What's New at Log College Press? — September 1, 2023

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Dear Friends,

As summer draws to a close, we wish to give an update on what’s been happening at Log College Press. Our virtual shelves are filling up with old Presbyterian books, articles, poetry and manuscripts. We recently reached a milestone of sorts - there are now over 20,000 works available to read at Log College Press.

In a year of celebration and remembrance, we have previously paid tribute to John Witherspoon’s 300th birthday (Feb. 5, 1723); Thomas Murphy’s 200th birthday (Feb. 6, 1823); the 100th anniversary of Robert P. Kerr’s passing (March 25, 1923); the 250th anniversary of Joseph Caldwell’s passing (April 21, 1773); the 150th anniversary of William H. McGuffey’s passing (May 4, 1873); A.A. Hodge’s 200th birthday (July 18, 1823); the 150th anniversary of Gardiner Spring’s passing (Aug. 18, 1873); the 150th anniversary of Thomas Smyth’s passing (Aug. 20, 1873); and we are looking ahead to the 300th birthday of Samuel Davies (Nov. 3, 1723). These anniversaries are reminders of the rich heritage of American Presbyterianism, and how these men have contributed in their own ways to shaping our history. As we like to say, there is no time like the present to study the past.

Meanwhile, to return to the here and now, members of the Dead Presbyterian Society have special access to certain features on this website, which include the Early Access and Recent Additions page, as well as the DPS quote blog, and the Log College Review. We wish to draw your attention to notable works of interest that have added recently.

Some highlights at the Early Access page:

  • Samuel Davies, Travel Diary (1753-1754) — A kind and helpful supporter of our work noticed that some handwritten manuscript journals have been digitized by the Union Theological Seminary in Richmond, Virginia, including Davies’ diary which covers a portion of his trip to Great Britain to raise funds for the College of New Jersey (Princeton).

  • William Henry Foote, Journal (3 volumes, 1794-1869) — This is a remarkable manuscript journal (written in beautiful penmanship) which covers almost the entirety of Foote’s life, and includes newspaper clippings, family history, ecclesiastical records (some pertinent to the founding of the Presbyterian Church, C.S.A.), and much more.

  • Francis Alison, Peace and Union Recommended (1758) — A notable sermon preached by an Old Side divine at the opening of the synod at which the Old and New Sides were reunited.

  • David Bostwick, Self Disclaimed and Christ Exalted (1758) — A powerful sermon on the words from John 3:30: “He must increase but I must decrease.”

  • Jonathan Dickinson, A Sermon, Preached at the Opening of the Synod at Philadelphia, September 19, 1722 (1723) and A Vindication of God’s Sovereign Free Grace (1746).

  • Samuel Finley, The Curse of Meroz; or, The Danger of Neutrality, in the Cause of God, and Our Country (1757) — A notable patriotic sermon preached during the French and Indian War.

Some highlights at the Recent Additions page:

On the Log College Review:

  • Reviews by Jonathan Peters: Review of Francis R. Flournoy, Benjamin Mosby Smith: 1811-1893 (1947) [2023], and Review of William E. Thompson, In Stonewall’s Long Shadow: James Power Smith, Aide de Camp (2020) [first appeared in The Confessional Presbyterian 18 (2022)].

Meanwhile, please feel free to browse the many resources available to our readers in print and in digital format. We appreciate hearing from our readers if they find matters needing correction, or if they have questions about authors or works on the site, or if they have suggestions for additions to the site. Your feedback helps the experience of other readers as well. Thank you, as always, for your interest and support. Stay tuned for more good things to come.

The Natural Bridge of Virginia: An American Wonder

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Visitors to the Natural Bridge of Rockbridge County, Virginia have been awestruck for centuries of recorded history. With ties to many American Presidents — such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Calvin Coolidge, and others — and references in American literature, including Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick — it is clear that the Natural Bridge has left a deep impression on the minds and hearts of many. American Presbyterian writers have also left a record of their impressions.

Benjamin Mosby Smith became engaged to Mary Moore Morrison (grand-daughter of the famous Mary Moore Brown, “the Captive of Abb’s Valley”), while on a picnic under the Natural Bridge in 1838, according to Francis R. Flournoy, Benjamin Mosby Smith, 1811-1893 (1947), p. 44.

