NOT only did Professor Richardson handle private funds for students; he was also bursar of the institution. In this capacity--which was without title and without pay--he collected tuition and other student fees and from them paid college bills, including the salaries of professors. He discharged these services until September 10, 1842, when he turned over his office and a treasury of $1,485 to William K. Pendleton, who was then appointed bursar, with both title and pay. As remuneration for his services, Mr. Pendleton began immediately to collect 1 per cent of all fees handled.¹

      Pendleton was the son-in-law of Alexander Campbell, having married his daughter Lavinia the previous year. Affable and polished in exterior, a true "Southern gentleman," he achieved through his charm more recognition, and certainly more pay, than Richardson could command by painstaking effort. The doctor's patience and thoroughness worked to his own disadvantage. He was the victim of them himself, never being able to slight a task or take a shallow view of anything; and he was victimized by others, who took his quiet accuracy for granted, seldom bothering to acknowledge his services.

      By July of 1842 the college was thriving. Treasurer Campbell reported pledges totaling $17,688.25, of which $7,923.66 had been received in cash.² There were now 156 students in attendance,³ the president having [109] announced in the March Harbinger that work on the main college building was nearing completion, so that recitation rooms for a larger number of students would be ready about the first of April.⁴

      In consequence of his having been elected to the faculty, Professor Richardson resigned his post on the Board of Trustees at the end of this first year.⁵

      As teacher of physical science, the doctor began at once to accumulate a laboratory or "museum," as it was called, so as to illustrate the laws of nature set forth by the textbooks and the lectures. Although it was not possible then to supply every student with the elaborate equipment for personal experimentation which was later to be standard in all good high schools and colleges, he was able to use the method of lecture-demonstration. With that in view, for the very first session he had purchased bottles, chemicals, drugs, tubes, corks, mortars and pestles, spatulas, and other items of like nature. His published pleas for apparatus met a response from many quarters, so that he was able to acknowledge gifts of philosophical apparatus from P. S. Fall of Kentucky, specimens from the marl beds of eastern Virginia, contributed by John Richardson of that area, and a box of museum curiosities from J. W. Parrish of Woodford County, Kentucky.⁶

      Beginning in the fall of 1843, he was teaching chemistry, French, and physiology. This last course is somewhat ornamentally presented in the college catalogue for that year:

      Extra to the usual course of instruction in colleges, lectures were delivered to all the Students on the Anatomy and Physiology of the human system by Professor Richardson without extra [110] charge. Anatomical preparations adapted to such a course of instruction having been purchased, so much of these branches of useful sciences as are necessary to the knowledge of 'one's own self' and in order to the intelligent and practical application of the laws of hygiene, can be communicated to all those capable of studying the grammar of any language, ancient or modern.⁷

      The doctor's knowledge of ancient languages and his broad culture also fitted him to design the college seal. He worked at this during the early months of the second term, emerging with a seal in which two human figures, representing Science and Truth, were made central. One, holding a quiver of arrows, was receiving a bow from the other. The motto, emblazoned over these figures, read: "Pharetram Veritas, sed arcum Scientia donat" ("Truth bears the quiver, but Science gives it the bow").⁸

      When Commencement Day for 1843 came around on July 4, so great and so favorable had been the public notice of Bethany College that a horde of 1,500 people poured into the tiny village to attend the exercises. Beginning at 9:30 in the morning, these exercises continued for five hours, without intermission. This protracted meeting was endured, even enjoyed, by those who attended, the enjoyment deriving from the atmosphere of success which enveloped it.⁹

      "It is but three years since the first brick was moulded for the erection of Bethany College," its president triumphantly announced. "During this time a College Proper, four stories, 83 by 45; a Steward's Inn, equal to 107 feet by 36, 4 stories; and one wing of a Mansion House, 73 feet by 24, two stories--have been completed." The announcement went on to say: [111]

      Connected with the College, though not upon the grounds, a spacious new building has just been erected, which will be ready to receive the primary department at the commencement of next session. Besides the College Common Hall, a Room of 80 by 42 in the clear, and two Society Class Rooms, large enough for 100 students each, there are for the accommodation of Students some 75 or 80 Rooms furnished, affording ample accommodations for 150 or 160 Students within the College precincts. Two Literary Societies have been formed with the nucleus of two Libraries. An incipient College Library and considerable Chemical and Philosophical Apparatus have been procured. The whole subscriptions to this Institution amount to about $25,000.¹⁰

Thus the initial step in the plan for a fourfold institution had been actualized.

