CHAPTER IX.
Bristol College was opened in the autumn of 1833. Under
the auspices of the Rev. Drs. Milnor, May, Bedell, and Tyng, and
having the approval of a number of bishops, the new institution
had a fair promise of success.
A large establishment, nearly opposite Burlington, on the banks
of the Delaware, was purchased; the spacious ball-room converted
into a chapel; other rooms appropriated to professors, or
set apart for dormitories, recitation-rooms, etc.; a grammar-school
was attached, and the college inaugurated. The faculty was composed
of the president, Rev. Chauncey Colton, D.D.; Revs. Caleb
Goode, C. S. Henry, and Joseph Packard, and Mr. Pendleton,
who was elected professor of mathematics and natural philosophy.
Tutors and other professors were afterwards added. As many
students gathered to the college the first session as the house
could hold, and additional buildings were filled as fast as they
could be completed.
A number of boys came from Virginia, attracted as much by
Mr. Pendleton's connection with the college as by its church
character.
[1]
Among these were his youngest brother, Gurdon,
his cousin, Robert Nelson, afterwards the faithful and efficient
missionary to China, and Mrs. Pendleton's brother, John Page.
The venerable Dr. Packard, who has for over fifty years been
professor of Hebrew in the Theological Seminary near Alexandria,
Virginia, writes of Mr. Pendleton at this time,—
"You ask me to give my recollections of your father as I knew
him when associated with him as professor in Bristol College. . . .
It was in the fall of 1833 that I first became acquainted with your
father. He had not been long out of West Point, where, I believe,
he had been an assistant professor. He bore then the same
character he always sustained. I was struck with his military
bearing, his firmness and decision of purpose combined with gentleness.
He always showed great ability in the discussion of any
debatable point, and a willingness to be set right if in error. I
have never met with any one so far removed from anything like
guile; so generous was he that his generosity was taken advantage
of by those who were so disposed. As a professor I need
say nothing as to his competency and ability as a teacher. He
brought with him from West Point a reputation which was of
great service to a young college. He introduced something of
a military discipline, which was much needed.
"His Christian character was then very decided, and his influence
over young men—who are disposed to regard religion as
not a manly thing—was very beneficial. In his social relations
he was loved and esteemed by us all. He was gentle and courteous
to all men.
"I feel how inadequate is this tribute to the memory of one I
loved and esteemed so much. It is scattering a withered flower
upon his grave.
"Very truly yours,
"J. Packard."
During the first year Mr. Pendleton and his family lived in the
college. Here they found agreeable companionship, and formed
close intimacy with Mrs. Colton and her sisters, Miss Margaret
Cox and Miss Harriet, who became the wife of Mr. Pendleton's
intimate friend and former classmate, Albert Taylor Bledsoe.
Extracts from Mr. Pendleton's letters to his wife, absent in
Virginia, give interesting particulars respecting the young college,
the development of his own character, and the confirmation of
his purpose to prepare himself for the ministry.
"Bristol College, January, 1834.
". . . The bill chartering us as a college has become a law, and
it is pronounced by the honorable Legislature of Pennsylvania
illegal to call the said college by any name other than 'Bristol
College.' This, of course, raises us in importance, and, it may
be, increases our responsibility. But the distressing derangement
of money-matters throughout the United States will injure us, we
fear, by preventing the friends of the Church from aiding in
the means of enlarging our plan of operations as soon as they
would otherwise have done. All this is in the hands of God.
He will direct that which is best for His own honor. . . . In
reply to your queries about the appropriation of my time: From
five to six, dressing, etc.; from six to seven, attending one of my
classes; after breakfast, until nine, I have generally been employed
in sweeping, dusting, and fixing the rooms,—Gurdon assisting
me; from nine to ten, a class; from ten to twelve, in the Blue
Room;[2]
after dinner, till three, reading and writing; from three
to four, Greek; from four to five, in the Blue Room; at night,
reading. The two hours in the Blue Room in the morning I
have devoted to Biot;[3]
that in the afternoon to preparing my
lessons for the next day. My reading I wish to make effectual
to the great object before me. To this end it will be necessary
for me to get speedily some of the books recommended by the
last General Convention. Many of them I can borrow. Ecclesiastical
history, and profane, too, I must first cultivate diligently,
and this shall now be my business. . . . I have to-day been much
struck with the character of Abraham, sketched by Dr. Clarke in
his Commentary,—the undoubting confidence with which he
believed God, and the ready, cheerful obedience he habitually
rendered when called upon; his courage and generosity and faithfulness.
