Edwards, like Milton, had long meditated a work which 'the world would not willingly let die,' but, although he had for some years been gathering materials, yet it was not until his removal to Stockbridge that he addressed himself fully to the mighty task of authorship. His habits of abstraction grew upon him amazingly during this effort, and the notable Sarah sheltered him from intrusion, and anticipated his wants. She was conscious of the greatness of the work with which he had grappled, and stood by his side like a guardian angel while he demolished errorists. It was her custom after the labors of the day to steal up to the study, where, like Numa and Egeria, they held serene communion. This was his sole medium of secular information, for in his occasional walks he was like one in a dream. The whole man was engrossed in what he alone could perform; indeed, to reconcile liberty and necessity were a task for which he seemed providentially set apart. But beneath these arguments, which rise Alp on Alp, there lurked a quiet perception of humor, and the reductio ad absurdum, which he occasionally drives home, showed the keenness of Puritan wit. How he must have smiled, nay even laughed, in the midst of his abstractions at that[5] metaphysical animal which illustrates the absurdity of his opponents. When 'The Freedom of the Will' was finished, and the author had sent it forth to do battle, he felt that the work of his life was done.
Just at this time a deputation waited on him to solicit his acceptance of the presidency of Nassau Hall. It was a strange sight to that rude hamlet of Stockbridge—those reverend forms finishing their long journey at the feet of the poor exiled missionary. When their errand was announced, he burst into tears, overcome by a sense of unworthiness, and in a subsequent letter he confirms his unfitness by reference to his 'flaccid solids and weak and sizy fluids.' But the demand was pressed, and Northampton learns with astonishment the exaltation of her banished pastor. The successful deputation possessed one member of rare interest. This was John Brainerd, who had succeeded his brother David as a missionary, and whom Edwards had met ten years before at the bedside of his dying brother. David would have been, had both lived, the husband of Jerusha—but now they slept side by side in Northampton burial-ground, and the surviving brother reappeared bearing this invitation. It was one not easily resisted; and so, amid dangers and infirmity, he was fain to say,
'To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.'
Before another spring, a higher glory awaited him; and the same year, five of his family, including the incomparable Sarah, were likewise 'received up.' A sad year was that to Princeton and to the church.
We have stated our opinion, that the activity of the New England mind arose from the digestion of strong doctrine; that very activity now generated a new style of preaching, which may be termed the metaphysical school. The days of thaumaturgia were passed, and in place of discussing demonology and temptation, an appetite for subtle dogma prevailed. I doubt if Britain and Germany, with their combined universities, could have equaled, during the last century, the New England pulpit in mental acuteness or philosophical discrimination. A reference to Edwards recalls mention among his followers of such names as Smally, Bellamy, Emmons, and Hopkins. Those who listened to the preaching of such men could not avoid becoming thinkers, and thought has made our country what it is. Very possibly what is known as 'Yankee ingenuity' arose from the thinking habits of careful sermon-hearers. A man who could follow the subtle theories of the pulpit, could think out the most elaborate machinery. Next to Jonathan Edwards, Dr. Emmons possessed the most philosophical mind of the age. So severe and invincible is his logic, that it is said that the New Haven lawyers often sharpened their minds on Emmons' sermons. His scheme of making God the author of sin may be considered one of the errors of a great mind. A modern novelist has placed old Dr. Hopkins among the characters of a romance. But however great may be the powers of Mrs. Stowe, it was quite impossible for an æsthetic and poetic mind to grasp that bundle of dried-up syllogisms which once occupied the Newport pulpit. Hopkins had preached the church at Great Barrington empty, and that of Newport died by lingering degrees. Only to think of that tall, ungainly form, the head covered with a linen cap, stiff and white, coming forth like an apparition once a week to the public gaze. We do not wonder at the child's inquiry 'if it was God that stood up there.' Hopkins' scheme of 'indifferent affection' was a grand conception, but as unnatural as grand: yet it showed an amazing boldness for a public teacher to lay down as a postulate that a willingness to be damned was a condition of salvation.
From a survey of the earlier clergy, even as superficial as the present one, we are struck with its ambition of a lofty range of doctrine. They
'reasoned high
Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,
Fixed fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute,
And found no end in wandering mazes lost.