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VOL. LXXXVn. RICHMt
A Proposed Memorial
About one hundred years ago there lived near
Cordonsville, Va., a wonderfully gifted, but blind,
Presbyterian preacher. His name was James
Wad del (now spelled Waddell). While living
lure he preached in a Presbyterian church about
one-half mile northeast of the present town of
lionlonsville, called ''Belle Grove," and which
later became commonly known as "the church of
the blind preacher."
Near the beginning of the nineteenth century
William Wirt, the American jurist and author,
was journeying through the county of Orange.
As he traveled along one Sunday, his eye caught
sight of a number of horses tied near a ruinous
old house not far from the roadside. He knew
at once what it
rnur- . _ B*. j4 J V1 .
nii'iiiii. j ins was a i\
'meeting house."
Moved in part "by i \
curiosity to hear the SB
[ireacher bf such a
w i 1 d e r n e s 8," the j.'
latesman stopped H I
and entered the old JB^H
building.
MR. WIRT'S DESCRIP- ?
TION OF THE MAN
AND THE SERVICE.
It was "the church
of the blind preach- H
er." The old preachor
himself was in the
pulpit. Of him, and
of t he service, Mr.
Wirt, writing in the
British Spy, says: .
'On entering, I was H
struck by his preternatural
appearance.
He was a tall and
^1J TT _
uiu man. ills
hair, which was covered with a white cap, his
shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaking
under the influence of a palsy; and a few minutes
ascertained to me that he was blind.
"The first emotions which touched my breast
were those of mingled piety and veneration. But
?h! sacred God! how soon were all my feelings
changed! The lips of Plato were never more
worthy of a prognostic swarm of bees than were
the lips of this holy man. It was the day of the
administration of the sacrament; and his subject,
course. wa8 the mission of onr Savimir T lia/J
'" ard the subject handled a thousand times. I
!|ad thought it exhausted long ago. Little did I
s,1Ppose that in the wild woods of America I was
'? meet a man whose eloquence would give to this
,0P>e a new and more sublime pathos than I had
over before witnessed.
"An he descended from the pulpit to distribute
2
3ND, NEW 0 "^ANS, ATLANTA, OCTOBE
C |
to "Th. Blind Preach
? By Rev. H. H. Hudson ?
the mystic symbols, there was a peculiar, a more
than human solemnity in his air and manner,
which made my blood run cold, and my whole
frame to shiver.
air. n J? * ' ? -
xie wien urew a picture ot the sufferings of
our Saviour; Ilis trial before Pilate; His ascent
up Calvary; His crucifixion, and his death. I
knew the whole history, but never, until then, had
I heard the circumstances so selected, so arranged,
so colored! It was all new, and I seemed to hear
it for the first time in my life. His enunciation
was so deliberate that his voice trembled on eveiy
syllable, and every heart in the assembly trembled
in unison. His peculiar phrases had that force
of description, that the original scene appeared
The Church of The Blind Preacher
to be, at that moment, before our eyes. We saw
the faces of the Jews; the staring, frightful distortions
of malice and rage. We saw the hulletl
my soul kindled with a flame of indignation, and
my hands were involuntarily and convulsively
clenched. But when he came to touch on the
patience, the forgiving meekness of our Saviour;
when he drew to the life, His blessed eyes streaming
in tears to heaven; His voice breathing to God
a soft and gentle prayer of pardon on His enemies,
'Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do,"' the voice of the preacher, which had
all along faltered, grew fainter and fainter, until
his utterances, beincr entirely ohatruoted hv the
force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief
to his eyes and burst into a loud ami irrepressible
flood of grief. The effect is inconceivable. The
whole house resounded with the mingled groans,
and sobs, and shrieks of the congregating
Vv
, ' r, A. . . , . V ,
?al Presbyter/an .2
mgm prt?sbytema&
R 29, 1913. No.
;r"-Rev. James Waddel
"It was Rome time before the tumult had subsided
so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed,
judging by the usual but fallacious standard of
my own weakness, 1 began to be very uneasy for
the situation of the preacher. For I could not
conceive how he would be able to let his audience
down from the heights to which he had wound
them without imn?irinor ftio onlomnUw
j e v<v. uuivuiuibj auu ui?Uibjr
of his subject, or perhaps shocking them by the
abruptness of the fall. But no; the descent was
as beautiful and sublime as the elevation had Been
rapid and enthusiastic.
"The first sentence with which he broke the
awful silence was a quotation from Rousseau:
Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus
Christ like a God!'
~1 "1 despair of giv
tence, unless you
could perfectly conceive
the whole manner
of the man, as
well as the peculiar
crisis in the discourse.
Never before
did I completely understand
what Demosthenes
meant by
Claying such stress on
delivery. You arc to
bring before you the
venerable figure of
blindness constantly
recalling to your recollection
old Homer,
Ossian and
and associating with
his performance the
melancholy grandeur
of their geniuses. You are to imagine that you
hear his slow, solemn, well-accented enunciation,
and his voice of affecting, trembling melody; you
arc to remember the pitch of passion and enthu
siasm to which the congregation were raised; and
then the few minutes of portentous deathlike silence
which reigned throughout the house; the
preacher removing his white handkerchief from
his aged face (even yet wet from the recent torrent
of his tears), and slowly stretching forth the
palsied hand which holds it, begins the sentence,
'Socrates died like a philosopher'; then pausing,
raising his other hand, pressing them both clasped
tnorollinr urS+K ? A- 1: _ 1 J
,_e??..v. null nullum nuu t-ucrgj IU 1118 DreaHt,
lifting his 'sightless balls' to heaven, and pourning
his whole soul into his tremulous voice, 'but Jesus
Christ died like a God!' If he had been in deed
and truth an angel of light, the effect could
(Continued on page 11)