A memoir of the Rev. John H. Rice, D. D., first professor of Christian theology in Union theological seminary, Virginia

Preface

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In preparing the following pages for the press, I have honestly endeavoured to give a fair and faithful account, as far as it goes, of the eminent and excellent man whose memoir I have undertaken to write ; and I cannot but flatter myself that I have pursued my object with some success. I am sensible, indeed, and freely acknowledge, th t my own share of the work is very imperfect, Said by no means what I could have wished to

ke it. But this is but a small part of the book, and by far the larger portion of it will be found to consist of letters of the deceased himself, which, I am confident, will be read with great interest by all who can appreciate the truly christian character which they display. There are many persons, too, I know, not only in our own state, but in all parts of the country, who will be able to associate, by remembrance, the voice, and look, and whole manner of the man whom they so justly admired and loved, with these effusions of his pen; and such will, of course, enjoy them still more.

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The letters, it will be seen, are many of them entirely narrative, giving the most authentic and minute accounts of the various movements of the writer, at different periods of his life, particularly after his removal to Richmond, and during his arduous and persevering labours in establishing the Union Theological Seminary ; and all with a freshness of manner, and an interest of feeling, which no one but the actor himself could have put into a history of such things. Others are purely pastoral, addressed to different members of his flock on a variety of occasions, and well calculated to interest the sympathies of christian hearts. Others, again, are merely friendly ; but almost as various as the persons whom he addressed, and exhibiting his own amiable and affectionate spirit in the most happy manner. And all contain thoughts, and sentiments, and remarks upon many subjects, which evince superior wisdom, and deserve, as I trust they will receive, the serious attention of all reflecting minds. I may add, that although they were almost always written in great haste, and on the spur of the occasion, and without copying, (for I have had to thank the persons to whom they were sent, or their friends, for the originals, which they have lent me for this service,) they are generally well written, and some of them very pleasing specimens of this kind of writing.

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In availing myself of the aid which these letters have afforded me in my work, I have hardly ever stated any part of their contents beforehand ; but have almost invariably left them to speak for themselves, and trusted that the reader would be able to follow the thread of the narrative through them, (although it is sometimes mixed up with other matters,) so leaving the writer to tell his own story, and interposing myself, only now r and then, with such additional notices as were necessary to supply omissions, and connect the parts together. In this manner, I have aimed to avoid repetition, and keep the narrative always moving. It is true* however, that I have also introduced other letters, according to their dates, which do not continue the narrative, and so rather delay the reader's progress a little j but then it is always to let him take some new views of the character of the pastor, or the writer, or the man ; and, in this way, I give him, I think, a fair compensation for stopping him, as it were, for a while on the road.

In copying the letters for the press, I have freely omitted all such parts as I deemed immaterial or irrelevant to the great object which I have had in view ; (and, by the way, I have not thought it either necessary or proper to mark the places of the omissions, as is commonly done, by stars, which could only disfigure the page, without doing any possible good.) At the same vi

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time, I have retained some things which I must confess I have felt strongly tempted to omit. I allude here to a few passages which appeared to me to be almost too private to be displayed, as it were, before the public ; and more particularly to some parts (or indeed the whole) of the letters to myself, which I have felt an almost invincible repugnance to edit, in this way, when the act might seem to imply an " avarice of air" on my part, that I must humbly hope is really no part of my vein j but I have believed that I ought to sacrifice my scruples of delicacy on these points, to the duty of exhibiting the character of my subject in all its lights ; and I shall trust the good sense and charity of my readers, to give me credit for my real motives in the proceeding.

Although my business in this work has been chiefly that of a mere compiler, I confess I have felt throughout a constant and oppressive sense of the difficulty and delicacy of the task which (from some special considerations) I have undertaken; and of my incompetency to perform it in a proper manner. I have consoled myself, however, with the hope that my materials are many of them of such intrinsic worth, that if I have failed to display them in the best lights, I have yet not destroyed their value ; and the letters, particularly, I must regard as gems which will shine by their own lustre, in whatever matter they are set.

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In this confidence, I have only to commend the work to the favour of the christian public, and, above all, to the blessing of that gracious Being who accepts the smallest services of those who wish to please him, and to promote his cause in the world.

Norfolk, August 26th, 1835.

MEMOIR.

