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\ T n. 25 Vol. VF.]
DEGREE OF DR. OF DIVINITY.
A few weeks since we published an article pur
porting to be an extract from a publication by the
Rev. N. S. S. Betnan, in which he gave his rea
sons for not accepting the honorary degree of D.
I), proffered him by Williams’College. We have
just seen a paper containing the whole of his pro
test, and we find that our extract was mutilated,
-and does not correctly represent the Rev. Gen
tleman’s views of the subject. In justification of
ourselves, we can only say, that we gave the
piece as we found it;—and in justice to the au
thor, as well as with a view to adorn our columns
with the productions of his chaste and nervous
pen, we hasten to lay the piece entire, before our
readers.
From the Troy Sentinel.
D. D.
Mr. Editor,
In your paper of the 14th inst. under the
head of “ collegiate record.” you stale the
fact,-that the honoifrary degree of D. D. teas
conferred on Nathan S. S Reman, of Troy,
N F. As the subject of this intended
honour, permit me through the medium of
The Sentinel , to present to the Christian
publick a few remarks touching this busi
ness. I have no ambition to appear in the
columns of a newspaper, hut as I have an
opinion on the subject, which I wish to ex
press—l avail myself of the same channel
which conveyed the fact alluded to above,
to the publick 1 bad before heard of this
thing, by the hearing of the ear. but in your
paper it was first presented to my ’ eye.
This is my apology—if any apology should
be neces-ary tor such a step —for selecting
this method for the expression of my senli
ments.
Before I proceed to the merits of the
question relative to the honourary degree
of Doctor of Divinity, I would express my
gratitude to the College from which I have
received this unexpected and undeserved
notice. In the prosperity of that institute n
I feel a deep interest. My acquaintance
with some of the distinguished members of
the faculty, authorises me to say, that its
concerns are in good hands—and the coun
try and the church have reason to rejoice
in its increasing celebrity. I have no doubt,
that it is destined, by its instrumentality,
more and more to honour God and bless
man. In these remarks, I have but u single
object in view; and that is, that what lain
about to say, may not be capable of any
construction or application prejudicial to
Williams College. The rejection of an
honourary degree has sometimes been con
strued into hostility to the institution by
which it was conferred—or, at least, the
fact has been considered as furnishing pre
sumptive evidence of the low opinion en
tertained of its classical reputation. But
such an inference is often incorrect and un
just. In the present case, the same step
would have been taken, had the honour
ermnated from any other quarter —or had
all the colleges in the country united in the
game act of publick notice The Trustees
and Faculty of that Institution may be as
sured, that I have fellowship with them in
every thing but in making Doctors or Di
VINITY.
My opinion of the honourary titile of D.
D. ba long since been matured and settled;
and this opinion has sometimes been honest
ly expre-sed ; —hut “ sour grapes'’ has been
the unanswerable argument with which the
avowal has been uniformly met. Circum
stances have however changed—and i may
now present my views to the Christian pub
lick, on Ihi subject, without the apprehen
sion, at leat. of this kind of reproach.
As brevity is my object, perniit me tosay
that ! consider this Honourary Degree as
contrary to the spirit of (he go-pel—a-pro
ductive of practical mi-chief in the church
of Christ—and so managed, at the present
day, as to become liable to additional ani
madversion.
It is contrary to the spirit of the gospel
Chris! reprehends with gre.ai severity the
scribes and pharisees for their fondne-s for
human honours and distinctions. They
loved “greeting- in the markets and to be
called of men Rabbi, Rabbi ” The total
avoidance of this spirit, he has solemnly en
joined upon his disciples. “Be not ye cal
led Rabbi ; for one is your Master, even
Chri-t. and all ye are brethren.” Now
this injunction certainly has some meaning.
