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CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUDING REMARKS.
the writer of the preceding pages regrets, at least as sincerely as
any of his readers, that the collection of facts, which they contain,
is not more full and complete; yet, in consequence of the long
interval which has elapsed since the death of President Edwards, they
are all, which after much time, and labour, and travel, he has been
able to discover. Such as they are, they constitute, with his writings
body of materials from which we are to form our estimate of his
character, as an intelligent and moral being.
In reviewing them, it is delightful to remember, in the outset, that
so far as the human eye could judge, the individuals of both the
families from which he derived his descent, were, as far back as we
can trace them, distinguished for their piety. Each married pair, in
both lines, with that care and conscientiousness which so generally
marked the pilgrims of New England, and their puritan ancestors,
trained up their children in the fear of God, and continued through
life to supplicate daily the divine favour on them and their
descendants, in all succeeding generations. Their prayers, ascending
separately and successively indeed, were yet embodied in their
influence, and from Him, who "showeth mercy to thousands of
generations of them that love him, and keep his commandments," called
down concentrated blessings on their common offspring. So full, so
rich were these blessings, as bestowed on the subject of this Memoir,
that, perhaps, no one example on record furnishes a stronger
encouragement to parents, to wrestle with God for the holiness and the
salvation of their posterity.
It was owing to the moral influence thus exerted, and to the divine
favour thus secured, that when we review the childhood and youth of
Mr. Edwards, we find them not only passing without a stain upon his
memory, but marked by a purity and excellence rarely witnessed at so
early a period of life. The religious impressions made upon his mind
in childhood, were certainly frequent, deep, and of long continuance,
and had a powerful effect upon his ultimate character; yet the
estimate formed of their real nature by different persons will
probably be different. His own estimate of them was, unquestionably,
that they were not the result of real religion.
The circumstances which led him to this conclusion, were these
two:--First, That, after he had cherished the hope of his own
conversion, for a considerable period, and had experienced a high
degree of joy, in what he regarded as communion with God, he lost
imperceptibly this spirituality of mind, relinquished for a season the
"constant performance" of the practice of secret prayer, and cherished
many affections of a worldly and sinful character:--Secondly, That
when he recovered from this state of declension, his views of divine
truth, particularly those connected with the sovereignty of God, were
in many respects new, and far more clear and delightful than any which
he had previously formed.
Without calling in question the fact, that a given individual has, on
some accounts, decidedly superior advantages for judging of his own
Christian character, than others enjoy; and without presuming to
decide on the correctness of the estimate, thus formed by Mr. Edwards;
it may not be improper to state various circumstances, which lead me
to suspect, that it may perhaps have been erroneous. 1. The
declension, of which he complains, appears to have been chiefly, or
wholly, a declension in the state of the affections. 2. Those
impressions began when he was seven or eight years of age, and were so
powerful and lasting, as to render religion the great object of
attention, for a number of years. As made on the mind of such a child,
they were very remarkable, even if we suppose them to have resulted in
piety. 3. The season of his declension commenced soon after his
admission to college, when be was twelve years of age. That a truly
pious child, in consequence of leaving his early religious connexions
and associations, and especially the altar and the incense of the
parental sanctuary; of removing to a new place of residence, of
entering on a new course of life, of forming new acquaintances and
attachments, of feeling the strong attractions of study, and the
powerful incentives of ambition, and of being exposed to the new and
untried temptations of a public seminary; should, for a season, so far
decline from his previous spirituality, as to lose all hope of his own
conversion, is so far from being a surprising event, that, in ordinary
cases, it is perhaps to be expected. Piety, at its commencement in the
mind, is usually feeble; and especially is it so, in the mind of a
child. How often are similar declensions witnessed, even at a later
age. Yet the subject of such backsliding, though, during its
continuance, he may well renounce the hope of his conversion, does not
usually regard the period of his recovery as the commencement of his
Christian life.--4. He had not, at this period, made a public
profession of religion; and, of course, was not restrained from such
declension by his own covenant, by communion with Christians, or by
the consciousness, that, as a visible Christian, his faults were
subjected to the inspection and the censure of the surrounding world.
5. Though charitable in judging others, he was at least equally severe
in judging himself. 6. He appears, at a very early period, to have
formed views of the purity of the Christian character--of the degree
of freedom from sin, and of the degree of actual holiness, requisite
to justify the hope of conversion--altogether more elevated in their
nature, than the truth will warrant. 7. That his views of divine
truth--particularly of the sovereignty of God--should have opened,
after the age of twelve, with so much greater clearness and beauty, as
to appear wholly new, was to have been expected from the nature of the
case. 8. At a subsequent period, when his mind was incessantly
occupied by the unusual perplexities of his tutorship, he complained
of a similar declension. 9. The purity, strength, and
comprehensiveness of his piety, as exhibited immediately after his
public profession of Christianity, was so much superior to what is
frequently witnessed, in Christians of an advanced standing, as almost
to force upon us the conviction that it commenced--not a few months
before, at the time of his supposed conversion, but--at a much earlier
period of life. Rare indeed is the fact, that holiness is not, at its
commencement in the soul, "as a grain of mustard-seed, which is the
least of all seeds;" and though in the rapidity of its growth, it
differs widely in different soils, yet time is indispensably
necessary, before its fruits can cover the full-grown plant, like the
clusters on the vine.--These considerations, and particularly the
last, have led me to believe, that the early religious impressions of
Mr. Edwards are to be regarded, as having been the result of a
gracious operation of the Spirit of God upon his heart.