John Holt Rice, the son of Benjamin and Catharine Rice, was born near New London, in the county of Bedford, in the state of Virginia, on thz 28th of November, A. D. 1777.

His father, Benjamin Rice, was a lawyer by profession, and had been, for some time, acting as deputy to Mr. Steptoe, the clerk of the court, who allowed him a small salary of eighty pounds a year for his services in the office. He was a shrewd, sensible man, of a frank and sociable disposition, and had a natural vein of humour and pleasantry that made him a very agreeable companion. He was, moreover, a zealous professor of religion, and a ruling elder in the Peak and Pisgah congregations, of which his brother, David Rice, afterwards called the Apostle of Kentucky, was then pastor.

His mother, whose maiden name was Catharine Holt, was a relative (perhaps a cousin,) of the wife of the celebrated Samuel Davies, the father of the Presbyterian church in Virginia ; within the bounds of one of whose congregations, in the county of Hanover, she was born, and continued to reside until she married, and afterwards removed with her husband to the county of Bedford. She was a woman of cultivated mind, gentle disposition, and exemplary piety, fondly attached to her husband, and truly devoted to her children.

At the time of his birth, his parents were living in a small but comfortable dwelling-house, not far from New London, with a few acres of land attached to it, being only part of a larger tract, which belonged to his mother's brother, the Rev. John White Holt, a pious and intelligent clergyman of the church of England, after whom he was named. Their circumstances were moderate, but respectable ; such as placed them on a footing of easy intercourse with all the best society, while their gentle virtues and pleasing manners gained them the friendly regard and esteem of all who knew them.

John was the second son, and third child of his parents, who, at the time of his birth, had an older daughter named Edith, and an older son named David, and after that event, had a second daughter named Sarah, a third son named Benjamin, and a last daughter and child named Elizabeth, all of whom are still living.

John was at ( first, and for some time after his birth, a weakly and unpromising child, and was indeed hardly expected to live. He was, however, only nursed with the more care by his excellent mother, who watched over his cradle with great anxiety, and offered up many prayers to God for him.

When he was about two years old, he had a long and dangerous sickness, and at one time was thought to be actually dying. He was, accordingly, taken up out of his cradle, and laid upon the bed to expire with more ease, while his poor mother and good Parson Holt stood looking on, commending him to God, and expecting every moment to see him draw his last breath. Contrary, however, to all appearances, he revived, and began to recover in a manner so truly surprising, that the pious minister warmly declared that he was satisfied that Divine Providence must have some great work for the child to perform, and earnestly charged his mother to begin to train him up for it betimes ; promising her that he would himself assist her in educating him for his task. After this, his mother very naturally regarded him with new interest, and watched the first open-

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ings of his mind with great solicitude, already consecrating him, in her heart, to the service of his Master, and giving him, like another Samuel, to the Lord.

About this time, or shortly afterwards, there was living in the family a brother of her husband, named William Rice, who was teaching a small school in a place called Coffee's Old Field. This good man was very fond of the delicate child, and would often take him up in his arms, to nurse and pet him in his leisure moments. Sometimes, too, as the little fellow would follow him out of the house, he would carry him along with him to the school, and to amuse him by the way, would teach him to call the letters of the alphabet, and afterwards to spell words of one or two syllables, without the book. Finding him very apt to catch learning in this way, he prevailed on his father to let him teach him in the usual manner, and though his father thought at first that he was quite too young to be taught any thing, he was soon agreeably surprised to find that he could spell, and even read, much better than many who were a good deal older, and the fond parent from that moment determined, as he said, that he would give that child a good education at all events.

The boy's passion for books was now decided, and before he was four years old, he had read a good part of the Bible, and all Watts' Psalms and Hymns; and his great delight was to sit on his little cricket at his mother's knee, and repeat some of those pious verses to her, as it seems he was already passionately fond of poetry, or, at least, of rhymes.

About this time, or perhaps after he was a little older, his devotion to his uncle Holt made him very attentive to all that that worthy man said and did ; and as he had sometimes heard him read the morning service from the book of Common Prayer, the imitative boy would draw a congregation of children, white and black, about him, and give out some parts of it to them in a very solemn manner ; telling them that when he grew up to be a man, he would be a preacher too.