There is no probability that it was aimed
at a mere word. The term Rabbi, is as in
nocent as any other term; it contains no in
trinsick evil. It is not a profane word—lt
simply signifies Master, or Teacher, or
Doctor. The reasons here assigned why
the ministers of Christ were not to affect
those titles after which the scribes and
pharisees were so aspiring, are reasons
which apply with as much force to the
honourary degree of D. D. as to the hon
ourary title of Rabbi. These reasons are
two. One respects their relations to Christ;
the. other, the relations to each other. “Be
not ye called Rabbi,” or Master, or Doctor,
for one is your Master, even Christ.” lie
is the only being who, by way of eminence
or distinction, sustains the relation of Rabbi,
or Master, or Teacher, to the Church.
The other reason is founded on the parity
of Christ's ambassadors ; —“and ye all are
brethren.” The assumption or appropria
tion of iitles, honours or authority, in the
THE MISSIONAR Y.
church, which may lend directly or indi
rectly to break in upon the fraternal equal
ily of the ministers of the gospel, contra
venes the letter and the spirit of this in
junction. And this is not the only instance
in which the Lord Jesus has put his hand
upon this aspiring temper. When the dis
ciples, on a certain occasion contended for
distinction, he directed them to leave this
contest to the kings and rulers of the earth.
“Ye shall not be so, but he that is greatest
among you let him he as the younger; and
he that is Chief, as he that doth serve.”
Ambition is the same principle throughout
the universe—whether in “Lucifer, son of
the morning”—or in one of the sons of Ad
am—whether covered, (though not con
cealed) by the royal purple, or the humbler
garb ot the ecclesiastic! c. Incentives to am
bition ought not to be mullipled and pre
sented by the church of Christ.
This honourary distinction is productive of
practical mischief. The title and relation
.1 brother, is lost amidst the factitious distinc-
Mons of the world: and the kingdom of
Christ, robbed of its heavenly character,
becomes a kingdom of secular titles and
honours. When brethren meet under the
present system, it is with the cold and for
mal salutation of Doctor and Mister; and
while studious to receive honours one of an
other, and to render honours one to an
other, they forget that they are all
brethren, and fellow labourers in the king
dom ot God. The distinctions which are
thus recognized in the terms of ordinary
salutation, are calculated to cherish the
passions of ambition on the one hand, and
of envy on the other. I -ay calculated to
cherish—tor the grace of God may , and, no
doubt often docs, prevent the melancholy
effect. But ministers of the gospel are
men—and it Paul and Barnabas were seni
ble, that they were “ men of like passions”
with others, it becomes those who are far
less distinguished than these inspired her
aids ot the cross, to remember this fact, and
to take those precautions which are best
calculated to bring every unhallowed feel
mg into captivity to Christ. While few
men are superiour to the magick of a name
or title, multitudes may be found who will
envy others that distinction which they
themselves, tor want of personal merit or
publick justice, are not permitted to attain.
So it is in the world—and so it is in the
church. The predominance of human pas
sions, and those not of the most unexcep
tionable character, may be discovered in
every sphere of human action.
Had the primitive church commenced in
this way the world would never have been
evangelized. Had ihey created those hon
ourary distinctions whirl; now exist in the
church, the enPtnies of the gospel would
have looked upon the whole system of
Christianity as anew scheme for the grati
tication ot ambition, and for the promotion
of self-aggrandizement—and the titles of
Doctor Raul and Doctor Peter would have
blasted the budding hopes of the kingdom
ot Christ. It was not till the church became
wedded to the State in the Roman Empire,
that worldly distinctions were introduced
and became fashionable amongst the minis
ter- ot Christ. At this period the leaven
began to work which produced all thai
monstrous assumption of honours and of
power which obtained among the Catholick
priesthood; and a portion of the same spir
it may be found in every section of the
Christian church at the present day. In
stead of the simplicity of the gospel—a
feeling that we are brethren engaged in the
same cause—there is too much strife who
shall “be accounted the greatest.” That
denomination to which I have the happiness
to belong, possesses its full share of this
spirit. It is to be devoutly hoped, that the
time will never cotne when it shall be said,
of the ministers of Christ, as it is often said
(with what truth or justice I will not at
tempt to decide) of those who bustle in the
political world ; that the great contest is for
“ the loaves and fishes”—the honours, and
profits of advancement. For one, I frankly
acknowledge, my soul is sick of this aping
of the world.