Under this happy influence, exerted in childhood, his character was
formed. It prompted him then to study the Scriptures, to love payer,
to sanctify the sabbath, and to pay an unusual attention to the duties
or religion. It inspired him with reverence towards God, and made him
afraid to sin. It rendered him conscientious in the performance of
every relative duty, in manifesting love and gratitude, honour and
obedience, towards his parents, kindness and courteousness towards his
sisters, and the other companions of his childhood, respect and
deference to his superiors, and good will to all around him. It led
him also, at a very early period, to overcome that aversion to mental
labour, which is so natural to man, and to devote himself with
exemplary assiduity to the great duty, daily assigned him, of storing
his mind with useful knowledge. Some of our readers, we are aware, may
perhaps regard the recollections of his earlier years, as of little
importance; but those, who cherish common sympathies, with the whole
body of evangelical Christians, in the deep interest which they feel
in his character and efforts, and who reflect, that the foundation of
that character and of those efforts was then laid, will requite of us
no apology for thus exhibiting the comparative innocence and purity,
the docility and amiableness, the tenderness of conscience, the
exemplary industry, and the ardent thirst for knowledge, which
characterized this vernal season of his life.
The development of mental superiority, in the childhood and youth of
Mr. Edwards, was certainly uncommon, if not singular. Boys of the age
of eleven and twelve, even when receiving every aid from their parents
and instructors, and when feeling the influence of all the motives,
which they can present, are usually unwilling, in any branch of
natural science, to examine, so as thoroughly to comprehend, the
discoveries and investigations of others. Still more unwilling are
they to make this examination, when no such aid is furnished, and no
such inducements are presented. But rare indeed is the instance, in
which the attention of such a boy has been so far arrested, by any of
the interesting phenomena, in either of the kingdoms of nature, that
he has been led, without prompting, and without aid, to pursue a
series of exact observations and discoveries, as to the facts
themselves; to search out their causes; and, as the result of the
whole, to draw up and present a lucid, systematic, and well digested
report of his investigations.
After the lapse of a little more than a year, just as he attained the
age of fourteen, we find him entering on pursuits of a still higher
character. Few boys of that age have sufficient strength of intellect
to comprehend the Essay on the Human Understanding. Of those who have,
but a small proportion can be persuaded to read it; and a much
smaller, still, are found to read it voluntarily, and of choice. We
find Edwards, however, at this period of life, not only entering on
this work of his own accord, and with deep interest, but at once
relinquishing every other pursuit, that he may devote himself wholly
to the philosophy of the mind; and, to use his own language, "enjoying
a far higher pleasure in the perusal of its pages, than the most
greedy miser finds, when gathering up handfuls of silver and gold,
from some newly discovered treasure." Nor is this all. While reading
the work of Locke, he presents himself before us, not as a pupil, nor
simply as a critic; but in the higher character of an investigator,
exploring for himself the universe of minds, and making new and
interesting discoveries. Fortunately his investigations are preserved,
and may be compared with the efforts of other distinguished men, at
the same period of life, in other countries and in other ages. And if
any one of all those efforts discovers greater perspicacity and mental
energy, than the "Notes on the Mind;" particularly, the articles
entitled, Being, Space, Motion, Genus, the Will, and Excellency we are
yet to learn where it is to be found, and who was its author. The
discussion of the very important and difficult question, in the last
of these articles, What is the foundation of excellency,--of
excellency in its most enlarged acceptation, in things material and
spiritual, in things intellectual, imaginative, and moral,--is not
only original, as to its youthful author, and profound, but is even
now, we believe, in various respects, new to the investigations of
philosophy. [79] The Notes on Natural Science, furnish similar proof
of high mental superiority; and, by their variety of topics, their
general accuracy, and their originality, evince a power and
comprehension, discovered by only here and there an individual, when
possessed of the full maturity of his faculties. His habits of
thinking and reasoning, at this time of life, appear to have been as
severe, as exact, and as successful, as those of the most accomplished
scholars usually are, in the vigour of manhood. The plan of study,
itself, which he then formed,--of studying with his pen; and of
immediately, and of course, employing the principles of the science he
was examining, which had been already detailed and demonstrated by
others, in the discovery of new principles,--is at least equal
evidence of the same superiority. So vigorous was the mental soil,
that the seeds of thought could not be implanted therein, without
being quickened at once, and made to grow into a rich and abundant
harvest. Looking at these two series of notes in connexion with the
plan of study under which they grew, and then comparing them, by the
aid of recollection, with the efforts of other children and youths of
uncommon promise; we instinctively ask, When, and where, has the
individual lived, who has left behind him substantial proofs, that he
has possessed, at the same age, a mind more powerful, comprehensive,
or creative?
These conclusions are only confirmed by the survey of his succeeding
years. Though drawn away from the entire devotion of his mind to his
collegiate studies, by (what were to him) the alluring blandishments
of mental philosophy, he yet sustained in his class the first standing
as a scholar; and, though leaving college when sixteen, be was not too
young to receive its highest honours. Having entered the pulpit at
eighteen, he was, after a few trials, designated by a number of
gentlemen of a superior character, for a very important and difficult
station; to which, as well as to various other interesting fields of
labour, he received most pressing invitations.
The extraordinary difficulties and perplexities of the college, while
he was one of its officers, sufficient as they were to have
overwhelmed a common mind, only served to furnish him and his
colleagues a fairer opportunity, to show forth the superiority of
their own character. By their wisdom and fidelity, the college was
preserved and enlarged, when in imminent danger of ruin; and the
period of their administration will ever be regarded as one of the
most important eras in its history.
