaking was very kind and affectionate. He raised a company of men, called Hangers; and as their captain performed a tour of duty on the Great Kanhawa and the Ohio. For this service he received, in connection with other officers, a right to locate several thousand acres of land in Kentucky. Perhaps no man ever left behind him a higher character for uprightness and benignity, than old Ersbell Alexander, as he was called by the Scotch people. I have heard him spoken of by men of all classes, without any variation in their testimony to his worth. A large part of Eockbridge County was included in a grant made by the King to a certain Mr. Burden, and was called, within my memory, Burden’s Tract. When Burden died, he left my grandfather sole executor of his will, with authority to sign numerous deeds for land already sold. This high trust he executed with fidelity; and although he had such opportunities of appropriating to his own use any quantity of good land, he never seemed to have the least desire to become wealthy. When he first came to the country, he only took up as much land as would make moderate farms for himself and his two sons; and to each of these, when grown, he gave portions. They, however, surveyed tracts on Irish Creek, which at this day are among the most valuable lands in the neighbourhood,”

William Alexander, son of the preceding, enjoyed fewer opportunities of education; yet, being of an active mind, and having more access to books than his companions, he acquired a considerable fund of knowledge. It is indicative of the domestic habits of the day, that he knew the whole

Larger Catechism, and remembered almost all Watts’s Psalms and Hymns. He “united the pursuit of merchandise to that of agriculture, but suffered greatly by the depreciation of the continental currency. He was an elder in the Presbyterian church, but did not attain to the Christian eminence of his father. William Alexander married Ann Keid, the daughter of a wealthy landholder, of the same Presbyterian colony. She was a retiring and humble, but affectionately pious woman. The latter years of her life were made sad by a total loss of sight.

Archibald Alexander, the subject of this narrative, and the son of William and Ann above mentioned, was born on the seventeenth day of April, 1772.

“The house in which I was born,” says his own account, “was built of square logs, as were most of the houses at that time. The place is rough, and is near a little mountain stream, called the South Kiver, which, after joining the North Kiver, falls into the James Kiver, just above its entrance into the mountains. Nearly opposite to the place, Irish Creek, a bold stream from a gorge of the mountain, falls into the South Kiver. This my birthplace was at that time in Augusta County, which was unlimited to the west; it is now in Kockbridge County, and is about seven miles from Lexington, in an eastern direction.

“I was the third of nine children, seven of whom are still living (July 26, 1839). My brother Andrew was the oldest. The next in order was my sister, Margaret Graham. The others, in the order of nativity, are Sarah, John, Nancy (who died in childhood), Phebe, Elizabeth, Nancy, and Martha.

“My father, “having in the year 1775 removed from his place on the South River to the Forks, that is, to the south of the North River, just this side of the site of Lexington, began to carry on his mercantile business there. Indeed, to get into a more public and convenient situation, was, I suppose, his only motive for this change. He purchased the house now owned by my oldest brother. As the buildings were poor, and on the wrong side of the farm for his purpose, he erected a house and a store near to the present site of Jordan’s Mills. By this removal he went out of Augusta into Bottetourt County; for the North Kiver was the dividing line. But soon after this a new county was taken from the two, and called Kockbridge, from the Natural Bridge, which was within its limits. Lexington was fixed on for the seat of justice; and a town was laid off, which took its name from the place of the first battle and first bloodshed of the Kevolution. But the war came on, and all mercantile business was necessarily suspended; and my father now acted as deputy-sheriff to his father, in the new county.”

A lively affection appears to have subsisted between the brothers and sisters of the family. Of his brother, the late Andrew Alexander, a Christian of high respectability and strong points of character, he thus writes:” My brother was four years older than myself, and perhaps two brothers were never more unlike. From his early childhood he was sober and careful, fond of work, and always contriving something. I have heard my mother say, that while the family sojourned at Irish Creek, when he was only five or six years of age,

he made for himself a booth in the garden, where he would sit and work with awl and needle, making himself a shot pouch; for at that period every thing had a military complexion, the alarm of war having sounded through our peaceful country. But my brother was at the furthest remove from a warlike spirit. All his life he was so devoted to peace, that he would at any time rather suffer loss than enter into contention. His youth, manhood, and old age corresponded with his childhood. He was of uninterrupted veracity, and so honest that no temptation could ever seduce him to take an advantage.”