Some time after this, when he was about eight years old, the county of Campbell having been taken off from that of Bedford, by an act of Assembly, and the court house of the latter established in the small town of Liberty, his father removed to another house near that place, and sent him to school to his uncle Parson Holt, who had gone up into the county of Botetourt, and there opened a school for boys : and who now readily took his young nephew into his house, to educate him according to his promise. Here he made some further progress in his English studies, and began to learn Latin ; but his uncle's health soon failing, and compelling him to give up his schcol, he returned to his father's after about a year's absence, and was sent to another teacher, the Rev. James Mitchell, a very worthy minister of the gospel, who is still living in a good old age to enjoy the reputation of his pupil. After this, he lived at home again with his parents for some time, going to school to two or three different masters successively, whose names are forgotten.

In the mean time, the serious impressions of religion which he had derived from his parents and others about him, had been greatly increased, and on returning home to live, we are told that he opened a little private prayer meeting with his elder sister and brother, in which he led the exercises himself. At this time, too, we are assured that he gave strong evidence that he had already experienced a real change of heart, and had become a true disciple of Christ, by his pious conversation, and by his good behaviour in all respects. He was indeed remarkable at this early age, more particularly, for his considerate and affectionate conduct towards his brothers and sisters, and for his peculiar devotion to his excellent mother, whom he loved with a most filial and confiding attachment. Accordingly, he would go to her

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in all his little troubles and trials, tell her his sorrows, and receive her counsels with a listening ear, and with a fixed purpose to mind them. One piece of advice especially, which she earnestly pressed upon him, — to govern his temper (which it seems was apt to break out into anger at times,) and to bear all things with christ an patience and meekness, — we are told, made a deep impression upon his mind, and produced a lasting and most happy effect upon his character.

When he was little more than twelve years old, he experienced a great loss in the death of this fond and faithful parent, whom he lamented with the most lively sorrow. After some time, however, he found much consolation in the kind attention of his father which was now very naturally increased, and in the tender love of his brothers and sisters, and more particularly of his sister Edith, who was a little older than himself, and now took the chief care of the family upon her; and, after shedding many tears, he became gradually resigned to the will of God. Still he could not help feeling that it was not as it had been while his mother was living. His father, who was but a bad manager, was now a poor man, without slaves to work for him, and with only his small salary as deputy clerk to support his young family. They were, of course, obliged to help themselves as well as they could, and the hardships which he saw his brothers and sisters suffering, much more than his own, greatly affected him. He was, more particularly, grieved to see the toils of his sister Edith, who, as the oldest of them, had to do all the hard work of the house ; and, to lighten her burden, he would often help her to milk the cows, wash the clothes, and scour and rub the floors ; feeling himself, however, well paid for all his pains when she would call him her good brother, and thank him for aiding her in this way.

But something worse than all this was yet to come upon him ; for, after some time, his father thought proper to marry again, and took for his wife a Mrs, Henry, the widow of Mr. John Henry, (a brother of the famous Patrick,) who had a small fortune of some ten or twelve slaves, besides some other property, of no great value, but which was probably the chief motive to the match. This brought a stranger into the house, and one whom our young boy soon found to be very badly qualified to fill the place of his mother. The new Mrs. Rice, we are told, was a woman of proud spirit and bad temper, who had never had any children of her own, and could not find it in her heart to feel any thing like fondness for those of another person. Indeed, it is even said that she was jealous of the attentions which their own father paid them, and was always upon the watch to see that he did not waste any of her estate upon his family. At the same time, she was most perversely disposed to treat them all with great rigour, and particularly our boy, whom she strongly suspected of being his father's favourite, and whom she was anxious to drive to a trade, which she thought would be quite good enough for him. In this spirit, we are informed that on his coming home from school at night, she would set him down to his regular task of picking cotton, and then send him up to his room to go to bed without a candle. Such, however, was already his passion for books, that he would then draw out the little pieces of lightwood which he had got unknown to her, and hid away for the purpose, and when she thought that he was. fast asleep, he would be reading his Horace by the blaze. Sometimes, too, when his lightwood had given out, he would go on reading by the fire alone, going down upon his knees, and supporting his head by his hands and elbows, with Tiis book open before him on the hearth, till he would almost singe his hair in the act.