Joseph Caldwell, who served as the first President of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, wrote about his 1808 tour of Virginia the following year, in which he described the Natural Bridge.

My Dear Friend — I write this from Douthit's tavern, one mile and a half from the Natural Bridge, and thirteen miles from Lexington; having just now returned from the bridge, I had determined on giving you a concise description of this sublime object, but fearing to fall short of the truth, I have turned to Mr. Jefferson's notes on Virginia, from whence I copy the following extract. "It is on the ascent of a hill which seems to have been cloven through its length by some great convulsiun. The fissure just at the bridge is by some admeasurement, 270 feet deep, by others only 205, it is about 45 feet wide at the bottom, and 90 feet at the top, this of course determines the length of the bridge, and its height from the water. Its breadth at the middle is about 60 feet, but more at the ends, and the thickness of the mass at the summit of the arch about 40 feet; a part of this thickness is. constituted by a coat of earth, which gives growth to many large trees ; the residue, with the hill on both sides, is one solid rock of limestone. The arch approaches the semi-elliptical form, but the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would be the chord of the arch, is many times longer than the transverse. Though the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have the resolution to walk to them, and look over into the abyss; you involuntarily fall upon your hands and feet, creep to the parapet, and peep over it, looking down from this height about a minute, gave me a violent head ache. If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, that from below is delightful in an equal extreme. It is impossible for the emotions arising from the sublime, to be felt beyond what they are here: so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light, and springing, as it were up to heaven! the rapture of the spectator is really indiscribable. The fissure continuing narrow, deep and strait for a considerable distance both above and below the bridge, opens to a short, but very pleasing view of the north mountains on one side, and the blue ridge on the other, at the distance, each of them, of about five miles. This bridge is in the county of Rockbridge, to which it has given name; it affords a public and commodious passage over a valley, which cannot be crossed elsewhere for a considerable distance. The stream passing under it is called Cedar creek; it is a water of James' river, and sufficient in the driest season to turn a grist mill, though its fountain is not more than two miles above." I felt so strongly "the emotions arising from the sublime" that I could not in plain rational language convey to you my ideas of what I had seen, so you may be well pleased that I thought of the extract. I am here informed that Mr. Jefferson, since the publication of his Notes on Virginia, which first gave celebrity to this wonder of nature, has purchased from the United States fifteen acres of land, in the midst of which stands the bridge, and perhaps no private estate in the world can produce a grander or a more surprising subject of admiration — Adieu.

William Maxwell, in his 1816 Poems, includes a tribute to this very special place.

THE NATURAL BRIDGE

Hail! to thy Bridge, romantic Nature, hail!
O! more than true what I esteem’d a tale.
How light the wonder of that magic arch,
From cloud to cloud for angel bands to march;
So lightly pois’d upon the downy air,
For Art to view with rapture and despair!
But lost in wonder, I can only gaze,
While Silence owns the impotence of Praise.

And was it then the Spirit of the Storm,
Hiding in clouds his miscreated form,
With meteor apear, that smote the rocks aside,
And bade their frighten’d pediments divide,
For yonder Naiad with her tuneful stream,
To murmur thro’? O! this is Faney’s dream.
’Twas Heav’nly Nature made the magic pile,
And own’d the wonder with a mother’s smile.

I see her now. An angel sketch’d the view,
And bade her follow as his pencil drew.
Then smiling, conscious of celestial pow’r,
She took the rock, like some wild little flow’r,
And threw it lightly o’er the craggy ridge,
And gaily said, ‘Thus Nature makes a Bridge.’

Let pensive Beauty rove beside the stream,
To sooth her fancy with a tender dream;
While the sweet Naiad, as she trips along,
Beguiles her love with sympathetic song.
Let Genius gaze from yonder dizzy steep;
Whence Horror shrinks, yet madly longs to leap;
Then spread his wings triumphantly to soar,
And bless the world with one true poet more.
Here let Religion fondly love to stray,
A virgin pilgrim, at the close of day;
And sweetly conscious of her sins forgiv’n,
Exhale her soul in gratitude to Heav’n.
For me, fair Nature, far from War’s alarms,
Stealing thro’ shades to gaze upon thy charms,
The while yon Moon slow rises o’er the hill,
And Silence listening feels that all is still;
I gaze in wonder at the view sublime,
And own the charm that holds the breath of Time.
But hark! the voice of Rapture in my ears!
An angel sings! The music of the spheres!
A present God! — I feel myself no more, —
But lost in him — I tremble — I adore!