Let us study his conduct under the different circumstances
of life, and exert ourselves to live like him. . . . I intended
to have told you before,—I have made you responsible
for a debt of twelve dollars. You recollect the Missionary Society.
When the subscription-plan was arranged and presented
I subscribed a dollar a month for myself, and then proceeded
to write your name pledging the same sum for you likewise.
Can you pay by knitting? or in what way? I fear I may have
put you into a difficulty."
Something of his former depression and anxiety seems to have
returned upon him from time to time, but always accompanied
with some derangement of health.
"I am much harassed by a sort of sinking of hope, calling
upon me for vigorous effort in every way, by prayer and self-examination,
and a wielding of the sword of the spirit and active
exercise. Let us remember the encouragement given by our
Saviour to the prayers of two or three who shall agree as touching
what they shall ask, and pray with me for supplies of
grace and strength and Divine wisdom in all things, bringing
peace and hope and devoted purpose in every duty before me.
. . . As to being happy, there is at all times the delightful reflection
that I can pray, happy or not, and, provided I am still left to
do my duties aright, it matters little in the great account whether
I was or was not allowed a tranquil course. Besides religious
comfort, I apply the maxim by which Dr. Johnson used to regulate
his gloomy moods, 'When solitary be not idle, and when
idle be not solitary.'"
Later in the spring Mr. Pendleton went to Virginia to bring his
family North. His indisposition and depression culminated in a
violent bilious fever, which detained them in Washington for some
weeks. Under the skilful treatment of Dr. Sewell and the care
of kind friends, he recovered and returned to Bristol. Stopping
to rest in Philadelphia, Mrs. Pendleton's negro nurse, Eliza, went
out of the room to "get a cradle for the baby," and never came
back. She had been in Philadelphia before, and had made
acquaintances who, no doubt, enticed her to leave her best and
truest friends. On examination, it was found that she had removed
all her clothing, so the plan for going off must have been
considered for some time. At that date no open opposition would
have been made to her recovery, but Mr. Pendleton, after making
sure that she had deliberately chosen to go off among strangers,
declined to take any steps to reclaim her as his servant. This
circumstance is mentioned to show that the conviction so often
expressed by him in after-years, that slavery is repeatedly sanctioned
by the Bible, was in no way influenced by self-interest.
In the fall of 1834 he and his family moved out of the college
into a small house a few hundred yards away, known as "the
Long Cottage." Good taste and good management gave comfort
and adornment to the little habitation; while the cordial hospitality
of the young housekeepers and the happiness and harmony
of their family life made it the brightest spot in the vicinity,
towards which professors and students naturally turned for
recreation when tired of work or longing for sympathy. Mrs.
Pendleton's sisters and other lady friends added much to the
attractions of the little home.
During the spring and fall the surrounding country was explored
by long walks and drives. Mrs. Pendleton had become
an enthusiastic student of botany, and found great assistance in
the knowledge and advice of Miss Margaret Cox. Her husband
was too much occupied with hard work and other studies to
become a botanist, but he took great pleasure in his wife's advancement,
and was ever ready to take a tramp into the woods, and lend
his aid in gathering flowers and securing specimens for her collection.
Sleighing, skating, and walking on the frozen Delaware
to Burlington furnished recreation during the short winter days.
For the long nights there were gatherings of friends in the cosey
parlor, where games of chess, music and song, or brilliant conversation
beguiled the hours. Dr. Henry was an unusually good
talker, full of anecdote and illustration, and other frequenters of
the cottage contributed their quotas to the general enjoyment.