This was certainly a hard lot for such a boy to bear. It is not improbable, however, that the harsh treatment which he suffered from his mother-in-law, had some happy

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effect in deepening his early impressions of religion, for it appears that some time afterwards, having attained perhaps his fifteenth year, he thought proper to make a public profession of faith ; and, accordingly, partook of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, in the neighbouring church, for the first time.

Shortly after this, his father, who was still bent upon giving him something like a liberal education, raised all the little money he could spare from his small income, and sent him off to Liberty Hall Academy, (which was afterwards enlarged into Washington College,) in the town of Lexington, beyond the Blue Ridge. Here he found himself in a new scene, and one which we may suppose was much more favourable for the prosecution of his studies ; for the Rev. William Graham, a Presbyterian clergyman of distinguished talents, was at that time president of the academy, and a lad of young Rice's genius could hardly help catching some improvement from the preaching and occasional lessons of such a master, and his able assistants. Unhappily, however, he had not yet acquired a habit of close and constant application, and, of course, was not much distinguished in his classical studies. Still he was by no means idle ; but devoted a good deal of time to miscellaneous reading, which was both useful and agreeable ; and his moral deportment was entirely correct.*

He had continued at Liberty Hall about a year and a half, and his father who could not afford to keep him any longer abroad, was about to take him home, when Mr. Baxter, a young gentleman of worth and talents, who had been a student of the same seminary, and was now teaching an academy for boys at New London, learning Mr. Rice's intention, and having heard, as he tells me, a good

* This is the substance of a letter which I have received from Mr. Edward Graham, (a brother of the Rev. William Graham,) who was a teacher in the academy at the time.

account of the lad's character, on his occasional visits to Lexington, sent him a kind and generous invitation to come and pursue his studies freely with him. He came accordingly without delay, and being placed at once on the most friendly footing with his preceptor, and boarding at the same house with him, he not only recited to him as his master in the school, but also read with him as his companion in leisure hours, in the pages of Swift, Addison, Pope, Shakspeare, and other standard writers. At this period, my informant says, he showed great fondness for using his pen, and frequently amused himself with writing small pieces for the school boys to speak, and little essays after the manner of his favourite authors, which evinced uncommon proficiency for one of his age. At the same time, his conduct was uniformly proper and becoming. In company, indeed, he was usually silent and reserved, but he sometimes talked upon moral and literary topics, with much good sense ; and, upon the whole, appeared to his friend and preceptor to be a pious and promising youth.*

After improving himself in this manner for about a year and a half, and being now in his eighteenth year, he was most unexpectedly called to make his debut in life, in the character of a teacher. The late judge William Nelson, it seems, who was attending the session of the District Court in New London at this time, had been requested by his kinsman, Mr. Nelson of Malvern Hills, (a seat on James River, about thirty miles below Richmond,) to find some suitable person for him to take charge of a small family school, which he wished to open in his house ; and the judge, having heard a good account of him, applied to young Rice, who, with the consent of his father, and by

* The Mr. Baxter mentioned above is the Rev. George A. Bax, ter, D. D., who was afterwards President of Washington College for some years, and is now Professor of Christian Theology in Union Theological Seminary, having succeeded his former pupil in the Chair.

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the advice of Mr. Baxter, readily agreed to undertake the duty, and began to prepare, accordingly, to set out for Mr. Nelson's as soon as possible. At this point, we are told that his father introduced him one day in the court yard, to the celebrated Patrick Henry, (who was there attending the court as counsel in some cause or other,) saying, " Here, Mr. Henry, is my young son who is about to set out in a few days to try his fortune in the world," — when the orator took him at once, most kindly, by the hand, and told him in his frank and hearty way, to be of good courage, and "be sure, my son," said he, " and remember that the best men always make themselves ;" a sentence, which, falling from such a man, we are told, made a deep impression upon his mind, and often recurred to his recollection, to rally his resolution, and stimulate his diligence, when he found himself tempted to indulge his besetting sin of indolence. Shortly afterwards, our young adventurer set out for Mr. Nelson's, with only a handkerchief full of clothes in his hand for all his baggage, and just ten and six-pence in his pocket, which his father had given him for his outfit ; and commending himself, no doubt, in prayer to the God of Jacob, walked down to the river, where he stepped into a boat for Richmond, and thence repaired to Malvern Hills.