But this title is liable to additionalanimad
version from the manner in which it is often
conferred. In ihe remarks which I make
under this particular head I do not intend to
abandon the ground taken above.—The
thing is wrong “ ab initio,” and no manage
ment could imparl to it a Christian charac
ter. By the right of prescription i! wears
a Christian name, but thk is all. What dis
tinction is intended to be marked out by this
honourary degree ? It is age, or talents, or
orthodoxy or erudition ? Formerly, this title
was reserved for old age ; and it was con
ferred upon those only who were venerable
for their years. But now nothing is more
common‘than for the mere stripling to
have D. D. appended to his name; and
when the man and his title are put togeth
er, the association reminds one of young
David, arrayed in the armour of King Saul
— it is rather cumbersome to the lad. If t his
degree were allowable on any principle,
the very be-t thing which could be done
with it, would he to reserve it, in all cases,
for those whose active days have gone by,
and who are sinking into dotage. It might
answer very well as a grave rattle to amuse
second childhood. Is it conferred alone
upon talents'! It is not to be denied, that
Os all the dispositions and liftfiU which TnVr’ ™ d preach lhe Gospel ,0 ever y creature.-./*™, Christ.
_ __ h h dto p 0 ,t,ca, pioepenty, Religion and Morality are indispensable supports.— Washington.
MOUNT COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1824.
many men of the f.r o t Intellectual eminence,
in the church, have received this distinc
tion. And. on the o'her hand, it is mani
fest that others equally distinguished for
mental ejevation, have lived and died with
out the title. But one would be tempted
to thiuk, that the Collegia had, in some
instance®, gone by the sane rule which
the apostle tells us was taken in fitting and
tempering the members ot th human body
together, and have “ given me-e abundant
honour to that part which lacked.” —As to
orthodoxy, the title ot D D. would furnish
a poor criterion. There are all sorts of
men in the ministry, and all sorts of Colle
ges to give them as occasion may require,
a literary or theological puff. It frequently
happens,at the present day, that a man—l
mean one that passes for a clergyman—is
dubbed Doctor of Divinity, who has about
a* much veneration for the Bible and its
peculiar doctrines, as was cherished by
David Hume or Thomas Paine. As to
erudition, it is not always the most useful
kind, or that which is connected with the
appropriate and peculiar duties of a clergy
man which is rewarded by this honorary
degree. The thorough biblical scholar and
the profound theologian are often passed by,
while Ihe publick distinction is reserved
for the man of mere classical attainments,
or of a refined literary taste.—Dr. Wither
spoon has hit the matter very well in his
“ History of a Corporation of Servants lt
may be necessary for the information of
those who have not read the work in ques
tion, just to observe, that it is an allegory
intended to represent Ministers of the gospel.
He mentions various ways in which these
servants endevoured to gratify Ihe ambition
and avarice ot one another ; and among
other things a title was invented, called
“Master of service,” (that is— Doctor of Di
vinity,) which they said would serve to dis
tinguish illustrious merit, and cause a hap
py emulation.-“ The directors of the schools
or places of exercise were appointed to
bestow it according to the skill and profi
ciency of the candidates. Immediately ap
plications came in from all quarters, and it
was dealt about very liberally, and, if pos
sible, more absurdly than the salaries had
been before. Thpre was hardly an instasce
of its being bestowed for real knowledge or
useful industry : but for some whimsical
qualification of a different kind. If a man
had invented anew dance or song, or col
lected a whole barrel of salted butterflies
in one summer, or made a gold chain for
binding a flea to a post, he was instantly
created a Master of Service.’’ This was
written before (he Rev. gentleman had re
ceived his D. D.