While the review of the childhood and youth of Mr. Edwards thus forces
upon us the conviction, that, in the early development of
extraordinary mental powers, he has had few equals; and enables us to
reflect, with pleasure, that these powers were never prostituted to
folly, or to vice, but from the beginning were faithfully devoted to
the great end for which they were given; it also leads us to remark,
that his character, as a moral being, was thoroughly formed and
established, at a very early period of life. Like a dutiful child, he
listened, indeed, to the counsels of his parents, as to the principles
by which his conduct should be regulated; but he also examined for
himself the foundations of those principles, and, having discovered
that they were firm and immovable, formed out of them a series of
rules, for the systematic regulation of his own conduct. These rules,
particularly as exemplified in the journal of his daily life, evince
not only a pure and transparent sincerity, and the greatest openness
of soul towards God; as well as an inspection, metaphysically
accurate, of his own mind, and a thorough acquaintance with his own
heart; but a knowledge of his duty,--to God, his fellow-men, and
himself,--and a conscientiousness in performing it, which are usually
the result of great wisdom and piety, combined with long experience.
They grew, obviously, out of a disposition to turn every occurrence of
life to a religious use, and thus to grow wiser and better,
continually, under the course of discipline to which the providence of
God subjected him. They appear to have been made under the immediate
inspection of the Omniscient eye, with a solemn conviction that he was
an immortal being, formed to act on the same theatre with God, and
angels, and the just made perfect, in carrying forward the kingdom of
holiness and joy, in its ever enlarging progress. Viewing himself as
just entering on this career of glory, he adopted, for the permanent
direction of his course, the best and noblest resolution, that an
intelligent being can form:--"Resolved, That I will do whatsoever I
think to be most to the glory of God, and my own good, profit, and
pleasure, in the whole of my duration; without any consideration of
the time, whether now, or never so many myriads of ages hence:
resolved, to do whatsoever I think to be my duty, and most for the
good and advantage of mankind in general: resolved, so to do, whatever
difficulties I meet with, how many soever, and how great soever." In
the spirit of this resolution, we find him, with all the earnestness
of which he was capable, giving up himself to God,--all that he was,
and all that he possessed,--so as habitually to feel that he was in no
respect his own, and could challenge no right to the faculties of his
body, to the powers of his mind, or the affections of his heart;
receiving Christ as a Prince and a Saviour, under a solemn covenant to
adhere to the faith and obedience of the gospel, however hazardous and
difficult the profession and practice of it might be; and taking the
Holy Spirit as his Teacher, Sanctifier, and only Comforter. And, in
accordance with both, we find him, at this time, regularly making the
glory of God the great end for which he lived; habitually trusting in
God, to such a degree, as to feel no uneasiness about his worldly
condition; maintaining the most open and confidential intercourse with
his Maker; cherishing exalted thoughts of Christ and his salvation;
feeling himself to be a part of Christ, and to have no separate
interest from his; exercising a filial and delightful sense of
dependence on the Holy Spirit, for the daily communication of his
grace; regarding communion with God as the very life and sustenance of
the soul; delighting in praising God, and in singing his praises, and
as much when alone, as in the company of others; often observing days
of secret fasting, that he might discover, and repent of, and renounce
every sin; maintaining a constant warfare against sin and temptation;
frequently renewing his dedication of himself to God; conversing daily
and familiarly with his own death and his own final trial; rejoicing
habitually in the divine perfections and the divine government;
reverentially acknowledging the divine hand in all the works of
nature, and in all the events of providence; exhibiting a calm and
sweet submission to the divine will under all the afflictions of life,
so that he could regard afflictions as real and great blessings; and
enabled so to live with God, from day to day, and from hour to hour,
as to be delightfully conscious of his presence, to refer his inmost
mind to the inspection of his eye, to value his approbation above all
things else, to cherish a joyful sense of union to him, to converse
with him, as a father, concerning his wants, infirmities, and sins,
his dangers, duties, and trials, his joys and sorrows, his fears and
desires, his hopes and prospects, and to commune with him in all his
works and dispensations, in his perfections and his glory. And, as the
result of this, we find the Spirit of God unfolding to him the wonders
of divine truth; vouchsafing to him joyful and glorious discoveries of
the perfections of God, as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit;
enabling him to live, as in the immediate presence and vision of the
things that are unseen and eternal; and communicating to him a joyful
assurance of the favour of God, and of a title to future glory.
This state of his heart towards God, prepared him for a just estimate
of his own character, for the formation of the best habits, and for a
conscientious and faithful government over himself. The daily and
careful survey of his sins, by the light of the divine holiness,
enabled him to discover the deceitfulness of his own heart, and led
him habitually to abhor himself, to form none but humbling and abasing
views of his own attainments in piety, and to esteem others better
than himself. There was something extremely delicate in his
constitution; which always obliged him to the exactest rules of
temperance, and every method of cautious and prudent living. His
temperance was the result of principle. It was not the mere ordinary
care and watchfulness of temperate people, but such a degree of
self-denial, both as to the quantity and quality of his food, as left
his mind, in every part of the day, alike unclouded in its views, and
unembarrassed in its movements. We have seen, from his diary, that he
rose at a very early hour, throughout the year; that, in the morning,
he considered well the business and studies of the day, resolved to
pursue that which was the most important; that his habits of
punctuality were exact and thorough; that he husbanded his time, as
the miser guards his choicest treasures; not losing it even in his
walks, his rides, or his journeys; and not allowing himself to leave
his study for the table, if his mind would thereby lose its brighter
moments, and its happier sequences of thought and discovery; and that,
in consequence of this regularity of life, and an exact and
punctilious regard to bodily exercise, he was enabled to spend an
unusual portion of every day, in severe and laborious mental
application. [80] Let it also be remembered, by every minister, that
notwithstanding the exact discipline to which his mind had been
subjected, by the course of his education, and by his long devotion to
metaphysical pursuits, he continued his attention to mathematical
studies, as a source, alike, of recreation and improvement, throughout
the whole of his ministerial life.
