\y ^W OF PRlNcr^ ^'^lOt.OG'Ul SEV*''^^^ BX5995.H6 M38 1836 McVickai", John, 1787-1868. Early years of the late Bishop Hobart / Tiir: EARLY YEARS OF THK LATE BISHOP HOBART. BY JOHN McVICKAR, D.D ' The boy is father of the man.' — V/ordsxmrtJu NE W-YORK: PRINTED AT THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL PRESS. M DCCC XXaVI. CONTENTS. Page Preface, 5 Preface to Second Edition, 9 CHAPTER I. Until his Entrance into the University in his Thirteenth Year — Birth — Lineage — Family Circumstances — Schools — Boyish Character, 11 CHAPTER II. From his Entrance into the University of Pennsylvania, in his Thirteenth Year, until his Return Home from Princeton College in the Eighteenth Year of his Age — Companions — Philoma- thean Society — Ciceronian — Impeachment of President — Re- moval to Princeton — Letters to and from his Mother, . . 27 CHAPTER III. Residence at College — Whig and Clio Societies — Contest for College Honors — Character — Letters — Thoughts of tlie Min- istry, • .... 60 CHAPTER IV. Intimacy with young Skinner — Letters — Death — Character, . 86 CHAPTER V. Intimacy with young Forsyth — Letters — Death — Younger Brother — Intimacy with Grant, Scott, &c. — Letters, . . 102 ( 3 ) CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. Page Family Letters— Sickness— Early Friends— Robertson — Grant — Scott» 127 CHAPTER VII. Change of Destination — Enters a Counting-house— Call to a Tutorship at Princeton — Removal — Duties — Companions — Intimacy with Young Mercer — Letters, .... 168 CHAPTER VIII. Graduate Society — Themes — Favorite Studies — Talents as a Public Speaker — Devotion to the Ministry — Ordination, . 210 PREFACE. The perusal of the letters and papers of the late Bishop Hob art, undertaken with a differ- ent view, has led to the following narrative. It may be that in the publication of it, the au- thor, or rather the editor, for letters constitute the main portion, has overrated the interest of the reading public in a life already before them,* and a character which, whatever be its excellences, has long been familiar to the members of his own communion, while to those beyond, it can hardly be said to offer such claims as render the biography of public men at all times justifiable. In the face of all these difficulties the editor has ventured to publish, and can now only * To the biographies here alluded to, viz., ' A Memorial of Bishop Hobart,' by the Rev. J. F. Schroedcr ; and the larger ' Memoir ' prefixed to his ' Works," by the Rev. W. Berrian, D. D., the editor would take this opportunity of making his acknow- ledgments for several facts and statements, the original authori- ties for which were not in his possession. (5) C PREFACE. state the feelings which have led him to it. When he began the perusal of these early letters, they seemed to him but as boyish effu- sions, of but little value, and no interest beyond the family circle to v^^hich they related ; but as he proceeded in his task, their number and minuteness began to give life to the picture they presented ; one by one the features of character came forth, until by degrees they embodied themselves into a beautiful portraiture of an affectionate and generous youth, full of ardor and native piety, and devoted to every noble and benevolent pursuit. This is the editor's first apology, since if these impressions be just, such a picture faith- fully given cannot be without both interest and value. Virtue and piety want no reflected lustre from a great name ; they are themselves the pure gold, and truth and sincerity the only stamp they need to give them currency. The inclination thus excited to publish, a further consideration converted into resolution. It was this : Bishop Hobart's character was in one respect .greatly misunderstood by those who knew him only in his public course. The PREFACE. 7 untiring energy with which he devoted himself to official duty, was reputed by many to be personal ambition ; and the unyielding firm- ness of his opinions as a Churchman, turned into an argument against his vital piety as a Christian. The native humility of his heart, the depth of his devotional feelings, the evan- gelical tone of his retired piety, were matters either wholly unknown, or else placed to the account of professional duties. Now the cor- rection of such false opinion is a debt due alike to the reputation of Bishop Hobart, and to that of the Church over which he presided ; and in no way, perhaps, can it be more effectu- ally done, than by the exhibition of him in the simplicity and open sincerity of youth ; in days when there were no ambitious ends to gain, or professional proprieties to support, and in which neither fear nor favor can be supposed to have operated, to blind the judgment of those around him as to his real character. If we then find him as a boy, what he afterward was as a man, active, ardent, fearless, and devoted ; fervent in feeling, but wise in action; bold in duty, but childlik^ in piety ; yielding in 8 PREFACE. matters of expediency, but uncomj^romising in principle ; gathering around him wherever he went an attached circle of friends and followers, and using his influence over them to the wisest and best of purposes — that of advancing them in knowledge and virtue, and above all, in that holy faith, which from a child appears to have been his own guide and instructer ; and if all this be found, not in the recollections of partial friends, but in original documents which per- sonal affection has preserved, then may we fairly answer all such doubts as to the genuine- ness of his virtues, by an appeal to the unpre- tending, but unsuspected narrative of his ' Early Years.' With this explanation the work is respect- fully submitted. Columbia College, October 15, 1834, PREFACE THE SECOND EDITION. The rapid sale of Bishop Hobart's ' Early- Years,' has caused a call to be made for a Second Edition before a volume of his ' Pro- fessional Years' was ready for the press. It is intended, however, that such shall soon follow, the demand for the present little work being to the author sufficient proof that the interest taken by the public in Bishop Hobart's char- acter is not yet exhausted ; or rather, that the interest taken in native traits of goodness, such as his exhibits, is a perennial interest that never can be exhausted. Facts we are con- tented to read but once, for our curiosity is satisfied ; whereas the picture of generosity and nobleness, and true-hearted piety, we can read and re-read, and find it ever fresh and new. In this light the author regards his theme, and if he fail to transfer the same feel- 1* ( 9 ) 10 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. ing to his readers, he believes it will be his fault, not that of his subject. In the mean- time the present volume is again put forth, vrith a few slight alterations in form and addi- tions in matter. Its general scope the author has seen no reason to alter, and no error has been pointed out in the facts. It is again, therefore, addressed to the young as an exam- ple of what may be done, and to parents as a model of what should be done, in education ; accompanied with the prayer of one who is himself a father, that it may be blest in its influence on the rising generation. Columbia College, December 20, 1835. MEM OIR. CHAPTER I. Until his Entrance into the University in his Thirteenth Year — Birth — Lineag© — Family Circumstances — Schools — Boyish Character. John Henry Hobart was born at Philadel- phia, September 14th, 1775, being the youngest son of Enoch and Hannah (Pratt) Hobart. The time and place of his birth connect his name Avith the charter of our Political ^Inde- pendence, and, as well observed by his earliest biographer, (Rev. J. F. Schroeder,) 'his strong patriotic attachments in after-life, his great fearlessness in the defence of truth, and all the prominent features of his character, mark him a worthy child of the Revolution.' His ances- try, it may be added, was also of the same strain, fervent in spirit, and ardent in the cause of liberty. The founder of the family in this our western world, was an eminent leader among the Pilgrim fathers of New-England, — Ed- mund Hobart, of Hingham, county of Norfolk, (England,) who in 1633 quitted his native land, with wife and children, to seek, or rather to found, in the wilderness a more peaceful home ( 11 ) 12 MEMOIROF than England then afforded to nonconform- ists ; while the feelings of the unwilling emi- grant appear in his bestowing upon his new resting-place the title of his native village ; the town of Hingham, Plymouth count}^, Massa- chusetts, deriving from him both its name and first settlement. Of colonies thus planted, the success obviously depends upon the good influ- ence of wives as well as husbands ; in this respect the town of Hingham was fortunate, such at least is the testimony of Cotton Mather. ' Both he and his wife,' says that simple-hearted narrator, in speaking of Edmund Hobart, ' were eminent for piety, and even from their youth feared God above many, wherein their zeal was more conspicuous by the impiety of the neigh- borhood.' From this worthy stock thus planted, came forth a great company of preachers. Peter Hobart, his son, was among the eminent men of his age, at least in the new world. Educated in all the learning of his father's land, he quitted the University of Cambridge, (England,) to take Orders in the Estabhshed Church, into which he was admitted by the Bishop of Norwich. After a few years, how- ever, political or religious bias threw him into the ranks of dissent ; as a Puritan divine, he sought the shores of New-England ; and join- ing his father's settlement at Hingham, became BISHOP HOBART. 13 the pastor of a patriarchal establishment. With these words he begins his journal : * June 8th, 1635. I, with my wife and four children, came safely to New-England, for ever praised be the God of heaven, my God and King.' But this exclusive tone was the language, we may be- lieve, rather of the sect than the individual, since, though he was characterized as ' a bold man that would speak his mind,' yet we are also assured by the same annalist, that ' he would admire the grace of God in good men, though they were of sentiments contrary to his ; ' and that when he beheld some pragmatical in con- troversies, and furiously set upon having all things carried their way, and yet destitute of the life and power of godliness, he would say, 'Some men are all Church and no Christ.' He was noted also as ' a morning student, and a great example of temperance,' while his well studied sermons are said to have been like their author, ' bold and independent, and fuller of exhortation than of doctrine.' Such a man was well suited to build up the new colony on the surest of all foundations ; and in it, accord- ing to the custom of those more abiding times of ministerial service, he continued to labor for forty-three years, until called to his reward. — Where he first pitched his tent, there he set up his rest. 14 MEMOIROF Of his eight sons, (for it seems to have been also in this sense a patriarchal race,) six were graduated at Harvard, the newly-founded uni- versity of the colony ; where, if they failed to acquire all the learning of their father, they at least inherited his evangelical spirit ; five of the eight becoming Gospel preachers. But his mantle of power seems rather to have fallen upon his grandsons, among whom we find the names of Brainard, the apostolic missionary of the Indians, and the Rev. Noah Hobart, of Connecticut, one who is described as having had in his day * few equals for greatness of genius and learning.' The next generation brings us down to men of our own day ; and in it we find, in addition to the subject of our memoir, the name of the late Hon. John Sloss Hobart, Judge of the District Court in the State of New-York, of whom the tablet raised to his memory by the bar over which he presided, gives this high testimony, — * As a man firm, as a citizen zealous, as a judge discriminating, as a Christian sincere.' But among the numerous descendants of this ' Abraham ' of our land, in the third generation we find one, who following the creed of his mother, and returning, it may be added, to that of his fathers, attached himself to the Protestant Episcopal Church, established in Philadelphia, BISHOPHOBART. 13 a city which, through his father's early removal, had become the place of his birth. This was Captain Enoch Hobart. His labors in life, though more worldly than those of his imme- diate predecessors, do not seem, however, to have been wanting in that spirit which alone had sanctified them, the spirit of vital piety, — the patriarchal memory of the venerable Bishop White enabling him to recall ' the very pew in Christ Church, Philadelphia, where he was an habitual attendant with his wife and children ; ' while a reputation for strict integrity honorably gained and long remembered in the West India islands with which he traded, shows that his religion was one of practice as well as profes- sion. From the labors of the sea he retired in middle life to the enjoyment of domestic peace, and a very moderate competency. He died October 27th, 1776, leaving to his wife the usual inheritance of widowed sorrow, and to his children little beside a father's blessing, and the legacy of a good name. But happily for them their mother was not wanting in the energy requisite to her desolate condition. ' She fulfilled her duties toward them, as has been well said, with the prudence of a father's judgment, and the tenderness of a mother's love.' * Out of nine children, four had pre- * ' Memoir,' p. 6. 16 M E M O I R O F ceded their father to the grave ; five remained, two sons and three daughters, to awaken a mother's soUcitude, as well as console her grief. The youngest of these, an infant of eleven months, who had been baptized in Christ Church at the primitive baptismal age of four weeks, under the name of John Henry, was the subject of the following narrative, and on him, as there naturally rested a double portion of her cares, so also perhaps of her widowed affections. As years advanced, under her pious instructions he was trained to that simple but truest wisdom, which mothers can best teach ; ' from his youth,' it is said, ' he knew the Scrip- tures by means of the godly counsels which she so faithfully inculcated.' Of such a picture it is pleasing to anticipate the result, and to learn not only that her labors were blessed in his eminent usefulness, but also that she herself lived to witness the fruit of them ; that she was spared not only to follow him with her prayers in his preparation for the Church, but for five happy years to be herself an attendant upon his ministry — to be herself instructed by lips which she had first taught to utter the words of heavenly wisdom, and to be comforted amid the sorrows of age, by the watchful kindness and the Christian consola- tions of one, over whose infant head she had BISHOP no:} ART. 17 once wept and prayed the tears and prayers of a disconsolate widowed mother. Such is the boon with which Heaven rewards those whom in love it chastens ; and such too, we may add, looking at his future course, is the bless- ing which a good mother may, in the provi- dence of God, be the means of conferring upon the Christian Church. Of early indications of talent or character little can be told, because little has been re- corded ; but by such as knew Bishop Hobart in after-life, it will readily be conceived that even in earliest childhood he must have been * no vulgar boy ; ' warmth of heart which no intercourse with a cold and selfish world could tame or lessen, and that prompt and fearless energy which through life despised all danger in the path of duty, are traits of nature which must have appeared from the cradle, and made him even as a child both lovely and interesting. But whatever were the hopes he inspired, they were confined to a narrow circle, * laid up,' probably, only in the heart of his mother. That they were not, however, wholly unnoticed by others, we have the testimony of one early friend. * I have learned,' says Dr. B.,* * from one who knew him in early youth, and who was ♦ The Rev. F. W. Beasely, D. D. 18 M E M I R O F intimate with his family, that his deportment, conversation, opinions, and habits, were the frequent and favorite theme of their discourse ; and that they often dwelt with delight on those incidents which shadowed out the very charac- ter that he finally established.' His first instruction, after quitting his mo- ther's knee, was in the school of a Mr. Leslie, one who is described as ' a respectable teacher, and held deservedly in esteem.' His acquisi- tions here were, however, dearly purchased, if, as he himself thought, and often said, was then laid in his constitution, through the strict con- finement of the school, and the short time allowed for relaxation and meals, the founda- tion of that dyspeptic malady under which he always labored, and to which eventually he fell a victim. But this charge may be doubted. The habit of ' bolting his meals,' as he himself termed it, lest he should be too late for recita- tion, was no doubt very unfavorable to a healthy digestion ; but the blame we may well imagine did not rest altogether on the teacher. The boy who did all things ardently, was not likely to waste much time at the table, even when left to himself ; for his books, it would seem, he devoured as pertinaciously, as he did his food hastily, and paid but the natural penalty of ex- changing them too rarely for bat and ball. * I BISHOPHOBART. 19 have ever felt,' says he in one of his early let- ters, ' an almost insatiable desire after know- ledge.' A fac-simile is here annexed of the earliest writing found of his, while yet a child. In his ninth year, (1784,) he came into higher hands. An academy was organized in Philadelphia in that year, under Episcopal influence, with a view to unite, what in educa- tion is too often divided, religious instruction to form the character, and intellectual instruc- tion to furnish the mind. To this institution young Hobart was at once removed, coming under the charge, if not immediately, at least shortly after, of the Rev. Dr. Andrews, subse- quently Vice-Provost, and eventually Provost of the University in the same city. Here he entered upon classical studies, — 'starting ex limine,' says one of his surviving companions, ' with his Latin Grammar and Accidence.' How strikingly in accord were the characters of teacher and scholar, has been well noticed by Dr. B., and the probable influence of such associations on the susceptible heart of the latter. But it is due to the memory of Dr. Andrews, to give the sketch of the teacher, as struck off* by the pen of one* who shared in the * William Meredith, Esq., of Philadelphia- 20 M E M I R O F benefit of his instructions. * Dr. Andrews was known to be one of the ripest classical scholars in the country. He had great skill and expe- rience in teaching, and never spared himself in the performance of duty ; besides, in his very manners and appearance there was that which " bespoke a man " — all that conciliates affection and esteem, and challenges profound respect. He was a Churchman by education and conviction, of exalted piety, and of that loftiness of character which was above the reach of the grovelling or crafty. No man was at a loss to infer his motives or purposes, either from his speech or actions. He was consistent, open, and direct, for he was never of that school of time-serving philosophers with whom policy is of more worth than sincerity and truth. His passions and affections were powerful and ardent, and appeared the more so, as the constitutional temperament of his body was nervous ; but he governed them well, ob- serving the Apostle's precept, " Be ye angry and sin not." Malice and vindictiveness were unknown to him, and arrogance was contrary to his nature. In short, a more frank, honor- able, and upright man, or a better specimen of a Christian gentleman, has never fallen within the range of my observation. In the early history of the American Church, it is well I BISHOPHOBART. 21 known that he was among the most able, sound, and zealous of her sons.' For four years young Hobart continued to enjoy the combined advantage of such a teacher and such a model, the more operative in both characters, because he was equally loved and admired. What the scholar was at this time, may be judged from the recollections of the same com- panion and friend. ' Labor vincit omnia, was one of Hobart's earliest lessons, and his ruling sentiment. His improvement was marked ac- cordingly. His class-mates were all, I believe, his seniors ; but he soon gained and kept, dur- ing his whole course, the enviable distinction of being head in all their studies. He was often honored by the open approbation of the princi- pal, and his example commended to imitation. The trustees, too, at the stated examinations, were liberal of encomium, and the popular voice of the school echoed their praise.' The following graphic picture, from the same pencil, however incongruous its associations may be with the idea of a Right Reverend, is yet in excellent keeping with our notions of a fine spirited school-boy. ' Among boys, rank is generally conceded more to bodily than intellectual power. It was less the case in regard to Hobart than usual. There were few 23 M E M O I R F of his years who were not taller or more robust than he ; but he was active, muscular, and well set, and what was more than all these, he was of approved courage ; hence he was looked upon as a combatant to be respected, if not to be feared. Besides, he was ever anxious to have his quarrel just ; and in our little squab- bles on the play-ground, and more serious rencontres, we often heard him maintaining its justice by impassioned harangues, which in vehemence might well have suited one of Ho- mer's heroes. The singularity of these exer- cises, whether they convinced or not, amused us, and often made strife and anger give place to mirth and good-humor. The parley afforded time at least for cooling and diversion from the cause of irritation ; but if the onset were once made, I cannot remember an instance in which our young friend turned his back upon the foe, whether he was destined at last to be crowned victor, or to yield in defeat. There was also a manly robustness of intellect seldom seen in boyhood ; perseverance, which a feeble dis- cerner might term obstinacy ; a high sense of honor, and an independence of spirit and action which humbled itself only before lawful author- ity. He was valiant as Cesar. He set great value upon reason and justice, and thinking they ever should prevail, he always seemed to BI S n O P HOB ART. 23 believe they icould, if properly enforced. One instance, and but one is recollected, in which he was the subject of corporal chastisement in the academy. It was inflicted by Mr. E., a tutor, who was an exceeding good scholar, but a most unamiable man. There had been some disorderly conduct, and Hobart was charged as being a party to it. He replied with cool- ness and respectfulness, ' I had nothing to do with it.' Such was the fact. ' Who made the noise, then 1 ' inquired the angry tutor. ' I did not,' answered the accused. Punishment fol- lowed for his refusal to inculpate others. There was profound silence — he submitted. And I remember the stateliness with which he re- turned to his place, while a buzz of applause sounded through the room : the triumph was his, while the defeat was E.'s, who was shortly after dismissed. His powers as a declaimer were considered on all hands as very remark- able ; yet in this he would be his own teacher, and have his own way, which was somewhat peculiar. One of his favorite speeches was the popular speech of Cassius on the ambition of Julius Cesar. He had studied it well, and gave it with admirable eifect ; but there was one line, in which though never failing to pro- duce ill-timed smiles, and sometimes laughter among the other dramatis personxy he ever 24 ]M E M I R OF persisted in perpetrating the same ludicrous fault.' Such a character was one for love as well as praise ; and he seems accordingly to have gained both, equally from companions and teachers. Among the trustees also there was one who watched with peculiar interest over the fatherless boy, the present venerable Bishop White ; who may with peculiar propriety be termed his spiritual parent, — his apostolic hands having successively baptized, confirmed, or- dained, and consecrated him ; and last of all, mourned over him as a father mourns over a beloved son. In this academy his active social spirit soon found materials to work with. He organized while but in his tenth year an association among the boys, under the lofty title of ' A Society for the Advancement of its Members in Useful Literature,' of which Lilliputian club, as but two records remain, the reader may be curious to see them. The first involved a nice question of law ; Mr. W. being called upon for an essay, delivers an argument instead, justifying his non-preparation by the plea that his turn was past, a quorum not appearing at the preceding meeting. The brief of this youthful apologist is remitted to his friend Hobart with the fol- lowing endorsement : * Mr. W.'s compliments BISHOPHOBART. 25 to Mr. H., and would be obliged to him, if after adding any arguments to the within, he would show it to Mr. B., &c. Thursday, 25th April, 1785.' The other document exhibits the care with which their scanty treasury was guarded ; it consists of a bill against the society for three- quarters of a yard of green baize, used in cover- ing the speaker's desk, together with lock and hinges for the same, amounting in the whole to four shillings and ninepence. This account, after being examined and signed by an auditing committee, as warrant for its accuracy, stands finally endorsed by the president, with an order on the ' treasurer to pay the same out of moneys not otherwise appropriated, belonging to the society.' With so well-guarded a treasury, this society escaped one frequent cause of ruin ; but it could not guard against a more fatal blow, the early removal of its founder to another and higher school, where, however, the association seems to have reappeared under a new though less imposing title. Among other childish records preserved by a mother's care of this early period, is the fol- lowing letter, evincing at least two good traits in a school-boy, — love of books, and filial submission. ' According to my promise, I attempt writing to my dear Mamma, knowing that it will give 2 26. MEMOIROF her pleasure to hear from me. I got to town safe on Friday, at about 4, to my great joy, as the cold was very intense. If my dear mother recollects, I bought some time ago Elegant Extracts in prose ; I have, since I came to town, taken out of the library Elegant Extracts in verse, and find it abounds with so many pieces proper for speaking, that I cannot avoid asking my dear Mamma's permission to buy it. I cannot get it out of the library again, as it is a book so much sought after, that if I had not gone to the library the first day of its opening, I should not have got it. Even if I could, it would be necessary for me to take it to school, where it would, perhaps, meet with abuse ; and as the Extracts which I now have are not so valuable without the other, 1 hope you will consent to my buying it : Sister Becky can give testimony to its merit.' Such a coaxing petitioner was not, it seems, easily refused, and his next letter thus com- mences : ' I have just time to inform my dear Mamma that I am too sensible of her kindness in permitting me to buy " Elegant Extracts," ever to exact any thing from her again,' &c. BISHOP HOBART. '27 CHAPTER II. Prom his Entrance into the University of Pennsylvania, in his Thirteenth Year, until his Return Home from Princeton College in the Eighteenth Year of his Age — Companions — Philomathean Society — Ciceronian — Impeachment of President — Removal to Princeton — Letters to and from his Mother. From the Episcopal academy he was re- moved in due course of advance, as already hinted at, to the University of Pennsylvania. The same pre-eminence here also aw^aited him, for his academic virtues rested on no sandy foundation. Busy he would have been at any rate, because by nature he hated idleness : but that he was busy in good things, was a matter not of nature but of principle ; he used well his opportunities of improvement, because he felt that he must render an account of them. How early such conscientious impressions may become rooted in the mind of a child, it is not easy to say : this at least we know, that reli- gion is the smallest of all seeds, and grows up, men know not how ; but still it is easy, as here, to recognise its fruits, and every such instance becomes a valuable record, in order to en- courage parents in the same course of watch- ful Christian guidance. In his fifteenth year, young Hobart gave evidence of his mind being 28 MEMOIROF made up on this point, and made a public pro- fession of his religious faith, being confirmed by Bishop White, 31st March, 1790. Aided by good talents, and guided by such principles, we are not surprised to learn, that although the youngest in his class, he was yet considered ' one of its best and most promising scholars.' In study laborious, in all his duties faithful, in affections warm, in action prompt, and in speech sincere and earnest, ' he showed forth,' as has been observed by one of his early companions, ' the same ardent and active mind which was so fully developed in subse- quent life.' How he appeared to strangers, is well given by one whom chance about this time made a friend. ' I first met with him,' says Mr. R.,* ' in the month of September, 1791, when he was about sixteen years of age. He had a short time before left the University of Pennsylvania, and it was decided by his family, and approved of by himself, that he should finish his collegiate education at Prince- ton. I then resided in the family of Robert Smith of Philadelphia, who was married to a sister of Mr. Hobart. It was in this family that I became acquainted with him. I have at this time a distinct and lively recollection of ♦ James Robertson, Esq., of Richmond, Virginia. BISHOP HOBART. 