In one word, I decline the proffered hon
our of Doctor of Divinity because the spir
it of this thing, if it haie any spirit in it, is
not compatible with the genius of the gos
pel—because it tends rather to alienate
brethren, than to connect their hearts more
closely in Christian love—and because the
thing, bad enough at first,has become worse
by prostitution and abuse.
And I am happy to say, that I am not
alone in these sentiments. A Professor in
a Theological institution—and one of the
first biblical scholars of the age, has reject
ed the honour thrice conferred. Others who
now wear the D. D. as gracefully as atiy
men, once entertained the same opinions :
but when put to the trial they have made
shipwreck of this part of their faith. They
can adopt the Latin maxim;
“Teropora mutantu'r, et nos mutamur in
illis.”
It was only when this degree was confer
red on others, that it was considered un
christian and treated whh contempt. When
the subject has a personal bearing,the whole
affair is presented in a different, aud a more
lovely aspect. Something like this train of
thought is indulged. ‘The scriptures have
not settled the point—it is a matter of no
great consequence—it would be ti'hing
“ mint and rue, and all manner of herbs” to
reject this title on the scorce of conscience
—and who am I,’ (oh ! what profound hu
mility,) ‘ that I should rise up against all the
double Ds in the land—and perhaps offend
Ihe college too, which has placed me among
the Rabiues of Christendom! It must he a
frail bark indeed, which cannot trust itself
with such a moderate freight of hon
our.’
(t has been said among politicians, that a
crown is two splendid a prize for ambition ;
and it may be said with equal truth, that a
Doctorate is, ordinarily, too splendid a prize
tor a clergyman to reject, whatever may
have been his former convictions. And
who can wonder ? Not much accustomed
to the tokens of peculiar honour amvng
men, he is generally too ready to appropri
ate to his own benefit all which comes fair
ly within his reach. To a hungry man,
even “ a dry morsel” is sweet.
But to conclude. If I deserve not thp
title of D. D. according to the principles
upon which it is intended to be conferred,
then common modesty ought to lead me to
decline appending it to my name; and if I
might, in this case wear the title without
arrogance or assumption,then it is to be ho
ped, that the grounds of its rejection will
lie duly considered—and that this rejection
will be followed by the greater practical
effects. The clergyman who is respecta
ble for taleuts, and acquirements, and dili
gence in his ma ! ter’s work, can serve God |
and his generation without this honorary
distinction ; and it sensible of material and
palpable deficiencies in any or all of these, j
it will only fill him with conscious shame 1
whenever he meets himself and his title in j
the same company. I aspire at no higher
honour in this particular, as a minister of
Jesus hrist, than to receive from those
who are engaged in the same blessed em
ployment, the affectionate appellation of
brother ; and when the heart cannot accord
Ihe sentiment contained in this salutation, a
plain Mister will answer ail the purposes
ot this imperfect and perishing world.
NATHAN S. S. BEMAN,
Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Troy.
September, 1824.
MV FIRST SERMON.
Nearly five and twenty years have elaps
ed since 1 first mounted the pulpit of .
The occurrences of that day are deeply en
graven on my mind. It was a delightful
morning in June, and the Bth of the month.
The sun shone forth in ail its brilliancy and
splendour. There was scarcely sufficient
breeze to agitate the trees of my father’s
small garden. The small birds chirped on
the bushes, as if rejoicing in the general j
harmony; and there was a calmness, and ■
stillness, and quiet repose, which is only felt I
and perceived on a Sabbath morning. All
nature, on that morning of rest, seemed to
participate in this cessation from labour,
and to breathe a purer air. When I first
looked abroad from my chamber, my anx
ions spirit was refreshed by the beauty and
quietness of general nature. No one of the
lords of the creation was to be seen abroad,
and the dumb animals lay stretched at their
ease in the geen fields and sunny braes.