      The call of Disciples from all quarters of the country took Mr. Campbell away from Bethany nearly half of his time. Kentucky and Ohio, Richmond, Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York--away he went on the visits of his unofficial episcopacy over a reformation now numbering about 100,000 adherents. These absences placed additional burdens upon Robert Richardson, both in the editorial office and at the college. As usual, these were borne without fanfare--and without compensation.

      At length he came to feel that a mockery of common justice was being perpetrated and finally protested to Campbell that he ought to be paid for these extra services. The president, in turn, said that the question was one to be settled by the Board of Trustees. In fact, he said, since a policy was needed to guide him in the future when like problems should arise, Richardson would be doing him a service to bring the matter before that body. This the doctor did in a special communication, dated July 3, 1843: [112]

      R. Richardson would respectfully represent to the Board of Trustees of Bethany College that at the solicitation of the President of the Board, he consented to undertake in addition to the duties of his own professorship, those of acting president of the Institution during the necessary absence of Mr. Campbell upon the business chiefly of the Board of Trustees.

      In particular, the professor called attention to the fact that during the preceding fall, for a period of seven consecutive weeks, he had served as acting president, discharging his duties faithfully and to the best of his ability. These duties, as he listed them, consisted "in regulating classes--in attending upon morning exercises and moral instruction--in admonishing the disorderly both privately and publicly--in enforcing the discipline of the Institution--in presiding at meetings of the Faculty--in making the monthly reports--in corresponding with persons abroad--and exercising a general supervision over the affairs of the Institution at home."¹¹ He then reminded the trustees that it should be taken for granted, "as a matter of course, as well as of right," that "compensation is due for services and responsibilities of this nature, well known to be peculiarly onerous, and difficult in the present instance."

      He was compelled to refer the matter to the trustees, he said, because the faculty, having a personal interest at stake, was manifestly excluded from sitting in judgment on the issue. The question was one which could be legitimately decided only by the Board of Trustees, he concluded. It was the trustees, he reminded them, who had originally "fixed the apportionment of the Tuition fees in general, but [they had] failed to make any [113] regulation to meet a case of this kind where one member of the Faculty is called upon to perform the duties of another in addition to his own."

      The next day action was taken on Richardson's petition. It was a blunt reprimand: "On motion of John C. Campbell resolved That the duties of each Professor shall be to attend to all such classes and instructions as may be from time to time assigned to them by the President."

      This decision of the Board of Trustees was received by the whole faculty with apprehension. It placed them under the personal dictatorship of one man; it gave them no means of redress when wronged; and, above all, it set a dangerous precedent for the history of the college. It was in a somewhat ruffled mood, therefore, that professors Richardson, Ross, Stewart, and Pendleton met to frame a protest, which they delivered to a special meeting of the trustees on March 19, 1844.

      Saying that they knew that a new institution had many rough spots to be polished out and that a president should be allowed a great deal of freedom to lead, they nevertheless urged that when the freedom of the president to command was absolute, they were placed within the power of a dictator. They did not wish to suggest, they said, that the honored individual then occupying the office of president would take undue advantage of them, but in the future another man in the same position might make the lot of the faculty a miserable one. The principle was bad and if allowed to stand, it would soon set such a precedent that no professor in his right mind would engage to teach in Bethany College when he learned of it. The trustees, by their harsh and ill-advised resolution, had opened the [114] door to abuses and contentions which the faculty now asked them to remove by rescinding their action. Their protest was long and vigorous. It was, in fact, a thinly veiled threat to resign in a group.