The habits of his religious life, which he formed in his youth, were
not less thorough and exact. His observation of the sabbath was such
as to make it, throughout, a day of real religion; so that not only
were his conversation and reading conformed to the great design of the
day, but he allowed himself in no thoughts or meditations, which were
not decidedly of a religious character. It was his rule, not only to
search the Scriptures daily, but to study them so steadily,
constantly, and frequently, as that he might perceive a regular and
obvious growth in his knowledge of them. By prayer and
self-application, he took constant care to render them the means of
progressive sanctification. He made a secret of his private devotions,
observes Dr. Hopkins, and therefore they cannot be particularly known;
though there is much evidence that he was punctual, constant, and
frequent in secret prayer, and often kept days of fasting and prayer
in secret, and set apart time for serious, devout meditations on
spiritual and eternal things, as part of his religious exercises in
secret. It appears from his diary, that his stated seasons of secret
prayer were, from his youth, three times a day,--in his journeys, as
well as at home. He was, so far as can be known, much on his knees in
secret, and in devout reading of God's word, and meditation upon it.
And his constant, solemn converse with God, in these exercises of
secret religion, made his face, as it were, to shine before others.
His appearance, his countenance, his words, and whole demeanour, were
attended with a seriousness, gravity and solemnity, which was the
natural, genuine, indication and expression, of a deep abiding sense
of divine things on his mind, and of his living constantly in the fear
of God. His watchfulness over himself--over his external conduct and
over his secret thoughts and purposes--was most thorough and
exemplary. The fear of God, and a consciousness of his own weakness,
made him habitually apprehensive of sin, and led him most carefully to
avoid every temptation. His self-examination was regular, universal,
and in a sense constant. Every morning he endeavoured to foresee, and
to guard against, the dangers of the day. Every night he carefully
reviewed the conduct of his mind, during its progress, and inquired,
wherein he had been negligent; what sin he had committed; wherein he
had denied himself; and regularly kept an account of every thing which
he found to be wrong. This record he reviewed at the close of the
week, of the month, and of the year, and on the occurrence of every
important change in life; that he might know his own condition, and
that he might carry his sins in humble confession before God. Whenever
he so much questioned whether he had done his duty, as that the quiet
of his mind was thereby disturbed, he regularly set it down, that he
might examine its real nature; and, if found in any respect to be
wrong, might put it away. Every course of conduct, which led him in
the least to doubt of the love of God; every action of his mind, the
review of which would give him uneasiness in the hour of death, and on
his final trial; he endeavoured, with all his strength, to avoid.
Every obvious sin he traced back to its original, that he might
afterward know where his danger lay. Every desire, which might prove
the occasion of sin,--the desire of wealth, of ease, of pleasure, of
influence, of fame, of popularity,--as well as every bodily appetite,
he strove not only to watch against, but habitually and unceasingly to
mortify; regarding occasions of great self-denial as glorious
opportunities of destroying sin, and of confirming himself in
holiness; and uniformly finding that his greatest mortifications were
succeeded by the greatest comforts. On the approach of affliction he
searched out the sin, which he ought especially to regard, as calling
for such a testimony of the divine displeasure, that he might receive
the chastisement with entire submission, and be concerned about
nothing but his duty and his sin. The virtues and sins of others led
him to examine himself, whether he possessed the former, and whether
he did not practise the latter. Thus his whole life was a continued
course of self-examination; and in the duty of secret fasting, and
humiliation, which he very frequently observed,--a duty enjoined by
Christ, on his followers, as explicitly, and in the same terms, as the
duty of secret prayer; enjoined too, for the very purpose of
discovery, confession, and purification,--he was accustomed, with the
greatest unreservedness of which he was capable, to declare his ways
to God, and to lay open his soul before him, all his sins,
temptations, difficulties, sorrows, and fears, as well as his desires
and hopes; that the light of God's countenance might shine upon him
without obstruction.
The fear of God had a controlling influence, also, in regulating his
intercourse with mankind. The basis of that intercourse, in all the
relations of life, and indeed of his whole character, was evangelical
integrity,--a settled unbending resolution to do what he thought
right, whatever self-denial or sacrifices it might cost him. This
trait of character he early discovered, in the unfavourable estimate,
which he formed, of his youthful attainments in religion; and in the
severe judgment, which he passed upon the period of his official
connexion with college, as a period of marked declension in his
Christian life. He discovered it, during that connexion, in his most
conscientious and honourable efforts to promote the welfare of that
institution, under uncommon difficulties and trials. He discovered it
during his ministry at Northampton, in the very laborious performance
of every ministerial duty, and in his firm and fearless defence of the
truth, in opposition to numbers, power, and influence. He discovered
it eminently in the affair of his dismission. His conscience at first
hesitated, as to the lawfulness of the prevailing mode of admission to
the church. Still, he regarded the question as altogether doubtful. It
had been once publicly discussed; his own colleague and grandfather,
who had introduced it at Northampton, being one of the combatants; and
the victory had been supposed to be on his side, and in favour of the
existing mode. The churches of the county had adopted it; and the
whole current of public opinion,--the united voice of wealth, fashion,
numbers, learning, and influence,--was in its favour. If he decided
against continuing the practice, all these would certainly be combined
against him; his people would demand his dismission, before a tribunal
which had prejudged the case; his only means of supporting a young and
numerous family would be taken away, at a time of life, when an
adequate provision for their wants would probably involve him in
extreme embarrassment. Yet none of these things moved him; and his
only anxiety was, to ascertain and to perform his duty. He discovered
it, in the same manner, in the controversy at Stockbridge. There, the
same influence, which, in the former case, had effected his
dismission, he knew would be combined against him, with increased
hostility, and in all probability would deprive his family a second
time of their support; unless he sat quietly, and saw the charities of
Christian philanthropy perverted to sources of private emolument. But
in such a crisis he could not deliberate for a moment.