The little burn rippled down, and sparkled
in the glances of the sun beam ; and the on
ly sounds that were heard were the gurg
ling of the waters, and sweet chirping of
the birds, and the humming of bees. The
scene that presented itself to my view was
one of no common beauty. It was familiar
to my earliest impressions, and the sight of
it, on this morning of my first publick minis
trillions, awakened recollections that were
deeply seated, and almost overwhelming.
It was here that I had spent the early days
of innocence and childhood. Every tree
and stone was connected with some associa
-1 tion of history or of feeling; and the im
pressions of youth, which are always indel
ible, came rushing on my mind with irresis
-1 tible force. I had spent a lively and hap
py childhood in these sylvan scenes, tinder
the superintendence and tuition of a fond
and affectionate father, who still lived to
witness the fruits of bis fostering care. In
the joyonsness of youth, I had become the
familiar favourite of every cottager around
us. I strolled on the hills, fished in the
streams, and sought bird’s nests in the
woods, with the youngest of my own sex;
and I courted and danced with the wood
land beauties of the other. In short, I en
tered into all the simple concerns of these
simple rusticks, and I was then as much im
pressed as they were themselves with their
interest and importance. The minister of
a parish in Scotland, at that time, did not oc
cupy a station which, in point of wealth,
could entitle him to put himself above the
sphere of the humblest cottager. Enjoy
ing, as my father did, the respect and at
tachment of all his flock, he was at the same
time admitted more as au equal than as a
superiour; and the minister’s son was not
treated with respect. From the indulgent
course of studies w hich my father had pre
scribed, I was sent to college, and to severe
masters, in the town of , where I re
mained for ten years, without having visit
ed my native village. I went through my
trials and publick examinations, with what
my friends were pleased to term considera
ble eclat, and I had been licensed to preach
at the neighbouring Presbytery, bpfore I
made my appearance at the manse. I came
home the night before, and was to begin
my publick ministry by preaching my first
sermon in my father’s pulpit.
What a change was here effected in a
few years ! From the wild regardless young
ster, I had become the staid, sober, reli
gious instructer. Instead of associating, fa
miliarly, and entering heartily into their
little schemes of adventure and of mirth, I
was to address them and rule them in the
character ot teacher and master. After a
steeples* night, I was indulging in these re
flections, which partook as much of a mel
ancholy as a pleasurable colouring, when I
was reminded by my father, that the reli
gious duties of the morning were about to
be performed. These were gone through
with that piety and peace which are exclu
sively the characteristirks of God’s people.
When seated at the breakfast table, I could
perceive the varied aspect and demeanour
of the domestick circle; my mother was
pale and agitated, and I saw her tremble as
she handed me ihe cup. My lovely sister
was flushed with hope, and anxiety, and
pride, and joy,—and my father, as if striv
ing w ith similar feelings, or as if wishing to
impress me with the dignity and seriousness
of my duties, was more than ordinarily grave
and austere. I was struck also with the pe
culiar expression of our old servant John’s
countenance, as he occasionally came into
[Price $3 50 per ann.
the room. He had known me fixitn my in
: fancy, and it was but as yesterday that he
had seen me a ‘ hafllins callan,’ running wild
j about the braes. There was an odd mix-
I tore of mirth and melancholy, a repressed
smile, and an assumed gravity, which, if I
had been in other mood, or in other circum
stances, would have afforded me some pleas
ure to analyse. But notwithstanding every
effort, I could not free myself from some
thing like a feelingof anxiety or apprehen
sion 1 succeeded, however, in bringing
myself into a state of calmness and self
command: and after conning over my ser
mon for the sixtieth time, 1 took the road
to the church : My spirits were cool, and
though 1 felt a slight tremour iu my frame,
I was firm and collected. I was accompa
nied by my good old father. The neigh
bouring roads were crowded with people
cleanly and decently dressed, proceeding on
their way to church, to hear (heir former
companion deliver his maiden sermon, and
there was something extremely interesting
in the sight of people gathering from all
parts of the country to the house of God.
