The autobiography of the Rev. Enoch Pond, D.D., for fifty years professor in Bangor theological seminary

Front matter

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Introduction to the Autobiography 1

Chap. I. — Parentage^ Early Life, and Studies . 3 „ II. — College Life and Theological Studies 15 ,y III. — Preaching as a Candidate. — Settlement and Marriage 28

,, IV. — My Ministry in Ward 35

,, V. — Life as an Editor in Boston ... 54 „ VI. — Bangor and the Theological Seminary ^2

y, VII. — My Residence in Bangor .... 68

„ VIII. — Ministerial Labors in Bangor ... 95

^^ IX.— Work of Publication 109

„ X. — Social and Domestic Life in Bangor . 117

,j XL — Last Years, Death, and Burial . . . 131

Address at the Funeral of Dr. Pond 142

Prayer 145

Introduction

ENOCH POND, minister of the Gospel, Doctor of Divinity, Professor of Theology, writer of books, indefatigable toiler in his chosen field of Christian work, most venerable and benignant of men, was always and always will be " Grandfather '' to me ; so that it is impossible for me to make any critical study or impartial analysis of him. I cannot remember when his head was not white, snowy white, recalling the fine scripture which says, " The hoary head is a crown of glory if it be found in the way of righteousness.'' From my earliest recollection his presence was portly and commanding, his voice seriously and sweetly toned, his countenance grave and mild, his manner dignified and winsome, and his entire appearance that of a veritable patriarch, for whom we grandchildren had no sort of fear; only an unbounded veneration and affection.

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and the prophets of whom he used to speak so freely and charmingly, were all very well in their distant places, standing remote and shadowy in the haze of a dawning history ; but Grandfather Pond was a real and New-Testament patriarch ; and, as regards beauty of holiness, not to be compared with anybody far or near.

Partly because of my mother's adorable love for him, and because of a kind of choral worship of him in the whole family (of which he was quite oblivious), and partly because no one could know him and not perceive in him a very singular excellence, he stood in the niche

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of human perfection for my boyhood. And I verily believe that boyhood was far gone with me, before it occurred to me that God could be as good as he.

It is safe to say that, during his long term of service in Bangor Seminary, no student of that institution failed to know and to love him. Gentle in counsels, gentler in corrections, almost incomprehensibly patient, fond of his joke, able to pour out his soul in a prayer or in a laugh, full of tender and wise sympathy, strong to bear his own burden and the burdens of others also, he lived before our eyes as one who, like his namesake of old, ^^ walked with God.^' A simpler, sincerer man could not be found. One would as soon have suspected the sunlight. It never occurred to any one to question his inward honesty. Of words and actions prompted by envy, jealousy, or kindred passions, he seemed incapable. He was more than righteous : he was a good man. Without acerbity, severity, or any of the disagreeable qualities that taint much puritan piety, he moved on, upright and steadfast and serene, in wa3^s of pleasantness and paths of peace, driving far from him all thoughts and spirits of evil, not with scourges and anathemas, but without effort and unconsciously, by the simple bright-shining of his goodness.

In nothing was the unselfish and lovely spirit of the man more manifest than in the manner in which he received the unwelcome admonitions of increasing infirmities, endured the inevitable deprivations of advancing age, and gave a cordial sympathy to his successors and supplanters. As his term of service lengthened in the Theological Seminary, and as the necessities of the Seminary multiplied, he voluntarily relinquished position after position in which he had served with enthusiasm and success. Other men came

INTRODUCTION. VU

in to fill these positions, — the chair of theology, the chair of history. His cheerful acquiescence in the necessity which decreed these successive contractions in the circle of his service was in marked contrast with the resistance sometimes offered in similar cases, and with the resentment which makes the act of displacement a j^ainful, if not a forcible, one.

In marked contrast with the sad behavior of those who linger about the scenes of their former service, only by their interferences, criticisms, and fault-findings to make their successors uncomfortable, to foment strife and engender discord, was his most cordial, generous, and paternal reception of those who came to teach and rule in his stead. They might come bringing into use text-books or methods hitherto unapproved by him ; but no words of criticism escaped his lips, no hint or sign of disapproval was given. The words he spake were those of brotherly kindness, and all the signs he made were those of a good man, who loved the Seminary, and the brethren in its service, and the students under their care, with a self-denying, self-forgetting affection. It was not possible for discord to exist in the Faculty, while he presided over them and his spirit dwelt with them.

The theology which he received and taught, to some may have seemed severe ; but the Christianity of his life and character was attractive and incontrovertible. He was one of those who go about doing good, whatever they do, and whose influence for good goes on when they can no more go about.