"He had a strict and inviolable regard to justice, in all his dealings
with his neighbors, and was very careful to provide things honest in
the sight of all men; so that scarcely a man had any dealings with
him, who was not conscious of his uprightness.
"His great benevolence to mankind discovered itself, among other ways,
by the uncommon regard he showed to liberality, and charity to the
poor and distressed. He was much in recommending this, both in his
public discourses, and in private conversation. He often declared it
to be his opinion, that professed Christians were greatly deficient in
this duty, and much more so than in most other parts of external
Christianity. He often observed how much this is spoken of,
recommended, and encouraged, in the Holy Scriptures, especially in the
New Testament. And it was his opinion, that every particular church
ought, by frequent and liberal contributions, to maintain a public
stock, that might be ready for the poor and necessitous members of
that church; and that the principal business of deacons is, to take
care of the poor, in the faithful and judicious improvement and
distribution of the church's contributions, lodged in their hands. And
he did not content himself with merely recommending charity to others,
but practised it much himself; though, according to his Master's
advice, he took great care to conceal his acts of charity; by which
means, doubtless, most of his alms-deeds will be unknown till the
resurrection, but which, if known, would prove him to have been as
honourable an example of charity, as almost any that can be produced.
This is not mere conjecture, but is evident many ways. He was forward
to give, on all public occasions of charity; though, when it could
properly be done, he always concealed the sum given. And some
instances of his giving more privately have accidentally come to the
knowledge of others, in which his liberality appeared in a very
extraordinary degree. One of the instances was this: upon his hearing
that a poor obscure man, whom he never saw, or any of his kindred,
was, by an extraordinary bodily disorder, brought to great straits;
he, unasked, gave a considerable sum to a friend, to be delivered to
the distressed person; having first required a promise of him, that he
would let neither the person, who was the object of his charity, nor
any one else, know by whom it was given. This may serve both as an
instance of his extraordinary charity, and of his great care to
conceal it." [81]
Not less exemplary was his practice of the kindred virtue of
hospitality, so much enjoined on all Christians, in the sacred
Scriptures. As his acquaintance was very extensive, his house was the
frequent resort of gentlemen from all parts of the colonies; and the
friend, and the stranger of worth, ever found a kind and cordial
welcome at his table, and in the midst of his family.
"He was thought by some to be distant and unsociable in his manners;
but this was owing to the want of a better acquaintance. He was not,
indeed, a man of many words, and was somewhat reserved in the company
of strangers, and of those, on whose candour and friendship he did not
know that he could rely. And this was probably owing to two causes.
First, the strict guard he set over his tongue, from his youth. From
experience and observation he early discovered, that the sins of the
tongue make up a very formidable proportion of all the sins committed
by men, and lead to a very large proportion of their remaining sins.
He therefore resolved to take the utmost care, never to sin with his
tongue; to avoid not only uttering reproaches himself, but receiving
them, and listening to them from others; to say nothing for the sake
of giving pain, or wounding the feelings or reputation of others; to
say nothing evil concerning them, except when an obvious duty required
him to do it, and then to speak, as if nobody had been as vile as
himself, and as if he had committed the same sins, or had the same
infirmities or failings, as others; never to employ himself in idle,
trivial, and impertinent talk, which generally makes up a great part
of the conversation of those, who are full of words, in all companies;
and to make sure of that mark of a perfect man, given by James, `if
any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able, also,
to bridle the whole body.' He was sensible, that `in the multitude of
words there wanteth not sin,' and therefore refrained his lips, and
habituated himself to think before he spoke, and to propose some good
end in all his words; which led him, conformably to an apostolic
precept, to be, above many others, slow to speak.--Secondly, this was
in part the effect of his bodily constitution. He possessed but a
comparatively small stock of animal life: his spirits were low, and he
had neither the vivacity nor strength of lungs to spare, that would
have been requisite in order to render him what might be called an
affable, sprightly companion, in all circles. They who have a great
flow of animal spirits, and so can speak with more ease, and less
expense and exhaustion, than others, may doubtless lawfully engage in
free conversation, in all companies, for a lower end than that which
he proposed: e. g. to please, or to render themselves agreeable to
others. But not so he who has not such an abundant supply: it becomes
him to reserve what he has for higher and more important service.
Besides, the want of animal spirit lays a man under a natural
inability of exercising that freedom of conversation, at all times,
and in whatever company he is, which those possessed of more vivacity
naturally and easily glide into; and the greatest degree of humility
and benevolence, of good sense and social feeling, will not remove
this obstacle.
"He was not forward to enter into any dispute before strangers, and in
companies where there might be persons of different sentiments; being
sensible that such disputes are generally unprofitable, and often
sinful, and of bad consequence. He thought he could dispute to the
best advantage with his pen; yet he was always free to give his
sentiments, on any subject proposed to him, and to remove any
difficulties or objections offered by way of inquiry, as lying in the
way of what he looked upon to be the truth. But how groundless, with
regard to him, the imputation of being distant and unsociable was, his
known and tried friends best knew. They always found him easy of
access, kind and condescending; and though not talkative, yet affable
and free. Among those, whose candour and friendship he had
experienced, he threw off all that, which to others had the appearance
of reserve, and was most open and communicative; and was always
patient of contradiction, while the utmost opposition was made to his
sentiments, that could be made by any arguments or objections, whether
plausible or solid. And indeed he was, on all occasions, quite
sociable and free with all who had any special business with him.