29 our first meeting, and of the general tenor of our conversation during the evening which we spent together ; and before we parted, I formed an attachment to him which I have never ceased to cherish. He was between two and three years younger than I was, and had been, from the usual age, employed in the appro- priate studies preparatory to a classical educa- tion. On the other hand, mine had been very limited, confined to our own language, and what was usually taught in a common English school. Notwithstanding these differences, however, in our previous occupations and pur- suits, and in our views and prospects of after- life, we became friends at once. At the very first interview we felt entire confidence in each other, and entered fully into each other's feel- ings, wishes, and hopes. He looked forward with pleasure to the many advantages which Princeton then held forth to young men, who would faithfully avail themselves of them, while I, with a strong desire for improvement, was doomed to drudge at an employment always irksome to me, but which necessarily occupied the most of my time and attention. He cheered me, however, and even at that early period of life, pressed upon me, from the weightiest of all considerations, the duty of being reconciled to my situation, — urging, that 30 M E M O I R F while I faithfully discharged the duties which it imposed upon me, and made the best use of the leisure that might be left, I would probably be gaining that kind of information which would contribute as much to my own happiness and to my usefulness in society, as if I were to de- vote the whole of my time to literary pursuits. I have never forgotten his suggestions ; and if I have not realized the hopes which his animat- ing conversation led me to indulge, my disap- pointment has not lessened my confidence in the soundness and sincerity of his advice.' Young Hobart entered the University before he had completed his thirteenth year. Here also an association among the students for the purpose of improving themselves in composition and oratory, quickly appeared under the more learned title of the ' Philomathean Society.' Its rules and regulations have come down to us in his boyish hand, whence we may fairly conjec- ture that he was its founder. One provision strongly marks his character, viz. the necessity of supervision in the case of all who have re- sponsible duties to perform : — ' Sect. 13. A committee of three shall be appointed at the meeting previous to the annual election, to examine in what manner the secretary and treasurer have done their duti/f and shall make report thereon at the next meeting.' In after- BISHOP HOB ART. 31 life he used on all occasions to urge this prin- ciple. As a trustee of Columbia College, the question often came up ; and to a near friend among its professors, who sometimes thought such a course of supervision argued a want of confidence in them, he would urge this reply : ' No, Sir, not a want of confidence in you, but in human nature : it is part of a system of duties ; — you are to see that the students do their duty — we are to see that the professors do their duty ; and it would be well for the college if there were som.e who would do the same good office by us, and see that we, the trustees, do ours.' Nor were the duties of members under this young Mentor to be less strictly enforced than those of their officers, as may appear from the following list of fines : Sect. 18. For absence the whole evening, a member shall be fined - - - 12 pence. For absence at roll-call, - 2 pence. For absence till one hour after roll-call, - - - . 6 pence. For neglecting to bring an essay, - - - - 1 2 pence. For neglecting to deliver an oration, - - - _ 8 pence. For not debating, - - - 12 pence. Beside being subject to domiciliary visits to ascertain the causes of absence. 3:J M E M O I R O F From no further notice appearing' of this society among his juvenile papers, and from the circumstance of another, similar in its design, shortly after calling forth all his ardor, it may be presumed that the ' Philomathean ' came to an early end. Whether that fate arose from such over-strictness in enforcing duty, as might well have made the members, Spartan-like, prefer war to peace, for the sake of a little repose ; or from the weight of fines, which as all school-boys know, come very unwillingly out of youthful pockets ; or lastly, from the tedium of the occupation prescribed for the leisure time of the members, viz. that it should be filled up by the president's reading aloud to them ' a portion out of some approved treatise on rhetoric,' it is impossible now to say. Suffice it to add, that to the ' Philomathean' the ' Ciceronean ' soon succeeded ; and from a farewell address that has come down to us, made to it by young Hobart in the year 1797, previous to his taking Orders, appears to have enjoyed a more prolonged and vigorous exist- ence. He had probably, by this time, learned wisdom by experience, and made a little more allowance for indolence in its members, and furnished for their leisure moments a more agreeable relaxation than the pages of Quinti- lian or Blair. BISHOP HOB ART. 33 Of this third society also, the ' rules and regulations ' appear, by the draft preserved, to have come from his pen. To what cause of offence the following official communication relates, there is no further evidence to explain. To Mr. John H. Hobart. Saturday, 12th December, 1789. Sir, — The president and members of the Ciceronian Society having promised themselves a happiness in having you continue a member of the institution, had their expectation frustrated by the perusal of your polite letter of 28th ultimo. They, while reluctantly accepting your resignation, cannot refrain from inform- ing you, that although your resignation is accepted, they flatter themselves that when the impediments you speak of are removed, you will have it in your power to associate with them. In the mean time, your con- tinuance as an Jwnorai-y member would oblige them, and in some degree perhaps benefit yourself. Signed by order of the Society. James D. Westcott, Pres. Attest, James Milnor, Sech-y. Whatever were the difficulties here alluded to, it would seem they were soon removed, for we shortly after meet with him an active and influential member of the society, and eventu- ally its head and leader. Before that event, however, we find him playing an important part in the impeachment 34 M E M I R O F of its president, for high and grave misde- meanors. The articles bear the signature of ' John Henry Hobart,' in such manner as to indicate him as their author. Tiiey are as follows, and strongly display, what in life he always manifested, a spirit that rose in rebellion against all tyrannical exercise of power ; the illustration they afford of character must be the apology for their introduction. ' ARTICLES OF IMPEACHMENT. Whereas, we the subscribers, deem it of the highest importance to the welfare of the Ciceronian Society, that a watchful eye be kept on the conduct of its officers, lest they exceed the bounds of their authority prescribed by the constitution : And whereas, we also think that when they have exceeded such bounds, those measures should be pursued which the constitu- tion directs : Therefore^ we, viewing Aquila M. Bolton, president of this Society, as having usurped authority not dele- gated to him by the Society, do respectfully offer the following articles of impeachment against him, the said president ; at the same time assuring the Society, that in this proceeding we are actuated entirely by a desire to promote the welfare of the institution. Article 1 . — That the said Aquila M. Bolton has tyrannically obstructed that freedom of debate which is the privilege of every member of this institution, by interrupting the members frequently, and calling them to order when their behavior has not been disorderly. BISHOP HOB ART. 35 Article 2. — That the said Aquila M. Bolton has usurped the privilege of speaking repeatedly upon ques- tions pending before the Society, without their leave. Article 3. — That the said Aquila M. Bolton has refused to put a question, although unanimously called upon by the Society. Article 4. — That the said Aquila M. Bolton, incon- sistent with the character of a good officer, has suffered personal motives to actuate his conduct as president. Article 5. — That the said Aquila M. Bolton has arbitrarily imposed fines for misbehavior.' The defence of this youthful Cesar, as drawn up and delivered by himself, has fortunately also escaped the ravages of time, and exhibits a spirit that might well grace a usurper. It opens as follows : ' Whereas, I, Aquila M. Bolton, deem it of the highest importance to the welfare of this institution, that the officers of this Society should not be factiously divested of those powers granted to them by the con- stitution, and which are absolutely requisite to preserve that order and regularity in the Society, without which no business can be transacted without confusion : And whereas I also think, that where they have in a peaceful and proper manner exerted their power to the utmost, when such an exertion was necessary, but have not exceeded such prescribed bounds, their conduct should not be iiapeached, but on the contrary applauded : And whereas also, an impeachment has been presented against me as president of this Society, without suffi- cient grounds to support it — Therefore, it is incumbent 36 MEMOIROF on me to justify myself from the censure of my fellow- members. Wherefore, trusting to my innocence, relying on the rectitude of my intentions toward pre- serving the honor of the Society from the insults of one or two members, and hoping to meet with an impartial hearing, I beg leave to lay before the members of the Society the following answers to the charges exhibited against me in the said impeachment.' This defence occupies nine folio pages of manuscript, and is marked both by candor and ingenuity. On the subject of the second charge, he says, * I acknowledge myself guilty of speaking on questions without the leave of the Society ; but then I assert I have that right — that all preceding presidents have exer- cised it — that there is nolaw forbidding it — and that all the members of the Society united cannot, without the most flagrant injustice, impeach my conduct. In this respect I did not violate, I acted agreeably to the constitu- tion. Whereas, by impeaching me on this article, you who so vote become the trans- gressors, and violate that constitution you pre- tend to be so tenacious of protecting.' The charge contained in another article, he thus rebuts : * Consider in what a perplexed situa- tion I then was, sitting as president, called upon to do the duties of the office, opposed by one who undertook to officiate in my stead. But, BISHOP HOBART. 37 thanks to our excellent constitution, there was a means of silencing this upstart, by the exer- cise of another power lodged in the breast of the president — I mean that of fining members for disorderly behavior. I had recourse to this expedient. I was not afraid of doing my duty. I expected I should have been supported by you. I fined Mr. Hobart, therefore, for the gross misbehavior of preventing the president from doing that duty, for the not doing of which he is here impeached. I am not sorry I did so ; it is a matter of exultation to me. After thus fining the secretary, he (to his honor be it spoken) informed the Society he would pay his fine. Notwithstanding this declaration, a mem- ber, (Mr. M.,) without addressing himself, as is usual, to the president, said, "he moved that the Society do remit Mr. Hobart's fine." Upon this a question of remission was called for. This question I refused to put. I told the Society that I could not, and icould not put that question. This declaration of mine gave offence. I will justify it. The power of fining is discretionary with the president — I, as presi- dent, exerted this power. I fined the secretary as a reprehension for his conduct. I con- ceived his conduct was reprehensible, and agreeably to the constitution, not contrary to it, I fined him ninepence.' In answer to the 38 MEMOIROF fourth charge, he justifies himself on the score of wounded gentlemanly feelings. ' When gentlemen,' says he, * censured the committee who wrote the letter to Mr. Wagner, I, not as president, but as a private member and chair- man of that committee, denied the charge. They repeated the censure, when I spoke as president, in precisely these words : ' The committee denies it.' Sure any member must be sensible that such a denial was admissible, and certainly, gentlemen, you will admit that because I was president, I was not therefore debarred from defending my conduct as a committee-man. If this should be so judged, what member, possessed of common sense, would accept of the presidentship ? I, as an individual, would contemn the office. Since, although charges against such were unfounded, as in the present instance, they would yet appear valid, because uncontradicted.' He concludes his spirited defence in these indignant words : * Upon the whole, gentle- men, you, the members of this Society, are to decide whether I am guilty of misbehavior in the execution of the presidentship, as charged in the impeachment, or whether I am not. Consider well — lay your hand on your heart and decide justly. I ask no lenity — I wish a just decision. I covet nobody's vote — nay, I EISHOPHOBART. 39 wish none to vote * not guilty,' without being clearly of opinion that I am innocent. Your suffrages will exist on the journal — they will remain as a stigma or an honor. To each inde- pendent voter on this impeachment, this defence is submitted by their friend and fellow-member, Aquila M. Bolton.' The minutes of the meeting, ' Thursday, July 28th, 1790,' contain the eventful result of this high trial. ' On motion that the articles of impeachment be taken up, the president left the chair, and Mr. Westcott being placed therein, the articles of impeachment were read, and after defence made, the question taken upon each stood thus : on the first, third, and fifth, guilty ; on the second and fourth, not guilty. The sentence was one of : disgrace, viz., * That Aquila M. Bolton, presi- \ dent of the Ciceronian Society, for the offences of which he has now been convicted, be repri- manded by the president pro tern., which was done accordingly.' But the indignity touched too keenly this high-spirited youth, to permit him to remain in office. ' Mr. Bolton,' the minutes go on to say, ' then informed the Society, that in consequence of this condem- nation, which he could but think was extremely unjust, and by which he thought all reciprocity 40 MEMOIROF of good offices between the president and members was ended, he conceived he was not bound to continue in an office for which he had now imbibed an aversion, and therefore he peremptorily abdicated the office of president of this Society.' Now whether this were a case of tyranny successfully resisted, or of a firmness too inde- pendent to be popular, cannot at the present day be very clearly arrived at. Montesquieu says, ' Wo to the character of a prince who falls under a successful rebellion.' And here, unquestionably, the secretary has the history in his own hands ; yet, even from his enemies' showing, Bolton played well the hero's part, and seems to have had hard measure dealt to him, especially when, at the ensuing meeting, he moved a 'declaration of a bill of rights to be entered on the minutes, immediately after the determination of the impeachment ; ' a motion which the Society thought proper in- definitely to postpone the consideration of. Whether this individual be living or dead, the editor knows not, nor even whether he grew up to man's estate ; most probably not, since he certainly displayed in this youthful contest, talent, that in life could not have been hid, and traits of character that must have made such talent not only respected but feared. BISHOPHOBART. 41 How far the part which young Hobart took in this matter, in which he stood forth as ' the Hampden' of their liberties, endeared him to the Society, can only be surmised. It is cer- tain, however, that after a short interval, he became the popular candidate for the highest office, and was accordingly placed in the pre- sidential chair. An extract from the minutes of that date may serve to show, from the subjects selected for debate, that the ' amor patriae ' was still burning fiercely in the bosoms of members. ' Saturday, 2d October, 1790. • Society met. Mr. Purnell presented an essay on oratory. Mr. Morgan delivered an oration ' on the advantage of a strict adherence to truth.' The Society then proceeded to debate the question, ' whether Brutus was to be justified in ordering his two sons to be put to death ? ' the question being taken, it was determined in the affirmative. The Society then proceeded to the election of president, when upon casting up the votes, it appeared that John Henry Hobart was duly elected. Mr. O. Wilson proposed the following as the subject of debate for the next meeting — (whether suggested by the result of the election is not said) — ' Was Brutus justifiable in killing Cesar ? ' The secretary thus becoming president, we have no more rough minutes to refer to ; so that whether the second Brutus received an 42 M E JM I R O F equally lenient verdict with his great ancestor, and whether any comparison was drawn be- tween the tyranny of Cesar and that of Bolton, or between Hobart and the * last of the Ro- mans,' must now be left to conjecture. The whole history, however, marks it to have been one of exciting interest, and shows how the talents of the man may be called forth by the discussions of the boy. As young Hobart removed in the course of the following winter to the college at Princeton, where higher duties and a more manly compe- tition awaited him, we hear but little after this of the ' Ciceronian Society.' His resignation of the presidency, which was thus rendered necessary, was at least under more agreeable circumstances than his great predecessor's. The following letter from a fellow-member, is the only further record in relation to its in- terests. ' Philadelphia, April bth, 1791. My dear Friend, I have nothing to plead in excuse for not having answered your last acceptable favor, except the want of a convenient opportunity. My friend, Mr. W. Langdon, will now hand you this. I frequently think of you, my dear fellow, with pleasure, when I consider how advantageously you are employing your time in the pursuit of those studies which will not only be BISHOPHOBART. 43 honorable to yourself, but beneficial to mankind. And I sometimes have the vanity to suppose that you also, in a leisure moment, think of me ; and that you will participate in a degree with me in the pleasure I have in informing you, that although the success I meet with in prosecuting my studies cannot equal yours, on account of the difference in our capacities and inclina- tion for study ; yet that I make a progress at present much more satisfactory to myself, than in the former part of my reading. I wish, my dear Hobart, you would fix on the profession of the law : I can without flattery say, that I think you admirably calculated for it, both from genius and an apt method of delivering your sentiments, one of the greatest essentials to the advocate. Although I am delighted to hear of your success, yet I wish you may not injure your health by too close a confinement. The vacation, I suppose, will soon commence, which will be a relaxation to your mind, and to which I look forward with pleasure, under a hope that I may once more enjoy your agreeable con- verse. I have just time (as my friend waits,) to inform you that I am no longer a member of the Ciceronian Society. I found its business to interfere with my studies so much as to oblige me to resign my seat, and request the privileges of an honorary member. Do write soon, and believe me to be, in haste, your sincere friend, James Milnor.' It is worthy of note, that this advocate for the law, himself, in middle age, became the apologist for a holier cause ; and that thus these companions in boyhood, widely separated, 44 MEMOIROF met again, after many years, in the relation of bishop and pastor, in a city to which both were then strangers, and in a sacred profession, to which, at that time, the attention of neither was turned. The last notice of the Ciceronian So- ciety appears in a letter of Mr. Hobart in 1794, tendering his resignation as a member, on the ground of his second removal to Princeton, and concluding with these words : * Be assured that my conviction of the improvement to be de- rived from the Society remains as strong as ever, and that for those members with whom I have a personal acquaintance, I feel that regard which a knowledge of their merit will ever excite.' After three years spent in a University whose course of study was at that time far from answering its lofty title, he was removed for his further improvement to Princeton, New-Jersey — entering upon the junior, or third year in advance. Princeton College, or more properly Nassau Hall, was then at the height of its po- pularity, perhaps too of its strength ; for its president was ' the learned and able Wither- spoon,' its vice-president * the accomplished and eloquent Stanhope Smith.' Of both these gentlemen young Hobart conciliated the esteem; with the latter he contracted an intimate and enduring friendship. BISHOP HOBART. 45 Of the two years here spent in academic retirement, records remain more full than generally survive the lapse of so many years : they show this period of his life to have been equally happy and improving. At the end of the first year he thus writes : * Could I have enjoyed the company of my dear relations, no one year of my life, I think I can say, has passed so agreeably, and I hope I may add, with so much benefit. Another will, I trust, pass away with as much pleasure, and as much improvement ; and then my destination in life must be fixed. Whatever that may be, in whatever course of action I may be engaged, I shall strive to merit the esteem of mv friends, and above all, the approbation of my con- science, which I think I may say is not as yet stained with any voluntary offences ; and I shall always feel most grateful to my dear rela- tions for the means of improvement which I now enjoy.' An extract from one of his last letters will serve to show that he was not dis- appointed in this anticipation. * The time draws near,' says he, ' when I shall leave col- lege ; and though the thought of being again united to my friends, affords me the greatest pleasure, yet the idea of leaving a place where I have spent so many happy hours, of dissolving connections, which next to the ties of nature 46 MEMOIROF are the most dear, cannot hut considerahly alloy the happiness I hope. I feel, however, that a life of study and retirement is not a life of usefulness, and although my happiest days may be past, I look forward with trust that my most useful ones are yet to come.' His own letters, during this period, are ne- cessarily dispersed ; hut those addressed to him seem to have been all carefully preserved ; the recollections, too, of the surviving companions of his studies, though few in number, are yet vivid and sufficiently minute. The general results are well summed up by his early biographer. ' HabitiKil cheerfulness, great ardor and success in study, social habits, winning manners, and a peaceful disposition — a well-balanced mind, prompt and able elocu- tion, native talent, persevering industry, and pure morals, compose the wreath of praise awarded to him when on classic ground.* But to give the language of actual recollection, ' He was distinguished,' says Dr. Otto, * for an unusual gayety of temper, without the least mixture of levity or thoughtlessness. His voice was good, and his ear musical ; and he used occasionally, for his own and our amusement, to sing early in the morning before we arose. * ' Memorial,' p. 20. BISHOP HOB ART. 47 His temperament was ardent, and he studied with diligence, both from a love of useful know- ledge, and a laudable ambition to be honorably distinguished. The untiring zeal which he displayed so conspicuously in after-life, in the performance of whatever he deemed his duty, was a part of his natural character, and mani- fested itself at college. His habits were very social, and during those hours which he de- voted to recreation, he mixed freely in the company of the most distinguished students, being most intimate, as is usual, with the mem- bers of the literary society to which he be- longed. But from the great urbanity of his manners, and his high standing, he was much respected by all. I do not recollect that dur- ing the whole time we resided together, any incident occurred which suspended for a mo- ment our friendly feelings toward each other. He loved peace and harmony, and zealously exercised his powerful influence in composing the differences that occasionally take place where many youths live together. His strong sense of propriety, and his inflexible justice, gave him great weight on these occasions. There was no one branch of study, as far as my memory serves me, that especially engaged his attention, or to which he showed a decided preference. He was well acquainted with the 48 MEMOIROF whole course prescribed. His mind was vigor- ous and well balanced, none of the faculties being in an undue proportion.' Among the anticipations then excited, and now remembered of him, was an observation of Dr. Benjamin Rush, on seeing the light always burning in his room, — ' Ah ! that Johnny Hobart will one day be a great man ! ' A few extracts from his mother's letters may serve to throw light on her character, as well as the domestic circumstances of the family. The following are taken from a bundle care- fully preserved and endorsed by the affectionate child to whom they were addressed. They give the natural picture of the watchful, timid tenderness of a solitary mother. Had we his in return, we should be enabled better to judge how well that tenderness was merited. At the period of his going to Princeton, she was residing, at least temporarily, with her married daughter at Abingdon, (Pennsylvania,) whence she thus writes her son on the subject of his removal : 'I am pleased with your dutiful and affectionate letter ; from that and your sister's, the reasons for your desiring to go to Princeton seem so well-founded, and the advantage that it may be to you appears so great, that I cannot refuse my consent. I never doubted the goodness of your own heart — my fears have been, lest BISHOP HOBART. 49 the influence of bad example should overcome your own good resolutions ; but I have so much confidence in you, my dear John, that I shall rely on your assur- ance for the rectitude of your conduct in every respect. I hope all I shall have to regret will be, that I have not the company of my dear child ; but I find I must be deprived of that too much, whether you go from home or not. I want very much to be with you, my dear son, but still I have a full hope and confidence that your love of goodness, and your love of me, will pre- serve you from the influence of bad example ; my heart is full of tenderness, but I cannot write what I feel. That Providence may make you his peculiar care, and overrule all your actions, is the earnest prayer of, my dear John, your aflectionate mother, H. HoBART.' Soon after his establishment, she writes him from Philadelphia as follows : ' I am happy to hear, my dear John, that you got safe to Princeton, and that you are so agreeably situated there ; may you and I never have reason to regret that you went. It is now very inconvenient for your brother to spare the money you write for, but he will send it if he possibly can, as he would rather submit to difficulties himself, than subject you to them. You will remember, my dear, to keep a daily account of your expenses ; you know the necessity there is for frugality, so that I shall not urge you on that subject. It will contribute to your happiness to hear that we do rery w^ell without you ; we miss you very much to be sure, but the hope that it will prove best for you that we should be separated for a time, will help us to bear 3 50 MEMOIROF it with what cheerfulness we can. You may be assured you have the best wishes, and the most tender affections, of yours, H. HoBART.' ' Philadelphia, December 18th, 1791. From my dear John's letters of the 7th and 14th instant, I have the pleasure of finding you are well, and continue still satisfied with your situation. I am almost afraid to tell you how much I wish to see you at Christmas, for several reasons. One is, lest your absence from college should interfere with your studies, and be a disadvantage to you on that account. Another is, the probability that the weather will be very cold, and travelling very disagreeable at that time, and my exceeding apprehension of danger in crossing the ferry, which you must do twice if you come and return again ; we ought not to wish, my dear John, to gratify our inclinations at the expense of discretion. If you find it will be in any way detrimental to leave your studies, don't do it — if there is any appearance of danger, don't risk it ; but in either of these cases submit to prudence. If circumstances should prove favorable I shall be most happy to see you, though I shall be again uneasy that you will have the same risk to run when you return. I enclose you a five dollar note, though I must again remind you of the absolute necessity there is to avoid every unnecessary expense, and of my fears for you in crossing the ferry, which I beg you will not attempt, if the weather should be boisterous, or any appearance of danger from ice, or any other unfavorable circumstance. Should you come as far as the ferry, and find it not quite safe to cross it, do not venture, but wait or return, BISHOPHOBART. 