He was one of the few whose prayers are listened to with heartfelt interest. He seemed to have been taught to "pray in the Spirit." Out of a childlike heart came forth his prayers in simple, childlike phrases, becoming more impressive and of broader meaning as

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tliey became more familiar. Thus, all unconsciously, he made for himself a beautiful liturgy, that could be repeated and written down by his children and pupils. He did not think it necessary to make a prayer each time he would pray, but offered the prayer once made, with some variations, repeatedly.

Dr. Pond was a large-hearted man. His love for humanity was broad and deep ; his charity for men was an overflowing one. His kind thoughts of men and motives recall to mind the legendary saint, who, when put to the test if she would say a good word for the Devil, quietly remarked : " He must be credited with great industry.'' As regards injustice, or even abuse, toward himself, he seemed indifferent, and evil deeds did not stick in his memory. In short, he had that love which "thinketh no evil, is not easily provoked, believeth all things, endureth all things.'' At the same time he w^as a zealous and ardent controversialist, and ever a courteous one. Having carefully formed his opinions, and defined his beliefs, he w^as quick to meet any denials or doubts thereof, or opposing errors, wdth bristling weapons. He believed in the impregnability of his theological positions, and at the same time conceived it to be his duty to battle against every movement of those who had chosen other positions. He had no faith in '' new departures," and little patience with the late departed. I think he cherished an especial contempt for German philosophy and criticism, — " German fog" he energetically pronounced it. He did his utmost to puff and blow^ that " fog " away. He deprecated ^^ letting down the bars," not always taking into account by whom, and with what assumption, the same "bars" had been put up. He deplored and resisted the changes which have taken place during the last

INTRODUCTION. IX

twenty-five years in the practice of the religious world. The change of posture from standing or kneeling to sitting during public prayer; the surrender of one service on the Sabbath ; the less rigid observance of the Lord's day; the disposition to allow more freedom in recreation and amusements, — these, and similar conformities in the practical conduct of Christians, seemed to him indicative and productive of worldliness and irreligion. Loose views of inspiration, new speculations regarding probation, doubts concerning eternal punishment, and questionings of the expiatory nature of the atonement, disturbed him, and provoked him to use his pen against these errors. He sought and found comfort for his vexed and righteous soul in the great thought of "a reigning God," and died, as he had lived and labored, in faith.

IS'ow because he was so very zealous for his views of divine truth and Christian duty, and because he was ever alert, w^ith great facility of plain speech, to utter his warning, and to discover what he deemed erroneous and noxious, it came to pass, I think, that those who knew him by his writings mainly and merely, knew comparatively but little of what was best and most beautiful in him. I do not know that he was ever severe and caustic in his controversial writings, but he was very positive and unyielding, and did not exhibit great readiness or capacity to appreciate the possible force of new suggestions and theories. In all these forthputtings against views, opinions, speculations, and " German fog'' in particular, — in all these polemic raids and controversial crusades, — the good man was consumed with a zeal for the truth, which, for the time being, overlaid his more generous and distinguishing characteristics, as the helmet's grim visor hides the face of the genial knight.

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When it came to men, his great heart took the heretics in pretty generally. One would never suspect, from reading his reviews of Dr. Bushnell's writings, his deep interest and cordial faith in that man of God. He could rarely make up his mind to assist in casting the unbeliever out of the synagogue. He was boundlessly tolerant and hopeful of men, and the more so as his years increased. It may not be easy or important to reconcile these diverse phases of Dr. Pond's religious activity. But a partial explanation of them may be found in the fact that his life was chiefly spent in studious seclusion from the world, while his mental constitution and habits of thought were such as to render him somewhat unappreciative of other than '^ common-sense '^ views and opinions. If he was not open to new convictions, it was partly owing to the fact that, at one time of his life, he had been deeply convicted of the truth. In the controversy with the Unitarians, all his convictions had been fused into one glowing mass of conviction, never more to be up for questioning. Henceforth the truth was unconsciously identified in his mind with the formulation in which it had taken shape in the heats and under the pressures of controversial discussion.

Moreover, between the separate and peaceful conditions of life in which the old New England divines thought out their systems of divinity, and the world as one now finds it, there is a tremendous difference. The ends of the earth are now brought into communication. In the New England village one hears the roar of London life. The bazaars of Cairo are not unfamiliar to him. The old conditions of social life are completely changed. Into all our quiet bays and creeks the great world has come rushing and foaming, bringing with its tide a

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revolution both literary and religious. A village theology no longer suffices. It is too small to meet the facts of the case. The systems and isms of a provincial theology are as quaint as the costumes of a former age.