September 13th, 1813.

David Johnson, The Natural Bridge (1860)

David Johnson, The Natural Bridge (1860)

The testimony of Archibald Alexander appears in J.W. Alexander’s biography, The Life of Archibald Alexander, D.D. (1854), in which Archibald writes of “the sublime”:

But in this same [Shenandoah] valley, and not very remote from the objects of which I have spoken, there is one which, I think, produces the feeling which is denominated the sublime, more definitely and sensibly than any that I have ever seen. I refer to the Natural Bridge, from which the county takes its name. It is not my object to describe this extraordinary lusus naturae, as it may be called. In fact, no representation which can be given by the pen or pencil can convey any adequate idea of the object, or one that will have the least tendency to produce the emotion excited by a view of the object itself. There are some things, then, which the traveller, however eloquent, cannot communicate to his readers. All I intend is, to mention the effect produced by a sight of the Natural Bridge on my own mind. When a boy of fourteen or fifteen, I first visited this curiosity. Having stood on the top, and looked down into the deep chasm above and below the bridge, without any new or very strong emotions, as the scene bore a resemblance to many which are common to that country, I descended by the usual circuitous path to the bottom, and came upon the stream or brook some distance below the bridge. The first view which I obtained of the beautiful and elevated blue limestone arch, springing up to the clouds, produced an emotion entirely new; the feeling was as though something within sprung up to a great height by a kind of sudden impulse. That was the animal sensation which accompanied the genuine emotion of the sublime. Many years afterwards, I again visited the bridge. I entertained the belief, that I had preserved in my mind, all along, the idea of the object; and that now I should see it without emotion. But the fact was not so. The view, at this time, produced a revival of the original emotion, with the conscious feeling that the idea of the object had faded away, and become both obscure and diminutive, but was now restored, in an instant, to its original vividness, and magnitude. The emotion produced by an object of true sublimity, as it is very vivid, so it is very short in its continuance. It seems, then, that novelty must be added to other qualities in the object, to produce this emotion distinctly. A person living near the bridge, who should see it every day, might be pleased with the object, but would experience, after a while, nothing of the vivid emotion of the sublime. Thus, I think, it must be accounted for, that the starry heavens, or the sun shining in his strength, are viewed with little emotion of this kind, although much the sublimest objects in our view; we have been accustomed to view them daily, from our infancy. But a bright-coloured rainbow, spanning a large arch in the heavens, strikes all classes of persons with a mingled emotion of the sublime and beautiful; to which a sufficient degree of novelty is added, to render the impression vivid, as often as it occurs. I have reflected on the reason why the Natural Bridge produces the emotion of the sublime, so well defined and so vivid; but I have arrived at nothing satisfactory. It must be resolved into an ultimate law of our nature, that a novel object of that elevation and form will produce such an effect. Any attempt at analyzing objects of beauty and sublimity only tends to produce confusion in our ideas. To artists, such analysis may be useful; not to increase the emotion, but to enable them to imitate more effectually the objects of nature by which it is produced. Although I have conversed with many thousands who had seen the Natural Bridge; and although the liveliness of the emotion is very different in different persons; yet I never saw one, of any class, who did not view the object with considerable emotion. And none have ever expressed disappointment from having had their expectations raised too high, by the description previously received. Indeed, no previous description communicates any just conception of the object as it appears; and the attempts to represent it by the pencil, as far as I have seen them, are pitiful. Painters would show their wisdom by omitting to represent some of the objects of nature, such as a volcano in actual ebullition, the sea in a storm, the conflagration of a great city, or the scene of a battle-field. The imitation must be so faint and feeble, that the attempt, however skilfully executed, is apt to produce disgust, instead of admiration.