51 rather than risk any danger ; if you find it will be advisable and safe for you to come, let me know in time, that I may expect you. And may you ask and receive the blessing and protection of that Providence who alone can preserve us from dangers of every kind. That he may make you his peculiar care, prays your tenderly affectionate parent, Hannah Hobart.' ' Philadelphia, llth January, 1792. I have received my dear John's welcome letter of the 10th instant. I am always happy to hear from you, but would not wish to purchase that satisfaction at the expense of your studies ; whenever you can write without making that sacrifice, you may be sure I shall have pleasure in hearing from you, and will endeavor to make myself easy when you do not. I am perfectly satisfied, my dear John, with the assurances contained in your letter, and would wish you to believe that I have the fullest confidence in the rectitude of your heart, and the propriety of your conduct, and am certain it will be owing to mistake or inattention, if you do noi always do right. I would remind you, my dear John, to be careful of your eyes ; they are of more value than you can conceive while you are blessed with the enjoy- ment of them. I am glad to find you are well, and continue pleased with your situation. I have too much confidence in the goodness of your principles, as well as understanding, to imagine you could have pleasure in any situation or engagements that would not afford satisfaction on reflection, as well as in present enjoy- ment. I need not say how much I wish to see you, and am happy to think it will not be long first. Let 52 M E M 1 R F me know how much money you •vvill -want, and when. I write in haste, but am ever my dear John's afleetionate H. KOBART.' ' Thursday, QOtk September, 1792. I was sorry I had not a letter ready for you, my dear John, when Mr. Otto called, as it would have been so convenient to have sent it by him ; and I have now scarce time more than to inform you, that I enclose a ten dollar note, and to tell you that your letter was exceedingly pleasing to me. as by it I find you have passed your time agreeably, and I have no doubt profit- ably. Indeed, my dear John, I cannot help anticipating the happiness I expect to experience from your future conduct, as I already have from your past ; relying on the rectitude of your heart, and the kindness of that Providence who will, I trust, continue to give you every good disposition; and to bless every laudable endeavor, if you fail not humbly to seek it from him. It is a great satisfaction to me to find your situation is still agreeable to you, and I hope it will continue to be so, as a knowledge of your happiness always contributes to mine. But, my dear John, you do not tell me you are well : I want to know if you have any cough, or have been at any time sick since you left home : if you are, do not keep the knowledge of it from me. I would earnestly beseech you to have a regard to your health. I know your desire to acquire knowledge is great, and it is commendable : but I would wish you to think it of at least as much consequence to preserve health, as to improve your mind, since without health you can do nothing, so that the preservation of that should be your first, though not your only care. BISHOP II B A R T. 53 Y^our brothers and sisters and little nephews are all well and with the hope of seeing you soon, join in much love to you, with, my dear John, your affectionate H. HOBART.' A chance letter of the son's has been pre- served, which, though without date, seems to be in answer to this : he says, ' Tuesday Evening. I have been some time waiting to write to you by G. Bullock ; but as his going seems very uncertain, I now write by post, to ease you of the anxiety I fear you feel in not hearing from me. I wish, my dear Mamma, you Avould not be so apprehensive that I shall injure my health by application ; you may depend upon it, the preservation of that shall always be a primary concern, and that study shall never injure it. As my dear Mamma's concern is an evidence of her affection for her son, so I assure her that son's heart is too full to express as it ought, how much he is indebted to her ; but it would add greatly to my happiness, if I knew you were not oppressed with unnecessary fears. I am not now troubled with a cough, but am as hearty as I have been at any time since I came here. The situation is so healthy, that it is very rarely the students have any complaints. Your very affectionate son, J. H. H." ' Wednesday Evening, January 2, 1793. I am happy, my dear .John, to hear you are well, and am much pleased with the account your sister tells me Mr. Tatem gives of your exhibition on Monday 54 M E M I R O F evening. I have just got your speech from your sister, but must defer reading it till to-morrow. I am so much engaged with your sister Polly, that I can scarce take time to write a line, or I should before now have told you I was highly gratified in hearing that Dr. Smith, when he was last in Philadelphia, spoke of you in terms of the highest commendation, as to your disposition, capacity, and conduct. I hope, my dear son, you will always behave so as to merit (and I doubt it not) the approbation of all whose good opinion you ought to desire to have. I enclose a five dollar note, and assure my dear boy, that so far from feeling reluctance at sending you necessary supplies, I do it with the utmost cheerfulness when in my power, because I have confidence in your prudent disposal of it, and hope the end will be your advantage and improvement. Your brother has given up business in town, and removed to Pottsgrove. I heard this after- noon they were all well. Your affectionate mother, H. HOBART.' If his mother's affection was thus fearful under ordinary circumstances, it may easily be imagined how painful was the separation during the ravages of the yellow fever, which hroke out in the summer of this year, (1793.) Her letters were almost daily, and filled with in- junctions of care, and caution, and preventive remedies. On the close of his final examinations in the summer of this fatal year, he had proceeded to E I S 11 P H B AR T. 55 pay a long-promised visit to a dear college friend at Jamaica, Long-Island. While there, the fever broke out with violence in Philadel- phia ; and so gfeat was the alarm, that to avoid the danger arising from public travel, his friend himself took him back to Princeton in a private conveyance, and through by-roads. It was now his turn to be anxious for his mother's safety ; he thus writes from Jamaica : ' My dear Mamma's two letters have filled me Avitli more anxiety than I can express. I am very sure you cannot be safe in the city, and if you are so anxious I should not come there, I wish you would be equally concerned on your own account. I cannot be easy any where, my dear Mamma, till you are out of the city, as long as the disease continues. Oh, my dear Mother, if you knew how anxious I am, I am sure you would not continue in town. I would therefore beg and entreat you to leave the city. I cannot be convinced you are safe there. I should suppose you might go either to Frankfort or to Pottsgrove, but in the city I hope you will not continue. I have felt very much for you to- day, the weather has been unusually warm. I wish, my dear Mamma, you would go into the country. I shall anxiously wait for a letter. With a great deal of love and anxiety, I remain your sincerely affectionate, J. H. HOBART. Friday Evening.* Her removal to Frankfort, which imme- diately took place, was not, however, sufficient to quiet his fears. His next is as follows : 56 M E M O I R O F ' Princeton, September 2bth, 1793. 1 feel daily more and more anxiety for your safety, my dear Mamma, and that of my brother and sisters, who still continue within the reach of this alarming fever. The accounts we have from Philadelphia are extremely distressing, and represent the fever as con- tinuing to rage with the greatest fury, and carrying off daily a great number of the citizens. But what adds to my anxiety and distress is, that you are by no means yet safe from the contagion. Mr. Tennent, one of our trustees, has mentioned here that three or four persons have died of the disorder in the neighborhood of Abing- don, which is farther from the city than Frankfort. I wish very much, if it were possible, that you would all move to Pottsgrove, where you would be more secure from danger. Were you there, I should be much less anxious — I should not be near so much distressed. I have never been more distracted with doubt and anxiety than to-day. I am extremely anxious to be with you, and my dear Robert and his family. Oh how easy I should feel, if you were all out of the reach of danger. Skinner has returned. I do not know that I have ever suffered so much as in parting from him. I knew he was very dear to me, but I did not know how dear till he left me. With heartfelt love and affection for my dear Mamma, I remain her dutiful son, John H. Hobart. P. S. We have received degrees privately.' ' Princeton, Sept. 28. Saturday Evening. My dear Sister, I wrote to mamma by Wednesday's, Thursday's, and Friday's post. I am in continual anxiety not only BISHOPHOBART. 57 for your safety, but for our relations who still remain in the city. I hope, my dear sister, that you will not venture into town with Mr. Smith, and I wish you could persuade him to leave the business of the bank, when he cannot attend to it but with such imminent hazard. I dare not think of the consequences that may follow his so frequently going into the city. Mamma informs me that she is well ; indeed it is my chief consolation. Neglectful as I may be in acknow- ledging the common mercies of Providence, such a dis- tinguished instance of his goodness in the preservation of those who are most dear to me in this time of dan- ger, awakens in my heart the liveliest gratitude. And while those who lament the loss of friends must take warning from the solemn dispensation, it ought to operate no less forcibly on those who have reason to acknowledge its goodness in not having such loss to lament. My dear friend Skinner left me on Thursday last, depriving me of my chief source of happiness while absent from you all. I wish it were possible for us to be always together, and I must indulge in the pleasing anticipation that such may be the case. I wish, my dear sister, that you only knew him, and then you would not wonder, as you now may, at the warmth of my attachment to him. Your affectionate brother, John H. Hobart.' A.t this season of wide-spread alarm, the fears of those separated were mutual. His mother's letter, a few days previous, is as follows : 3* 58 M E M I R F ' Frankfort, 2ith September, 1793. I wrote to you, my dear John, last Thursday ; since then, I have received yours from Jamaica, of the 17th. I expect you are in Princeton before now, and know it will give you pleasure to hear that we are all well at Frankfort. I don't find that the disorder is abated in the city, but cannot hear that it is any where in this neighborhood, or has been. I am impatiently expect- ing to hear from you, and hope there are letters now at the post-office ; but it is seldom we can get them till the day after they are there. I am very glad you wrote to Mr. Smith ; his kindness to us all, and attention to you, called for a return, and I know it gave him a great deal of pleasure, as it did also your sister. Wherever you travel, I wish you to use every prudent precaution in your power ; but do not let apprehension affect your spirits, but look to that Providence who is able, and, I trust, will preserve you from every danger. I would have you carry camphor about you, and your handkerchief wet with vinegar : if you could have a little vial of spirits of camphor, and sometimes take a drop or two in your mouth, and wet your handkerchief as often as you can with vinegar, unless you can con- veniently carry that also about you. I would not wish you, my dear John, to distress yourself so much with apprehensions for our safety ; we cannot insure it, in truth, any where ; but we will hope the best, and trust that a kind Providence, who has in so many instances dispensed his favors to us, will continue to preserve you, as well as us, from every danger. We cannot, indeed, my dear son, be grateful enough to a heavenly Father who has hitherto so parti- cularly favored us ; but I hope we may not be wholly BISHOPHOBART. 59 insensible of the numberless instances of his care and protection. That the Almighty may still continue his goodness to us all, and particularly guard and preserve my dear John from all danger, is the sincere prayer of his affectionate parent, Hannah Hobart. P. S. Do take care and guard yourself against taking cold when you travel; be sure you take your surtout, even if it is not cold, it will keep you warm and dry, and I hope it will not be long before you can get a new one. I fear, my dear John, you make yourself too uneasy on account of the danger you think we are in. We are all well yet, and have no reason to think we are more unsafe now than we have been. It is proper, to be sure, to use every prudent precaution, but I hope all our fears are not well founded. In travelling, be careful you do not go to any house where the disorder is or has been, and keep a prudent distance from persons that you do not know. I cannot help telling you, my dear John, how highly I was gratified in hearing you have established such a character at college. Dr. Smith spoke of you to Mr. Smith, and to your sister, in terms of the highest com- mendation ; he could not have said more in praise of any one, and you may be sure I do not doubt your deserving it. Monday Morning.'' After this letter, the reader will not be sur- prised to learn, that maternal anxiety provided for him the means of avoiding all risk from public stages, and that his brother-in-law's 60 M E M I R O F chaise and clerk were soon after despatched to Princeton for him, bringing him in safety to his anxious mother, at her temporary home in Frankfort. But this is anticipating the con- clusion of a two years' residence, which deserves a fuller record. CHAPTER III. Residence at College — Whig and Clio Societies — Contest for College Honors — Character — Letters — Thoughts cf the Ministry. It were not easy to find a more pleasing picture of college life, than is exhibited in his own and his companions' boyish letters already alluded to ; young Hobart's especially, are full of gayety of heart, and warm, generous emo- tions. Life was in its spring, and the world was all bright around him, but more especially that little world in which he then dwelt. Princeton was an Athens to him, and its groves as those of Hecademus. His professors were sages, and the class a philosophic band of brothers. Such is their romantic tone : but still, however colored by an ardent fancy, it must assuredly have been to him a scene of great enjoyment, and no less improvement, and speaks much for the talent and good sense BISHOP HO BART. 61 of those by whom the college was at that time governed. Among the greatest sources to him of both, was the academic association of the students, known under the name of the Whig Society ; which, together with its rival, the CliOy still continues, it is understood, to call forth, in zealous competition, the best talents of Nassau Hall. It may be concluded he would not be backward in joining one of them. One of his earliest letters says, ' I daily experience the advantages of my situation ; and, my dear Mamma, you may rest assured that no endea- vors of mine shall be wanting. Within these few days, I have entered one of the societies, and am confident that the improvement I shall derive from it will nearly equal that from the college.' The honors and prosperity of the one with which he connected himself, constitute one of his most favorite themes, while the zeal and ardor with which he advocates its cause, dis- play not only his own character, but the influ- ence which such institutions are calculated to exercise over the excitable mind of youth ; and, if well directed, may exercise to the best ends. With young Hobart, the impression left was never effaced ; and in after-life he not only often recurred to this period as one of peculiar 62 MEMOIROF happiness and profitable labor, but in the char- acter of trustee of another college, warmly urged the liberal patronage of similar societies of the students, from the vivid recollection of the benefits he had himself derived from them. In none probably of our colleges have they operated either more powerfully or more bene- ficially than in the one with which he was now connected, being not only recognised, but cherished by the academic authorities, and their literary rivalry excited by the recognition of membership in the annual distribution of college honors. To one of his absent com- panions, he thus writes the news of a doubtful victory : ' The examination of the junior class is over ; the honors given out as follows : How, (Whig,) Latin Salutatory ; Hutcheson, (Clio,) English Salutatory ; Green, (C.,) Brown, (W.,) Heister, (C.,) Kollock, (C.,) Elmendorf, (C.,) Polhemus, (C.,) Intermediates. The superior- ity of the Whigs would have been greater, if Ker, one of the first in the class, had not gone home last spring, and Keese, another valuable member, been sick ; they would both have received very high honors ; but even as it is, the Whigs bear off the palm — our society is confessedly superior.' If, in the case of others, he entered with such warmth into its interests, it may naturally be presumed the question BISHOPHCBART. 63 became more exciting when he found himself held up as the representative of their strength. On this occasion, the contest appears to have been more than usually animated. While young Hobart stood forth by acclama- tion as the champion of the Whigs, the Clios were represented by a young Virginian of the name of Bennet Taylor ; no unworthy compe- titor, as it would seem, on the score of merit, and certainly one of equal devotion to the honors of his clan. The weighty decision of the first honor, the Latin Salutatory, long hung in suspense. The Senatus Academicus were understood to be equally divided — one-half voting for Hobart, the other for Taylor. At the head of the first stood his friend the vice- president, whose opinion carried great weight ; the other was led by the senior professor. Dr. Minto, an old gentleman, who added to a very sound judgment, great zeal, and long expe- rience. Neither party being willing to give way, and no means, as it would seem, being provided for the decision of such a case, they resorted, it is said, to the summary, but very unclassical procedure of the tossing up of a coin. As it rose in the air, Dr. Smith, as if to secure the omen, cried out, ' Heads for Ho- bart,' and heads it was. The result may be best told in the words of the youthful victor. 64 MEMOIR OF * Mr. Taylor was not satisfied with this decision of the faculty. He communicated his senti- ments to Dr. Smith, and endeavored to make it appear to him that the Latin Salutatory, which fell to my lot, would place me, in the opinion of the audience, ahove him. Dr. Smith accordingly mentioned this circumstance to me, and intimated that as I could speak the Valedictory, and Mr. Taylor could not, he thought it would he an act of candor in me to relinquish the Salutatory, and take the other.' Had it been any hut a * Clio ' that was to enjoy it, young Hobart's heart would probably have given way under such an appeal ; but the ' Whig ' was strong within him, and he replied, in the spirit of all conquerors, ' I will not give up an oration which has fairly and honorably fallen to my lot.' The ' musa pedestris ' of Princeton was, it seems, awakened by this long-protracted con- test ; and if ' Clio ' descended, as the letters charge her with doing, to personal invective, something unquestionably must be pardoned to the wounded feelings of the losing party, from whom chance, not merit, had wrested away an equal prize. Alluding to these attacks, young Hobart thus concludes his letter to an absent * Whig : ' ' Resentment at his conduct lives not in my bosom ; I remember it only to relate it BISHOP II OBART. 65 to you, and would have it go no further.' But alas ! for the vanity of human amhition. The Latin Salutatory thus eagerly sought after was never deUvered. In the summer of this year, (1793,) as already mentioned, the yellow fever first appeared in our country, breaking out in Philadelphia a short time previous to the Com- mencement exercises at Princeton. This new enemy drove out all other thoughts than those of safety from the minds both of victors and vanquished. The authorities of the college took the alarm, its inmates were dispersed — the public Commencement in fright dispensed with, and the academic honor, thus long sought and earnestly contended for, announced but to the ears of a trembling few, to whom it con- veyed no new information, and whose thoughts were even then intent on other things. ' Sic transit gloria mundi.' But this narrative awakens another reflec- tion. How are we to estimate among the means of a sound education, the academic competition which runs into such eager con- test ? Is it favorable, on the whole, to the formation of a manly character 1 Does it not, on the contrary, tend to weaken the moral principle, by habituating the mind to stronger stimulants than those of mere duty ? Does it not lead to the substitution of the spirit of 66 M E M O I R F party, in place of individual reason and con- science ] These are questions certainly not easily answered, and deserve, in our country more particularly, to be well weighed, since these anticipated results go to cherish the very evils which threaten to work our political ruin. But setting this aside, even in the individual character, may not the sharpening of talent, and the acquisition of knowledge, be too dearly bought with the formation of such enfeebling propensities. Their influence, however, on the mind of young Hobart, may be estimated lightly, for he carried with him through life a certain individuality of character, which instead of receiving impressions from without, was continually stamping them on all around. In the features of his mind there was what artists term sharpness, one of those decisive marks by which the original, in painting, is always to be distinguished from the copy, and the clay model from the plaster cast. No man that knew Bishop Hobart at any period of his life, but must have seen this ; that his character, whatever estimate might be formed of it, was one struck off* by the hand of nature, having in it such persuasive force, that his sentiments and example were continually taking hold on the hearts and conduct of those with whom he associated, leaving them (few but will acknow- BISHOP HOB ART. 67 ledge) wiser and better than he found them. Working on such a mind, competition may certainly go far without degenerating either into personal rivalry, or party attachment. This is pleasingly indicated in a letter written soon after quitting college, to one whom he left in it, and whom he addresses by the familiar appellation of ' Dear Tom.' Alluding to his friend's statement, that ' emulation and friend- ship eminently prevail among the members of the Society,' he thus breaks forth : ' O, may these long continue to influence them ! What more delightful sight can be presented to the eye, than a band of youths, whom friendship and a noble emulation animate ; the prize they have in view is so valued, that each one seeks it with persevering ardor, each endeavoring to outstrip his companion, and yet each one giving his companion every assistance in his power. Their friendship is as strong as their emula- tion, and thus, both principles being equally powerful, give to all their actions the ardor of emulation, in union with mutual love.' An extract from a letter recently received from one of the surviving companions of his studies, will show that this was no picture of fancy. * The interesting qualities of Hobart's heart and head, which distinguished him so much among his fellows, can never be forgotten. 68 JI E 31 O I R O F He was ambitious, and did not attempt to dis- guise it ; but it was that kind of ambition which every student must possess, if he aims at eminence. It never led him to overlook or under estimate the merits of others who were competing with him. On the contrary, though bent himself on reaching the goal, he mani- fested no desire of travelling in advance of his friends, but was pleased when they progressed with him pari passu, and manifested distress of mind when any of them fell visibly behind him. It was common for him to cheer his com- petitors when they seemed to flag, and to stimulate them to more action. His disposition was marked by benevolence, and when he saw those for whom he had a respect in the college classes below him, disposed to indolence or irregularity, it was his practice to visit their rooms, and invite them to his own, for the purpose of bringing them within the influence of his conversation and example. I recollect the instance of a youth from Long-Island, who was reclaimed from idleness, and a threat- ening habit of dissipation, by this course. The amiable qualities of his heart, and the vigorous powers of his mind, can never be efl'aced from my memory. I knew his thoughts and the motives which actuated him, and it was my belief there was none whose whole course of BISHOP HOBART. 69 conduct furnished a more unexceptionable model for imitation.* However rare this character of ambition without envy, all concur that young Hobart exhibited it ; his rivals in study were still his brothers in affection, and the attachments he then formed, were ardent beyond the usual ardor of youthful intimacies. Now this is a point in which the editor is aware that the nar- rative he is about to give, may very easily be misinterpreted, since it brings before the reader such a succession of personal attachments on the part of young Hobart, as very naturally to excite a smile, or with some, perhaps, even a sneer, at their number and romantic fervor. But this would be doing both him and them great injustice, for such intimacies are proverbi- ally fleeting, while his were all firm and enduring. Neither the bustling cares of an active station, nor even the dearer connections of riper years, were able to withdraw his heart from the friends of his boyhood. To the very last he turned to them with the feelings of almost childish affection. Separation did not make him forget them ; sorrow and misfortune but en- deared them ; and what was the hardest trial of all, the errors of human frailty could not * J. Burnet, Esq., Cincinnati, Ohio. 70 M E M I R O F tear them from him. Friendship with him was a living plant which time strengthens, not with- ers, and in the hour of trial, a fruit-bearing plant, hringing' forth actions as well as words. Many persons there are highly social without a capacity for friendship. An easy temper, and a languid mind, fit them for ready and changing intimacies ; but such certainly was not the temper that here unfolded itself. There was in it, on the contrary, that affectionateness of nature, which once rooted, never ceased to cling. Now such a character it is delightful to meet with, and to contemplate — and not only delightful, but improving. It serves to give us a better opinion of our common nature, and not only so, but to strengthen our confidence in its future prospects ; since, to see early affections thus outliving all the vicissitudes of life, and rising above the selfishness of years, is no small proof of the spirituality of that nature in which those affections reside : it is the triumph of mind over matter, and opens to us pleasing anticipations of what those affections will be in a purer and more spiritual state of being. But from whatever source these intimacies sprang, they seem, at least, to have been prudently and wisely pursued, with a view to moral, intellectual, and religious improve- ment. The religious tone that pervades them B I S H O P H B A R T. 71 on the part of young Hobart is certainly re- markable. Even his earliest letters to his companions breathe this spirit — sentiments not merely of natural piety, but of Christian doctrine, argued and urged as specific motives to duty, and the intimacy of friendship thus made an instrument of holiness of life. As in this point of view the character of Bishop Hobart, while living, was greatly misun- derstood, and his zeal for the Church over which he presided turned into an argument against his vital piety, it is due to his memory, now that he is gone, fully to illustrate this beautiful trait in his life, to show how, even from his boyish days, his friendship was felt to be a blessing, from that influence which he was peculiarly fitted to exert over his intimates, being always steadily directed to the deepening and strengthening of their religious principles. Nor is it only to his memory that this exposition is due : it is still more due to the Christian public ; for what can constitute a deeper debt to humanity than to clear away from a great and good man's character the prejudices which weaken the force of his example, and to exhibit, in intimate union from earliest youth, those natural talents which lead to power, and those Christian graces which consecrate their influ- ence. 72 MEMOIR OF The following letters are taken from an ample bundle preserved of the letters of his young friends. His correspondent, in the pre- sent case, was a graduate of the preceding year, who had just returned to his home in the South. However youthful, they give a pleasing picture of college life and intimacies. 'Woodville, 3d December, 1792. My dear Henry, By this time you must have met with a good many hard knots in Helsham, but no doubt your pene- trating genius can readily pierce the most crabbed. I am much pleased that you will do honor to our old room, and still more anxious that you should do honor to yourself. Only maintain your usual rank, Avhich your abilities will fully enable, and your laudable ambi- tion will prompt you to do, and the prize is yours. You have had the pleasure of spending this evening, I suppose, in our good old Society ; a pleasure the loss of which I feel very sensibly. Were the members but half as sensible of the advantages that may be derived from that institution while at college, as they will be after they leave it, they would be far from neglecting their duties in it. But such is the nature of man — insensible of his present enjoyments, and complaining of ima- ginary evils. I have no news, political, moral, or natural, to send you, except that I have set up till after 12 o'clock writing to you and my other college friends ; and you ought to consider that as a great mark of my friendship for you all, as you know very well it is not a trifle that could induce me to do sucli a thing. It is, however, by no means a trifle in the present case, but BISHOPHOBART. 