Dr. Pond was born, nurtured, and disciplined in the old New England provincialism. His remote relation with the world of affairs, and the environment which habit and education and secluded residence combined to make for him, rendered it difficult for him to take the full measure and bearing of successive innovations in practical and doctrinal theology.

According to popular notion, imagination is a sort of decorative-art faculty, merely fictional and pictorial, in pretty ways frescoing the otherwise plain things of truth and fact. But imagination is a king faculty in man, without which one may have great power of logical reasoning and of lucid statement, but may not mount as on wings, nor have "visions,'^ nor either prophetic or inspirational genius.

Of imagination. Dr. Pond was not in a great degree possessed; and this fact seems to explain, in some measure, why he was unable to take the largest and most comprehensive views of the diversified landscape of truth. He could not mount high enough to look afar off in many directions. He could not understand the mystic nor the transcendentalist, and was suspicious of the genuineness of such creatures. His pleasure in poetry and art, apart from religious associations therewith, was probably not deep or great. Dr. Bushnell's idea of ^^The Gospel a Gift to the Imagination,^^ would have seemed almost a conceit to Dr. Pond. In this respect he was very much like his classmate and friend, Dr. Joel Hawes, late of Hartford ; yes, very much like the late Dr. Pusey, who thought German-ism

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and neologism were the great out-standing perils of the Christian church.

If one has not much imagination he will not get much Gospel by that inlet. Taking it in ever so large quantities by some other faculty, it will never take such shape and color in his conceptions of it, as in his case to whom it comes streaming through the glowing windows of an illuminated imagination.

Not caring to rise much above literal interpretations, obvious meanings, and scholastic definitions in the domain of criticism and theology, Dr. Pond held by his beliefs and opinions somewhat traditionally and prosaically, but with unfaltering tenacity. He held by them so as to be upheld by them above all doubts or suspicions of their complete account of religious truth. He never seemed to feel the force of the objections that were set up and overthrown in his lectures and essays. The victory of his logic seemed complete, and he could not quite understand why the entire world was not convinced. Thus it was with him in respect of his opinions and views of truth.

But in respect of men the case was otherwise. Never was there human charity sweeter or larger — human kindness gentler or more catholic. Few holier lives have been known in this age than his, — so wholly free from cant, from pretension, from artificial emotion — so sane, clear, simple, sincere, good, and loving. There have been greater men in our age, but few, if any, better men than he.

Such men are our everlasting supports. Theologies, systems, speculations, have their day, and are, for the most part, written in water. But on " Godlike men " we build our trusts. Dr. Pond was '' a living epistle,'' "a burning and shining light," "a good man full of

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the Holy Ghost." He lives and works in hundreds of men, who " took knowledge of him that he had been with Jesus."

Of him it may fitly be said, "And Enoch walked WITH God : and he was not, for God took

HIM."

Hartford : May, 1883.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

INTRODUCTION.

TT^VERY man's personal history should be an ""^ interesting one to himself. It may not be of special interest to others.

Numerous biographies have been written and published in which the community feels little interest. But, as I said, every man's personal history should be interesting to himself^ and should be pondered and reviewed. He will learn from it his own weakness, depravity, short-sightedness, and ignorance, and the treachery of his heart. He will learn what are his most exposed points of character, what his easily besetting sins, and in what manner the temptations and dangers to which he is exposed may best be overcome. But especially will he be impressed with the great goodness and faithfulness and forbearance of God, and while he feels his own weakness, and learns more and more to distrust himself, he will cast himself on the care and providence of God with renewed confidence.

A review of one's personal history will also lead him to admire the wonder-working providence of God. He will see how great events have often turned upon slight contingencies;

and liow, if the scale, which seemed almost evenly balanced, had turned differently from what it did, a new turn would have been given to the whole course of his life.

In short, a review of one's personal history, if wisely conducted, will lead to increased penitence, humility, and self-distrust ; to unfeigned gratitude and confidence in God ; to renewed watchfulness, resolution, and devotion in the divine life ; and thus to continual growth in grace and meetness for Heaven.

Impressed with such considerations, and urged to it by some of my dearest friends, being now in my usual health and vigor of body and mind, though at the age of seventy-two, I sit down this twenty-second of December, 1863, to write out some account of my life and personal experience. How far it will proceed, and when it will end, and where, the providence of God alone can determine.

REV. ENOCH POND, D. D.