In a letter from Charles Hodge to his wife Sarah dated May 28, 1828, written during his trip to Europe, which appears in A.A. Hodge’s biography The Life of Charles Hodge D.D. LL.D. Professor in the Theological Seminary Princeton N.J. (1880), Charles refers to the Natural Bridge (which he had visited during his 1816 tour of Virginia):

My Beloved Sarah: -- I have seen the Alps! If now I never see any thing great or beautiful in nature, I am content. I felt that as soon as I saw you, I could fall at your feet and beg you to forgive my beholding such a spectacle without you, my love. You were dearer to me in that moment than ever. I left Basel about one o'clock with a young English gentleman for Lucerne. We rode about fifteen miles and arrived at the foot of a mountain. As the road was steep and difficult, we commenced walking up the mountain in company with two Swiss gentlemen. We ascended leisurely for about two hours before we reached the top. I was walking slowly with my hands behind me, and my eyes on the ground, expecting nothing, when one of the Swiss gentlemen said with infinite indifference -- "Voila les Alpes." I raised my eyes -- and around me in a grand amphitheatre, high up against the heavens, were the Alps! It was some moments before the false and indefinite conceptions of my life were overcome by the glorious reality. The declining sun shed on the immense mass of mingled snow and forests the brightness of the evening clouds. This was the first moment of my life in which I felt overwhelmed. Every thing I had ever previously seen seemed absolutely nothing. The natural bridge in Virginia had surprised me -- the Rhine had delighted me -- but the first sudden view of the Alps was overwhelming. This was a moment that can never return; the Alps can never be seen again by surprise, and in ignorance of their real appearance.

In the 20th century, inspired by this American wonder, Robert Alberti Lapsley, Jr. wrote The Bridge of God: A Spiritual Interpretation of the Natural Bridge of Virginia (1951) [not yet available on Log College Press].

A visit to Natural Bridge may be just another American Natural Wonder seen and checked off the list, or it may be a real spiritual experience. All depends on the visitor himself, and the spirit in which he approaches the Bridge. For here is something man with all his vaunted skill could never have made. Here is something straight from the hand of the Creator.

That God is recognized as the workman is shown by the comments of visitors to the Bridge. An employee found a German refugee kneeling under the Bridge just at twilight in the attitude of prayer. As he approached she rose and said, “I have been thanking God that there are place like this left in the world.” Two women stood under the Bridge for a long time in silence. Finally one said, “It gives me a feeling of mightiness.” But the other replied, “It gives me a feeling of smallness.” A mother, showing the Bridge to her child, said, “See, dear, the Bridge was made by God. Man did not build it.” Said a couple from York, Pennsylvania, “Often when we visit places and see things of which we have been told, we are disappointed. But Natural Bridge surpassed all our expectations.”

That God is recognized as the workman is shown by the comments in the Visitors’ Book at the entrance. In the Gatehouse there is a large volume where visitors are invited to write their names as they leave, with any comments they wish. Most of the comments are trite and commonplace, such as “Beautiful,” “Wonderful,” “Stupendous,” “Awe-inspiring,” “Grand,” etc. But every once in a while some visitor will take the time to record in this book a profound religious experience. Here are a few examples:

A lady from Pittsburgh: “It brought me as near to Heaven as I will probably get.”

A man from Indiana: “It would be hard to find something more God-like.”

A lady from Portsmouth, Virginia: “We left in a mood of reverence.”

A mother and son from Texas: “It brought us a new realization of God’s creation, beautiful and breath-taking.”

A couple from Massachusetts: “We found it a beautiful way to worship.”

A young lady from Kentucky: “It has the atmosphere of a Cathedral, and it drew me closer to my Maker.”

A girl from Elkton, Virginia: “It lifted me into the Seventh Heaven.”

A couple from Oak Ridge, Tennessee: “It brought us in touch with the Infinite.”

A professor from Yale University: “It is religiously inspiring.”

That God is recognized as the workman is shown by the tributes of famous men and women who have visited the Bridge. Samuel Kercheval, in his History of the Valley of Virginia, speaks of it as “the most grand, sublime, and awful sight I ever looked upon.” Arno B. Cammerer, Director of United States Parks, who is familiar with all the natural beauties of America, in a personal letter to a friend says that the Bridge impressed him as “one of the most wonderful and lovely examples of Nature’s Architecture” he had ever seen. Mildred Seydell, internationally known author and writer, put her feeling in these words: “Man expresses the beauty of his thoughts by making songs and poems and pictures and sculpture, but God has expressed the beauty of His thoughts by creating Natural Bridge of Virginia.” It was Henry Clay, the great Kentucky statesman, who coined this expressive phrase, “The Bridge not made with hands,” while John Marshall described it as “God’s greatest miracle in stone.”