The country was new, and the times were difficult, in consequence of which the youth of that day grew up with hardier habits than ours. Dr. Alexander used repeatedly to tell his children that his father gave him a rifle the day he was eleven years old; and how he would spend days in the mountains in search of cattle which were lost, able to catch and discriminate the bells of his father’s herd at a distance which seems almost incredible. He was an expert swimmer, and grew up with that perfect knowledge of horsemanship which is still common to all young Virginians. Trifles serve to colour the picture of the times. The dress of the children was grotesque. “Long hair,” says he,” tied down the back, was all the mode; and every little fellow was cherishing his hair. I, among the rest, had a little dangling queue, which from the thinness of the hair was very small. On this account, some of the boys called me ‘My Lord Pig-tail.’ A great laugh was raised against me, by my having complained to the master of this, as a breach of the third commandment.

“Some judgment may be formed of the privations of trie people, consequent on the long continuance of the war, from the fact, that it was very difficult for our teacher to obtain a penknife, to make and mend the pens of the scholars. Hearing that my father had been on to the North for goods, I was mounted on a horse and sent home to get a knife. There had been a great rain and the streams were swollen. Arriving at the North Kiver, on the opposite bank of which my father’s house stood, I found that the river was too high to be forded by so young and weak a horse as the one I rode. I knew not what to do. The only house near was a cabin of one John Montgomery, an old cedar-cooper. To cross the river, which is always deep at that spot, John had made a bark canoe, such as is used by the Indians. I sat nearly all day, but knew not how I should pass the night. But towards sunset the old man said he would go up with me to the ford, and would try to make the family hear our call, that a servant with a strong horse accustomed to the ford might be sent over. In this we succeeded. Davy, a black boy, crossed, and taking me behind him on a tall horse, led the one I had ridden, but it was not without danger.”

These details, as belonging to the history of Virginia, could not well be omitted. We shall gather from the narrative some account of his early lessons and teachers, which will not be without their interest.

Schools were very scarce. I recollect that after our settlement in the Forks, as the whole country was then called between the James Kiver and its North Branch, on which last we resided, my eldest brother and sister went to a school

kept in the woods, half a mile north from where my brother Major Alexander now lives. The master was one Carrigan. They were every day carried across the river on horseback. About this time, that is, the next year after our removal, my father went on a trading expedition to Baltimore, and there purchased several convict servants, who had been transported for crime. Among these was a youth about eighteen or twenty named John Keardon, born, as he said, in Ireland, but reared from a child in London. He had been for some time at a classical school, and had read Latin books as far as Virgil, as well as a little in the Greek Testament. He wrote a fair hand and had some knowledge of book-keeping, but had never been accustomed to labour. This young fellow, it was thought, might teach school, in default of a better, and accordingly a hut of logs was erected at the foot of Paxton’s Meadow, where there was a spring. When last in that country, I visited the spot and recognised the little knoll on which the house stood, but no vestige of it remained, and nothing around except the meadow furnished me with any associations of my earliest school. For though this place was a mile from our house by the direct path along the creek, which was narrow and disagreeable, and a mile and a half by old Letty Campbell’s place, thither I trudged along every day, with my short legs and little feet, when not more than five years old. The master, as being my father’s servant, lodged at our house, and often carried me in his arms part of the way. I had no fear of him, as at home I was accustomed to call him Jack, and often conveyed my father’s commands to him. By some means, I know not how, I had learned to read in the