"His conversation with his friends was always savoury and profitable:
in this he was remarkable, and almost singular. He was not accustomed
to spend his time with them in evil speaking, or foolish jesting, idle
chit-chat, and telling stories; but his mouth was that of the just,
which bringeth forth wisdom, and whose lips dispense knowledge. His
tongue was as the pen of a ready writer, while he conversed about
important heavenly and divine things, of which his heart was so full,
in a manner so new and original, so natural and familiar, as to be
most entertaining and instructive; so that none of his friends could
enjoy his company without instruction and profit unless it was by
their own fault.
"He was cautious in choosing his intimate friends, and therefore had
not many that might properly he called such; but to them he showed
himself friendly in a peculiar manner. He was, indeed, a faithful
friend, and able above most others to keep a secret. To them he
discovered himself, more than to others, and led them into his views
and ends in his conduct in particular instances: by which they had
abundant evidence that he well understood human nature, and that his
general reservedness, and many particular instances of his conduct,
which a stranger might impute to ignorance of men, were really owing
to his uncommon knowledge of mankind.
"In his family, he practised that conscientious exactness, which was
conspicuous in all his ways. He maintained a great esteem and regard
for his amiable and excellent consort. Much of the tender and
affectionate was expressed in his conversation with her, and in all
his conduct towards her. He was often visited by her in his study, and
conversed freely with her on matters of religion; and he used commonly
to pray with her in his study, at least once a day, unless something
extraordinary prevented. The season for this, commonly, was in the
evening, after prayers in the family, just before going to bed. As he
rose very early himself, he was wont to have his family up betimes in
the morning; after which, before they entered on the business of the
day, he attended on family prayers; when a chapter in the Bible was
read, commonly by candle-light in the winter; upon which he asked his
children questions, according to their age and capacity; and took
occasion to explain some passages in it, or enforce any duty
recommended, as he thought most proper.
He was careful and thorough in the government of his children; and, as
a consequence of this, they reverenced, esteemed, and loved him. He
took the utmost care to begin his government of them, when they were
very young. When they first discovered any degree of self-will and
stubbornness, he would attend to them, until he had thoroughly subdued
them, and brought them to submit. Such prudent discipline, exercised
with the greatest calmness, being repeated once or twice, was
generally sufficient for that child; and effectually established his
parental authority, and produced a cheerful obedience ever after.
"He kept a watchful eye over his children, that he might admonish them
of the first wrong step, and direct them in the right way. He took
opportunities to converse with them singly and closely, about the
concerns of their souls, and to give them warnings, exhortations, and
directions, as he saw them severally need." The salvation of his
children was his chief and constant desire, and aim, and effort
concerning them. In the evening, after tea, he customarily sat in the
parlour, with his family, for an hour, unbending from the severity of
study, entering freely into the feelings and concerns of his children,
and relaxing into cheerful and animated conversation, accompanied
frequently with sprightly remarks, and sallies of wit and humour. But,
before retiring to his study, he usually gave the conversation, by
degrees, a more serious turn, addressing his children, with great
tenderness and earnestness, on the subject of their salvation; when
the thought that they were still strangers to religion would often
affect him so powerfully, as to oblige him to withdraw, in order to
conceal his emotions.--"He took much pains to instruct his children in
the principles and duties of religion, in which he made use of the
Assembly's Shorter Catechism: not merely by taking care that they
learned it by heart, but by leading them into an understanding of the
doctrines therein taught, by asking them questions on each answer, and
explaining it to them. His usual time to attend to this was on the
evening before the sabbath. And, as he believed that the sabbath, or
holy time, began at sunset, on the evening preceding the first day of
the week, he ordered his family to finish all their secular business
by that time, or before; when all were called together, a psalm was
sung, and prayer offered, as an introduction to the sanctification of
the sabbath. This care and exactness effectually prevented that
intruding on holy time, by attending to secular business, which is too
common even in families where the evening before the sabbath is
professedly observed.
"He was utterly opposed to every thing like unseasonable hours, on the
part of young people, in their visiting and amusements; which he
regarded as a dangerous step towards corrupting them, and bringing
them to ruin. And he thought the excuse offered by many parents, for
tolerating this practice in their children,--that it is the custom,
and that the children of other people are allowed thus to practise,
and therefore it is difficult, and even impossible, to restrain
theirs,--was insufficient and frivolous, and manifested a great degree
of stupidity, on the supposition that the practice was hurtful and
pernicious to their souls. And when his children grew up, he found no
difficulty in restraining them from this improper and mischievous
practice; but they cheerfully complied with the will of their parents.
He allowed none of his children to be absent from home after nine
o'clock at night, when they went abroad to see their friends and
companions; neither were they allowed to sit up much after that time,
in his own house, when any of their friends came to visit them. If any
gentleman desired to address either of his daughters, after the
requisite introduction and preliminaries, he was allowed all proper
opportunities of becoming thoroughly acquainted with the manners and
disposition of the young lady, but must not intrude on the customary
hours of rest and sleep, nor on the religion and order of the family."