      The matter was a "hot potato," and the trustees were inclined to avoid it as long as possible. No official action was taken that year. Meantime, President Campbell and the faculty were busy drafting their own solutions. The faculty proposed that it be authorized to assume the task of deciding its own division of responsibility democratically and that the president drop some of his teaching, which would then be reassigned. The president, on his part, prepared to recommend the appointment of another administrative officer, a vice-president.

      President Campbell presented his detailed proposal July 3, 1845. Made wary by the spanking which the faculty had previously administered, the trustees withheld their action on Mr. Campbell's proposal until they could hear from the faculty. The faculty reported next day, accepting the following division of labor, slightly altered from the president's proposal:

      Professor of Mathematics, with Mechanics, Hydrostatics and Pneumatics--Charles Stewart.

      Professor of Ancient Languages with History--A. F. Ross.

      Professor of Chemistry, French, Rhetoric with general grammar and Belles Lettres, Logic, Physiology and Botany--R. Richardson.

      Professor of Natural Philosophy, Astronomy, Intellectual Philosophy, Political Economy, Geology and Zoology--W. K. Pendleton.

      President--Sacred History, Moral Philosophy, Natural Religion and Evidences of Christianity--A. Campbell. [115]

      This report, too, was laid on the table until a special meeting of the Board of Trustees on August 13, 1845, when the proposal of the faculty was adopted, "subject to the alteration of the faculty." It was also at this meeting that the office of vice-president was created, W. K. Pendleton being named to fill it.

      Robert Richardson had thus driven the trustees to recognize the faculty as a power in determining the policies of the institution and had also forced the adoption of a more stable administrative system. Ironically, he had acted both as bursar and as vice-president before either office was officially recognized or recompensed, and in each case the office and the pay had gone to another.

      Dr. Richardson also assumed some of the duties of a dean of students. One proposal which he made to the faculty called for "a more careful supervision of the general deportment of the students, and a more intimate acquaintance with the actual condition of things in the institution, so as to be enabled to anticipate and prevent disorder." That this might be done, "sufficient time would need to be spent with the students, at their rooms, to form a personal acquaintance with them, and by inquiry and observation to learn their individual character, proficiency, habits, etc."

      Having intercepted some students returning from Wheeling while he was making his medical calls, and having discovered that some members of the group were carrying liquor, he advised that "greater attention should be paid to prevent students from visiting neighboring towns without permission, and greater caution should be exercised in granting permission." [116]

      While thus engrossed in the college, Dr. Richardson was not idle as coeditor of the Millennial Harbinger. In a clever series entitled "Baptists Against Themselves," published in 1841 and 1842, he quoted a number of eminent Baptist divines as a means of putting to flight the more narrow-minded Baptists, who were rabidly attacking the Disciples. Fuller, Frey, Carson, and others yielded liberal quotations which fully supported the published sentiments of Alexander Campbell, so much so that "Discipulus" was able to exult: "Out of your own mouths will I condemn you."

      He spoke a warning word against the excesses of a religion founded upon "revivalism" and dependent upon the continual excitement of big meetings: "Having been born amidst boisterous excitement, they can live in no other element. Receiving their religion from the inspiration of a preacher's voice, they are empty, cold, and joyless when he can be no longer heard." He advocated that these Christians, by the disciplines of teaching and searching, require themselves to go beyond conversion to Christian growth.¹²

      He struck several blows against the rancor and intolerance of many contemporary Protestants. Mistaking doctrinal orthodoxy for the essence of Christianity, these carping critics were more devoted to "Partyism" than to Christianity. He even named names, flaying a certain Mr. Landis, whose attacks upon the senior editor were motivated from an "obvious design to widen rather than to close the broken ranks of the Protestant forces; to stir up strife, rather than to allay it; to judge and condemn with the sanctimoniousness of a Pharisee, rather than to [117] examine and discuss" the questions at issue with candor and liberality befitting a Christian gentleman.