73 the greatest luxury, not having as yet received a letter from you, which would, I confess, be a still greater feast. But my candle is almost out, and I shall then be obliged to go to bed. In the mean time, I remain your friend, Alexander White the 3d. P. S. Do not forget to direct your letters, Alexander White the 3d.' ' Woodville, AprU 1, 1793. My dear Friend, Your favor of the 10th March I received with singular pleasure on the 23d of the same month. But I hasten to another subject, in which I feel myself much concerned. It gave me a most pleasing sensation to discover that you were to represent us on the 4th July. I say us, because I cannot help assuming some portion of the honor acquired by the exhibition of my brother Whigs ; but I was surprised to find you had thoughts of resigning the appointment, which, however, I hope you will not do. Let me entreat you in the name of a friend, of a brother, not to do it. That you would perform the duty with credit to yourself, with honor to the Society, and with a victory over your competitor, you must be fully sensible ; and any expression of it from me might be disagreeable. But further, that you would disappoint the Society, and perhaps materially injure it by resigning, is also evident. I hope, therefore, if you have not some very particular reasons, unknown to me, you will cheerfully execute this honorable office. Your class having gone through their studies so rapidly, will give those who have abilities an opportunity to distinguish themselves. You ought to appropriate as 4 74 M E M O I R O F great a part of next sessioQ to reviewing as possible, that you may impress the knowledge you acquire more strongly on the memory, and appear with credit at the examination, which I found to be a very difficult matter, if not an impossibility. Assuring you of my sincere wishes for your happiness, farewell. Alexander White.' \Woodville, SthMay, 1793. My dear Friend, Yours of 23rd ultimo was gratefully received. I heartily thank you for the services you have rendered me, and perfectly approve of the manner in which you did it. I hope by this time you are once more safely seated at Princeton, where you can calmly enjoy the sweets of study and retirement, delicately seasoned with the occasional society of a few choice friends. Such a situation, I am inclined to believe, is the summit of earthly happiness ; at any rate, I, in my twenty years' pilgrimage, have not found any thing superior. But I would not, by these observations, lessen the confidence you may have in your own prospects of the future, which no doubt are very fair. However pleasing a college life may be, I presume it would in time become wearisome, and the sphere too narrow and confining for an active and enterprising mind. I wish I could see the agitation which the hope of obtaining, and the fear of not obtaining honors, must now begin to excite in your class, though the distinguishing of six at the last examination was to be sure a very good omen for them. But I wonder you did not give me their names If you consider it indelicate to mention your own, you might leave a blank for that, and insert the others. I need not mention with how much joy I hear of the B I S H O P H O B A R T. 73 prosperity of our dear Society ; you say it has the superiority in the lower classes, and it surely has in yours. I expect my fellow Whigs will make an honor- able appearance at the next Commencement. On you much depends, and I am happy to hear you have but one rival, and that he is called so only by the Clios. I perfectly approve of your not taking formally into con- sideration the alterations in the laws proposed by the graduates. It has always been my opinion, that they, being absent from the college, should have little to do with legislation. The hall no doubt needed improve- ments, though to increase the library is in my mind a more desirable object than to add elegance to the room. Remember me to my friends in college, particularly Skinner, Terhane, the Wallaces, Hunter, and Brown. Yours sincerely, Alexander White.' The following, though not in answer, is yet the earliest preserved of his own college letters. ' Frankfort, November 12, 1793. My dear White, The silence which has succeeded your last letter of the 29th July, has occasioned me considerable uneasiness. This anxiety harassed my mind for some time previous to the examination, though the attention my studies then required precluded my writing to you till that Avas concluded ; and the necessary preparation for the Commencement, together with a jaunt to my friend Skinner on Long-Island, delayed the answer till some time in September, when I wrote you from Jamaica. Since that period I have postponed writing, from the 76 MEMOIROF daily expectation of a letter from you, as well as from the calamitous circumstance which has deranged alto- gether my plans and wishes. The disorder which marked for the peculiar object of its ravages our unfor- tunate city, prevented the stated Commencement at Princeton from being held. The degrees were conferred privately on the few of the class who attended. Imme- diately after, I came to this place, where my brother- in-law, Mr. Smith, has a plantation, on which, since the commencement of the disorder, his own and my mother's families have resided. The improbability that it would subside time enough for his fall business in Philadelphia, induced him to open a store in this place ; and as I engaged to go through an apprenticeship with nim, I have been employed for some time past in attending upon it. The sudden subsiding of the dis- order renders it safe for the citizens now to return to their long-forsaken habitations, and induces him to conclude on removing to town the latter end of the week : of consequence I shall shortly again revisit my native city ; but ah, what has it not suffered since I last saw it. Yet in that trying period, when the ties of nature were so often broken. Heaven raised up men who, to say the least of them, were ornaments to human nature. Fearless of the disorder, they administered to the wants of the suffering sick, provided for the unfor- tunate orphan, performing every office of humanity at the hazard of their lives. Our friends Rhea and Otto are, I believe, out of the city, and well. Early has been at Princeton since the Commencement. Poor Wycoff has, I understand, fallen a victim to the disor- der. Our friends at Princeton are doing well, but owing to there being no competitions^ the Whigs had no BISHOPHOBART. 77 opportunity of showing themselves : I am happy to inform you they bear the superiority in every class. You must by this time be far advanced in the study of the law, and the time approaches when you will enter on the practice. May you, my friend, arrive at those honors in public life, without which wealth can yield but little pleasure, and acquire that wealth without which the honors of public life cannot be enjoyed. With a great desire to hear from you, and with much affection, I remain your sincere friend, J. H. HOBART.' ' Woodville, 11th November, 1793. My dear Henry, The last letter I received from you was dated Ja- maica, September 10th, which I would have answered long ago, but for the little probability there appeared of a letter reaching you. I now hasten to congratulate you, though at this late period, on having attained that distinction, the pleasing effects of which I have some knowledge of. It reminds me of what I once said to you, that reward follows merit, though sometimes " pede claudo." I am very sorry you had not an oppor- tunity of displaying those abilities at a public Com- mencement, which I am confident you possess. Conrad has told me many anecdotes relating to college. I recollect perfectly well the perturbation that was in our class last summer, and which I myself did not entirely escape, though I believe I felt it no more than some who wore a hypocritical indifference. I am extremely happy to find that the Whigs continue to acquire additional honor, and to reflect it upon their absent brethren. I would by no means persuade you 78 M E M I R O F to Study law contrary to your interest; but there is one remark I think merits attention ; that is, that your disposition and abilities are thought to be peculiarly adapted to the practice of the law. I mention this, because it is a matter indifferent persons are more capable to judge of than you are yourself; and 1 have often heard it said, " It will be a pity if Hobart is not a lawyer." But I have one request to make, that you will come and see me before you engage in business. It may seem a very unreasonable request that you should travel two hundred miles to see me ; but I hope you will consider such a journey would be attended with many advantages, and I will engage to furnish you with such amusements as I possess, viz. a plenty of books and a few friends. Remember me sincerely to Skinner : independent of his being your friend, which is a sufficient recommendation, he is one of the few I have found among mankind who merit all the esteem of the purest heart. With all the well wishes of a sincere friend, I am constantly yours, Alexajvder White.' * Woodville, QOth January, 1794. My dear Henry, I have received yours of December 30th. I need not say with pleasure: a piece of blank paper from your hand would be pleasing ; how much more a paper filled with those sentiments which are calculated to afford delight. Your account of the decision of the honors and the subsequent transactions was very satis- factory, and reminded me of the bustle excited in our class. I am much pleased with your conduct on the B I S II P H B A R T. /9 occasion, and would observe that the treatment you met with may be considered an emblem of what every person, whom merit has rendered conspicuous, may expect from tlie invidious world. Since you consider the mercantile life most eligible, I most sincerely wish you happiness and prosperity in the pursuit of it. I can readily suppose that your feelings upon your change of situation were not very pleasing. Mine, I well remember, were far from it ; but time and reason will reconcile every one to his condition. I was going to propose an agreement for our mutual benefit, — that when we become men of business, I should send our backwoods' merchants to deal with you, and you ir return should empower me to collect from those who might prove delinquent; but perhaps this agreement may be postponed. I rejoice to hear that our fraternity still stands forth as the school of virtue and useful knowledge. My intercourse with it seems in a great measure cut off now that you have left it, but my attachment remains, and I hope you will occasionally write me what you know of its situation. Yours truly, Alexander White.' • WoodtUlc, \9th March, 1794. My dear Henry, I feel myself much obliged to my Philadelphia friends for their punctual correspondence, by which I am frequently served with an agreeable relish, after being satiated with the harsh food of the law. I often thought, during the winter, that it must be a most pleasant thing, when you could enjoy all the advan- tages of society, without exposure to the inclement 80 MEMOIROF season ; instead of being confined within the lonesome walls of a country cottage, almost buried in banks of snow. But how reversed is the comparison, as spring now approaches, with her vivifying influence, when the cottage is perfumed with rural fragrance, and all things look cheerful from the genial rays of Sol. How pleasing to hear the sweet singing-birds every morning announce the arrival of day, and by their melodious notes invite you to partake of their gayety. Fortune, or rather providence, is, generally speaking, equal to all in her favors ; and indeed it would seem contrary to all our ideas of justice, if men in one line of life were denied equal happiness with others, when at the same time the good of the community requires that a variety of occupations should be pursued. I have made some progress in my studies, but not so great as I expected I would have made by this time, when I began them. It is impossible, I find, to apply to them with JYassovian diligence. I mean now to begin a regular course of reading, intermixing history, &c., with the law, and will take the Bible as the first and most important history. I am not certain whether this letter is paying a debt or advancing upon credit ; but rather believe the latter is the case, and if so, I shall expect a good remittance, as punctuality, you know, is the life of merchandise ; and beside, I shall be very necessitous. It always gives me pleasure to have a good paymaster for my debtor ; there is then all the pleasure of anticipation, with a certainty of real enjoyment. With esteem and affection, I am your constant friend, Alexander White.' BISHOP HOBART. 81 ' Phil-udelphia, June llth, 1794. My dear White, It is a long time since I have written to you, and much longer since I heard from you ; a letter is now so great a rarity, that I anxiously wish for one. In mercantile phrase, I am largely the creditor, and you are greatly in arrears ; which, if you fail to make up, I shall direct some attorney in your neighborhood to put it in suit. You had better, then, with all speed, hasten to discharge your debt. How much law have you got in your head by this time ? Do you think you have enough to perplex an honest farmer, and make it appear to him that wrong is right? If so, for mercy's sake stop, for I am sure you have learned all the art of your profession. The poor fellows at Princeton are kept as hard at it as ever, and the Whig Society rules them with a rod of iron. Yours affectionately, J. H. HoBART.' On the above letter is endorsed, in Mr. Hobart's hand-writing, — ' Princeton, July 23d. Wrote to White informing him of my intention and views in entering into the ministry.' This letter is not found. The next from him is as follows : * Princeton, August ^Gth, 1794. My dear White, I thank you very smcerely for your good wishes in the new engagements on which I am entering ; and the affectionate manner in which you express them, renders them still more pleasing to me. AVhen I look 4* 82 M E M I R F forward to the important duties that will be incumbent on me, I feel no small degree of anxiety, and wens I to rely on myself alone, I should shrink back from the undertaking. Your remarks on the importance of religion, my dear White, much pleased me. They spring from that good sense, and soundness of principle, which I may say without flattery have always distinguished you. I would add to what you have said : If religion be of acknowledged importance, why is it not more generally professed ? If it be necessary to the exist- ence of civil society, and to the support of govern- ment, Avhy do not public men guide themselves by its precepts ? Ought not every one who feels its import- ance, both as respects the present and the future, to regulate his conduct by it? This is certainly the dictate of reason. Those again who are influenced by religion to become austere in their conduct and deport- ment, though they may be sincere, are yet certainly misguided. The Christian has certainly the most reason to be cheerfuL The prospect of future happiness gives additional enjoyment to the present, and is a powerful support under every affliction. Though it do not wholly exclude the pleasures of the world, it yet offers others infinitely more valuable ; while the con- sciousness that the greatest and best of Beings not only pardons his sins, but extends to him favor and protection, diffuses through the soul of the Christian a happiness ■yvhich those alone who feel it can know. The news of the death of our common friend, Rhea, has, I suppose, before this time reached you. Thus we see how the best prospects are prematurely blasted. B I S H O P II B A R T. S3 Does not the reflection naturally arise, " How uncertain is life and human enjoyments." My time has passed very happily in the society of the students, but I cannot say I have done as much as 1 expected. It is probable that immediately after the Commencement I shall go to Philadelphia, and enter directly on the study of divinity. How and Campbell were competitors for the Latin Salutatory ; the former is a fine little fellow from Trenton, and lived with me during the last year I was at college ; he is not more than seventeen years of age. I got a letter the other day from Watkins. In the southern States they are for tarring and feathering every one who does not approve of every violent mea- sure which hot-headed demagogues may advocate. Freedom of opinion, that very essence of liberty, is destroyed among them, and yet they wish to make a monopoly of republicanism. If I am not allowed to think as I please and profess my sentiments, as long as I support the constitution and laws of my country, it is of little consequence who prevents me, whether the Empress of Russia, or one of these democratic socie- ties. Indeed I sometimes tremble for the safety of my country. Such is the spirit of license cherished by ambitious demagogues, and countenanced by the heat and impetuosity of some of the representatives of the people, that I sometimes fear the consequences will be fatal to the peace and happiness of our country. But I yet hope and trust that the good sense of the people in general will be made, in the hands of Providence, th? instrument for supporting the liberty and prosperity of these United States. Your affectionate friend, J. H. HOBART.' 84 M E M O I R O F ' Woodville, 8th September, 1794. JSly dear Henry, To you, who are acquainted with my attachment to our departed friend, I need not express the grief his death occasioned me. The time has been, when I thought I could scarcely live without him ; but a long separation, though it did not lessen my affection, never- theless diminished my dependence on his advice and example to direct my conduct : — but I hasten from a subject on which my mind is but too inclined to dwell. The decision of the honors presents more cheerful ideas ; no doubt our Society has produced another crop of valuable fruit, and while we see time consuming one even before it is mature, it is a consolation that there are fresh supplies still growing. Your favor of the 10th instant leads my mind to a variety of interest- ing reflections. The fleeting nature of time, which passes by almost unnoticed by the whole creation, is a matter highly important to every accountable being. Time carries us far distant from objects that once were present, and pleased our fancy, and gratified our desires, while we are yet thinking that we need only turn about to behold them as usual. The difficulty of keeping our passions under the guidance of reason, is painted by you in striking colors. This difficulty seems designed as a criterion to ascertain our real virtue; for I con- ceive, as far as any person indulges a passion in oppo- sition to reason, so far does he wander from the straight and narrow path of virtue. Although I believe few are happier than myself, yet I find a great difference between my present situation and my former one at college, where every thing glided on in tranquil felicity. It is, therefore, with mixed feelings of pleasure and BISHOP HOBART. 85 regret, that I hear of your being again seated within the enchanting walls of Nassau; of pleasure, because you must there enjoy what can rarely be experienced in this tumultuous world — of regret, because it pro- duces a fresh recollection of those happy moments I once enjoyed there, and which are gone, alas, never to return. You will, no doubt, well improve the very favorable opportunity given for study and reflection. As far as I am judge, your plan is extremely proper. The Bible is certainly the foundation of all true reli- gion; but while a thorough acquaintance with it is absolutely necessary, you will yet reap great advantage from a general and extended knowledge of other sub- jects. Such knowledge would be profitable to persons in any line of life, but more especially to those who derive their usefulness from their powers of persuasion. Knowledge fills the mind with ideas, and an acquaint- ance with good authors greatly facilitates the expression and explanation of those ideas. As soon as my in- tended change of business is effected, and I become so settled as to pay proper attention to so great a subject, I mean to appropriate a certain portion of my time to the study of the Bible. I remain, &c., Alexander White, 3d.' Of this college intimacy, the last record that remains, is a letter dated ' Woodville, 21st January, 1796,' which closes the correspond- ence with the theme with which it began, * the welfare of the Whigs.' * Well, what is going on in our alma mater ? Is the old routine of 86 M E M I R O F action still kept up ? How do our brother Whigs prosper ? Are they as distinguished for their virtue and literature, as those from whom they take their name were for their patriotism 1 In short, what are you and all my friends at Princeton doing ? — hut I suspect my friends are now scattered over the face of the earth.' CHAPTER IV. Intimacy with young Skinner — Letters — Death — Character. Among young Hobart's college friendships, there was one which deserves a fuller mention, not only from the peculiar warmth of the attach- ment, but from the deeper interest given to it by an early and long lamented death. Abraham Skinner, to whom allusion has already been made, as a junior student from Long-Island reclaimed by his friend's influence from thoughtlessness, if not from vice, appears to have been an amiable youth, of great mildness of character, sweetness of disposition, and purity of heart, though by nature inclined to indolence, and little accustomed by habit to self-denial. Above sixty letters from his young Mentor still remain to testify the warmth, sincerity, and spiritual value of his friendship. B I SHOP II OB ART. 87 They occupy the period of two years, which intervened between their separation at college and the death of Skinner. The following will be sufficient to convey their moral tone, the college details being omitted as uninteresting. ' Philadelphia, May 8th, 1794. My dearest Skinner, As I cannot be with you, I wish you had a companion who might, in some degree, supply the absence of your friend. A disposition so remarkably fond of society as yours, stands in need of much indul- gence ; but as you cannot now enjoy it, be contented. Reflect that your retired situation gives you many advantages. You can pursue with more vigor your studies, and standing less in the way of temptation, acquire habits of seriousness and reflection. Society, however, is necessary, and as you cannot enjoy as much as you wish, strive to render what you have more agreeable. Indeed, my dear Skinner, I think your situation valuable on many accounts, and the greatest happiness I can enjoy in my absence from you, will be to hear of your improvement. I am, therefore, delighted to hear that you have read so much during the last winter. You have considerable time for improvement before you; every moment of it is valuable. But reli- gion is the one thing needful. All our attainments in human science, all our boasted improvements of the mind, will sleep in death. But religion will be our stay through time, and through eternity. Oh, my dear Skinner, let true religion be our choice, and let us learn what true religion is from the Scriptures of God. We 88 M E M I R O F shall there find that repentance, faith, and obedience are its main pillars. Let us not, then, place our reli- ance in the mere performance of external duty, nor even m those more amiable accomplishments which do not flow from a sincere love of God and faith in a Redeemer. If we are not feelingly convinced that of ourselves we can do nothing, that the Spirit of grace must subdue and purify our diseased nature, and that the all-atoning merits of a blessed Redeemer alone can give us a title to immortal happiness, and reconcile an offended God, all our works and righteousness will avail us nothing. Let me, then, earnestly entreat you to give attention to your spiritual concerns, to read the word of God and comments upon it ; and above all, to pray earnestly that he would guide you by his Holy Spirit in the way of truth. I long ardently to see you, my dearest Skinner, and rest assured that, if in my power, I will embrace you this summer. * * * * Your sincere and affectionate friend, J. H. HOBART.' Princeton^ July 12, 1794. The scenes around me often recall you, my dearest Skinner, to my memory, and raise emotions of tender- ness and affection which I cannot express. It was here our friendship was first formed, here we have passed the happiest hours, and here our affection went through those various trials which have proved its sincerity. But why be fateful to me ? I want not what I do not merit. Your letter breathes an affection and sincerity which will always make you dear to me. I would, BISHOP HOB ART. 89 therefore, use my influence in earnestly entreating you to make the salvation of your soul the object of your immediate and constant care. Seriously examine your own heart. 'Tis the grace of God alone, through a Saviour, that can subdue it — that can change its obsti- nate and sinful desires. You will meet with many discouragements ; the world, the flesh, and the devil are all your enemies ; they will all strive to destroy the divine seed in your soul ; but your helper is God, your redeemer is the Lord. Trust in the Saviour, he is all- powerful, he can vanquish all your enemies. Seek him and you shall find him. He never yet rejected the peni- tent sinner. Oh, my friend, seriously think on these things. "Taste and see that the Lord is good;" that "religion's ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." Unworthy as I am, feeble as my faith is in the Saviour, I Avould not exchange the peace I feel from my trust in him, for all the honors and enjoyments of the world. Recollect that these will fade away, and the end of time will be the beginning of eternity. I will not, my dearest Skinner, ask your pardon for being thus free with you ; my love for you constrains me. I also stand in need of your prayers. Pray that God would subdue by his grace the corruption of my heart, that he would wean me from an attachment to the world, and that he Avould make every power of my soul, as well as every action of my life, to praise and adore his great and glorious name. Pray especially for yourself. If you do not already, pray that you may be led to see your guilt and misery, and need of a Redeemer ; that you may embrace Jesus Christ as your Saviour, and trust in him with your whole soul. And that this may be 90 M E M O I R F your condition, use diligently, perseveringly, and above all, sincerely, all the means of grace. Have stated times for devotion. Read the Bible, that precious treasure of the grace and love of God, and pray that God would enlighten your understanding. Your affectionate friend, J. H. HoBART.' ' Princeton, August 9, 1794. ****** If any thing, my dearest friend, could render you dearer to me than you already are, it Avould be your filial affection; and as this is particularly your motive to the study of the law, I would not, for a moment, think of advising you to any thing else. No, that is the profes- sion it is your duty to pursue, and in which, perhaps, with your feelings, you can best serve your Creator. It rejoices me to think it is your wish and intention to serve him. I am glad to find you have made such progress in human science ; but oh, neglect not that divine and heavenly knowledge which will make you happy here and hereafter. The law, you think, in the practice of it, will not be very pleasing. Neither that, my Skinner, nor any other profession, can afford you real happiness without religion. I am far from sup- posing that the practice of the law is incompatible with holiness of heart ; but as you may meet with more temptations in one profession than in another, so I think you will meet with a great many in the law ; but a firm trust in your Saviour, under the assistance of the grace of God, will enable you to go through them all. My first wish is, let your profession be what it will, that you may obtain and preserve an interest in the atone- B 1 S II O P li E A R T. 91 ment of the Redeemer, and serve him and your God in holiness of life. I remain, my dearest Skinner, Your affectionate friend, J. H. HOBART.' ' Philadelphia, November 10, 1794. My dearest Skinner, * * * Your letter of the 31st October yielded me peculiar pleasure. While it was expressive of the warmest affection, it conveyed information relative to your studies and pursuits in the highest degree pleasing. Separated from you, a very principal consolation to me is, that you are engaged in the improvement of your mind, and that your prudence and goodness lead you, in a reliance on the assistance of the Almighty, to avoid every course that would tend to the debasement of your mental faculties, or your moral taste. With respect to the members of the law societies of which you speak, I hope you will exercise your usual prudence, and contract no intimacy further than common civility requires, without being assured that their charac- ters are unblameable and their dispositions good. Better be without companions than have bad ones. The study of your profession, and the assistance you give your father, render your present situation most proper, and therefore it should be most pleasing. You write very feelingly on the subject of religion, and complain that you want a friend to direct you. Where will you find one ? My dear Skinner, " a friend that sticketh closer than a brother," is ever present with you, and ready to assist you. Look not unto a worm of the dust, but look unto your Saviour, and through him to 92 MEMOIROF your God. " His love is indeed better than life." That he may guide, preserve, and bless you, is the prayer of a friend more affectionate than language can express. J. H. HOBART.' ' Princeton, January 27, 1795. You are certainly, ray dear Skinner, under the greatest obligations to your dear parents, and I rejoice that you have it in your power to make a return. As well as yourself, I feel the impulse of gratitude to my one only parent, whose affection has extended to me every proper gratification, though at the expense of her own ease. Alas, how far do I fall short of the gratitude due to this my earthly parent, and how infinitely more defective am I in a proper expression toward that heavenly Parent "who giveth me all good things richly to enjoy ! " I feel grateful to my dear mother for the willingness with which she consents to my now living from her. She was pleasing herself with the hope that I would spend my time in future with her. In this she makes a great sacrifice. Her income, which has never been more than barely sufficient to support her family, has become now, owing to the enhanced price of pro- visions, and the depreciation of money, virtually less ; and thus she must deprive herself of many gratifications, in order to maintain me at Princeton. Thus does she sacrifice her own comfort for that of her son. But this she has always done. Oh, my friend, Providence has indeed blessed me in her with a mother whose value and worth I am afraid I shall never sufficiently know, till I am deprived of her. But I pray God that he will warm my heart with gratitude, and make my whole life a suitable return for her love. BISHOPHOBART. 