New Testament, before I went to this school. I remember a horn-booh, and a folded pasteboard, with letters and pictures, but this is all. The school was large, and some of the scholars were nearly grown. It consisted of both boys and girls. Our little Englishman made himself very familiar with the larger boys, and did not pretend to exercise any authority over them. But he would lay about him stoutly with his long switch upon the smaller urchins, when they were guilty of looking off their books. The custom was, to read with as loud a voice as we could while getting our lessons, as it was called. When within a quarter of a mile of a country school, one might hear like a distant chime the united voices of the scholars. Upon reflection, I cannot think that I derived the smallest benefit from the year or part of a year spent in this school, unless my lungs may have been strengthened by perpetual exercise. Before the year was out, the war had commenced, and the drum and fife of the recruiting sergeant were heard in all public places. Many companies of regulars were enlisted in that region. There were but two tories in the whole country, and these were obliged to fly. Most of the English convicts, whether they had served out their time or not, enlisted. All who were in my father’s service, namely, James Malone an Irish papist, Joe Lyon a thievish Jew, and John Keardon, went off; for these men generally cherished a deadly hatred to England.”

“Malone and the Jew enlisted before Keardon. The former, as we heard, was killed in Carolina. Lyon, who was a very bad man, deserted to the British. Soon after Wallace’s company reached the scene of warfare, Colonel Beaufort

was attacked by Tarleton’s corps in North Carolina. The Colonel, seeing his men in confusion, fled at the beginning of the battle, and almost the whole of his command was cut to pieces by the dragoons. Wallace disdained to fly, and being surrounded by the British horse, sold his life dearly, having first killed three or four men with his spontoon. Reardon, being a small man, was soon cut down. He had three deep wounds in the arms, one bayonet wound through the side, which only penetrated the flesh, and a severe cut on the head. After the battle he lay bleeding almost to death, among the slain and wounded, totally unable to move himself, but perfectly in his senses. When night came on, the moon shone, and he perceived a man passing near him, and wherever he observed signs of life despatching the sufferer with his bayonet. He presently approached Reardon, his musket was raised and his bayonet directed, when by the moonlight Reardon perceived that tins murderer was his old fellow-servant, Joe Lyon. He immediately said, ‘What, Joe — you will not kill me! ‘Lyon dropped his weapon and appeared amazed; but he sat down beside him, bound up his bleeding wounds as well as he could, brought some spirits and water, and remained by him a good part of the night; and before day dragged him to a small hut near the battle-field. Reardon, from whose lips I often heard the story, believed that the kind care of Lyon saved his life. Soon afterwards the battle of Guilford took place, in which it was said that Lyon was mortally wounded. Reardon returned to schoolkeeping on Timber Ridge,”

At the age of seven, he was sent away to board at the

house of a relation, and attend a school on Timber Kidge. He represents himself as very small for his age, and both timid and peevish. Having previously learned the Shorter Catechism, he was now put to learn the Larger. “When I returned, the war was raging, and I frequently saw companies of backwoodsmen, with their rifles, brown hunting-shirts, and deer’s-tail cockades, passing on to the theatre of conflict.” The young subject of our memoir after going for some time to the school of one Stevenson, was again placed under the care of Keardon, who had been released from the wars and healed of his wounds. While here he had the early grief occasioned by hearing that his father had been draughted as a soldier; his place was however taken by his half-brother, John Alexander. He next went to school to John Rhodes, an Englishman, and also a u redemptioner, “as such bondmen were called.” I remember this year,” says he,” with much satisfaction. We had many pleasant schoolmates, and were pleased with our learning. I spent much of my time at the writing-desk, but made poor progress. In arithmetic and English grammar I did better; but at that time we had no grammar but the one appended to the spelling-book, which was founded on the Latin. This I laboriously committed to memory, but it was not of the least use to me. I was now ten years old; and my father having determined to give a liberal education to one of his sons, selected me, saying to me that learning was to be my estate. The Reverend William Graham, a graduate of the College of New Jersey, had set up an academy at Timber Ridge Meeting-House, and had obtained an ample charter from, the Legislature. He travelled