Over and over, we see among these extracts references to the sublime. Truly, that word perhaps best captures the elevated impression that this remarkable natural wonder of God’s handiwork in creation. The tributes to this special found in the writings of many, including these American Presbyterians, testify to beauty, power and wisdom of God.

A boy learns about his Huguenot heritage: Joseph Caldwell

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Between the Huguenot and Puritan there was no stream to bridge over. They had in their common Calvinism and love of freedom a bond of sympathy and union that brought them into harmony as soon as their tongues had learned to speak a common language. -- Lucian J. Fosdick, “The French Blood in America,” p. 210

Once upon a time — we are told in the autobiography of Joseph Caldwell (1773-1835) — a boy sat down with his maternal grandmother — whose name was Rachel Lovel — and learned about a branch of his family tree. The memory stayed with him as an older man, and the account he gives is worth re-telling today. Thus it begins:

The Edict of Nantes was revoked by Louis XIV about the year 1684. The well known consequence was that 500,000 French Protestants left their country to look after settlements among other nations, and in other parts of the world, where they might enjoy the rights of conscience, and the same immunities and prospects for themselves and their families as were common to other subjects or citizens of the governments under which they should live. One of these emigrant families was that of Lovel. They first passed from France into England, and continued there for some time, in the exercise of manufacturing skill. At that period, the colonies of America, now known as the United States, were fast filling up from different parts of the British empire, and Europe. The head of this Lovel family did not continue very long in the vicinage of London, before he concluded to transplant himself with such capital as he possessed, which, it would seem, was not insignificant, to a spot which he selected on Long Island, towards it western extremity, and not far from Hempsted Plains, and near Oyster Bay. Here he purchased an extensive farm. The land was of good (quality, and being faithfully cultivated, yielded annually an abundance for the necessaries and comforts, and all that was desired beyond these for the enjoyments and respectability of people who classed with the substantial mediocrity of the country. With what total abstraction and absorbing interest did my good old grandmother, when I was a boy of twelve, sit and pass in review through the details of her early years, while she was growing up under the fostering guidance of her venerable parent. He was, it would seem, of mellowed affections and patriarchal habits. I shall give a specimen of one of these conversations:

GRANDMOTHER. My father was considered a man of strong mind. His person was large, his expression tempered of gravity, affection and truth, on which the eye rested with confidence. He was often cheerful in aspect and intercourse, but he was always under the chastening influence of piety. He had learned to understand the doctrines of the gospel through the stern constructions of Puritanism, as it has been distinctively called in England. In France, people of this description went under the name of Huguenots.

GRANDSON. Huguenots! That's a strange name. Why were they called Huguenots? What is the meaning of it? I suppose it is some nickname, by the sound of it.

GRANDMOTHER. It probably was. But I do not know its origin or its meaning. They were persecuted so cruelly that they escaped out of France by thousands, to find subsistence and settlements as they might in other countries. My father and his connexions got to the sea coast and went over into England. They were people of property. Some made purchases of houses in London, where they died without heirs. We were told of this some time afterwards, and might have inherited the property, but my father was either unable or too regardless of the matter to attend to it, and time ran on until by the statute of limitation the claim was barred. Some have said that even now, if the claim could be clearly substantiated and conducted through the forms of kw, a large number of houses once belonging to my uncle might possibly be recovered by our family, and if they could, we should all be rich enough.

At this I remember that my little heart bounded, and I became full of inquiries.

GRANDSON. Well, Grandmother, why cannot that be tried? Is it not worth while? You say it was a vast property, how may houses were there said to be?

GRANDMOTHER. I have heard of a considerable number. My uncle was a bachelor, and is said to have owned a whole side of a square, consisting of valuable buildings.

GRANDSON. Has any attempt ever been made to recover the property? If not, would it not be well to make a trial at least, and, if it should fail, we should but be where we are.

GRANDMOTHER. Yes, my child, if there were anybody to do it. But it would imply a great deal of trouble, and time, and expense, and it has been thought best to give it all up.

This was a. theme on which 1 delighted to dwell, with the fond idea that if all that property could be reclaimed, it would be the consummation of our good fortune.