93 God has given you talents, my best friend, which are capable, by due cultivation, of advancing you to honor ; and with the disposition you have to improve them, I often please myself with the prospect of the future use- fulness of my friend. May he qualify you for every duty, and enable you so to live in this life, that you may finally live with him in life everlasting. Yours affectionately, J. H. HOBART.' * Princeton, March lith, 1795. I received the usual satisfaction from the last letter of my dearest friend. It was the more pleasing, because it was written in those moments of cessation from busi- ness which you might have given to relaxation. To be always so engaged in business as to possess no leisure for reflection, is equally detrimental to the improvement of the mind and the morals. " To commune with our own hearts " is a duty of religion : it will never be otherwise implanted in the heart. To put the busy scenes of the world at times at a distance — to consider a future state as our home — to contemplate the perfec- tions of the Deity, and the duty of imitating them — to hold in view the value of religion, and its glorious re- wards in a future state — are among the best cherishers of virtue and piety. Sleep, as you observe, is sweet to the body fatigued by labor, or the mind by study ; and the goodness of God is conspicuous in so ordering the succession of day and night as to please by their variety, as well as by the repose which one affords from the duties of the other. You find yourself, you say, unable to do much at night ; in fact, if the day be well improved, the night is best given to repose. My eyes still continue so weak as to 94 M E M O I R F prevent me studying at night ; but I generally rise at five in the morning, so that by the evening I get pretty well tired, though I find I cannot study as much as I wish, from indisposition sometimes, from hindrance at others. What pleasure would I receive, my dearest friend, could you enjoy at this place with me, the advantages and pleasures of retirement. How would our exertions be bent to mutual improvement. Ah, my friend, the pleasing hopes we have so often indulged of spending our time together, will not, I am afraid, be soon realized. Duty at present calls us, and perhaps through life Avill call us, to different scenes of action. We must acquiesce. Let us be diligent in framing our lives according to the will of God, and we shall then spend an eternity of hap- piness together. There can be no greater incentive to duty than a sense of our obligations to him, and no support more effectual under the cares and misfortunes of life, than that which the enjoyment of his favor con- fers. Let me know what place of worship you attend. Dr. Moore,* one of the Episcopal preachers, is, I am told, a man of great talents and sound piety. I dare say you take great pleasure in improving your mind. I know I do, and yet my progress is not equal to my wishes. I am animated to diligence very much by the consideration of the many great and good characters of other days. I wish frequently we were together, in order that we might rightly regulate and improve our time. But since we are denied this happiness, let us be strenuous in our exertions to improve ourselves and one another. We cannot sufficiently praise our God that he has in every respect connected our duty with our happiness ; for religion requires the sacrifice of no one ♦ Afterward Bishop of the Diocese of New- York. BISHOP HOB ART. 95 passion, nor the practice of any one duty, which is not calculated to promote our peace of mind, and our best temporal interests. May this reflection, with a sense of the long-suffering goodness of God notwithstanding our sins, excite us to repentance and reformation. Let me, then, press you, as I would urge myself, to be " diligent in working out your salvation." Delay not the great work of repentance till it be too late. Begin with the reformation of heart and life, abstaining from every known sin, and practising every known duty ; and let all your exertions be accompanied with sincere and fervent prayer to God for his grace, without which they cannot be effectual ; and may He, who is abundant in mercy and grace, form our hearts to his most blessed image, and our lives to his most holy law, that when this mortal life is ended, we may be received into life eternal, through the all-sufficient merits of Christ our Saviour. Do not our hearts answer, Amen ? O let us, then, enter on that course of life which will conduct us to the mansions of eternal bliss. That God may pre- serve, bless, and finally crown you with eternal happi- ness, my dearest Skinner, is the constant prayer of your sincerely affectionate HOBART.' If such admonitions can be rendered more impressive, it is by the reflection that the young friend to whom they were addressed was within a few weeks prematurely cut off by the hand of death ; he fell a sacrifice to the prevailing epidemic of that summer, after an illness of but four days. The last letter of young Hobart, 96 M E M O I R O F in the hands of his biographer, addressed to his friend, is equally admonitory with the one just given. After noticing the sudden death of two dissipated students in the college, he thus closes: ' It is an awful lesson, and aifords to all a proof of the advantages which in the hour of death the good man enjoys over him who has spent his time in " drunkenness and riotous living," or in " fulfilling the lusts of the flesh." May you and I, my friend, warned thereto by these instances of mortality, be diligent in our pre- paration for the awful hour of death, and the more solemn day of judgment. J. H. HOBART.' How solemn this admonition ! It was scarcely more than received and read before the reader was hurried to the tomb. He died the 6th of September, 1795. The following letter is from the afflicted father, communicating the intelligence. ' My dear Hobart, How shall I begin this sad epistle ! I must, I must begin it, and be you prepared to read. My darling boy is no more. With this morning's dawn his pious soul took its flight to regions of happiness and peace. Yes, my friend, his race, though short, is run, and he is gone, I hope, to meet a merciful God. O sad lesson, O bitter cup ! how shall I drink it ! I will, I will bow submis- BISHOP HOB ART. 97 sive to Him who cannot err, Avho gave to me, and has taken from me ; blessed be his holy name. Teach me, gracious God, to bear my affliction ; support and strengthen me, and make me sensible of my dependence upon thee. But amidst this direful confusion and dis- tress, what a consolation that he had his reason almost to the last ; and in his lucid intervals, very shortly be- fore his dissolution, his expressions and ejaculations exhibited strong proofs of his resignation to the will of Heaven, and a firm reliance on his God, through the merits of a blessed Redeemer. Let these things, my friend, comfort you, and learn by his fate to be always ready. Your letter of 1st September he received on his death-bed ; it was read to him by his mother, but the invitation came too late. You have our blessings for it ; and though my child is dead, I know with you his me- mory will survive : he had a place in your heart, and I know it v/ill not be effaced. Your afflicted, but sincere friend, A. Skinner. New -York, Qth September, 1795. Sunday, 9 A. .M. P. S. On opening his desk this morning, the first thing that presented itself to me was the enclosed. 1 am indaced to think it was part of a letter intended for you. Keep it ; it is his last. If ever you come this way come to me, and let me embrace my dear child's friend. Y\'rite me, Hobart ; it v/ill console me, it will give his mother some ease. 2d P. S. Pardon me for not sending you the paper above alluded to, his mother cannot spare it yet ; but T will preserv^e it for you.' 98 MEMOIROF The endorsement on this letter reads thus : ' Abraham Skinner, Esq., New- York, Septem- ber 6, 1795. Containing information of the death of his son, my dearest friend, who was first united to me in the bonds of a close friendship in the summer of 1793, at Princeton College. I did not receive this letter at Frankfort till the 14th, the day I entered on my nineteenth year. Melancholy birth-day. I write down these cir- cumstances, from a wish to preserve on a tablet more durable than memory, every thing relating to this melancholy event.' The answer returned to the heart-broken father leads him to his only source of comfort. ' My dear Sir, — I sincerely hope and pray that the weight of grief which overpowered you has been rendered lighter by those consolations which a trust in the wisdom and goodness of the gracious Parent of the universe never fails to inspire. Never did a father lament the loss of a more amiable son. To cease to mourn altogether is impossible. Religion requires us not to smother the feelings of nature ; but while she permits us to mourn, she teaches us not to " mourn as those who have no hope," for we enjoy the blessed assurance, that the souls of those we love exist beyond the grave, and we trust that the virtue and piety of him we lament, has procured him, through the BISHOPHOBART. 90 merits of his Saviour, an admittance into those blissful regions where " sorrow and sighing are done away" — thither let us aspire. Convinced of the uncertainty of earthly enjoyments, let us seek those which are at God's right hand, and we may then hope once again to enjoy the af- fection of him whose loss we deplore. Strangers and pilgrims upon earth, he has arrived before us at the end of his journey. He has left us to struggle with many difficulties in our pilgrim- age. These he has escaped ; why then should we repine ] His crown of glory was attained with little toil. Infinite wisdom sees fit to try us longer.' The reply to this marks still more strongly the feehngs of the grateful father. ' Jamaica^ L. /., October lAth^ 1795. Since the receipt of your affectionate letter, which is the only one I have received since the death of my dear boy, we have abandoned our distressed dwelling, and fied to this place, where we have found an asylum from the dreadful contagion, but not from the wretch- edness occasioned by our sad misfortune. No, Hobart ; no time, no change, can eradicate that remembrance. Yet why do I reason thus ? why do I complain ? 'Twas the will of Heaven — 'twas right. He was not mine, he was too good for such a world, and lived as he died, prepared for death, and fitted for a glorious immortality. A few minutes before his last, sensible, calm, and serene, he gave me proofs of his willingness 100 MEMOIROF to depart, and his last accents breathed submission to the will of Heaven. May Heaven bless you, my dear Hobart, in your pursuits in this life, and may God Almighty, of his infinite mercy and goodness, receive you hereafter, with the joyful sound of ' Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' Adieu, I can write no more. A. Skinner.' That the survivor felt the separation deeply and long, is sufficiently evident from his care- ful preservation, through a busy life, of these early records, but it must have been certainly, at all times, with the alleviating thought that his friendship had not been ' of this world.' Well were it, indeed, for youthful intimacies, if they were oftener thus hallowed. Of one thus mourned over, it is pleasing to find that he merited the grief, and that less partial pens have, with equal warmth, re- corded his virtues. In the Calliopean Society, in New-York, of which he was a member, a eulogium was delivered on him by one of a talented family, William, the elder brother of Washington Irving. In it he describes him as ' the young, the amiable, and the accom- plished.' The conclusion of the address shows how deeply such events speak, even to youth- ful hearts, and almost reconciles the mind to the wisdom of such dark and painful provi- BISHOP II B A R T. 101 deuces. ' Since so frequent,' says he, ' and so severe are our losses — since friend after friend is dropping into the grave, let us cement our little circle still stronger by increasing the ties of alfection ; let us, while we cherish their remembrance, emulate their virtues. So shall we again meet, after having performed our part on this stage of probation, in a better world, where neither disease nor death shall come to disunite us, but eternity itself shall immortalize our union.' A ' monody ' on his death, recited in the same society, evinced alike their attachment and admiration ; and a note from a living pen, in reference to the present work, shows that he is not yet forgotten by its few surviving members. It concludes in these words : ' I can bear ample testimony to the character given of Skinner, and freely add that his w^armth of friendship was equalled only by his love of literature, and his ardent desire to acquire knowledge.' * In the New- York Magazine of the same year, his virtues v/ere still more publicly recorded : ' His genius, virtue, and goodness of heart, enhanced by the amiable frankness of his disposition, endeared him to a numerous circle of friends ; these qualities, added to an affectionate discharge of ♦ James Swords, Esq., New- York. 102 M E M O I R O F the filial and fraternal duties, made his loss extensively lamented, and must have deeply embittered the pang that tore him so suddenly from the arms of a family w^hose fairest hopes were fixed on him.' — (Vol. vi. p. 568.) CHAPTER V. Intimacy with young Forsyth — Letters — Death — Younger Brother — Intimacy with Grant, Scott, &c. — Letters. Although the one just recorded was the earliest, and perhaps the warmest of young Hobart's intimacies, it was not the only one. One more was destined to an early dissolution — two others continued through life to cheer, and sometimes to agitate, a bosom feelingly alive to all the tenderest emotions of our nature. The first alluded to was with a youth, whose name thus appears, for the first time, in a letter to his friend Skinner. ' Princeton, August 2bth, 1794. I wish you here, particularly to know a sweet boy, for whom I indeed feel a great affection. I want you to love him too. His name is Forsyth. His father was marshal for the district of Georgia, and was shot dead, while in the execution of his office, by one Beverley Allen. Perhaps you may have read the cir- X BISHOP HOB ART. 103 cumstances of his death in the papers last winter. He is about fourteen. Poor fellow, his sensibility is very great. We were walking together last Saturday, Avhen the circumstances of his father's death, and the situa- tion of his family, rushed so forcibly on his mind, that he cried till I almost thought he would break his heart. You may be sure such an instance of sensibility attached me to him. I have often talked to him of you, and he said to me the other day, ' You must let Skinner know I am here.' This was said Avith so much simplicity, it struck me very much. He seems to love you, merely from Avhat he has heard of you. It gives me great satisfaction to think, that by my residence in college I may be the means of benefiting him in his studies. He is a little thoughtless, but desirous in the extreme of doing Avhat is right ; and I have no doubt but that if Providence should please to bless his own exertions and mine for him, he will come out of college with as high honors as any in his class. This would be a desirable event, for his widowed mother and a younger brother depend greatly upon him for their future comfort and happiness in life. Though young, he is nearly as tall as I am ; his person not very handsome, but his countenance beams simplicity, inno- cence, and sweetness. In this respect it is an index to his mind, Avhich is in the highest degree amiable and affectionate. Manly in his deportment, and pleasing in his manners, he is admirably calculated to excite esteem. His judgment astonishingly mature, and his genius quick and lively, — alive to every tender feeling, and particularly to the emotions of friendship, is he not worthy of our love ? Yes, I love him for his own worth, and for his resemblance to my friend. What reason 101 MEMOIR OF have I not for gratitude to God for liis kindness, in thus giving me the first of earthly blessings, the sweets of friendship. Yours ever,' J. H. HoBART.' After near three years' companionship had confirmed this hasty attachment into what better deserved the name of friendship, he too was taken from him. After a short residence at Princeton as a graduate, young Forsyth returned to Georgia, his native State, entering upon the study of the law with the fairest prospects, but survived his return only a few months. The following letters are taken from a small package, care- fully arranged, and endorsed by young Hobart : tbey date from the beginning of their intimacy, when one was in his eighteenth, and the other in his fourteenth year. Though the letters of Forsyth alone remain, they sufficiently indicate the subject and tone of those from his friend, to which they are answers ; and, indeed, like reflected light, perhaps best set forth his character, by showing the influence it exer- cised. It was at any rate a friendship which seems to have been blessed by Providence as the means of fitting for an early fate this amiable young man, whose thoughtless errors. B I S H O P II O B A Pc T. 105 and skeptical opinions, seem gradually to have given way before the firmness and piety of his truly Christian friend. ' Princeton, November 5th, 1794. My dearest John, I received your letter of the 3d instant, which was, as usual, full of affection. My dear Hobart, your advice is that of a friend, and as such your Robert will observe it. I would now commence, as you advise, Knox's Essays, but that Fitzgerald has taken the keys of the library to Philadelphia, so that I can neither get that nor the old minutes. I am now reading Rollin's Taste of Solid Glory, (the session does not begin till Monday,) and have worked some of the Algebra. Scott has not come yet ; I wrote him by post twice, and have not heard from him ; I cannot conceive Avhat he is after. In all your letters, my dear friend, appear those sentiments you have ever expressed for your Robert, and Avhich have afforded me the greatest plea- sure : the unreservedness with which I can unfold my heart and pour out my thoughts to the best of friends, is a blessing very few enjoy, and which I return God thanks for giving me. I entreat you, my Hobart, to forgive me for acting in so foolish a manner, and with so little reflection, as calling in question the affection of one who cannot avoid loving one who loves him as I do ; it was entirely owing to my acting without thought, and I know you will excuse me. I will indeed, henceforward, impute to your affectionate wishes for my improvement in virtue, every thing you say, and beg that the fear of hurting me will not stop you from delivering your sentiments with that freedom with 5* 106 M E M O I R F which your conduct has always been marked ; and be assured, I will impute it to no other cause. O my Hobart, in what a condition, wretched and helpless, was I when I first saw you : when I reflect upon it, I cannot help praising God for at least calling me, through you, from destruction, I trust, to salvation. Yes, my dearest friend, my heart swells with love and gratitude to you for it ^ but it was God directed you, and to him should my gratitude be turned. Adieu ; may God bless you, my dear Hobart. Robert M. Forsyth.' Since the name of Dr. Minto has been already mentioned in this memoir as one of the professors at this period in the college, the following characteristic picture may not be uninteresting : it is extracted from a subsequent letter of young Forsyth. ' When I was at Dr. Minto's he gave me this very good advice, — to attend to my busi- ness — that I might depend upon it, a young man is never in so important a station as when at college — if his character should be lost or impaired then, it would be a wonder if he ever regained it — that for his part, he would not give a pinch of snuff for a person who had not the fear of God before his eyes — that he was extremely sorry to hear there were some students in college who professed themselves infidels ; sometimes he thought them con- BISHOP HOB ART. 107 temptible, and at others, objects of pity — that he hoped I would do well, and had not a doubt, from my conduct heretofore, that I would — that I must consider study as the only method to be serviceable to myself, or others ; and finally, that he thought a person must be wretched who did not serve other people.' / ' ' .Vei^ - York, April 23, 1795. My dearest John, I know not how to address you. I am very sensi- ble of my folly in coming on here ; but Mr. J. per- suaded me a little after we left Princeton, and I pro- mised to come, without once reflecting on the folly and imprudence of such a thing. I pray you make allow- ances for me, and don't be angry with me, and write to me, my devoted friend. I would have written to you before, but I could not get ink at one time, and at another paper, and therefore I hope you will forgive me. The more I reflect on my conduct, the more I repent of my folly. Manifest, then, your love to me, and be not offended. Do, my John, act now as if I had consulted you about coming, and had taken leave of you as I should have done. I shall write you every day while I stay, which will be but a very short time, as I shall return as soon as decency will permit. With that aflection which always has and always will warm my breast, I remain your own Robert.' From the following it would seem, that before his return Mr. H. had quitted Princeton, on a visit to Philadelphia, during the short vacation. 108 M E M O I R O F ' Princeton. May blh, 1795. My dear John's affectionate letter was reaeived with much pleasure, and restored to his Robert's breast much happiness. I went to church to-day, and heard a very excellent discourse, which concluded with a short bio- graphy of Dr. Witherspoon. Good old Mrs. Knox has got two more boarders; young men from Jamaica, Long-Island. They are acquainted with our Skinner. One of them asked me if I was not a relation of his, I was so much like him. The appointment of president is not yet determined, or rather not yet known. People seem to have no doubt that Dr. Smith will be appointed. I have heard that Dr. Dwight and Mr. WoodhuU are his opponents. I allow certain hours of the day for study, and I suppose study altogether ten hours. I intend, if possible, to continue in my resolution to study. I have got a curtain and keep it drawn. Do not forget to give my love to your mamma and sister, and kiss the children for your affectionate Robert. ' Princeton^ May Qf/i, 1795. My dearest John, Your letters are indeed expressive of the liveliest affection. They constitute a chief part of your Robert's happiness. My own dear friend, you cannot conceive, nor can language express, how much I miss you wherever I go : it is well you are not always to be from me ; I should not enjoy much happiness. Mrs. Knox is very much pleased with her spectacles. You ask me to inform you more particularly about the young men from Jamaica ; their names are Knight and King ; they are pious good young men. The students are returning fast. Session will commence on Monday, when I am to B I S H P II OB ART. 109 enter on a new regulation with regard to study, and am determined to hold, if possible, the first standing in the class. Scott, I expect, will be here on Monday; I asked Mr. Russell to bring him with him. Your advice, my dearest John, is sweet to me ; it comes from your heart ; continue it then ; I receive pleasure, happiness, and joy from it ; I will attend to it, and by the assistance of God, will endeavor to practise every virtue. Farewell ! my dearest John ; may God protect you ; may he pro- tect us both, and preserve our friendship pure and lasting. Robert.' * Princeton, May 14f/i, 1795. My dearest John, The affection your letters convey endear you strongly to me ; but permit me to say, I do not deserve the half nor the third of what you give me. But be assured, dear John, that I am convinced of the value of time, and that I do and will employ it as well as I can. I attend prayers as usual, and find very little difiiculty in rising in the morning. Caldwell read a sermon yes- terday in church, and in the evening at society I read that of Sharpe " on repentance and a better life." I am very much pleased with him. He must have been a pious good man, and one that had the good of mankind greatly at heart. I have read him with much pleasure and attention. But I have much to answer for at the bar of God, more than I am able to bear. A Saviour offers assistance: O that God would enable me to accept ; that he would change my heart, and receive it to himself. I will pray for pardon from him — I will endeavor by my future conduct to promote his honor and glory, and the happiness of my own soul. Your instructions, my dear John, are such as merit strict no MEMOIR OF attention, and by the assistance of God I will endeavor to put them in practice. Continue them, my dear friend, they strengthen me in my desire to follow the path of righteousness. Scott has returned. You had better write him. On Monday evening last the college was illuminated, and the cannon fired, as a testimony of the pleasure the stu- dents received from the appointment of Dr. Smith, who delivered them his thanks the evening following in the hall, with an exhortation to study and improve their time. I have got to the bottom of my paper too soon. I wished to say much more, but shall not forget to sign myself your most devoted friend, R. M. Forsyth.' 'Princeton, September 8th, 1795. My dearest Friend, Your affectionate letter of yesterday reached me in the usual time. It was, as all your letters, clothed in language which conveyed to me the sentiments of your heart. My dearest friend, your advice is admirable. Let us, as you say, look up to God as our father and our friend, and receive the consolations which religion pours in. It is that alone which can render us happy, 6oth here and hereafter. Were we to depend on the happiness afforded us in this life, we should be continu- ally suffering disappointments and afflictions. But when resigned to the dispensations of Providence, when we have a just sense of his goodness, and all-seeing eye, all the anxieties and cares of this world may be wiped away. We will then be enabled to bear up under every affliction, and to account the greatest misfortunes as the order of Providence, and essential to our own good. By these means, if ever deprived of any beloved object, by BI SHO P HOB ART. Ill reflecting who gave us all things, we will be content and patiently submit. Tell me whether you are of opinion I ought to com- pete, and what on. I practise your advice with regard to my speech, and will propose to the other members to meet and speak our pieces to each other frequently. The Society passed an order last evening for a new carpet, and Cantine was directed to write, send the money, and leave the choice to you. The Society expect it will be made up for the meeting of the gradu- ates at Commencement, and you must therefore have it here time enough for that purpose. I am happy to hear that you have the offer of the tutorship, and I hope you will accept of it, as enabling you to get an accurate knowledge of the languages, which you wish, and also have it in your power to inspect, more particularly, your Robert's conduct, and assist him to amend it. Write me often, my dear John ; your letters afford me inexpressible satisfaction. Con- tinue that advice which is so good and so parental. My dear Hobart, you are a kind and valuable friend ; few are there so blessed as I am in respect to friend- ship.* I am very much concerned about my oration. Mamma's business has unavoidably delayed me. I depend upon you, my John, for a speech. If you cannot get Mr. Abeel's, you must write me one. It will be giving you a great deal of trouble, but I know ♦ The conclusion of this letter, though opening up somewhat of college secrets, is yet so much to the point of young Hobart's character, that it may not be omitted. Besides, these things are no doubt better ordered now among the students of Nassau Hall.