through the New England States, soliciting benefactions for his seminary. Several small neat buildings were erected for the use of the students, and a good house on the New England model was reared for the rector. Students came in a goodly number, mostly grown young men. Every thing promised success; but war came on and obstructed the progress of the institution, which was named Liberty Hall. The school indeed existed before Mr. Graham came into the State, but had its seat at Mount Pleasant, near to the site of the village of Fairfield, six or seven miles to the east of Timber Kidge. Here Mr. Graham taught for a year or more, but being a man of much enterprise, he wished to rear a seminary after the model of Princeton College. Having received a call to take charge of the congregations of Timber Eidge and Hall’s Meeting-House, he removed the school to the former place, where he conducted it for several years. But finding an opportunity to purchase a farm which pleased him on the North Kiver, not much more than a mile from the present site of Lexington, he transferred it to that place, and had influence with a majority of the trustees to give their assent. The spot was on the extreme part of my father’s property. My father was pleased to have the school brought so near him, and made a donation of as much land as was needed for the buildings. In the mean time, studies were pursued in an upper room of Mr. Graham’s. Here I first entered on classical learning.”

This is the proper place for giving some account of the Reverend William Graham, whose name must occur so frequently in these pages. To no man did Dr. Alexander own himself more indebted, in regard to the direction of his studies and the moulding of his character. Such was his uniform testimony through life; and we cannot do better than to subjoin his own estimate of this truly great thinker, gathering it from a discourse delivered in 1843, among the very scenes of his early studies.

“Mr. Graham possessed a mind formed for profound and accurate investigation. He had studied the Greek and Latin classics with great care, and relished the beauties of these exquisite compositions. With the authors taught in the schools he was familiar by long practice in teaching, and always insisted on the importance of classical literature, as the proper basis of a liberal education. He had a strong leaning to the study of Natural Philosophy, and took great pleasure in making experiments with such apparatus as he possessed. As he was an ardent patriot and thorough republican, the times in which he lived led him to bestow much attention to the science of government; and one of the few pieces which he wrote for the press was on this subject. By some he was censured for meddling with politics; but it should be remembered that at this period, the country having cast off its allegiance to Great Britain and declared itself independent, had to lay the foundation of governments, both for the States and the Nation; and the welfare of posterity as well as of the existing inhabitants of the land was involved in the wisdom with which this work was done. The talents of any man, capable of thinking, seemed to be fairly put into requisition. It is a sound maxim, that men living at one time must not be judged by the opinions of an 18 WILLIAM GRAHAM.

age in which all the circumstances are greatly changed. At the adoption of the Federal Constitution, which according to its original draught he did not approve, he relinquished all attention to politics for the remainder of his life.

“The science, however, which engaged his thoughts more than all others except Theology, was the Philosophy of the Mind. Though acquainted with the best treatises which had then been published, he carried on his investigations not so much by books, as by a patient and repeated analysis of the various processes of thought as these arose in his own mind, and by reducing the phenomena thus observed to a regular system. The speaker is of the opinion, that the system of mental philosophy which he thus formed, was in clearness and fulness superior to any which has been given to the public, in the numerous works recently published on this subject. It is greatly to be regretted that his lectures were never committed to writing, for the benefit of the world. It was, however, a fault of this profound thinker, that he made little use of the pen; and it was also a defect, that in the latter years of his life he addicted himself little to reading the productions of other men, and perhaps entertained too low an opinion of the value of books.

“Mr. Graham, in his theological creed, was strictly orthodox, according to the standard of his own church, which he greatly venerated; but in his method of explaining some of the knotty points in theology, he departed considerably from the common track, judging that many things which have been involved in perplexity and obscurity by the manner in which they have been treated, are capable of easy and satis-WILLIAM GKAHAM. 19

factory explanation, by the use of sound principles of philosophy. As a preacher, he was always instructive and evangelical; though in common his delivery was feeble and embarrassed, rather than forcible; but when his feelings were excited, his voice became penetrating and his whole manner awakening and impressive. His profound study of the human heart enabled him to describe the various exercises of the Christian, with a clearness and truth which often greatly surprised his pious hearers, to whom it seemed as if he could read the inmost sentiments of their minds. When his object was to elucidate some difficult point, it was his custom to open his trenches, so to speak, at a great distance; removing out of the way every obstacle, until he was prepared to make his assault on the main fortress. Thus insensibly he led his hearers along step by step, gaining their assent first to one proposition and then to another, until at last they could not easily avoid acquiescence in the conclusion to which he wished to bring them. As a clear and cogent reasoner, he had no superior among his contemporaries; and his pre-eminence was acknowledged by all unprejudiced persons.