Chapter I. Parentage, Early Life, And Studies

•• The seeds of that definite fomi which eacli individual life eventually assumes will he found to lie within its early history. Usually a man's early life and position will be found to contain the germ, and to furnish the interpretation, of his future character."

T WAS born in the town of Wrentham, Mass., -^ July 29, 1791. My father was of English and puritan descent. His name was Elijah Pond, who' was the son of Jacob Pond, who was the son of Jacob Pond, who was the son of Ephraim Pond, who was the son of Ephraim Pond, who was the son of Daniel Pond, who settled in the town of Dedham in 1652. My ancestors, from their first coming to this country, have all lived within a few miles of the same spot.

My mother was Mary Smith, the eldest daughter of James Smith, the only son of Colonel John Smith, who came with his wife from Donegal, in Ireland, about the middle of the last century. They were prosperous, respectable people of Scotch-Irish descent, and they settled in Wrentham. My mother was an energetic, strong-minded woman, devoted to her family and eminent for piety, to whom her children are under the greatest obligation. My father and mother were not church members at the time of my birth, but became such a few

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years afterward. When my mother united with the church Mr. Cleveland preached from the text, " And Mary hath chosen the good part which sliall never be taken from her." My mother was a iine singer, and for years led the treble voices in the " singers' seats." I well remember the day when we children were baptized in the North Wrentham meeting-house. It was then unfinished, and the occasion was a solemn one to me and left an impression which has never been effaced. We were baptized by our excellent pastor » Rev. John Cleveland. My father became a deacon in this church, as were his father and grandfather before him. Many j^ears after, on account of greater convenience in attending meeting, our family worshiped Avith the church at Wrentham Centre.

Of this old church, and the service of baptism, a sister of my f iither writes : —

The meeting-house was built after the fashion of those dii3^s, and was literally "• set on a hill," so high, so steep, I never remember seeing a carriage brought to the door. You may be sure it required a good deal of strengtli to ascend these '-' courts of the Lord." Why such tremendous (levations were chosen in those days is a marvel. The building was rather small, painted light-yellow, and without ornament. A double door in front opened directly into the sanctuary. There were three aisles, and square pews like little pens opening directly from them. A large pew at the foot of the elevated pulpit was called the "- deacon's seat." Three galleries were built on high. In one of these were the *' singers' seats," and before the days when '' stringed instruments " might be used in the worship of the puritan saints, the twang of the pitch-pipe preceded the burst of sacred song. In the deacon's seat might be seen, from Sabbatli to Sabbatli, those eldLU-ly gentlemen, men of renown, listening to tlie preached word; or with great reverence rising up and stan^intj wlien pra3'er was offered to that God *• before whom angels bow, and archangels veil their fa^es." The railing of the stairs that led to the high pulpit was of '* carved work'' and, with the i)ulpit and its suspended •sounding-board,'' was painted sombre sea-green color. There were two porches, one on each end of the house. One was called the women's porch, the other the men's porch. In these were the stairs leading to the three galleries ; and the long, big bellrope was coiled in the men's porch, an object of great curiosity to the little b03^s, who longed to give it a pull. The good people worshiped in this house long before it was finished; and it was during this period that your blessed father was baptized, fiom a quart pewter-basin standing on a little table by Mr. Cleveland's armchair. After the service, I do not doubt, the one hundred and twenty-first hymn of the first book, in the old ^' "Watts and Select Hymns,'-' was sung to the tune of St. Martin's, as this hymn was invariably selected by Mr. Cleveland when a baby was baptized. I seem now to hear those long ago hushed voices singing : —

"Thus, later saints, Eternal King, Thine ancient truth embrace, To Thee their infant offspring bring. And humbly claim Thy grace."

I was named Enoch for my uncle Enoch Pond, who was graduated at Brown University in 1777, and Avas for many years pastor of the Congregational church in Ashford, Conn. In my early years I was called a thoughtful, steady boy. I had a great taste for learning, and was particularly desirous of being at the head of my class in b A MEMORIAL OF

school — a tiling which I generally accomplished. The schoolhouse is still standing. It is near my old home. It was then painted red, on the outside, and Avas rough enough within. About three years ago, I saw a Avidow lady in Augusta, Maine, who was nearly one hundred years old. Her native place was Wrentham, and she claimed to have taught me my letters. I think she did. She told me of teaching school in my native district, and of boarding at my father's house. " Mr. Pond," said she, '' had two little boys, Enoch and Preston. Enoch was a very good boy, but Preston was a great rogue."