      "The spirit of Christ is a spirit of universal benevolence and love," he continued in the same article, "and not one of the various parties of Christendom has been able, by all the barriers they have erected, to retain it exclusively within their own precincts. It was a want of confidence, a loss of Christian love, which first originated creeds. The different detachments of the Christian army would never have thought of thus fortifying themselves against each other, unless they had first begun to fear each other."

      Nevertheless, not all intolerance and narrowness was to be found in the "sects." There were some gimlet-minded men in the reformation itself: "Others, too, who have even by profession chosen the broad ocean of divine revelation as their proper place, have, from . . . timidity, failed to carry out their declarations. They would rather beat about the estuary into which they were first launched, and keep carefully in view the well-known shores and land-marks." The truth of the matter is that "the Bible is too large and wide a basis for men of little minds."¹³

      No topic of the day was more alive with misunderstandings than that of the Holy Spirit. It was commonly taught in Calvinistic circles that sinful man, wholly depraved as a result of Adam's "Fall," could not believe until a miraculous visitation of the Holy Spirit had bestowed upon him the "enabling grace." This visitation, in turn, was vouchsafed only to the "elect." Frontier evangelism, founded on such a premise, became an exceedingly emotional affair, consisting more in importuning God to be gracious than in calling men to repentance. [118] Against this view of the Holy Spirit, the Reformers resolutely set their face, as one man. They held that faith did not come as a result of the Spirit, but the Spirit came as a result of faith. To the mind of Richardson, some Disciples had reacted too violently against Calvinistic emotionalism and had adopted an opposite extreme of cold rationalism which denied any real place to the Spirit God. These extremists, towards which position Campbell himself inclined, were called defendants of the "word alone" theory, and the adherents of the opposite view were known as the protagonists of the "Spirit alone" theory.

      Coeditor Richardson launched into a discussion of these issues in a series of seven articles on "The Spirit of God," running through the years of 1842 and 1843, endeavoring to save the Disciples from a cold literalism, which he conceived to be as damaging as the florid Calvinism which it attacked. "These [emotional excesses in conversion] seemed to demand a remedy," wrote Richardson, "and, as after a feast the physician is apt to prescribe a fast, so it appeared to be then necessary to oppose this extreme by urging in the strongest terms the power and precedency of the word of God, and in the meanwhile to touch but slightly upon those operations called spiritual, which were considered as already carried to a dangerous extreme in the popular doctrines and practices of the day." In the same discussion, Richardson impaled one extreme literalist on the point of a joke:

      An acute and ingenious advocate of the "Word alone" theory, a physician, and by a professional extravasation by no means unusual of late, a preacher also, was one day descanting upon [119] spiritual influences to his congregation, and contrasting them with the power of divine truth. In the course of his sermon, he remarked "that many believed the Spirit to be distinct from the Word, and attempted to distinguish between them, and to show that there is really a spiritual agency or agent, other than the Word. This," added he contemptuously, "is a METAPHYSIC." Upon this incident, which actually occurred, I have to remark; that since, as a general division, we have but two chapters of human science--the one relating to matter and the other to spirit; or, as they are commonly termed, Physics and Metaphysics; and since the aforesaid Doctor evidently eschews the "Spirit alone" doctrine as a "metaphysic," it will logically follow, upon his own premises, that his own doctrine of the "Word alone," must belong to the other chapter, and be, consequently, a PHYSIC. If, then, even the Doctor's preaching be a Physic, its administration will not be, after all, so unprofessional.¹⁴

      More mystical and devotional than any other man in the inner circle of the Reformers, Robert Richardson pleaded for a religion which left a large place for the Spirit, saying that evangelism itself was less important than a devotional mind:

      An immense number of proselytes may be made; multitudes may be added to the churches; periods of much animation and excitement may be enjoyed; but when we come to look for that for which alone all this preparation is made--an actual and spiritual union to Christ; spirituality of mind; devotion to God; creation anew in righteousness and true holiness--here it is that a lamentable disappointment occurs.