“The great error of his life was his relinquishing the important station in which Providence had placed him, and for which he was so eminently qualified, and this at a time of life when he possessed the ability of being more useful than in any former period. Having removed to the banks of the Ohio, he fell into great embarrassments, in the midst of which he died, in consequence of a violent fever contracted by exposure to drenching rains, while on a journey to Rich-

niond. In that city he breathed his last, in the house of his friend, the late Colonel Kohert Gamble; and his remains were deposited very near the south door of the Episcopal church on the hill, over which is placed a plain marble slab, with a short inscription,” *

Concerning the school which Mr. Graham taught in his own house, we have some remarks of Dr. Alexander, penned, as we believe, in the last months of his life. “Here,” says he, “the writer commenced his literary career, when a small boy. With the romantic scenery around, he has many interesting associations; but these are feelings which cannot be communicated. Of the whole number of youth whom he found in this school, he supposes that not one remains in the land of the living. And when he recollects the sportive and joyous hours, and the little foresight which any of the number had of their future course of life, he experiences an indescribable emotion, especially when he follows them, as he can in most cases, in their various fortunes. All the pupils were older than himself, and most were full-grown men; and while some rose to eminence in different professions, others pursued a devious and downward course, and scarce lived out half their days.” f

The private narrative goes on with further particulars concerning this infant college:” Mr. Graham was so completely occupied with his new farm, that he paid little personal attention to the school. But his usher, James Priestly, was fully competent. Mr. Graham had perceived his extra-

* “Address before the Alumni of “Washington College,” Lexington, 1843. f MS. Life of the Rev. William Graham.

ordinary memory, while yet a small boy, at a catechizing in the congregation; and little Priestly was domiciliated with the minister. Here his progress in learning Latin and Greek exceeded any thing that had been known in that country. His memory, indeed, was so retentive, that he seemed to forget nothing that he read or heard. It was the custom for all the boys who boarded with the rector, to give an account of the sermons on Sabbath evening. Priestly, who seemed asleep all the time of preaching, would, nevertheless, repeat the sermon almost verbatim. The classics commonly read at school, he had so completely by heart, that I hardly ever saw a book in his hand, when hearing classes in Ovid, Virgil, Horace or Homer. He would sometimes take his pupils to a large spring, which bursts from the side of a steep hill, and rushes with noise into the river just below. The place is very romantic, and worth a visit from any one who is in Lexington. Hither Priestly would resort with his larger scholars, to spout the orations of Demosthenes in the original, with all the fire of the Grecian orator himself. He had about him an enthusiasm which transported him beyond himself, when the sentiments which he uttered were sublime. Twenty years later, I have seen him in a school of two hundred boys; and when one of them did not declaim to his mind, he would jump out into the floor, and deliver the speech as he conceived it ought to be spoken.

“Mr. Priestly did not continue to be a teacher in the school more than a year after my entrance. He directed his course towards Maryland, and soon received employment as a classical instructor, first in Annapolis, and then in Georgetown.”

22 PRIESTLY — LATIN STUDIES.

After removing to Kentucky as a lawyer, he resumed the business of teaching, and returned to Georgetown. After some time; he transferred his abode to the city of Baltimore, where I visited him in 1801. A few years after this he received an invitation to take charge of the Cumberland College, as it was then called, at Nashville. Here he spent the last years of his life; and though all were impressed with his extraordinary learning, and his high qualifications as a classical teacher, he did not succeed well in organizing and arranging an infant college. He was, indeed, a very eccentric, though a very amiable man, and married a woman as eccentric as himself,” “Dr. Priestly,” says the Lexington Address, above cited, “possessed an enthusiastic ardour in behalf of education, which I have never seen surpassed, and succeeded in inspiring his pupils with somewhat of the same, From him the speaker derived the first impulse in his literary course, and he, therefore, feels a pleasure in having this opportunity of paying a deserved tribute to the memory of a teacher who was an ornament to this institution in its earliest days,”