Perhaps there never was a man more constantly retired from the world,
giving himself to reading and contemplation; and it was a wonder that
his feeble frame could subsist under such fatigues, daily repeated,
and so long continued. Yet, upon this being alluded to by one of his
friends, only a few months before his death, he said to him, "I do not
find but that I now am as well able to bear the closest study, as I
was thirty years ago; and can go through the exercises of the pulpit
with as little uneasiness or difficulty."--In his youth he appeared
healthy, and with a good degree of vivacity, but was never robust. In
middle life he appeared very much emaciated, by severe study, and
intense mental application. In his person he was tall of stature, and
of a slender form. [82] He had a high, broad, bold forehead, and an
eye unusually piercing and luminous; and on his whole countenance the
features of his mind--perspicacity, sincerity, and benevolence--were
so strongly impressed, that no one could behold it without at once
discovering the clearest indications of great intellectual and moral
elevation. His manners were those of the Christian gentleman, easy,
tranquil, modest, and dignified; yet they were the manners of the
student, grave, sedate, and contemplative; and evinced an exact sense
of propriety, and an undeviating attention to the rules of decorum.
"He had," observes one of his contemporaries, "a natural steadiness of
temper, and fortitude of mind; which, being sanctified by the Spirit
of God, was ever of vast advantage to him, to carry him through
difficult services, and to support him under trying afflictions in the
course of his life.--Personal injuries he bore with a becoming
meekness and patience, and a disposition to forgiveness." According to
Dr. Hopkins himself an eye-witness, these traits of character were
eminently discovered, throughout the whole of his long-continued
trials at Northampton. His own narrative of that transaction, his
remarks before the council, his letters relating to it, and his
farewell sermon, all written in the midst of the passing occurrences,
bespeak as calm, and meek, and unperturbed a state of mind, as they
would have done, had they been written by a third person, long after
the events took place.--"The humility, modesty, and serenity of his
behaviour, much endeared him to his acquaintance, and made him appear
amiable in the eyes of such as had the privilege of conversing with
them.--The several relations sustained by him, he adorned with
exemplary fidelity; and was solicitous to fill every station with its
proper duty.--In his private walk as a Christian, he appeared an
example of truly rational, consistent, uniform religion and virtue; a
shining instance of the power and efficacy of that holy faith, to
which he was so firmly attached, and of which he was so zealous a
defender. He exhibited much of spirituality, and a heavenly bent of
soul. In him one saw the loveliest appearance--a rare assemblage of
christian graces, united with the richest gifts, and mutually
subserving and recommending one another."
"He had an uncommon thirst for knowledge, in the pursuit of which he
spared no cost nor pains. He read all the books, especially books
treating of theology, that he could procure, from which he could hope
to derive any assistance in the discovery of truth. And in this, he
did not confine himself to authors of any particular sect or
denomination; but even took much pains to procure the works of the
most distinguished writers, who advanced views of religion or morals
most contrary to his own principles; particularly the ablest Arminian,
Socinian, and infidel writers. But he studied the Bible more than all
other books, and more than most other divines do." He studied the
Bible, to receive implicitly what it teaches; but he read other books
to examine their soundness, and to employ them as helps in the
investigation of principles, and the discovery of truth. His uncommon
acquaintance with the Bible, appears in his sermons, in his
treatises,--particularly in the treatises on the Affections, on the
History of Redemption, on United and Extraordinary Prayer, on the
Types of the Messiah, on the Qualifications for Communion, and on
God's Last End in the Creation,--in his Notes on the Scriptures, and
in his Miscellaneous Observations and Remarks. Any person who will
read his works with close attention, and then will compare them with
those of other theological writers, since the days of the apostles,
will easily be satisfied that no other divine has as yet appeared, who
has studied the Scriptures more thoroughly, or who has been more
successful in discovering the mind of the Holy Spirit. He took his
religious principles from the Bible, and not from treatises, or
systems of theology, or any work of man. On the maturest examination
of the different schemes of faith, prevailing in the world, and on
comparing them with the sacred Scriptures, he adhered to the main
articles of the reformed religion, with an unshaken firmness and with
a fervent zeal, yet tempered with charity and candour, and governed by
discretion. Few men are less under the bias of education, or the
influence of bigotry: few receive the articles of their creed so
little upon trust, or discover so much liberality or thoroughness in
examining their foundation. His principles have been extensively
styled Calvinistic, yet they differ widely from what has usually been
denominated Calvinism, in various important points; particularly, in
all immediately connected with moral agency; and he followed
implicitly, if any man ever followed, the apostolic injunction, to
call no man, Father, by receiving nothing on human authority, and
examining scrupulously every principle which he adopted. He thought,
and investigated, and judged for himself; and from the strength of his
reasoning powers, as well as from his very plan of study, he became
truly an original writer. As we have already sufficiently seen,
reading was not the only, nor the chief, method which he took of
improving his mind; but he devoted the strength of his time and of his
faculties to writing, without which no student, and, be it remembered,
no minister, can make improvements to the best advantage. He preached
extensively on subjects, continued through a series of
discourses;--many of his treatises having been a course of sermons
actually delivered from the desk. In this practice, every minister who
has a mind fitted for investigation, would do well to follow him.
"Agreeably to the 11th Resolution, he applied himself, with all his
might, to find out truth: he searched for it as for silver, and digged
for it as for hidden treasures. Every thought, on any subject, which
appeared to him worth pursuing and preserving, he pursued as far as he
then could, with a pen in his hand. Thus he was, all his days, like
the industrious bee, collecting honey from every opening flower, and
storing up a stock of knowledge, which was indeed sweet to him, as
honey and the honey-comb."
As a scholar, his intellectual furniture exceeded what was common,
under the disadvantages experienced at that time, in these remote
colonies. He had an extensive acquaintance with the arts and
sciences--with classical and Hebrew literature, with physics,
mathematics, history, chronology, ethics, and mental philosophy. By
the blessing of God on his indefatigable labours, to the last, he was
constantly treasuring up useful knowledge, both human and divine.