      He wanted to leave no ambiguity, however: by the Holy Spirit he did not mean mere holiness of spirit. To be sure, the Holy Spirit does produce a disposition to holiness in the human mind, but it is inescapable that we are here dealing with "a real and literal something," not [120] a spiritual state. "The Holy Spirit of God is imparted to the believer, really and truly, taking up his abode in his person, as a distinct guest, or inhabitant."

      This literal indwelling of the Spirit of God in the Christian might seem disturbing to some, the doctor admitted, somewhat humorously, but, he admonished:

      Should any one say that he cannot understand how a human body can have within it, literally and truly, at the same time, two distinct spirits the spirit of man, and the Spirit of God; I would reply, that . . . he may perhaps prove it to his own satisfaction arithmetically, if he will only first explain how ONE spirit can dwell in the human body, and then simply multiply his explanation by the figure two.

      It is not so much explanation as exercise of the Holy Spirit that is needed, he said in another part of the series. "It is unfortunate that the abuses of the doctrine of the Spirit in popular theology, should have rendered many excellent and intelligent persons so extremely cautious upon the subject that, so far from cultivating religious feeling, they seem rather to repress it, and to seek to encase religion with the ices of a philosophical insensibility."

      In fact, the doctor went so far as to say, if one must choose between one extreme or the other, between the "word alone" or the "Spirit alone" theories, it would be better to choose the latter for "there is one thing that can be said in favor of such views which cannot be said of the opposite theory, that they are at least devotional--that they at least lead the mind to seek after fellowship with God; and embody the idea, so true in itself, and so [121] consoling to the Christian, that there is a real communion to be enjoyed with the spiritual world."

      All of this, to Richardson's mind, should lead only in one direction: to an increased cultivation of the devotional life, something sadly lacking among Disciples. "The lesson may hence be learned, that, just as man increases in religious light or knowledge, so, should he increase also in warmth of feeling and fervor of devotion."

      Richardson had been speaking of the "word alone" theory as "light without heat" because it was coldly intellectual; the "Spirit alone" theory he characterized as "heat without light" because it was almost exclusively emotional. What he wanted, plainly, was a combination of the two. Campbell, strongly influenced by the empirical philosophy of John Locke, was more than a little inclined to the cold light side of this comparison. In the course of this series, the senior editor had taken occasion, through a few footnotes, to snipe at his junior editor somewhat humorously by criticising his addiction to metaphors. "R. R." gave back as much as he received in this sally of wit, when he wrote, "But, being, it seems, 'addicted to metaphors,' I will add further, that if any man will show me his light without heat, I will engage to prove that it is nothing better than moonshine."

      Indeed, these articles on "The Spirit of God" in the Millennial Harbinger resulted from heated discussions between Richardson and Campbell. The latter was preparing for his forthcoming sixteen-day debate with Dr. N. L. Rice in Lexington, Kentucky, to begin November 15, 1843. For the purposes of this debate, Campbell had decided to defend the proposition that in conversion the [122] Spirit works "only through the word of truth." According to one contemporary of these men, Richardson sought to dissuade Mr. Campbell from championing so strictly limited a view. "He could believe what he chose, but he should not limit the Spirit publicly by the use of the word 'only.' Mr. Campbell could not see that to insert this word 'only' would be to deny in practice all he had taught in theory about liberty of opinion in things not scripturally established. But Dr. Richardson saw it."¹⁵

      Many years later, writing to his friend Isaac Errett, Dr. Richardson commented upon Alexander Campbell's cold intellectualism:

      The philosophy of Locke with which Bro. Campbell's mind was deeply imbued in youth has insidiously mingled itself with almost all the great points in the reformation and has been all the while like an iceberg in the way--chilling the heart and benumbing the hands, and impeding all progress in the right direction.¹⁶

      Richardson could foresee the shipwreck of the Disciples on this iceberg at some future time, as the faithful wrangled within a devotionless faith and a logic of mechanical literalism--unless the danger could be melted away by the sunlight of a new insight. He labored at that time and for many years following to liberate the Disciples from this benumbing literalism. He struggled to bring a spirit of tolerance and devotion into the reformation when it seemed to be trending toward a hair-splitting, fellowship-breaking logic, too little seasoned by Christian love. As long as Alexander Campbell was alive, that great mentor was able to hold these forces of reaction in check by the sheer weight of his personality; but [123] after he was gone, Richardson felt sure, legalism would break all controls and do its perfect work of destruction.