— Ed. 112 MEMOI R OF it will be readily undergone to ease your Robert of a very heavy burden. If you have not time to write one, get some good speech for me, and write the addresses. Perhaps the one " on the Discovery of America," will be as good a one as we can get. I must now conclude, with entreating my Hobart to take care of himself, and in so doing to take care of me. In every situation, whether adverse or fortunate, I shall never forget to subscribe myself, what I really am, my Hobart's dearest friend, Robert M. Forsyth.' c The editor is tempted here to add another letter of this amiable young- man, which he found among the papers of one yet dearer to him than the subject of the present biography. It was addressed to one, who at the early age of ten years, had conveyed to him the simple- hearted expression of her pure regards. It is dated but a few weeks previous to his death, and will serve at least to show into what tone of character he was then ripening. Auffusta, April 6th, 1797. My dear young friend's affectionate and acceptable favor was handed me a few days ago. To be thought worthy the esteem of any person, affords me great satisfaction. But when one for whom I feel a greater regard than I can express, honors me with her friend- ship, my heart overflows with the warmest gratitude. Believe me, dear Eliza, your letter excited indescribable sensations ; the image of its author, virtuous, amiable, B 1 S 11 P H O B A R T. 113 and ripening to perfection, darted across my mind, and I anticipated with the greatest pleasure the time when she would be enjoying the rich harvest of her early labors. Happy indeed was I to hear that you were improving yourself assiduously. Continue to do so, and you will always command the esteem and admiration of every good and virtuous mind. The affectionate advice of your estimable mother renders all other superfluous. But in all your engage- ments, dear Eliza, forget not the great Author of your being. Then will you enjoy in this life uninterrupted pleasure, and in the world to come everlasting joy. The agreeable evenings I spent with you and your cousin Edmund, will always be remembered by me with delight. My attention to you is not entitled to any of your gratitude, for I can assure you I was more than rewarded by the pleasure I received. Be so kind as to remember me with affection to your mother, and accept for yourself the sincere and lasting esteem of your affectionate friend, Robert M. Forsyth.' The following letters were called forth by the news of his death shortly after. ' Princeton, August 24th, 1797. John Y. Noel, Esq., Savannah. Sir, — Will you pardon the liberty a stranger takes in forcing himself upon your notice, and requesting a favor from you. The close friendship I formed at this place with the deceased R. M. Forsyth, deeply interests me in whatever relates to him. From the great distress 114 MEMOIR OF of his family at Augusta, ihe letters as yet received from thence contain no particulars of his last illness and death. In his correspondence with me, he informed me that he studied law in your office, and resided in your family, I am led to conclude, therefore, that you were the witness of his illness, and last moments. You will much alleviate the sorrow of afflicted friendship, if you will communicate to me particular information of his last sickness and death, and whatever else you may think interesting. The sensibility I feel relative to the most minute circumstances relating to him, must be my apology for requesting you to undertake this melancholy office. My knowledge of the kindness you have uniformly shown him, induces me to rely on the goodness of your heart for a compliance with my request, and be assured that it will be considered as a favor which will increase the respect and regard I shall cherish for the kind patron of my deceased friend. I am, Sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant, John H. Hobart.' ' Princeton, August 18th, 1797. My dear sister has no doubt seen from the paper, that her brother is called to another trial. He has again lost the object of a sincere and ardent affection. It seems as if I love with tenderness only to be made miserable by the loss of those I love. But my idols are taken from me. I am taught that this is not my home — that here are not my joys. Oh, if you knew with what tenderness and fidelity I have loved and been loved, however enthusiastic my language might be, you would judge it to be sincere. I have received from those here, who knew my affection for Forsyth, every B I S H P H O B A R T. 115 attention and kindness. If it should please Providence to give me resignation to his will, and to save me from depression of spirits, I feel inclined, with greater zeal than ever, to perform the duties of life, and while I am mindful of the uncertainty of its rational pleasures, to receive and enjoy them with humble thankfulness. Happy indeed should I be, under every loss, however severe, that I have still affectionate relations to whom I owe so much. Your afflicted brother, J. H. HOBART." ' Frankford Hill, August 22d, 1797. You judge well, my dear brother, in assuring yourself of the entire sympathy of my heart in your present afflictive trial. I am sensible that the participation of grief, though soothing to the soul, avails little to lighten the weight of the blow. I need not present to you those motives of consolation which your own well- grounded piety will suggest, nor will it lessen the pangs of a heart like yours, to point out the grief which the unhappy mother of your deceased friend must experi- ence ; the first, when the burst of sorrow has subsided, ■will bring the consolation it never fails to impart, and the other consideration will be a spring of exertion to your own soul, to enable you to offer a support and comfort to hers. And I would entreat you, for the sake of your own dear parent, and those friends who tenderly love you, not to yield to that depression of spirits of which you speak ; exert every faculty of your soul against that cruel languor into which it will sink you — that death to usefulness and active virtue. Alas! even in its happiest state, how many trials does this probationary being present to us, which nothing but an 116 MEMOIR OF early acquired fortitude, the result ol' a rational and well-grounded hope of a better life, can enable us to support. Let this, my dear brother, while it teaches you resignation, temper the fervor and ardency of those affections which, however amiable in themselves, will embitter too much your passing days, unless calmed by the full persuasion that they extend beyond the grave. They were given us by the eternal Author of our being, as sources of enjoyment and not misery, while Ave look for their full fruition only in a more exalted state of existence. Ever your sympathizing sister, R. Smith.' 'Princeton, September Sd, 1797. How shall I thank my dear sister for that affectionate sympathy and consolation which have contributed to restore peace -to my mind. True, indeed, the participa- tion of grief will not remove the heavy load, but the feeling heart that has itself been wounded, can speak with a tenderness that assuages the poignancy of sor- row, and is able to offer those bright hopes which were its own comfort and support. O, my sister, miserable indeed are those whom Heaven has gifted with sensi- bility, if death is to tear from them for ever the objects of their ardent and virtuous affection. If sensibility be not a crime, why should it be made our misery ; and oh, what misery can be greater than that which accom- panies the thought that we have parted for ever from those whom we love as our own souls. If this destiny awaits congenial spirits, whose hopes and enjoyments have here been bound together by mutual affection, enviable must appear to them the lot of the brutes, who BI S H OP II OB ART. 117 live without feeling and without hope. No, God who is love, eternal love, has not meant thus to sport with his creatures. He has given us virtuous feelings to be indulged, and he separates from us the objects of our affection only, that being less bound to this world we may love it less, and aspire more constantly after another, where we look for the full and perfect fruition of every virtuous feeling. How precious in this light is the hope of immortality — to the wounded spirit what a balm does it apply. The resurrection of these frail and corruptible bodies to purity and glory becomes a truth consoling indeed, when we consider that in this perfect state we shall be reunited to those whom we have loved, in an indisso- luble bond. Well might the Apostle in offering this truth to our faith say, " Comfort ye one another with these words." Founded on this basis, my soul is at peace. Calm in the assurance that God is love, and seeks to conduct us by chastisement as well as mercy to his gracious favor and to an eternal rest, the gloomy prospect of life brightens for me, and even the dark valley of the shadow of death is enlivened by hope. It has not been indeed without many doubts, and much anxiety, that my mind has become settled. I have been fearful that particular attachments strong as mine, were inconsistent with a sincere love to God, and therefore wrong; at the same time I felt they were deeply seated in my breast, and that my happiness was connected with their indulgence. But is not this an erroneous view of the perfections of God? Infinite in love and goodness, he has made us to be happy, and whatever contributes really to our happiness must be pleasing to him. The virtue, tenderness, and goodness 118 , MEMOIR OF which excite sincere friendship, are his image in the soul, and therefore to love the creature is to love the adorable Creator. It is only a false love for the world, its honors and pleasures — it is only such an attachment to the creature as corrupts, instead of cherishing our virtuous feelings, that his holy law condemns. Or when virtuous affection fixes too fondly on its object, where it becomes so immoderate as to destroy our peace, or to make this life a place of rcAvard instead of proba- tion, and induces us to say with the disciples, "It is good for us to be here ; " then a gracious Parent pities the weakness of his children ; then by his merciful cor- rection he leads them back to duty, and reminds them that they are to " live by faith ; " faith in his goodness ' and wisdom, faith in his power and truth, who has promised a blessed and eternal inheritance beyond the grave. Yes, I feel that such views exalt and purify the soul, and fix it more firmly on the Divine faith and love. They bind it to God, thus infinite in goodness ; they endear to it the gracious Redeemer, who by his suffer- ings and death has purchased for us eternal life, and opened the prospect of that full perfection of being which alone sheds consolation on this vale of tears. O if I could always have these bright views, how could I enjoy the world, and yet live above it; with what resignation and cheerfulness would I pass through my pilgrimage, be it long or short ! My dear sister, your affectionate brother, J. H. HoBART.' Whatever may be thought of the romantic fervor of this attachment, none can deny that it called forth emotions in the heart of the B I S HOP H O B ART. 119 survivor, that made it to him a noble and pure discipline ; nor would it be easy to find either in old or young, such emotions expressed with more truth and beauty. Two further letters remain to complete this interesting but painful picture ; they are from the widowed and all but childless mother. * Augusta, August '^JOth, 1797. It is to the beloved friend of my dear departed Robert that I now address myself It is in answer to an affec- tionate and consoling letter, dated September 25thj and also to apologize for not replying to one of a former date, which was received with a melancholy but affectionate satisfaction. Your known goodness and sympathy of heart will, I know, excuse me for this omission, when I assure you it was from a desire of saving you pain as well as myself It is not for me to judge what is right in the sight of our heavenly Father, and I do not pretend to say but that I have suffered and still feel my loss, as an affec- tionate mother and frail mortal. But so far as my strength of faith is that he is happy, and that through the sufferings of our dear Redeemer we shall be made pure and fit for immortal bliss, and in God's good time be called to join his happy spirit, I am comforted and supported. That he has paid the debt of nature we must all discharge, before we can be admitted into the presence of a good and gracious God, and that at no time he would have been better able to give an account of the talents committed to his care than at the hour it was God's blessed will to call him, and that I know and 120 MEMOIR OF believe he had acted his part as a true believer ; — when I think on all this, I am almost ready to cry out with acclamations of joy, thanksgiving, and praise to the great and glorious Lord of all, that he has been pleased to take him to himself. When I consider the change for his good, I am perfectly resigned ; and I wait with anxious solicitude God's appointed time, when I shall be permitted to join the happy spirits of my dear departed friends. Do not, my dear Hobart, believe that I would do any thing or omit a duty toward preserving a life that I consider as the gift of our heavenly Father ; no, believe me, it is foreign from the idea I have of submission to the decrees of the Supreme Ruler of the universe. My life is preserved for somewise purpose, I have no doubt, and when that purpose is fulfilled, I shall, I trust, be made a fit partaker of the heavenly feast. Oh how happy, how superlatively happy, I shall be ; and that you, my good and amiable Hobart, be permitted a seat in God's most holy and happy abode, to join in hymns of praise to his glory, honor, and majesty, for ever and ever, is the ardent prayer of your departed Robert's affectionate mother. Let me now, my friend, address you on the subject of my surviving and beloved son, my dear Johnny. You tell me he is well, and that he has undergone an excel- lent examination. This to a mother, whose sole hope he is, was very pleasing information ; and although my anxiety to see him surpasses expression, I will, as you request, and as I had myself determined before I got your letter, deny myself the pleasure and happiness of his society for this winter ; but in the ensuing summer, BISHOP HOBART. 121 if I am so permitted by the wise decrees of Almighty- Goodness, I promise myself the favor of his and your society for a short time, for I do not intend to interrupt his studies. Your beloved Robert was born the 2d April, 1780, and departed this life 26th July, 1797: for the particu- lars of his death I must refer you to Mr. Noel ; the revival of it creates in my breast inexpressible sensa- tions, which my duty compels me, if possible, to sup- press. He is gone ; my beloved darling Robert is gone to everlasting peace and rest. Cherish, my Hobart, an affection for his family, and they will, I hope, endeavor to merit it. Mrs. Armstrong, a beloved sister, joins me in affec- tionate wishes for your health and happiness. Please tender my respects to your amiable mamma and sister, and embrace with affection for me little Robert (Smith.) I need not assure you, my Hobart, it will always afford me the highest satisfaction to hear from you. My heart inclines to love you like my Robert. Your sincerely affectionate, Fanny Forsyth.' ^Augusta, January I3th, 1798. Dear Hobart, I often call to mind the evening you were with my beloved Robert in my room at Princeton, and think it was too much happiness for a mortal long to enjoy, to behold a son, who was all a fond mother could wish, embraced by an amiable and beloved friend. O my Hobart, what would such a sight now afford me ! But alas ! vain thought : it is as impossible as the desire is 6 1-22 MEMOIR OF inconsistent with the true principles of a Christian. No, let mc not look for such happiness again in a state of mortality, but rather let me expect from an endless eternity that reward our dear Redeemer has so wonder- fully and bountifully purchased for us. Oh, my friend, the struggles of a mother's heart are not yet subdued. I would not, however, have you think that they proceed from murmuring against the decrees of Providence. No, far from it : it is the struggles of nature for a darling son ; not that depression of grief I have heard some express, but an animated desire to be with him in a state of true happiness. I feel the neces- sity of a humble, patient submission to Almighty great- ness and goodness, and acknowledge whatever He decrees, though not permitted to know from what motive ; yet whatever that decree is, it must be right. Under this impression, and a steadfast hope and trust in God's mercy, I look forward for the glorious reward, through our blessed and suffering Saviour, in the realms of everlasting happiness, there to join the spirits divine in singing hymns of praise to his adored name for ever. Amen. This is the third time I have attempted to write you since the receipt of your last, and this is so blotted that I fear you will not be able to make sense out of it. My spirits are much cheered with the favorable account you give me of my only darling son John : I hope he may continue to give satisfaction, and merit the approbation of the worthy : he is dear to me, doubly so now. You will oblige me by sending a copy of the inscrip- tion you had engraved on the tomb-stone : I shall read it with a melancholy but pleasing satisfaction. Fare- B I S II P H O B A R T. 123 well, my friend ; may you be happy, is the sincere wish of your departed Robert's affectionate mother, Fanny Forsyth.' The monumental inscription here alluded to is not found among the papers of Bishop Hobart ; but the following obituary notice from the same pen is preserved, as published in the New- York ' Minerva.' It is worthy of insertion as a fair specimen of youthful talent, and still more worthy of record as showing that his Christian admonitions had not been fruitless. ' Died, — On the 26th July, at Savannah, in the 18th year of his age, Mr. Robert M. Forsyth, eldest son of the late Major Forsyth, Marshal of the State of Georgia. In this amiable young man were centered, in an eminent degree, those talents and virtues that excite respect and affection. A genius aspiring, correct, and capacious, was united with a heart feeling, affectionate, and benevolent. Deprived, when only fourteen, by a particular act of Providence, of a beloved father, he rose to the trying duties of his situation ; and his most ardent wish was to pour consolation into the bosom of a widowed parent, and to watch witli paternal solicitude over a young and only brother. Under the influence of these motives, he left home soon after the decease of his father, and com- menced his studies at the college at Princeton. Here his youthful mind, opening with delight to instruction, comprehended even the highest and most abstruse prin- 124 M E M O I R O F ciples of science with unusual ease and accuracy. His talent for an eloquence that at once roused and melted the heart, was displayed on many public exhibitions at the college ; but the most lively tribute was paid to its excellence by the tears and sympathy of a numerous audience on his pronouncing the valedictory oration at the last Commencement. Noble and generous in his sentiments, ardent and faithful in his attachments, manly and graceful in his deportment, with a countenance that, speaking the energies of his soul, beamed with intelligence and feeling, he was admired and beloved by all who knew him. His soul was exalted by the exercises and hopes of religion. He embraced the glorious truths of the Gospel with a lively and rational faith, and made them his trust and his joy. Thus in the prospect of discharging the duties of life with zeal and credit, and becoming an ornament to society, he was torn by an untimely death from the bosom of friendship. That Being who placed him in this state of trial, has in infinite wisdom closed his short pilgrimage and received him to a rest eternal in the heavens. J. H. H.' The only other letter that appears from this disconsolate mother, is of a date near two years after. It thus concludes : ' I thank you for the spectacles ; they will be in demand this winter ; my eyes begin to grow too weak to read much at night, but with their assistance I hope to be much edified by the perusal of some pious authors BISHOP HOBART. 125 which I have left me as the legacy of a beloved son. They will be read with the more attention, knowing them to be Avhat he greatly valued. John informs me you have removed from Mr. Smith's : I hope it will be productive of as much happiness to you as the uncertain things of this w^orld will admit ; for real happiness is not to be found on this side the grave, and they are unwise who expect it. Believe me, my dear Hobart, with great sincerity, your affectionate friend, Fanny Forsyth.' It is consolatory to learn that the younger son thus left alone, as he succeeded to the virtues, so also did he to the affections of his brother in the heart of his friend, though dif- ference of age here gave it more of a paternal character. If we may judge, however, from the following, his virtues were not without a tinge of indolence, although for the specific instance he might, doubtless, have pleaded an elder brother's example. ' Princeton, Thursday evening. My dear Hobart, Our friend Mercer when he left this engaged to ask you in my name to write an oration for the night before Commencement. The presence of my dearest mother, and the time I was called from my studies on that account, prevented me from preparing as well as I could wish, and as the examination fast approaches, I would like to have my oration as soon as possible. If you determine to write me one, and if you can pos- sibly make it convenient, I wish you would send it up l-2l> M E M O I R F next week. If you have not time to write one, you will gratify me by writing up immediately, and recom- mending me to one which you think will suit. If it were not my OAvn fault, I would scold you for not writing me often, but as it is owing to my own carelessness I cannot complain. I however promise to write frequently, provided you will set me the example. Nothing, believe me, gives me more pleasure than to read your letters, and the good advice contained in them. You, my dear Hobart, know my disposition, and must therefore make allowance for my carelessness. Adieu, my dear Hobart, I shall expect to see you here this Commencement. Your affectionate John Forsyth. But although the writer on this occasion forgot his Commencement speech, he never forgot his early friend. Years after, amid the turmoil of public life, the Hon. John Forsyth thus writes from Washington in answer to a letter of Bishop Hobart's : ' It is now, I believe, near ten years since I heard from you, although during that period I have been fortunate enough to hear much of you. The sight of your hand-writing excited in me a variety of emotions, among the strongest of which was gratitude for the kindness I had received from you in early life.' Of another early friend, who had in some degree supplied to young Hobart his brother's loss, the same letter gives ft BISHOP H O B A R T. 127 this spirited picture : * I saw Mercer on my way to the city of Washington ; he is in excel- lent health and spirits, full of hfe, and hope, and generous ambition.' ' CHAPTER VI. Family Letters — Sickness — Eiarly Friends — Robertson — Grant — Scott. But it is due to young Hohart, by the inser- tion of some other parts of his youthful corres- pondence, to show that no romantic friendship made him forgetful of nearer objects of affec- tion, and the more serious duties of life. They carry back the reader, however, to a some- what earlier date, and will bring again before him the painful story of severed friendship. ' Frankfort, 10th July, 1794. My dear John will be pleased to hear we are all well here. I always thought this a delightful place, but find it beyond comparison more agreeable than ever. Mr. Smith seems happy to see every one pleased, and I am sure I liave every reason to be satisfied with my situation. It gives me much pleasure to find you also are so agreeably situated with regard to your studies, but wish you in your attention to them to have regard to your health, by using proper exercise and relaxation, and not to deny yourself any reasonable and necessary refreshment that may be convenient. 123 MEMOIROF I have no doubt of your economy, or the prudence of \ro\ix conduct in every respect, and shall, therefore, with willingness for what depends on me, exert myself to contribute as far as in my power to your improvement. The children grow charmingly ; little Anna particularly is very sweet and lovely — sweeter than you can con- ceive. Robert would be so too if he would let one love him. Mr. S. and your sister join in love to you, with, my dear John, Your affectionate mother, ^ H. HOBART.' The call upon the militia to march against the western insurgents in what was then fami- liarly known as the whiskey rebellion, became soon after this a new source of anxiety to his mother. Her son-in-law had actually gone forth, her eldest son was called upon, and she feared for her youngest, the ' Benjamin ' of her declining age. ' Philadelphia, I5th September, 1794. My mind is so agitated that I can scarce compose myself enough to write a line to my dear John, to tell you I want greatly to hear from you. I expect you are much engaged, and therefore would not wish you to take more time than for a few lines to inform me how you are, and whether there is any danger of you or any of the students of the college at Princeton being called out on military duty. Our city at this time seems to me to exhibit entirely a scene of confusion ; the noise of drums and fifes almost incessantly sounding in one's BISHOP HOBART. 129 ears, and the numbers in military array continually passing in every direction, excite in me no very pleas- ing reflections. Mr. Smith goes out to the camp with the horse on Wednesday. Your sister has been much distressed ; but Mr. S. encourages her to hope that they will not have to go far, but that the insurgents will submit Avhen they find a force coming against them. This hope at present keeps up her spirits in a degree, but I fear it will prove a fallacious opinion. I am entirely uncertain whether your brother goes or not ; when he was with us at Frankfort, he said he would not go. I am so terrified when I think he may be persuaded to think he ought or may be obliged to go, that I dare not allow myself to dwell on the idea. With respect to you, my dear John, I hope I need not be ap- prehensive that you will be called on. You maybe sure nothing could induce me to let you go. Let me know if there is any reason to be uneasy. Your afiectionate, Hannah Hobart.' ' Princeton, September Qlth, 1794. I have been very uneasy, my dear Mamma, at not being able to write you sooner, but the business and hurry of Commencement has prevented me. I wish you would try and ease yourself of the anxiety you feel, and that both you and sister would try and keep up your spirits. It is indeed unfortunate that it became neces- sary for Mr. Smith to leave his family and business; but as it is, so it is certainly our duty to submit. I have no idea there will be any bloodshed. As soon as the insurgents find there is a respectable force collected against them they Avill disperse. My dear Mamma 6 » 130 M E M O I R O F need not be under the least apprehensions on my ac- count. The quota of militia required from this State is very small, not above 2000; it will be completed with- out difficulty, chiefly by volunteers ; and even if there were any difficulty, there is no danger of my being called out, as I am not enrolled on the militia of this State. Your apprehensions about the fever I would also hope will prove unfounded. We know how many false rumors are always circulating, and when this is the case, v/e think much of appearances which at other times would not be taken notice of. It seems improba- ble the fever should break out at this late season, when the warm weather is entirely past ; and even if it should, such precautions would be used as would prevent its spreading : it would also be more under the power of medicine. The cases you mention were probably the common fall fever, which the fears of people have mag- nified into a contagious one. If, however, there lu danger, I trust my dear Mamma will be as careful of herself as she is of me. You seem, on the contrary, anxious for me, but indifferent about yourself. It gives me great satisfaction to hear you are well, and I hope that while you are solicitous to keep me out of danger, you will, if there is any, avoid it yourself. I feel much for dear sister ; she must be very uneasy at the absence of Mr. Smith. I have not the least doubt, however, but what the troops will return safely in the course of a very short time. I shall not misspend my time here. Indeed, it has passed very agreeably, independent of the improvement I may have derived. I feel the greatest attachment for a sweet youth liere, Forsyth from Georgia. His pre- B I S H P H OB ART. 131 sence makes amends for the absence of Skinner, whom I have not seen, as I expected, at the Commencement. My attachments are few, but they are very warm, and I often think I should be thankful that I enjoy as I do in the highest degree the pleasures of friendship. When my dear Mamma sees and knows my two friends she will not wonder that I love them. Give a great deal of love to sister. Kiss the dear children for me. I long to see the saucy Robert, and the sweet little Anna. You must be with sister as much as possible. With much affection, yours, &c. John H. Hobart.' ' Princeton. I have not written for this some time to my dear Mamma, but do not think of her the less often. Indeed, my happiness and means of improvement here continu- ally remind me of you ; for to you I am indebted for them all. I am not in immediate want of money, but whenever you can make it convenient to s^nd me some, it will be acceptable ; but I beg you will not put your- self to any inconvenience to do it. I should wish to pay Mrs. Knox as much as possible in advance. I feel my- self under the greatest obligations to her. She treats me with the affectionate tenderness of a parent, and does every thing in her power that can tend to my con- venience or comfort. She is considerably advanced in life, and from poor circumstances obliged to work very hard for her living. The students being all obliged to board in college, she has not a prospect of making out well. I wish it were in my power to make her situation every way easy and comfortable, and I know my dear Mamma will join me in this wish. 132' MEMOIROF I have been thinking whether it would not be best for me to learn French this winter. I have more time now than I shall probably have at any future period. I wish you would let me know what you think best on this subject. Forsyth sends his love. My dear Mamma is not deceived in his amiable disposition, and I receive daily the strongest proofs of his affection. Expecting to hear from you soon, I am your sincerely affectionate, John H. Hobart.' As the next letter that appears in answer says nothing further of military dangers, it may be presumed the mother's fears were quieted on that score. His health, however, was still a subject of restless inquiry. ' Philadelphia, 22d December, 1794. Your two letters, my dear John, were very accept- able, and it gives me great pleasure to find your situation so agreeable, with a prospect also of its being so advantageous with respect to your improvement. I miss you exceedingly, but the reflection and the hope that you will profit by it reconciles me to the separation ; and you may be assured I am much more happy with such prospects in view, than I should be if you were with me, and without them. But, my dear John, mental advantages are not all that are to be considered, you should also have regard to your health, for without health there can be no enjoyment. Do not neglect to pay proper attention to that, and spare nothing that will contribute to preserve it ; and if any thing should at any time ail you, do not neglect to attend to it in time. BISHOP HOBART. 