"Well," I said, "I suppose I am Enoch." She looked at me with great interest, and I looked upon her with feelings bordering on veneration. The time passed uneventfully at my native home, which was the home also of my grands parents, then living. My ancestors, on my father's side, were all of them farmers, who owned and worked their own farms, and lived in a frugal, industrious way, almost independent of the rest of the world. They received but little money and needed but little, living chiefly on the produce of their farms and the labor of their hands. The spinning-wheel and the handloom, in the busy hands of the mothers, wrought the clothing ; the fruitful fields and broad forests yielded food and fuel. There Avas no greed of wealth, nor strife for fashion. They mingled but little with the outside world, had few temptations, and trained their families to the fear and service of the Lord. I deem it one of the greatest blessings of my life, that I am able to look back on a long line of industrious, upright, and truly Christian ancestors.

We all went three miles to meeting on the Sabbath.

The flood of juvenile books had not then burst upon the country. We fed our minds on tlie same intellectual food as did our parents, and it stimulated our thoughts and enlarged our mental powers. Except the three months of school in the summer, and the three months in winter, I worked, as I was able, on the farm. One of the best things my father ever did for me and for his other childi'en was to keep us constantly employed. We never worked hard, but we had no idle days. Each day brought with it something to be done. In this way, habits of industry were early formed, which I have never lost. I have often said I would rather go to prison for six months, ivith my books and papers, than be doomed for the same length of time to do nothing.

At the age of twelve I visited my uncle, the minister of Ashford, and spent a year with him. I had a great admiration for my uncle and aunt, and hoped to enjoy a great deal in his family ; and I did. All my uncle's family were skilled in music. I was most kindly treated by them ; I was a favorite with them, and was introduced to much young company. My manners were improved, but I fear my heart was not. I became idle, vain, and thoughtless. I learned to sing while at Ashford, but do not remember that I learned anything else of importance to me.

I returned to Wrentham in the summer of 1804, when I was thirteen years old. During the preceding spring, there had been a revival of religion in Wrentham, which was in progress at the time of my return. Many of my young friends were serious, and several had indulged a hope in Christ, among whom was my elder sister Harriet. I felt the importance of religion, sympathized with those Avho had become interested in it, associated with them, and erelong began to think I was one of their number.

But the depravity of my heart had not been discovered to me ; much less had it been broken up. My serious impressions did not last long, and, for the next three years of my life, I became more wicked than I had ever been before. I attended church as usual; but was fond of gay company, was restive under family restraints, and even learned, when among my companions, to use profane language. My watchful father heard of this, and reproved me for it. His remarks did not offend, but grieved me, and were a blessing to me ; for the evil habit was abandoned before it became confirmed.

I still loved learning, and improved all my opportunities to acquire a good English education. So successful was I in this pursuit, that, in the winter of 1807-8, when I was only sixteen years old, I was employed as teacher in one of our district schools. For the next six winters I continued this employment. In some winters I taught two schools. And here let me sa}^ a word as to this matter of teaching, especially as the schools were then conducted in country towns. As the schools were not graded, all the scholars of the district, from four years old and upward, came together, and must be classified by the teacher as best he could.

Sometimes he would have more than a dozen classes, from those learning the alphabet upward, all of which must be attended to forenoon and afternoon. He had a large class of writers, for whom copies must be set and pens (goosequills) made and mended. He had many studying arithmetic, and for these sums must be set, looked over, and approved ; or, when puzzled, the pupils must be helped over their difficulties. He had several classes in English grammar, whose lessons must be heard and explained ; and not unfrequently those studying tlie higher branches of algebra, geometry, and Latin. And, hardest of all, the teacher must prevent noise and whispering, quell disorder, and administer the government of tlie school ; for which he needed e3^es all around him. I never sat down during school hours, walking the room with a little switch under my arm, and frequently administering warning touches about the ears and fingers of the unruly rogues. I speak from long and painful experience, and I must say that, if any poor creature is ever to be pitied, it is the teacher of one of these large old-fashioned district scliools. I succeeded in teaching to the satisfaction of my employers, and perhaps as well as young men generally, who engage in it merely as a means to an end ; but if ever there was a load imposed on a feeble mortal sufficient to press the very life out of him, the teaching of such a school as I have described was that load. Let us be thankful that there has been so much improvement in the books provided, the many helps to teachers, and in the whole method of conducting schools, especially in our cities and larger towns, since the period of which I speak.

About six weeks before his death, my father received a letter from an old gentleman in Illinois, who was his pupil in that first school, taught by him when he was sixteen years old. The affectionate remembrance, and the kind interest, expressed by this aged pupil for his aged teacher touched my father deeply.