      As 1843 neared its close, Richardson observed that he had now written for two full series of the Millennial Harbinger, thus completing fourteen years of service. He acknowledged his authorship of all articles over his own signature or initials and also accepted the praise or blame for the articles signed by "any of the letters which compose the word L-u-k-e." It was his sincere hope, he said, that he had made a constructive contribution to the cause of the truth.¹⁷

      In the next year he was to furnish a brief history of the Disciples for a volume on the story of religious denominations in the United States, to be edited and published by I. Daniel Rupp,¹⁸ but not much else was written by him for the next three years. What he did not tell his readers in closing fourteen years of editorial communication was that his eyes had again deserted him and that he could no longer see well enough to read or write for the press.

      When the doctor returned to Bethphage at the end of his arduous day of teaching and medical practice, he always put his horse in the stable, seeing that he was comfortable for the night, and then came on to the house, carrying the saddlebags with his books, apparatus, and medicines. He entered the house by the kitchen door. Once inside, the tired doctor hung his saddlebags on their peg, unwound the leggings which he always wore on horseback, and removed his boots with the bootjack. Slippered and housed, with wife and children about him, he was ready for the rest and the quiet of his home. [124]

      It was not the quiet of the recluse nor the silence of a man spent with fatigue, for an undying flame of purpose burned on in this man. Nearly fifteen years earlier he had given himself without reservation to the cause of religious reform, and no matter what labors he endured, he resolutely refused to give up.

      He now ate supper and caught up on the news of the day at Bethphage. Rebekah, and the children: Nathaniel, Anne, Julia, Mary, David, and John--David had been born December 11, 1842, and John on July 23, 1845--all of them occupied his interest, and all who could talk were included in the conversation. In 1845, when John was a new-born baby, Nathaniel was past twelve, and the others ranged down the stairsteps of age in intervals of two or three years. Then there was the report from the hands on the work of the farm, and plans were made with them for the next day.

      Often, when supper was over and all the reports had been heard and all plans made, the head of the house would take down a book from the family bookcase and read aloud. Likely as not, students would come over from the college, or other visitors--out-of-town guests or neighboring farmers--would drop in. He and Rebekah enjoyed company, and they encouraged people to come frequently, and in groups. These evening sessions ranged all the topics of interest, including religion, politics, agriculture. If farmers came in, it was the last, for the doctor was fast becoming an authority on scientific farming, to be consulted by all, far and near. In warm weather, this visiting took place on the large front porch, but in winter the center of hospitality was the large, home-like parlor. [125]

      Music was made one of the chief attractions of this home. When young people came, it was the chief diversion. There were two guitars, a flute, a piano, and a violin, in addition to a number of good voices. Even when the family was alone, they all gathered around the piano and sang hymns and popular songs. The doctor had a rich tenor voice and usually entered heartily into these domestic concerts. Sometimes he assisted with the accompaniment by playing the flute or violin. But before the evening had worn away many of its precious half-hours, the doctor had slipped away, out of the parlor through the kitchen and up the stairs to his study. There were assignments for tomorrow, articles to be written, books to be read, and thinking to be done.

      How he made his preparation for classes toward the end of 1843 and through the months when "amaurosis" again assailed him, no one knows. These secrets he shut up with himself in the solitude of that book-lined room. With the music carrying up to him through the floors and through the candlelighted darkness, he did what was needful. Whatever the physical darkness, at least the flame of his purpose did not flicker or grow dim. The light by which he lived was not only clear; it was also warm. [126]

[HTB 109-126]