133 It certainly would be my wish to have you with me if your improvement would be promoted by it ; but when that cannot be, I must and do endeavor to reconcile myself to the separation with cheerfulness, and I am the better enabled to do this, when I remember that you have, in addition to the other advantages of your situa- tion, the (I may say) maternal care and kindness of the worthy Mrs. Knox : indeed I feel great regard for her on account of her attention to you, and wish with you that her situation was more suited to her merits. As I would, in every instance, do all I can to promote my dear John's advantage, I have no objection to your learning French, if it will not interfere with your other studies ; but will it not interrupt and divide your atten- tion, or oppress your mind by having too much to attend to ? I mention this as what occurred to me. On considering it you will be better able to judge than I am ; and if you conclude it best to engage in it now, and the teacher is a good one, you have my consent. Remember me to your friend Forsyth. I feel attached to him for his affection to you, as well as for his amiable disposition and goodness of heart. You may be assured, my dear John, you have con- tinually the best wish and prayers of your affectionate mother, H. HoBART.' ' Tuesday, 24th March, 1795. I wished to have written to you, my dear John, immediately on the receipt of your last, enclosing the five dollar note. I am sorry you sent it, because though you might do without it then I know you cannot long, and I now return it to you. I wished to have added to 131 M E M O I R O F it, but cannot spare any now ; don't be uneasy about it, for I am not without. I have an entire confidence in my dear John's assurances of frugality and economy^ but do not wish you to deny yourself any thing that is necessary for your comfort or convenience. The sentiments of affectionate gratitude and duty contained in your letter could not but afford me much pleasure. My dear children's happiness has always been my first wish, and to know that they merit and enjoy happiness my highest gratification. I flatter myself, my dear John, that the advantages you have in your present situation will contribute much to pro- mote yours, and to continue them to you nothing in my power shall be wanting, you may be assured. You have not told me lately how your health is ; do let me know candidly : I hope in your attention to your studies, you have a regard to that ; as in my opinion it is one of our first duties ^to endeavor to preserve health. I think you have got a habit of stooping, par- ticularly when reading or writing. I would wish you to avoid it as much as you can ; any posture that occasions a pressure on the breast must be hurtful. That you may be preserved from every danger, is the prayer of, my dear John, your affectionate mother, H. HOBART.' The following letter would indicate that he had quitted the college as a resident graduate, and returned home previous to its date : ' Princeton, September bth, 1795. Friend Hobart, Perhaps you have been made aware that Mr. English has for some time entertained thought of re- B I S H P H B A R T. 135 signing the office he at present hold?. He has declared his intention to this effect to Dr. Smith. Dr. S. has requested me to write to you, to know whether you would be willing to occupy his place. If so, an inti- mation of it as soon as possible Avill give him satisfac- tion. You are as well acquainted with the situation and the business, as you could be from having been only an observer. The advantages of it are by no means small, and you know my thoughts as to its inconveniences. In short, feelings are often concerned, but sooner or later this must be the case in life ; and when we begin early to deal with others, we have the advantage of a gradual experience in coming into the world. But I need not tell you all this. Yours, &c. ) Joseph Caldwell.'* ' Philadelphia, 12th October, 1795. I have received my dear John's letter of the 5th instant, but have been so engaged as not to have it in my power to answer it until now. When with me at Frankfort, you seemed so certain it would be a great advantage to you in your studies to be in the office which Mr. E. then proposed to resign, that I was per- fectly satisfied you should accept of it ; but as he now wishes to retain it, you cannot do otherwise, with pro- priety, than relinquish your intentions of accepting it. It will, to be sure, disappoint some of the plans you had laid down ; but I hope it will not be necessary on that account to give up your residence at Princeton. My dear John may be assured that nothing which * Now President of the University of North-Carolina, at Chapel HUl. 136 M E M O I R O F depends upon me shall be withheld that may contribute to promote his improvement, as I shall, if necessary, submit to any temporary inconvenience myself, to insure a permanent advantage to you. I therefore wish you to be perfectly easy, and that you should adopt and pursue that plan which you feel convinced will most promote your happiness and advantage. Your desire, my dear John, to be with me, cannot be stronger than mine to have you, if it could be equally advantageous to you ; but the consideration that it cannot, has influenced me to the separation ; but I look forward with hope that the time is approaching, though at a distance, when I shall be happy in your company, without the necessity of another separation. Providence, I trust, will provide for you, and indulge my anxious wishes to see my beloved child comfortably settled, where I can witness his happiness. ***** [What follows relates to the death of young Skinner, intelligence of which, it would seem, his letter had communicated.] I have much satisfaction, indeed, my dear John, in finding that your mind is in such a composed frame. Your distress has been great, I know, and I have felt much for you ; but it is a comfort to me to find you are now so resigned, and I hope you will more and more experience the goodness of your heavenly Father in all his dispensations, and be enabled cheerfully to submit to his will. I shall be pleased to see the letters you mention when you have an opportunity. In answer to your proposal of a visit to the family of your late friend at New- York, I doubt not they will be much pleased to see you, and I am convinced it will BISHOP HOBART. 137 give you great satisfaction to make the visit. I cannot, therefore, be unwilling you should take the journey, but would wish you to do it before the season is much far- ther advanced. It is a long way to travel in cold or bad weather, and so much water to pass, which I believe is frequently dangerous, that I shall be relieved from some anxiety when I know you are safe over it. You will inform me when you propose to go, and when you return. You have the best wishes and tenderest aflfec- tion of yours, H. HoBART. N. B. I do not forget your friend Forsyth, though I do not always mention him ; tell him so.' In the course of this winter he seems to have accepted, though amid many doubts, of the situation of college tutor. From the cheerful tone of the following letter, we may judge that he had made a right decision : the ability to proffer aid to a mother who had straitened her own for his comforts, proving, to such a spirit as his, a sufficient reward for many labors. ' Princeton, March I2th, 1796. I am as anxious to hear from my dear Mamma as I suppose you are from me. It is some time since I have written, as my engagements for these two weeks past have been considerably increased. Dr. Minto, the pro- fessor of mathematics, has been unwell all winter ; his duly hitherto has been performed by Mr. Caldwell, but has now devolved upon me. I have thus two classes 138 M E M I R O F to attena, one of which is studying the mathematics, so that you see I am quite the man of business. My col- lege duties take up at present nearly the whole of my time, but they are all highly necessary and improving. I should wish to attend to them, and perhaps the pre- sent is the most proper time for that purpose. In the course of the summer I hope to have made such profi- ciency in them as to be able to attend more immediately to divinity, though there is no part of my duty which is not improving, and no knowledge derived from it which I would not wish to gain. How glad I am I did not yield to the solicitations of old Dr. Smith,* and engage in his place. I should then have lost means of improve- ment which T should never have thought of without pain. This place has been, to use a common phrase, the mak- ing of me ; I mean, whatever knowledge or ideas of improvement I now have, I have got here, and I have no fear that my opportunities of improvement will diminish. I enjoy my health perfectly, and take more exercise than I did in the former part of the winter. I am in no want of money ; I have received some from the trea- surer. If Job Hughes has not paid you, and you are in want of money, let me know and I will send you some. I have not time to add more, but to send my love to all friends, and to offer my sincere prayers for the health and happiness of my dear Mamma. Your affectionate John H. Hobart.' ' Princeton, May 2, 1796. My dear Mamma will be pleased to hear of my safe arrival. My journey was tolerably pleasant, not so ♦ The Rev. Dr, Smith, of Philadelphia. B I S H O P H B ART. 139 much so as it would have been with warmer weather. I found every thing in my trunk in good order. The gingerbread was very acceptable in itself, but doubly so as a proof of your solicitude for me even in trifles. I wish I could give some stronger expression of my feelings, when I reflect on your tender and constant anxiety for me, than mere Avords. But I trust Providence will give you that reward which I cannot. I found my room-mates in good health, and pleased to see me. It gratifies me to receive from all with whom I am here connected, proofs of their esteem for me, and from some of more than esteem. I know no greater happiness than that of being beloved, especially by those who are the objects of one's affection ; and here in the college, where the selfish principles of the world are, I may say, unknown, there is nothing to control the feel- ings of sincere affection. I am hardly yet fixed to study ; to-morrow I expect to begin in earnest, and to enjoy my usual happiness when thus engaged ; and when my dear Mamma knows that I am happy, I hope she will be so too. That this may always be the case, is the prayer of her sincerely affectionate son, John H. Hobart.' ' May 3d, 1796, Tuesday. I had just sat down to write to you, my dear John, when I received your welcome letter. It gives me much pleasure to hear you got safe up, and were so affection- ately received by your friends and companions ; and you maybe assured the sentiments of gratitude and affection to me expressed in your letter are exceedingly gratifying, as I know they are sincere. To have my children's affection^ and to be certain they deserve mine, and are 140 M E M O I R F happy, affords me the highest enjoyment when sepa- rated from them. That you, my dear John, may continue to experience the peculiar favor of a kind Providence, (and I know you will not be unthankful for it,) is the sincere prayer of your ever affectionate mother, H. HOBART.' The warm attachment of his associates here alluded to appears in a joint letter about this date from two of his friends. Burnet, the one who concludes it, says, * Your good friend, whose hand you will here recognise with plea- sure, has just left me. While here, he acci- dentally saw your little trunk in one corner of the room, and actually manifested as much joy at the sight of it as if it had been an old friend.' The following letter is from young Robert- son, the same from whose pen a sketch has already been given. ' Philadelphia, April 1th, 1796. My dear John, It was with much pleasure I received your letter yesterday, after so long a silence. I have been expect- ing one for some time, and I need not tell you how much it would have gratified me, but I have felt con- fident it was to your engagements only I owed my disappointment. It was to be expected that your present station would require much of your attention, and proper that it BIS^HOP HOBART. 141 should ; but when by it, together with your own studies, your whole time is engrossed, it cannot be very agreeable, and to be obliged in some degree to neglect your friends not the least unpleasant circumstance with which it is attended. I sincerely wish some alteration may take place, not only because I may then expect to be favored oftener with your letters, but because I think it would be more for your happiness. I have often intended writing since I last saw you, and I know you will believe me when I say it was not your silence that prevented me. The debates in Congress have lately been very inter- esting. While the eloquence and abilities displayed on this occasion reflect, as you observe, honor on the minority, the late decision is little to the credit of the House. There has not been a subject* before Congress since the establishment of the government, in which one party has had so decidedly the advantage ; but with men who had made up their minds to resist conviction, it would be vain to expect that reasoning, however irresistible, would have any effect. No doubt a number of the majority gave their vote from a mistaken judg- ment ; but it is no breach of charity to say that a Baldwin and a Madison have not that apology. The conduct of the President on this as former occa sions, must meet the approbation of every good man, and shows clearly that nothing but the dictates of con- science influence him. His message was yesterday taken into consideration, and the business begun by a lengthy speech from Mr. Madison, the substance of which was, " the reasons assigned by the President for • Mr. Jay's treaty with Great Britain. 11-3 M E M I R F refusing the papers were not sufficient, nor liis con- struction of the constitution just." He, however, ad- mitted that the President had a right to refuse the papers. It is the wish of that party now, and I suppose they will succeed, to have their opinions relative to the treaty- making power inserted on the journals of the House. This appears by a resolution now on the table, and is in substance the same with one laid on the table a few days ago by Mr. Kitchell, which I suppose you have seen. I am affectionately yours, J. Robertson.' If the excitement of politics could arouse the quiet merchant, no wonder that the more excitable student caught the infection, and taking advantage of some interval of duty, or some friendly aid, he hurried up to town to enjoy the feast of eloquence of which he heard so much. His visit was happily timed ; he found himself in Philadelphia, in the House of Representatives, on the twenty-fourth of this same month, when Fisher Ames delivered his memorable speech on the subject of the British treaty. The impression made upon the mind of a hearer, ardent as the speaker himself, may be judged of from the fact of his sitting down, on retiring from the House, and putting on paper his vivid recollections of that celebrated burst of impassioned eloquence. This proof B I S II O P H O B A R T. 143 of sensibility and talent is preserved among his papers, endorsed as follows : * Sketch of Mr. Ames' Speech on the subject of the British Treaty in the House of Representatives, taken from memory, 1796.' It closes thus : * Mr. Ames in conclusion observed, that enfeebled as he w^as by disease, vacant as his mind then was of ideas, and deprived as he felt he was of the power of collecting them, he expected to have given a silent vote, and supposed that any desire he might have of speaking was con- trolled by a commanding necessity ; but when he advanced to the precipice of that abyss, which if not fathomless was yet inexplorable, he felt desirous to protract, if it were only for half an hour, a decision which was to plunge them all into it. Personally he felt little inter- ested in the event of the vote ; his hold of life would probably not last till the fatal disasters of the rejection of the treaty would come upon his country. But he felt for posterity, and for them he spoke.' In the autumn of this year, (1796,) Mr. Hobart's health was seriously threatened ; the cause, however, seems to have been rather mental than bodily. A despondency which, — whether the result of highly excited feelings, or, what is more probable, of over wrought faculties, in the double task of teacher and 144 MEMOIROF student,- — ^broke down his powers, awakened for a time in the minds of his friends, and still more in that of his foreboding mother, the most anxious solicitude. In this state he returned home, where, under the blessing of God, relaxation and domestic affection soon wrought their usual happy result. The following affectionate letter met him on his return, from an old college friend, one who had gone before him in the labors of the ministry, though in another Church. ^ New -York, November Wth^ 1796. Dear Hobart, It grieves me that I have been obliged to neglect so long the answering of your affectionate letter. But hear me. I attended punctually at the post-office till the day I went to New- York, which must have heen the day your letter reached New-Brunswick. I did not receive it until a week after by the return of the boat, and then it was on a bed of sickness, and I now devote my first composed moments to answer for my apparent negligence, which must have been unaccountable to one in your situation. By this time, I presume, you have returned to Prince- ton, and I earnestly pray that it may be with a mind strengthened and composed, and your malady overcome in a great measure — complete recovery must be a work of time. Just now, dear John, I may be but a poor adviser, till made better acquainted with the progress of your recovery. I long to see and converse with you, and shall haste to pay you a visit on my return to New- BISHOP HOBART. 145 Brunswick, which will be in a week or fortnight at farthest. Your Robert has been with you to Philadel- phia. I know he has been attentive and affectionate, bat I imagine he has had to return before you to prepare for his office. At such times you are apt to be anxious and melancholy ; this should not be, my dear Hobart. You have sometimes told me, that in the depth of your distress and debility of mind, when you have heard your Robert praised, when you have seen his ease and pro- priety of behavior in company, different you thought from your own, you have often experienced dark and envious feelings. Believe me, my dear friend, I attribute this to the weak state of your body and mind, for friend- ship delights in the superior excellence of its friend, at the same time that it labors to become equally excellent ; and your noble soul is, I know, capable of the purest friendship. When you can act yourself, none have better talents to excel, none dispositions more inclinable to virtue. You have uncommon judgment and foresight in most things. When you converse there is an air of candor and sincerity, with a firmness and becoming warmth in the support of truth, which commands at once love and respect from the discerning, and a mild- ness and benevolence of temper, discoverable even on a short acquaintance, which must attract universal regard. You have also a strength of mind (notwithstanding its present weakness) which displays itself in uncommon resolution and perseverance in the pursuit of knowledge, and in the performance of duty. Witness your govern- ment in the college with a mixture of mildness and firmness which has gained the affections of every worthy student. Did I not know this was truth, and that you can bear it, I would not dare to say so much to any 7 146 M E M O I R O F person concerning himself, but I know my John too well to think that this will have any other than a good effect. vShail I say why I have thus told you what I think of you? It is to encourage — to exhort you. Your very endeavors to be cheerful will counteract in a measure the influence of melancholy thoughts. Whenever, there- fore, you find your spirits grow dull, and feel inclined to indulge anxious and foreboding thought, do any thing ; stirt up, walk, talk, by some means or other divert your attention ; use every exertion, every power of body and mind to counteract your malady, and give not up to de- spairing thoughts ; and then I hope, yea, I have a strong confidence, that your God will preserve you from going down to the pit, will make you an honor and a blessing to the Church of Christ and to society, and at last will receive you to an inheritance incorruptible and that fadeth not away. Trust, then, in God, and you shall yet praise him ; make him the strength and chief con- fidence of your heart, and he will be your portion for ever. My heart longs for — it goes out to God in hearty wishes and prayers for your recovery and prosperity, that you may be enabled to exert all your abilities in the service of God, and that you may experience the joys and comforts of religion. I have a great deal to say ; my heart is full whenever I am writing, thinking, or speaking of you. # * # * Dr. Minto is dead. Dear good man, he has gone to the enjoyment of the saints in bliss. What a loss to society ; to Nassau Hall it will be almost irreparable. I have been revolving in my mind who will supply his place, but can fix upon no one. I long to be at Prince- ton, and will be there soon. I feel interested in all the B I S H P H O B A R T. 147 concerns of that place ; I have past, I may say, almost the happiest hours of my life in it, but find it impracti- cable to reside there again. The good Mrs. Knox and Miss Sally I hope are well : they were my sincere friends, and I feel much gratitude to them for their kind, yes, tender usage of me. Remember me with affection to them ; also to Cunningham, Comfort, How, Mercer, Hughes and Watson, my Mapleton friends, when you see them, and all whom I should not forget, for my heart is big with good Wishes to all my Princeton friends ; and you, my dear Hobart, next to my nearest connections, possess the first place in my affections. Believe me to be your hearty well-wisher, and rank among the tenderest of your friends, your Ebenezer Grant.' On the same sheet, he thus writes to the young companion of his desponding friend : ' My dear Robert, Think not I have forgotten you, or that you are last remembered by being addressed last, for indeed you have a great share of my sincere regard. My Robert, you are entering early on the stage of action ; you have many and important trusts committed to you, and you have abilities adequate to the discharge of them. You have by this time probably entered on the office of teaching others, almost as soon as you have ceased to be a scholar yourself; this is a task which will require much prudence and firmness, but with exertion I feel confident you will succeed. Your dear John, who has been in many instances as a guardian angel, will be a wise counsellor to you. Love him, my dear Robert, 148 MEMOIROP with all the affection you can give. Soothe him in his melancholy ; then I have no doubt but that you will be great and happy together. May the Lord bless and prosper you, ye true friends. Think often on him, who can subscribe himself, from the bottom of his heart, your friend, E. Grant.' The promised visit to Princeton did not take place. On 10th Decemher, this truly sympa- thizing friend thus again writes : ' New -Brunswick, \Oth December, 1796. Dear John, You no doubt concluded from my letter that I should have paid you a visit before this time, and this has, I trust, been the reason why I have not received a line from you. Monday, 28th, I had fixed upon for it, but many causes have hitherto prevented me. In the mean time I should be much pleased to receive from you a favorable account of your health, both of body and mind. For your comfort I cannot help but say, that often after I have besought the Lord to have mercy on myself and you, I have felt a kind of enthusiastic confi- dence that he would subdue your malady, would recruit your strength, would raise you to honor and usefulness in life, and to a seat at his right hand for ever. Despair not, then, of his goodness, my dear John ; his thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways. Our duty is submission of the whole heart to the dis- posals of his providence. Afflictions come not from the ground ; they are not unprofitable to the children of God ; they are not more frequently evidences of his B I S H O P H O B A R T. 149 displeasure than they are merciful visitations to lead us to unfeigned repentance for sin, and to a closer walk with God. Write me, my friend, of your arrangements for the present session ; of your difficulties and your satisfac- tions : any thing that concerns you interests me. How is your Robert pleased with his situation, and how are you yourself and the students pleased with him in the execution of his office ? Does he begin to form a steady decided character ? If so, he will meet my earnest hopes of his one day becoming a great and good man. My father grows very infirm, and his eyes are dan- gerously affected. Should he lose his sight, all methods of information will be taken from him. He says he has tasted all the happiness this world can afford, and longs to depart for another and a better. My mother has taken a great liking to you only from description. She joins me in wishing to see and converse with you. Although our house, under the present circumstances of our family, cannot furnish all the accommodation I could wish for a friend, yet you especially, or any of my Princeton friends, may always expect to receive a hearty welcome from, Yours, &c., Eben. Grant.' It would be enlarging too much on the de- tails of early hfe, and perhaps on the feelings of living friends, to give more of this corre- spondence ; suffice it to say, that young Ho- bart, while attached to a chosen few, made himself a friend to many, and was beloved by all. His heart was ample as it was warm, and 150 M E M I R O F no individual seems ever to have approached him, who either needed sympathy or sought aid, vi^ithout receiving one or both. On some, the impression for good was permanent ; on others, no doubt, transient ; all, however, speak of him in terms of warm regard. ' Dear Ho- bart,' says one, of whom a parting letter is incidentally preserved, ' both Mr. Hughes and myself are under great obligations to you. We would wish now, and always, to feel them strongly, and to acknowledge them. When I think how highly I was honored, and how much I was benefited by your friendship, I can scarcely restrain tears.' The language of an- other very youthful student is too simple and heartfelt not to be given at length. His aifec- tionate gratitude gives a pleasing picture of the intercourse that subsisted between them. They carry back, however, the narrative to an earlier date. ' Princeton, November Gth, 1794. My dear Friend, I arrived here last evening from Brunswick, and found Forsyth's patience in waiting for me almost exhausted ; but upon hearing the reasons of my delay he was fully satisfied. This day we took possession, by leave of Mr. Finley, of our room. It is to be sure not a very warm one for the winter ; but the idea of your coming to live with us B I S II OP H B ART. 151 makes me much more contented and satisfied than I would be in the best room in the college without you. We have both, I trust, set down with a full determination to apply diligently to our studies, and by our conduct to make ourselves worthy the esteem of the faculty, and more particularly of yours, worthy friend. The salutary advice you have and, I doubt not, will continue to give me, I pray Heaven may not be thrown away, but rather that I may employ it to the good of myself and friend. Thanks be to that God, who knows our hearts and sees all our deeds, that I have been so happy in gaining for myself so good, so amiable, and so generous a friend to keep my erring feet in right paths, and to lay a firm and lasting foundation for my tem- poral and eternal happiness. You have always shown a partiality for me, and I know not why even this. Your regard for me while I was an entire stranger among the students, and your very often repeated acts of friendship toward me; these, independent of your real merit, of which I then had but a slight knowledge, could not fail to enkindle in me the liveliest sparks of true and genuine esteem. But why should I tell you that I feel an attachment for you beyond what I can express ? sure I have told you that I esteem you my best, my worthiest friend. I shall expect you, dear friend, in a fortnight or three weeks at farthest ; the sooner you come, the sooner you will give satisfaction and pleasure to Forsyth and myself. I hoped, when I arrived from Philadelphia here, to have been happy in acquainting you with your mother's good health, and friends', but when I came you had gone to Philadelphia. 