Family prayers always closed these friendly meetings. Mr. Pendleton
was a fine draughtsman, and had considerable skill as a
caricaturist. Not infrequently his colleagues would find their
lively descriptions and quaint anecdotes illustrated by his pen- or
pencil-drawings. He also had great facility in writing doggerel
verses, and would, with rare ingenuity and absurdity, chronicle
any adventure of the assembled party.
A second little daughter, Lucy, was born during this time, and
the two little girls became the constant companions of their
father's leisure hours. No man ever found more pleasure and
happiness in his children, or was more tenderly attached to them,
than Mr. Pendleton, and no accurate account of his life can be
given in which they should be omitted. His oldest daughter was
from infancy seldom absent from his side. She slept in his arms
or sat on his knee when he read and studied, played round his feet
while he wrote, walked beside him or was carried on his shoulder
when he went out of doors. Each succeeding child called forth
more paternal affection, and increased the happiness of his loving
heart. Requiring implicit obedience to his slightest command,
he was incapable of sternness to his children, and was always full
of sympathy with them, sharing alike their little joys and sorrows.
So tender was his pity for their weaknesses and failings, so appreciative
his understanding of their troubles and efforts, so genuine
his sorrow for their faults and delight in their well-doing, that they
learned when in babyhood to prize his love and desire his approval
more than any other reward. Even when his sacred sense of responsibility
compelled him on rare occasions to chastise them, they
knew that the punishment caused him equal pain with themselves,
and that no particle of anger was mingled with its infliction.
In the summer of 1835, Mr. Pendleton and his wife undertook
the journey from Bristol to Virginia with their two children, in a
little carriage drawn by their old gray horse "Bob." Economy and
a love for adventure prompted this rash essay. For two days they
jogged bravely on, beguiling the lengthening miles with pleasant
anticipations and the prattle of the little ones. By the time they
reached Elkton, Maryland, the mother and babies were well worn
out with the heat and fatigue of the road. Mr. Pendleton comforted
them with the assurance that a good night's rest would revive
them, and enable them to start afresh next morning. Old "Bob,"
however, was not to be revived; no prospective meeting with dear
friends raised his drooping courage or rested his weary legs. The
next morning he was so stiff and lame that the whole party,
carriage, horse, and all, had to be transferred to the steamboat.
During this vacation a large new building—Penn Hall—was
added to the college, but was not ready for occupation when the
session opened. The increased number of students had, therefore,
to be crowded in, for a few weeks, wherever they could find
accommodation. In the confusion consequent upon such crowding
it was difficult to exercise proper discipline. A spirit of
mischief and insubordination crept in, and for a time serious
trouble threatened the college. By a wise mingling of resolute
authority with kind forbearance, however, the difficulties were
adjusted, and order and good feeling established.
Domestic affliction as well as college annoyances chastened
the happiness of these years. Mr. Pendleton's beloved sister,
Mrs. Judith P. Harrison, died in the spring of 1834. His grief
at the loss of this dear sister was deep and sincere, and the tender
affection evinced by him towards her children, especially to the
little niece, who grew up the joy of her grandparents' declining
years, proved how fondly he had loved their mother. His father had
become blind from cataract during the same period, but the hope
was entertained that the operation of couching might restore him to
sight. The optic nerve was, however, found to be seriously diseased
in both eyes, and the only result of a double operation was the ability
to distinguish light from darkness, and thus avoid coming in
contact with large objects when moving from place to place.
Robert Pendleton, the brother next younger than William,
died of a violent fever, in the spring of 1836, among strangers,
in Western Pennsylvania. Taken suddenly ill at a country inn,
no one took interest enough in the sick traveller to communicate
with his friends, and the announcement of his death was the first
intimation to his family that anything was amiss with him. He was
greatly beloved for his manly, ingenuous character, his sprightly,
affectionate disposition, and the kindly assistance he was ever ready
to give to all with whom he was thrown. His elder brothers had
entered professional life; the two younger were, one in a counting-room,
the other at college. To him had naturally fallen the
management of his parents' affairs and the care of their declining
years. Business for his father had carried him from the home so
sadly bereaved by his death. His brothers, Walker and William,
showed their love for his memory by giving his name to the first
son born to each of them.