Even under such teachers, the attainments of our young scholar, as he represents them, were humble. Under Priestly he became thoroughly versed in Kuddiman’s Latin Grammar, which stuck to him through life. He was encouraged by learning that the usher had spoken of him to his father as a boy of great promise, because, says he, “from my earliest years a sense of deficiency has preponderated over all vain conceit of my own abilities,” Under Mr. Graham, he proceeded in his study of languages. He speaks of being surrounded by evil companions. The school became exceedingly corrupt. A bashful and timid disposition kept him from many excesses; but he records and laments his initiation into various dangerous games and foolish practices. About the time that he began to read Horace, he enjoyed the able instructions of a new usher, Archibald Roane, afterwards Governor of Tennessee.

In the life of one who afterwards attracted notice as a public speaker, the following incidents ought to have their place. “The students were permitted, in order to improve themselves in speaking, to have public exhibitions, in which plays were acted. Much of our time was taken up in rehearsal. I always had the part of a female, as being of the proper size. This I disliked very much, but it was pressed upon me. As to other speaking, I made a poor hand of it, and was seldom able to get through my speech. In writing and composition, nothing could be more miserable. My handwriting was as bad as it well could be, and I felt unable to compose any thing. Once I attempted to take part in a debate, but it was an utter failure. After the departure of Dr. Roane, we fell again under the tuition of Mr. Graham, and as he was fond of Natural Philosophy, he devoted himself most cheerfully to the improvement of the pupils. The course which we followed was that which prevailed at Princeton under Dr. Witherspoon. We had the same text-books, and even transcribed his lectures on Moral Philosophy and Criticism. Much attention was then paid to practical mathematics, surveying, mensuration and navigation,”

During the whole time of his connection with the

Academy he was, according to subsequent and sober views, making very little advancement in mind or morals. Environed by many idle and some profligate boys, he joined them in many of their ways; though not without pungent checks of conscience. But the regular course of study had been passed through, and it was the desire of the Principal that he should take a regular degree, conformably to powers which had been granted by the Legislature. For the necessary examinations he now began to prepare with great diligence. “I was, however, conscious,” says he, “that I had passed over most of the studies superficially, although at every public examination I had been placed in the first grade, more on account of my youth and small size and the promptitude of my answers, than any solid desert. But I had not proceeded far in my review, when my father returned from a journey to Fredericksburg, and informed me that he had made an engagement for me to be a tutor in the family of General Posey, of the Wilderness, twelve miles west of Fredericksburg. It is a little remarkable that on that journey he staid all night at the house of Dr. Waddel (afterwards my father-in-law), and had nearly made an arrangement for me to be his assistant in the school which he kept. I was only a little turned of seventeen. My father was very peremptory in his orders, and I could do nothing but obey.”

Before we leave this beautiful and picturesque scenery of Kockbridge, we think it suitable to give some view of the impression which it made on the subject of this narrative.

It was a topic on which he loved to dwell in animated conversation, even to his latest days. His own words are these:” Whether the scenery with which our senses are conversant in early life, has any considerable effect on the character of the mind, is a question not easily determined. It would be easy to theorize on the subject; and formerly I indulged in many lucubrations, which at the time seemed plausible, all tending to the conclusion that minds developed under the constant view and impression of grand or picturesque scenery must in vigour and fertility of imagination be greatly superior to those who spend their youth in dark alleys, or in the crowded streets of a large city, where the only objects which constantly meet the senses are stone and brick walls, and dirty and offensive gutters. The child of the mountains, who cannot open his eyes without seeing sublime peaks, penetrating beyond the clouds, stupendous rocks, and deep and dark caverns, enclosed by frightful precipices, thought I, must possess a vivid impression of the scenes of nature, by which he will be distinguished from those born and brought up in the city, or in the dull, monotonous plain, where there is neither grandeur nor variety. Perhaps there might be a little vanity mingled with these speculations, as it was my lot to draw the first breath of life at the foot of a lofty mountain, and on the bank of a roaring mountain torrent;’ where the startling reveille was often the hideous howling of hungry wolves. But when I attempted to recollect whether I had, in the days of childhood, ever experienced any sensible impression from the grandeur of surrounding objects, or had ever been led to contemplate