152 M E M O I R O F Praying that you may, as no doubt you will, receive the reward of your excelling merit in this world, and after this transitory existence be received into the paradise above, and receive the crown of glory prepared for all who believe, I subscribe myself. Your sincere and affectionate friend, Joseph Warren Scott. N. B. Forsyth last night received your letter, but no entreaties on my part could prevail on him to read it to me.' ' Nassau Hall, Princeton, November 15th, 1794. My dear Friend^ Yours of the 10th instant I received on Tuesday, and enjoyed more satisfaction than I can express to you in the perusal of it. Forsyth also received one last evening, and read to me a clause from it, which he said was addressed to both of us. Though this intimate correspondence affords a great deal of pleasure, your immediate presence would give me more. Your advice, my dear friend, I assure you, is always acceptable, because I know it is always good. Yet I cannot divine why you are so very urgent with us about keeping the door shut. I am apprehensive you think we have a great many intruders, and in this I wish to undeceive you, because I know whatever we do right gives you pleasure. At first the students came in great numbers, and our refusing admittance to so many daily occasioned complaint against us; but we per- sisted in what you had taught us, and what we thought of ourselves was right, and by so doing, at length freed ourselves from a great many visiters that we did not want. BISHOP HOBART. 153 The conduct that I mentioned in my last I meant to pursue toward the college in general, and my fellow Whigs in particular, (provided it met with your appro- bation,) I mean still to maintain till I hear otherwise from you. The return of Mr. Smith* I wait with impatience ; I hope it will not be more than three or four days, and that you will be here in a week at farthest. It is hardly fair to tell tales, but to-day a circumstance took place which I am sure will make you smile. * * * * I must also complain a little on Robert (Forsyth) about copying the old minutes. He has not written a word until this afternoon, but for the future I hope he will do better ; but you must not lash him too severely, as I believe I am almost as much in fault as he i-:, for not telling him more frequently of it. My fingers are so cold that I can hardly write any more. I remain, and wish ever to remain, your sin- cere and affectionate friend, Joseph Warren Scott. N. B. I shall expect a letter very shortly, and a long one too.' /■ ' Nassau Hall, Princeton, November l'7th. My dear Friend, What melancholy tidings does this bear ? It is the death of our good and worthy president, (Dr. Witherspoon.) On Saturday evening, in his chair, this good old man met the last common enemy of man with joy and cheerfulness. And why should he not ? It would set a final period to trouble and suffering, and * Mr. Hobart's brother-in-law, whose absence prevented his return to college. 151 MEMOIR OF land him in that haven of eternal peace, where is the reward of his labors and fidelity to his Master's trust. Full of days, and full of honors, this venerable sage §^ has left us to deplore his loss as a father and protector; but he has also left us an example truly worthy to be imitated. To-morrow his body is to be committed to the silent grave. Dr. Smith is, I believe, to pronounce a funeral sermon; no doubt it will be a moving and feeling discourse. My dear friend, I must really ask you why you neglect to write to me. You know nothing gives me more pleasure, when I cannot see you. Why then will you voluntarily rob me of so much happiness ? This is but a short letter, but it is almost prayer-time, and therefore I cannot continue it. I remain, my dear Hobart, your friend, and to continue so. Joseph Warren Scott/ ' Nassau Hall, November 27th, 1794, My dear Friend, In what manner to apologize for my great neglect in not writing to one who has ever shown toAvard me kindness far beyond what I deserve, and to whom I have every reason to believe my letters are always acceptable, I know not, especially as I regard you as one for whom I ought, and I hope do feel a tie stronger than that alane which worth can inspire. I feel proud of such a friend, and at the same time am conscious that it is, and no doubt will be, an honor to me in what- ever station I am placed by Providence; but I have been expecting you daily, and therefore delayed till the present time. Indeed, I supposed that even if I were not to write, that would be no hindrance to you ; for B I S H O P H O B A R T. 155 you may well know, even if I do not write frequently to you, (as I confess I have neglected to do,) my thoughts are oftentimes employed with you, anticipating the time when I shall see you again, and know that you will live with me. Forsyth just now received a letter from you. I read in his countenance marks of pleasure which could not fail of producing the same sensations in me, though arising from a different cause. I received a letter a few days ago from Terhune ; he expects that you will write him immediately, directing your letters to Gravesend ; but I must study at ray lesson, for that I cannot put off. Therefore, I bid you good night, after subscribing myself. Your sincere friend, Joseph Warren Scott. P. S. I was just in Mr. CaldwelPs room, and told him I was going to write to you : he requested me to present his respects, with the following message, viz. " If you are coming be expeditious, or otherwise we will not have a sufficient barrier against infidelity, which is spreading its dominion far and wide." This stroke, I apprehend, is meant for me. He knows that I have been reading Hume, and is frequently giving me sharp strokes about my belief. I have said that I thought reading the above-named author rendered a person less bigoted : Caldwell from this supposes that I believe all that is said by Hume. Mr. Finley is often questioning me about your coming, when it will be ; he seems impatiently expecting it. Your affectionate friend, Warren.' 150 M E SI I R O F ' Nassau Hall, December A. My dear Friend, 1 just now received your inexplicable letter of the 3d instant, by Dickson. However, all your letter I can understand better than that which relates to infidelity. I thought I might mention to you in trust the lecture I got from Caldwell on account of my reading Hume, and the reason why I continued reading it, because I thought it made me more candid in my judgments. When you come I shall have a better opportunity of showing you that I am in no way related to infidelity, only not bigoted. That part of your letter which relates to my studies I shall endeavor to profit from in future, though altogether to keep my thoughts at home would be disagreeable to my feelings. Forsyth and I live very agreeably now. When you come we shall be happy ; to both of us you are a safe resort when advice is re- quired, and both you have shown yourself willing to assist whenever in your power. My dear friend, your presence I very much wish for. Mr. Caldwell expresses a great desire to see you ; he by this sends his respects to you. Come, dear friend, your friends are impatiently expecting you. Write to me quickly if you do not come. Adieu, my dear friend. Joseph Warren Scott. P. S. I should be ashamed to let such a letter be seen : then I request you only to read it.' The last letter from this warm-hearted youth is from New-Brunswick, New-Jersey, though without date, except * Sunday Morning : ' its P. S., without which he seems never to have written, is in these words : BISHOP HOBART. 157 'P. S. Show this letter to Forsyth; tell him that I very often think of him, and of the happy hours we have spent together, and in vain wish them to return. I shall once more lay claim to your correspondence, though I see you have entirely forgotten me; but, Hobart, whatever has been my conduct, whatever my appearance, be assured I never have suffered a diminu- tion of that affection which you know I once cherished for you. Tell Forsyth to write to me. Adieu. J. W. Scott.' On the superscription is added, ' If Mr. Hobart is not at Princeton, Mr. R. M. Forsyth is requested to take this and open it. J. W. S.' Similar feelings of personal attachment were excited in the young class whose charge Mr. H. undertook after his return to college, while his own toward them are sufficiently marked in his careful preservation of their parting address. It begins in these words : — ' We cannot, Sir, see the time approaching when you are to leave us, without testifying in strong terms our regret, and the deep sense of gratitude im- pressed upon us. We shall long remember that period of youth spent under your care,' &c. This affectionate farewell was found among the Bishop's papers at his death. A heart like his valued such records, and in his careful pre- servation of them we read one of the peculiarly f 158 MEMOIR OF attractive traits of his character. * When he became a man,' he put not away all childish things. The warm and tender heart never left him, and as relics he prized all its early remi- niscences. Indeed, throughout life he was sensitive as an infant to every mark of kind- ness, while coldness or ingratitude seemed to cut him to the heart. Amid all the bustle of life, and the cares of a most busy station, what- ever addressed itself to his feelings was instantly uppermost in look, word, and action : the ' child ' was awakened within him, and its read}' language of smiles and tears, and the affectionate embrace proved how little change years, or the world, had wrought upon his affectionate, sensitive nature. CHAPTER VII. Cliangc of Destination — Enters a Counting-house — Call to a Tutorship at Princeton — Removal — Duties — Companions — Intimacy with Young Mercer — Letters. But this history of early friendship has led the narrative beyond the date of events to which it is necessary now to recur. The first ap- pearance of the yellow fever in Philadelphia, in 1793, dispersed, as already mentioned, not BISHOP HOB ART. 159 only the inhabitants of the city, but the stu- dents of Princeton, and left young Hobart not only without his anticipated honors, but even without a home. The consternation produced by this then unknown pestilence, for it was its first appearance in our country, is forcibly painted in some of his letters. Believed to be infectious as the plague, all fled from it in horror. Three-fourths of the population of Philadelphia are described as abandoning their homes ; all business suspended, all ordinary ties broken through, and none remaining in the devoted city but wretched sufferers, and the still more wretched friends with whom love was stronger than death, or those noble few whom a high sense of professional duty held around them ; while its peopled streets are described as either deserted, or frequented by such only as sought gain or plunder amid the dying and the dead. Such is the fearful picture given by young Hobart to his friend Skinner, while urging him to awake up to seriousness upon such a call, — admonitions which acquire a solemn value from the reflection that it was to this very pestilence this amiable young man was soon to fall a vic- tim. After parting at college, these friends met once aarain before their final separation. This is the visit already mentioned, which f 160 M E M O I R O F young Hobart paid to Skinner at his father's residence on Long-Island, making friends, as it seemed, of the whole family, by his warm kind-heartedness, even down to * little negro Jack,' who, as a subsequent letter mentions, often spoke of his absence *with great lament- ation.' But on his friend's mind that absence caused a more lasting and rational sorrow. * In being deprived of my dear John,' says he, ' I not only lose a friend, but one of the most powerful human means of my salvation, for I now see the necessity of becoming not only virtuous, but a professor of a true faith. This I shall aim to become, and by the grace of God, through his Son, do I hope to be success- ful ; that this may be the case shall be my earnest prayer. To die, to a sinner is death indeed, but to a good man is a happy hour ; and this shows us the necessity of being at all times ready to meet that Judge before whom sinners tremble.' Among those who fled from the pestilence in Philadelphia, were Mrs. Hobart and her daugh- ter Mrs. Smith, with her family. Her son, as already mentioned, joined them at Frankfort, Pennsylvania, where he found his brother-in- law temporarily established in the same mer- cantile business from which he had been driven in the city. What motives were here urged or B I S H O P HO B ART. 161 of themselves operated to induce young Hobart to enter the counting-house, it is not easy to say. He speaks indeed of * the wishes of friends, and several other circumstances,' but what those were we are left to conjecture ; most probably the narrow means of his mother, and the prospect of a speedier independence for her relief: but however right the motive, it was unquestionably a wrong decision ; an em- ployment in which not only his peculiar talents would have been wholly lost, but one for which he wanted even that single talent which is es- sential to secure success. An economist in money matters, Mr. Hobart neither was nor ever could have been made : he was too much the creature of impulse, and that impulse had in it too much of warm-hearted sympathy, for a prudent estimate of money. In his own per- sonal expenses he was rather indifferent than frugal, while to others his hand like his heart was ever freely open. ' From his boyhood,' says Professor McLean, of Princeton, ' this was his characteristic trait.' That a sense of duty, therefore, rather than choice led to this selection, is sufficiently evident ; this too appears from his letters : ' At length, my dear White,' says he, in one about this period, * the close of my collegiate studies has ushered me into the laborious and « 162 M E M I R O F humble station of a merchant's apprentice. The change is too great for me as yet to rejoice at it ; nor have my present engagements and amusements effaced the remembrance of those I enjoyed at college. In truth, my friend, those were the happiest that have yet fallen to my lot ; and accuse me not of insensibility to the pleasures of life, if I tell you that the anti- cipation of my future probable course stamps a yet higher value on them.' But the counting-house could not separate him from his brother Whigs, whose interests and pursuits, however remote from his own, were dear to him as ever. His letters to Princeton are filled with advice and exhort- ations calculated to direct or arouse them to guard well the palm of academic victory they had won. The following is a specimen. ' Philadelphia^ December 9th, 1793. My dear Tom, By this tender though familiar appellation I address you ; by it I distinguished you when my fellow-student and room-mate, and the remembrance of college scenes and engagements I wish never to lose. This very moment, while engaged in realizing the happy scenes which college once presented, a gloom overspreads my mind. You will not ask wherefore? But yet I take pleasure in reviewing them. Strange constitution of the human mind ! but no less wise than strange ; for the exercise of those feelings ennobles man, renders him BISHOPHOBART. 163 alive to the wants and sorrows of his fellow-creatures, and endears the man of sensibility as the instrument of happiness, and the object of love, veneration, and grati- tude. But, my dear Tom, I should not dwell on the subject of my separation from college, did I not take pleasure in indulging and expressing such thoughts to one v/hose heart is alive to many tender feelings. ******* It is with singular satisfaction I learn from your letter, that the society is likely to maintain its respect- ability, and which the honorable exertions of the mem- bers will always secure to it. For this reason I am glad to find that those who have already become Whigs, are young men of sound judgment and good moral character. May you have many such ! I know it will prosper if its members cherish a warm and disinterested attachment to its welfare. This will give rise to dili- gence, unanimity, friendship, and every other virtue which can advance its honor. Diligent attention to the exercises, caution in making innovations, and cool- ness and deliberation in determining on measures, — these are, I am well satisfied, particularly necessary to the internal concord and peace of the institution. Yours, &c. J. H. HOBART. To one of the new members he writes as follows : it is his first letter to young Scott, of whom mention has already been made. * Philadelphia^ June 11th, 1794. My dear Warren, Perhaps you may be a little surprised at hearing from me. Xhough on your entrance into college I was 164 M E M O I R F a stranger to you, yet you showed for me an esteem and affection which in the same situation I have expe- rienced from few, and I should think myself possessed of a strange insensibility, if your expression of attach- ment to me did not excite in my breast a corresponding emotion. Whenever I have had an opportunity I have inquired after you, and it has given me the greatest pleasure to hear of the honorable character you have maintained in your class. I have no doubt but what you are able, and I hope will continue to preserve this character ; for I am persuaded you will derive the greatest satisfaction from a reflection on the proficiency you have made, and the consciousness of being the object of esteem with those under whose care you are placed, and who will always take pleasure in rewarding merit. The period of life at which you are is very important ; every moment of time is valuable. Your fortune, honor, respectability, and happiness as a man, depend upon the proper improvement of your present advan- tages. But this, it may be, is not a new idea. You have, doubtless, often heard it, and certainly act under it more than many who are your superiors in age and experience. Yet still you cannot too often think of the value of time, and the necessity of early acquiring habits of attention and diligence. I am sure you must derive a great deal of pleasure and improvement from the Society. Attention to your duties there will exer- cise your judgment, and greatly advance your progress in literature. I am sure you must feel an attachment to it. Ardently then pursue its interests. When called upon to act in any office, seek carefully and attentively for what is your duty, and then let no con- BISHOPHOBART. 165 sideration of popularity, no fear of offending, deter you from the performance of it. By this conduct you will in the end gain reputation, beside enjoying the appro- bation of your own mind. Let prudence, perseverance, calmness, and judgment, mark all your actions, and I have no doubt but what you will advance the honor and prosperity of the institution. It is worthy of your warmest attachment, and demands your most zealous endeavors. *#**#* I am much pleased, my dear Warren, to hear that you are to have an opportunity of doing so on the 4th July, and I have no doubt, my dear boy, but what you will be successful. It will give me pleasure to hear from you when you have leisure; and believe that I remain with affection, my dear Warren, Your sincere friend, J. H. HOBART.' With such thoughts uppermost in his mind, it is not to be wondered at that his mercantile occupations soon became distasteful. He gave them, however, a fair trial. As inclination had not led him to this course of life, so neither did he allow want of inclination to drive him from it, and returning with Mr. Smith to Philadelphia, as soon as safety permitted, he devoted himself to the duties of the counting- house, through the ensuing winter, with all his constitutional ardor. But nature and educa- tion united were too strong for him, so that even his brother-in-law writes to a friend, 166 M E M O I R O F * John does not discover any talents for a mercantile life ; his taste and views are all decidedly literary.' We are not surprised, therefore, to find him, after a few months, in a letter to a young friend, holding this lan- guage : ' I am tired of the mercaritile business, or rather I feel a greater inclination for some- thing else. It is so serious I cannot tell it you now.' What this preference was may easily he conjectured ; to his friend Skinner he freely unbosomed himself. ' How I should rejoice,' says he, ' were we both to embrace, from pure and holy views, that sacred office, in which if we faithfully performed our duty on earth, we should enjoy the greatest happiness here, and hereafter shine as stars in the firmament of heaven.' But still it was with fear and tremblinor he took up the resolution. In a letter of June 16th, 1794, he observes : ' I still have in view the ministry. O what an awful under- taking ! I am afraid that my motives for it are not sufficiently pure ; that I have not suffi- ciently in view the sacred ends for which it was instituted— the turning of many to repent- ance, and building them up in the faith of God and of a blessed Saviour. But I hope that God, for Christ's sake, will bless me, and that he will make me in his hands, the B I S H OP HOB ART. 167 humble instrument of turning many to righte- ousness.' In a subsequent one of October 21st, he repeats his fears : ' My views still continue the same with respect to my profes- sion. I am anxious to engage in the ministry, but I am afraid I have not a proper sense of the importance of the duties connected with it, or of the qualifications it requires. In the latter I know I am deficient. I daily become more sensible, to use a scriptural and very just expression, with " the plague of my own heart." " It is, indeed, deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." It is useless indeed for me to lament this, while exertion on my part is wanting. Yet I rejoice that Christ has made a sufficient atonement for my sins, and that through faith in him the chief of sinners may be reconciled to God. In this character would I seek a merciful God, and beseech him, by the merits and atonement of his crucified Son, to pardon my sins, to rectify my nature, to subdue the power of sin within me, and to make me holy in heart and life.' Such were the workings of his humble and deeply spiritual mind, and such the preparation of a heart which in after-life, by those who knew it not, was charged with being ignorant of the feelings of vital religion. Nor were 168 M E M O I R O F those feelings changed by years — he died as he had Hved, in the expression of them. Among his last words were, ' Bear me witness, I have no merit of my own : as a guilty sinner I go to my Saviour, casting all my reliance on him, on the atonement of his blood.' Within a few months after he had entered the counting-house, a letter was received by him, which, with his own inward whisperings, must have fully satisfied even his doubting mind of his fitness for higher things. This was an unsolicited call from the authorities at Princeton, inviting him to the station of college tutor. The invitation was a flattering one. As a youth of eighteen, it was a high compli- ment to his acquisitions and judgment ; as an Episcopalian, it was an equally high one to his integrity and candor ; and doubly gratifying, in both respects, as coming from those who were best acquainted with both his sentiments and talents. The following letters communi- cate both the offer and his acceptance of it. ' Princeton^ November 18th, 1793. Dear Sir, It has been suggested that your own inclinations would lead you to pursue your liberal studies to a greater extent, and that a residence at Princeton would not be disagreeable to you, in order to have the more leisure for improvement. Although I have reason to believe BI S no P H B ART. 169 that advantageous proposals will be made you by Mr. S., yet I have been desired to inquire whether or not you will accept of an appointment in college, in the room of Mr. Abeel. I know not your private views, nor how such a situation would accord with your ideas ; but if you were willing to accept the appointment, there is no person who would more unanimously obtain it ; and, I must say for myself, it would be peculiarly agreeable to me. Your answer to this inquiry, by the first post, will very much oblige, dear Sir, Your very humble servant, Samuel S. Smith.' ' Philadelphia, November 23d, 1793, Sir, I must acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 18th instant, and should have sooner paid it the neces- sary attention, had not its contents, interesting in a high degree to my future welfare and happiness, required consideration. The confidence of the faculty, with which I am so unexpectedly honored, excites in my mind a lively gratitude, accompanied by a feeling con- viction of the necessity of the most unremitted exertions on my part to fulfil with honor the office they would confer upon me. A desire to pursue with advantage studies of a liberal nature, and also to have leisure for reflection and improvement, have induced me to look upon a residence at Princeton as desirable ; and I had it in contemplation, with the consent of my friends, to remove there to pursue my studies in a private capacity. But as the offer, to which your letter has reference, would afford a greater scope for improvement, my own wishes, and of consequence the consent of my friends, lead to the acceptance of it. At the same time, I repeat 170 ^I E M O I R O F the declaration, that I am fully sensible the greatest exertions on my part could alone qualify me for the honorable discharge of its important duties. These I can safely promise, from a principle of duty, "will not be wanting. The wish of the faculty on this subject should be handed to me by the first opportunity, as im- mediate preparations will be necessary. With a high sense of the honor conferred upon me by the confidence of the faculty, and of your kind wishes with respect to my future engagements, I remain their and your Most obliged servant, John H. Hobart.' f The following letter is to an old college friend, written from Princeton soon after his second return to it, though it would seem as yet with no official appointment. ' Princeton, July 25th, 1794. Dear Sir, The receipt of your letter of 2d June gave me very great pleasure. I was fearful mine had miscarried. In this situation your letter was peculiarly acceptable. I have not as yet found reason to alter an opinion I early adopted, that the portion of life spent in the place of our education is the happiest. The engagements of future life, then beheld at a distance, promise happiness. The field of science lies before us, and we think we can never be tired traversing it. Thus happy in our present engagements, and in the anticipation of those that are to come, the season of youth glides away. But, in fact, man is ever anticipating happiness : and does not this clearly prove that he is to exist hereafter ? Does it not B I S H P H B A R T. 171 prove that this life was never designed to afford him complete enjoyment ? Does it not enforce the necessity of his directing his attention to that life to which both reason and revelation teach him this is only an intro- duction? And yet how few make this natural and obvious improvement ! Science, honor, riches, pleasure, are ardently pursued, but the qualifications for a future state of being are little sought after. Men live here as if they were to live here for ever, or as if, at the close of this life, an everlasting sleep were to level them with the brutes that perish. I have relinquished mercantile business, and intend to spend the summer here in reading. I returned with great satisfaction to the scenes of my former improve- ment and pleasure. They strongly recall to my mind those with whom I spent my time so agreeably ; and I seldom enter the rooms of my former companions with- out thinking of them. College is very full. The Whigs are superior alike in numbers and merit ; and if they continue to act with the same prudence, will increase the dignity and honor of the Society. There is every prospect of their obtaining the highest honors at the ensuing Commencement, and, if we may judge from present appearances, many future ones. This informa- tion, I know, will give you pleasure.' In answer, his friend observes : ' You tell me you have declined the pursuit of mer- cantile business. I applaud your resolution. Do not suppose I flatter when I say, I have always thought you well calculated for some profession where oratorical talent might be displayed. The mercantile business is suited to those who have not had your opportunities. 172 M E M O I R O F Besides the profit, nothing can be said in its praise. But most professions are profitable as well as that, and besides, put a man in the line of honor and preferment. The professional man, too, is better calculated for ren- dering services to society, — no small source of comfort to him. But what do you mean to pursue after you leave Princeton? Let me invite you to the study of the law. My best wishes attend the Whig Society. The institution will be remembered to my latest moments. If any of my old acquaintances are at Princeton make my regards to them. Your sincere friend, W. M. Watkins. ' The contemplated college arrangement, however mutually desirable and desired as it might seem, did not yet take effect until near two years afterward. On the present occasion the failure arose on part of the college, from some misunderstanding not very clearly ex- plained, and the place was filled with another, though, as was stated to Mr. H., * temporarily.' But, in the mean time, his own views of its de- sirableness were changed, or rather fluctuated, bringing his mind into that painful state of doubt which often besets the young when called upon to decide their course in life. On such occasion the mental vision becomes con- fused : like the eye of a landsman at sea, it looks into a hazy atmosphere, where it mis- takes alike the size, distance, and shapes of B I S 11 O P H OB ART. 173 objects. Thus it was with our inexperienced collegian. Touching an offer precisely the same in the conclusion as at the beginning, he concurred, retracted, hesitated, declined, and finally accepted. Now this unimportant circumstance is here noticed, because in after-life his decisions bore such an opposite character, being so rapid and unwavering as to look more like instinct than reflection, and with such a clear forecast of consequences, that we might almost apply to him the eulogium of the Roman orator, ' Pru- dentiam ejus quodammodo esse divinationem.' * But this chan Libraries 1 1012 01245 7612