It is here that the powerful influence of re
ligion is felt much more universally, and is
displayed much more unequivocally, than
: in the artificial societies of towns or cities.
I The glens, and hills, and dales, speak in the
j native language of religion, and their iuhab
| itants yield to the divine influence which is
impressed upon every thing around them,
and lead their views from ‘ Nature's works
to Nature’s God.’ Their contemplation is
j not obscured, or their attention di-triifted,
j by the forms of art or the distortions ot f.sh-
I ion; and they join the simple wor-hip of
their forefathers with a simplicity and sin
gleness of heart which is not to be found
amidst the refined and artificial votaries of
fashion and folly. On my entering the
church, I saw many faces of old acquaintan
ces, whose eyes were directed towards me
with friendly and anxious interest ; and
when I entered the pulpit along with’their
own revered and ancient Pastor, 1 could
easily perceive emotions of pride and exul
tation mantling their homely but kind coun
tenances. My Father’s prayer was ex
tremely affecting. He besought a blessing
on our present meeting, and he prayed
earnestly and pathetically for strength and
1 understanding to the speaker who wa- to
address them in the holy character of His
Messenger. 1 was nearly overcome, and I
arose to commence my iabours with some
degree of trepidation. The church was
hushed, the most profound silence prevail
ed. and all eyes were intensely aud earnest
ly fixed upon the pulpit. I was calmed by
I this universal acquiescence—l experienced
the indescribable influence of an attentive
audience, and I lelt my energies roused.
My text was that most beautiful verse in
Ecclesiastes, and which I never repeat but
with a thrill of delight, “Remember thy
Creator in the days of thy youth, while the
evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh,
when thou shall say. I have no pleasure in
them.” In these my riper years it appears
upon cooler consideration to have been too
‘flowery and poetical— too much regard be
ing paid to the language and the periods,
and too little to the substance and Ihe spnse.
Like iLe greater part of young preachers’
sermons, it sacrificed too much to the gra
ces of oratory, and could suffer, with much
probable advantage, to he pruned and
weeded. 1 have the sermon yet beside me,
and, on perusing it yesterday, for the first
time these twenty years, I felt my cheek
burn, and mv pulse beat quick, at the
thonght of having once coolly and warmly
applauded the prurient and extravagant ef
fusion. Let no one talk to a young man of
the importance &. seriousness of his pastoral
duties, or of the necessity of being plain and
practical in his weekly addresses to his fel
low men. There never was a young
preacher who did not look upon the pul
pit as a place adapted for the display of
his talents. He views it as the publick are
na, where he enjoys the only opportunity
afforded to his profession of putting forth
his strength and mind, and exhibiting his
powers ot oratory ; and it runs counter to
the laws of Nature, to expect that he will
repress these powers, or sacrifice this op
portunity of showing them, for the bare per
formance of his cold and abstract duty.
The mistake is, that he looks upon his du
ties as too much of a profession. I feel
ashamed now, of the exuberant ornaments
ot this mv first Discourse, hut then I felt sat
isfied and proud of them. At some of these
artificial pauses, I thought I perceived a
slight movement of applause amongst m y
homely friends, and I was gratified with the
supposed force of my preaching. I was
excited to still greater exertions, and was
delivering, with increased energy, one of
my most laboured passages, when I was
suddenly laid hold of by my arm, which was
extended, to add force to my exhortations
My father, assuming my place in (he pul
pit, addressed the audience, “My friends
our young friend John seems to have for
got where he is, and who he is, and who
he is speaking to. We are not in a thea
tre, nor are we come to listen to theatrical
airs, lie is young, and will learn—ay, and
he maun learn before he again preaches
here. We are ower auld to be led away
by sound in place of sense, and we are en
gaged in too important a work to be divert-