these objects of nature with any strong emotion, I could not satisfy myself that any thing of this sort had ever occurred. The only reminiscence was of impressions made by the novelty of some object, not before seen; or some fancied resemblance to something with which I was familiar. Two mountains, somewhat remarkable, were frequently surveyed by me with delight; the House Mountain, and the Jump Mountain; both appertaining to a ridge, called in the valley the North Mountain. The first of these is a beautiful mountain which stands out at some distance from the main ridge, and from the middle of the valley exhibits something of the shape and appearance of a house. From Lexington and its vicinity, the view of this mountain is pleasant and imposing. The idea of its resemblance to a house took strong hold of my imagination; and especially because at the western end there was the resemblance of a shed, which corresponded with such an appendage to the house in which my childhood was spent. And now, when I revisit the place of my nativity, whilst almost every thing else is changed, the House Mountain remains the same, and I gaze upon it with that peculiar emotion which attends the calling up in a lively manner the thoughts and impressions of infancy. The idea of a perfect resemblance to a house was so deeply imprinted on my mind, in relation to this mountain, that I was greatly discomposed and disturbed in my thoughts, when a boy, by having occasion to travel a few miles towards the east end of the mountain, and finding that every resemblance of a house was gone; and when instead of one beautiful, uniform mountain, as smooth and steep as the roof of a house, I now beheld two rough-looking spurs, separated at a considerable distance from each other. This obliteration of a pleasing idea from the mind was painful; and whenever I was in a situation to see the mountain under this aspect, the unpleasant impression was renewed. Every traveller among mountains must have noticed how remarkably they vary their appearances, as he changes his position; and not only so, but from the same site a prominent mountain exhibits a wonderful variety of aspects, according to the state of the atmosphere. This I believe is what is called looming, and was much noticed by Mr. Jefferson from Monticello, particularly in relation to that remarkable isolated mountain, called Willis’s, which elevates its head to a considerable height, at a great distance from any other mountain or hill.

“But to return to my favourite, the House Mountain. In the days of my childhood — and perhaps it is still the case — this mountain was commonly burnt over every year; that is, the dry leaves on the ground were burnt. When the fire extended in a long crooked string along the side of the mountain, and especially when near the top, the appearance was grand and beautiful in a very dark night. It had all the appearance of a zig-zag fire in the sky; and whenever it occurred, greatly attracted and delighted the boys. It was in those days held as a maxim among boys, that no one ever had ascended, or could ascend to the ridge or summit of the House Mountain; but since that time I understand that not only men, but women, have been successful in reaching the top; and have thence surveyed the varied and delightful landscape of the valley, with its villages, and its

farms, its rivers and smaller streams. I can scarcely conceive of a pleasant er prospect than that which might be enjoyed from the summit of the House Mountain.