GRANDMOTHER. After my father's emigration to this country with his family, he brought up his children to the habits of industry, piety, and economy. But though he held the reins of domestic government with a steady hand, a spirit of harmony and affection was constantly diffused through all our feelings. We stood in awe of our father, and feared to transgress, but it was accompanied with such a confidence as to strengthen and deepen our love for him, and was attended with a prompt and willing acquiescence in his wishes. Our mother, too, seemed to look up to him with such deference to his opinions and wishes as showed that she felt him to be her guide and protector as well as the partner of her bosom. One singularity that marked his feelings and opinions was that he never suffered meat to be eaten in his family.

GRANDSON. Not eat meat! That is strange. I never heard of any body that never eat meat. What reason could he have for not eating meat?

GRANDMOTHER. He was wont to tell us that the grant to live upon the flesh of animals was certainly in the scriptures. But he considered it to have been made in consequence of the fall of man. Hence, he deduced that to abstain from it was more in conformity with original innocence and perfection, than was the practice of subsisting upon it. He never permitted an animal to be slaughtered for his own use or that of his family. Ho always had large and luxuriant pastures, kept numbers of cattle and such other animals as could be useful to him upon his own principles, provided plentifully for their sustenance and shelter, had an abundance of milk, butter, cheese and fruits, wheat, corn, and vegetables. In short, all around him, both in the house and in the field, was in the best condition.

GRANDSON. But, if he sold one of these animals to be killed by another person, would not that be much the same thing as killing it himself?

GRANDMOTHER. So he felt, and he never would consent to sell one if he knew it was to be slaughtered. Some animals we keep now without ever thinking of killing them for food, such as horses, dogs, cats. He put all upon the same footing.

GRANDSON. But, Grandmother, you eat meat now, and your family were all brought up to it.

GRANDMOTHER. Yes, but I never tasted it till I was married, at 21 years of age. Your Grandfather had no such opinions and habits, and I fell in with his customs and those of his family. To the present day, however, I care very little for meat. My father and all his family were thought as healthy as any people in the country, and seemed to enjoy themselves as much. We were apt to be esteemed peculiarly happy among our neighbors — always harmonious, plain in our manners, affectionate, looking up to our parents with veneration and love, and prompt acquiescence in their wishes. We were taught to be scrupulous in the economy of time, and to feel unhappy unless we were busy about something useful. We had a family library and were educated to an enlargement of the mind, by reading and improving conversation. My father was careful in directing the habits, dispositions and intelligence of his children. Their ingenuity was continually called out for the accomplishment of such work as was assigned to them. If a difficulty occurred, the answer to an application for aid was, “Now try your skill. Is there no way you can contrive for effecting what you want? The greatest advantage in your doing that, is in finding out the best method." This would interest us in our work, and if we succeeded, we were applauded and encouraged, and this gave us fresh heart for our occupation.

GRANDSON. Why, Grandmother, you seem to have been very happy.

GRANDMOTHER. We were usually so. My father was fond of sacred music. He brought over an organ with him, and kept it in his family. He could play upon it himself and sang well — at least we thought so. Most of my brothers and sisters learned from him in succession as they grew up. At the hour of morning and evening prayers, the family all assembled in the room where it was kept, and united their voices with its elevating tones in praising God. It is the very same organ which your uncle John Level has in his house, and on which you have heard his sisters play, who are now living with him.

Such were the accounts which my kind grandmother would detail to me of old Mr. John Lovel, her father, and his peculiar habits, opinions, and mode of life in his family. It can scarcely be supposed that I am professing to describe these things in the expressions used at the time. In the course of my boyhood, they were renewed at different times. They were subjects on which I delighted to hear her converse, and they made indelible impressions upon me. The circumstances and events have been here given in such terms as have occurred.

In this manner, young Joseph Caldwell learned of his Huguenot heritage. It may be of further interest to learn that this same man went on to become

  • a graduate of the College of New Jersey (Princeton) by the age of 18;

  • a Presbyterian minister of the gospel;

  • Professor of Mathematics, and first President of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill; and

  • builder of the first astronomical observatory used for educational purposes in the United States (1830, Chapel Hill, North Carolina).

Read more of his career and works here, and get to know a Presbyterian pioneer in North Carolina education whose Huguenot heritage was an important early chapter in a fascinating life story.