Here he found himself in the bosom of a polished and amiable family, and at the head of a small school consisting of the children of Mr. Nelson, and those of some of his neighbours, whom he taught for some time with great industry, and with good success. At the same time, his conduct in other respects, was entirely correct, at least in the eyes of those about him. Indeed, I am informed by a young gentleman of that neighbourhood, who is intimately acquainted with the surviving members of Mr. Nelson's family, that he has often heard them say, that the whole deportment of our youth while he remained at Malvern Hills, was such as to give entire satisfaction to his employers. He adds, too, from their lips, that he made himself very agreeable to the company who used to visit the house, and, especially the ladies, by his amiable manners, and (what I was a little surprised to hear,) by his occasional verses, which, I suspect, could hardly have been very polished, but which, it seems, they all thought truly charming.

But whilst he was thus " winning golden opinions" from all about him, it appears from his subsequent account of himself, that the course of life which he was now leading was not very favourable to his growth in piety. The gay society, indeed, in which he was mixing every day, gave him a taste for the pleasures of the world, which naturally interfered with the enjoyments of religion. But besides this, we are told that among the guests who frequently visited the hospitable mansion in which he was living, there were several gentlemen of sprightly talents and pleasing manners, but whose minds were unfortunately imbued with the principles of infidelity, which were much more fashionable at that day, (during the progress of the French revolution,) than they are at present, and his fondness for their intellectual conversation, combined with a want of christian courage, led him to listen too patiently to their pernicious sentiments. At the same time, he was cut off, I suppose, in a great measure, from the benefit of a regular attendance upon public worship, and from ail intercourse with religious friends. The consequence of all this was, that growing insensibly cold and negligent in the duties of the closet, his mind became clouded with doubts, not indeed of the truth of the gospel, but of his own interest in its promises, and he lost that peace and joy in believing, for which he could not help feeling in his heart that the worldly pleasures which he had gained were no equivalent. Even these pleasures, too, (as usually happens in such cases,) soon ceased to please him ; his mind became soured with the world as well as with heaven ; and he found himself most strangely

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II and awfully disposed to regard his fellow creatures, as well as his Creator, with a new and unnatural feeling of coldness and distrust.

In this state of things, after having lived with Mr. Nelson about eighteen months, he determined to pay a visit to his father and the family, to see them, and perhaps to recover his lost peace of mind. He proceeded, accordingly, to Richmond, and going afterwards up the river in an open boat, exposed himself by the way to the rays of the summer sun, and reached home only to be attacked by a severe fever which confined him to his bed for some time, and brought him down to the very brink of the grave. During this period, his reflections, as we may suppose, were not of the most pleasant nature ; but, in his actual state, it was no doubt good for him to be afflicted.

On recovering from his sickness, he began to inquire what he should do to support himself; for, it seems, he was bravely determined not to hang upon his father, who, indeed, was hardly able to maintain him. He had been so long absent from Malvern Hills, that he did not know but his place might have been supplied in the interval by another. Or if it had not, Mr. Nelson, as he had heard, from having lived, like an old Virginian of that day, a little too fast for his means, was no longer a " prosperous gentleman," and might therefore be unable to give him any further employment ; and he was, moreover, very properly afraid to expose himself again to the temptations of a society which he had found so dangerously pleasing. But where, then, should he go ? At this moment, happening providentially to look into a newspaper, his eye fell upon an advertisement of the Trustees of Hampden Sydney College, in the county of Prince Edward, announcing that they were in want of a tutor for that seminary; and he resolved at once to apply for the place.

He set out, accordingly, for the college, on foot, walking all the way, a distance of more than seventy miles; and at the and of his journey had the mortification to find that the trustees had written to the Rev. Robert Logan, of Fincastle, inviting him to fill the vacancy, and were waiting for his answer. As, however, they encouraged him to hope that they would gladly employ him if that gentleman should decline their overture, he resovled to see him at once, and ascertain his intention from his own lips. He set out, therefore, immediately, on foot again, for Fincastle, with only a solitary nine-pence in his pocket, and having obtained Mr. Logan's answer to the trustees, declining their invitation for himself, and recommending him to their favour, he returned with it to Prince Edward, to claim their promise ; and was immediately appointed a tutor of the college, according to his wish.