“As to the Jump Mountain, it was only occasionally that I got a view of it; and although the descent is very abrupt on the north side, so that the top of the mountain actually seems to project, my mind would have received a slighter impression from it, had not the first view of it been associated with a story told me by an older boy, that the reason why it was called the Jump Mountain, was because, at a certain time, a man had actually jumped off the top of the mountain, and fallen dead at its foot. This made a deep impression on my mind, and although I have seen the mountain hundreds of times since, I believe I never saw it without thinking of the man who took such an awful leap. When that species of taste is developed which delights in landscapes, I have not been able, with any precision, to ascertain. As far as my own experience goes, or rather as far as memory furnishes me with facts, I think that while a boy at school, I had no consciousness of the exercise of any such faculty. The love of novelty is almost coeval with our existence; but the love of the beauties of nature is slow in its development, and when there is no culture, it is often scarcely observable in mature age. Some men cast their eye over a lovely landscape with as little emotion as is experienced by the horses on which they ride. The only thought perhaps is, how rich the land? how many barrels of corn, or hogsheads of tobacco, or bushels of wheat, might be raised here, to the acre? And even the horse will experience an emotion as elevated as his rider’s, if there should happen to be a good clover-field in sight. As it relates to objects of sublimity, I have found it, except in a few cases, difficult to distinguish this emotion from mere wonder, or admiration. But in this same valley, and not very remote from the objects of which I have spoken, there is one which, I think, produces the feeling which is denominated the sublime, more definitely and sensibly than any that I have ever seen. I refer to the Natural Bridge, from which the county takes its name. It is not my object to describe this extraordinary lusus naturae, as it may be called. In fact, no representation which can be given by the pen or pencil can convey any adequate idea of the object, or one that will have the least tendency to produce the emotion excited by a view of the object itself. There are some things, then, which the traveller, .however eloquent, cannot communicate to his readers. All I intend is, to mention the effect produced by a sight of the Natural Bridge on my own mind. When a boy of fourteen or fifteen, I first visited this curiosity. Having stood on the top, and looked down into the deep chasm above and below the bridge, without any new or very strong emotions, as the scene bore a resemblance to many which are common to that country, I descended by the usual circuitous path to the bottom, and came upon the stream or brook some distance below the bridge. The first view which I obtained of the beautiful and elevated blue limestone arch, springing up to the clouds, produced an emotion entirely new; the feeling was as though something within sprung up to a great height by a kind of sudden impulse. That was the animal sensa-

tion which, accompanied the genuine emotion of the sublime. Many years afterwards, I again visited the bridge. I entertained the belief, that I had preserved in my mind, all along, the idea of the object; and that now I should see it without emotion. But the fact was not so. The view, at this time, produced a revival of the original emotion, with the conscious feeling that the idea of the object had faded away, and become both obscure and diminutive, but was now restored, in an instant, to its original vividness, and magnitude. The emotion produced by an object of true sublimity, as it is very vivid, so it is very short in its continuance. It seems, then, that novelty must be added to other qualities in the object, to produce this emotion distinctly. A person living near the bridge, who should see it every day, might be pleased with the object, but would experience, after a while, nothing of the vivid emotion of the sublime. Thus, I think, it must be accounted for, that the starry heavens, or the sun shining in his strength, are viewed with little emotion of this kind, although much the sublimes t objects in our view; we have been accustomed to view them daily, from our infancy. But a bright-coloured rainbow, spanning a large arch in the heavens, strikes all classes of persons with a mingled emotion of the sublime and beautiful; to which a sufficient degree of novelty is added, to render the impression vivid, as often as it occurs. I have reflected on the reason why the Natural Bridge produces the emotion of the sublime, so well defined and so vivid; but I have arrived at nothing satisfactory. It must be resolved into an ultimate law of our nature, that a novel object of that elevation and form will produce such an effect. Any attempt at analyzing objects of beauty and sublimity only tends to produce confusion in our ideas. To artists, such analysis may be useful; not to increase the emotion, but to enable them to imitate more effectually the objects of nature by which it is produced. Although I have conversed with many thousands who had seen the Natural Bridge; and although the liveliness of the emotion is very different in different persons; yet I never saw one, of any class, who did not view the object with considerable emotion. And none have ever expressed disappointment from having had their expectations raised too high, by the description previously received. Indeed, no previous description communicates any just conception of the object as it appears; and the attempts to represent it by the pencil, as far as I have seen them, are pitiful. Painters would show their wisdom by omitting to represent some of the objects of nature, such as a volcano in actual ebullition, the sea in a storm, the conflagration of a great city, or the scene of a battle-field. The imitation must be so faint and feeble, that the attempt, however skilfully executed, is apt to produce disgust, instead of admiration,”