"Thus he appears to have been uncommonly accomplished for the arduous
and momentous province to which he was finally called. And had his
precious life been spared, there is every reason to believe, that he
would have graced the station on which he had but entered, and proved
a signal blessing to the college of New Jersey, and therein
extensively served his generation according to the will of God"
His inattention to his style is certainly to be regretted. In earlier
life, he appears to have thought neatness and correctness in writing
of little consequence, [83] and to have sent his works to the press
very much in the state in which they were first written. Let it here
be remembered, that the cultivation of style was not then attended to
in the colonies; that the people at large were accustomed to
discourses written in the plainest manner; and that it is extremely
doubtful, whether, in the then existing state of the country, it would
have been possible for him to have devoted much attention to the style
of his sermons, without greatly diminishing their amount of
impression. About the time of his leaving Northampton, he received one
of the works of Richardson, [84] which he read with deep interest, and
regarded as wholly favourable to good morals and purity of character.
The perusal of it led him to attempt the formation of a more correct
style, his previous inattention to which he then deeply regretted; and
in this attempt he had much success. The style of the Freedom of the
Will, though obviously that of a student, and not of a man of the
world, is otherwise as correct as that of most of the metaphysical
treatises to be found in the language. The same is true, generally, of
the Treatise on Original Sin; although it was in the press when he
died, and never received his last corrections. [85] In the two highest
excellences of style, perspicuity and precision, he was probably never
excelled.
Of the powers of his mind, enough, perhaps, has been said already.
They were certainly very varied, and fitted him for high distinction
in any of the pursuits of learning or science.--His memory was strong,
exact, uniform, and comprehensive.--His imagination was rich and
powerful. I know that the contrary opinion has extensively prevailed,
and that for three reasons. First, he paid little or no attention to
his style of writing. Secondly, he never cultivated his imagination,
and never indulged it but sparingly, and probably in no instance, for
mere ornament. Thirdly, his great works are treatises on metaphysical
subjects. A writer without imagination, always thinks and writes in a
dry manner; and, if his powers are great, like those of Aristotle, he
writes like a pure intelligence. Those who are conversant with the
writings of Edwards, need not be informed that all his works, even the
most metaphysical, are rich in illustration, or that his sermons
abound with imagery of every kind, adapted to make a powerful and
lasting impression. In his earlier writings, this faculty of his mind
was suffered to act with less restraint. The first production of his
pen, on the materiality of the soul, is a constant play of imagination
and wit. The boy who could speak of the spiders of the forest, as
"those wondrous animals, from whose glistening web so much of the
wisdom of the Creator shines,"--who, in describing their operations,
could say, "I have seen a vast multitude of little shining webs, and
glistening strings, brightly reflecting the sun-beams, and some of
them of great length, and of such a height, that one would think they
were tacked to the vault of the heavens, and would be burnt like tow
in the sun;"--and who, in exposing the absurdity of the supposition,
that there can be absolutely nothing, observes, "When we go to form an
idea of perfect nothing, we must not suffer our thoughts to take
sanctuary in a mathematical point, but we must think of the same, that
the sleeping rocks do dream of;"--possessed an imagination at once
rich, brilliant, and creative.--His taste, if we do not refer to style
of writing, but merely to the judgment of the mind, concerning all the
varieties of sublimity and beauty, was at once delicate and
correct.--Few of mankind, hitherto, have possessed either invention,
ratiocination, or judgment in so high a degree; and it is difficult to
say for which of these he is most distinguished. In comparing him with
the metaphysicians of the old world, we must not forget his and their
respective advantages for the culture of the mind. He was born in an
obscure village, in which the ancient reign of barbarism was only
beginning to yield to the inroads of culture and civilization; in a
colony comprising but here and there a settlement; and in a country
literally in its infancy, constituting with the exception of now and
then a white plantation, one vast continuous forest, and distant three
thousand miles from Europe, the seat of arts, refinement, and
knowledge. He was educated at a seminary but three years older than
himself; which had as yet no domical, and which furnished advantages
totally inferior to those now enjoyed at the respectable academies of
New England. The rest of his life was passed amid the cares of a most
laborious profession, and on the very frontiers (and the latter part
of it in the very midst) of savage life; with no libraries to explore,
and with no men of eminence with whose minds his could come into daily
contact. His greatest work was written in four months and a half while
each sabbath he delivered two sermons to his English flock, and two
others by interpreters, to two distinct auditories of Indians, and
catechised the children of both tribes, and carried on all the
correspondence of the mission, and was forced to guard against the
measures of a powerful combination, busily occupied in endeavouring to
drive him from his office, and thus to deprive his family of their
daily bread.--With these things in view, instead of drawing any such
comparison myself, I will refer my readers to the opinion of a writer
of no light authority on such a subject,--I mean Dugald Stewart;--who,
after having detailed tie systems of Locke, and Leibnitz, and
Berkeley, and Condillac, speaks thus of the subject of this
Memoir:--"There is, however, one metaphysician, of whom America has to
boast, who, in logical acuteness and subtilty, does not yield to any
disputant bred in the universities of Europe. I need not say that I
allude to Jonathan Edwards."
Mr. Edwards acquired a very high character, as a divine and as a
preacher, during his life. "Among the luminaries of the church, in
these American regions," says one of his contemporaries, [86] "he was
justly reputed a star of the first magnitude; thoroughly versed in all
the branches of theology, didactic, polemic, casuistic, experimental,
and practical. In point of divine knowledge and skill, he had few
equals, and perhaps no superior; at least in those foreign
parts."--"Mr. Edwards," says Dr. Hopkins, "had the most universal
character of a good preacher, of almost any minister in America. There
were but few that heard hi